Hares: Schindler's Fist, Just Michelle and Cougar Consulting (as bag car)
Pack: Krusty the Meat Miser, Super Teflon Dong, Wang Chunks, Hoover McSucknfuck, You Oughta Blow, Wooden Eye Fuck 'er in the Ass, Pubic Service Announcement, Drippy Spigot, Nice Tits, I Eat Tea Bags, Laa-Laa, Sticks it to the Bros, Goat Throat, Just John, Crucifux (late cummer), Bend Over Mommy (late cummer), the 2nd Cumming (late cummer), NAMBLA (late cummer) and a bunch more wankers
Pre-Lube: T.I.T.S. in Porter Square
On-In: Prospect Hill Monument in Union Square
On-After: PA's Lounge
It's just that large. The pack, I mean. Seriously, never scribe without a notepad more than 2 weeks after the fact. I remember gathering at the pre-lube for a High Life and then standing outside the bar with Goat Throat immediately after yelling 'hares away'. The industrious hares ran off in different directions so Goat Throat and I waited patiently until Fisty doubled back and ran past us. She was less than pleased.
After winding through the streets of Somerville, the pack made its way to Harvard, specifically the Harvard ice skating rink. The pack drank spiked hot chocolate and some of the more adventurous idiots decided to put blades on their feet and slide on the ice. At one point, STD spotted a hasher showing some asscrack while putting on her skates. He proceeded to yell (louder than usual) "The winner of the best crack contest is the harriette in blue!" or something like it. It turned out...she wasn't a hasher. Awesome.
The pack left and continued winding through and around Harvard to a (cold) beer check. It was then a long way to Union Square and (finally) the Prospect Hill Monument. I think 2/3 of the pack zenned there. Anyway, circle began in the freezing cold and down-downs were had. Wish I could rmember most of them. There were the usual suspects (FRBs, Smaht Kids, etc), the black guys and a Mexican for figure skating and, of course, the condom down-down. That went to me for not ending circle ASAP.
The pack made its way to PA's Lounge with plenty of snowballing along the way. Yup, you heard me.
On-on to beer mile,
Krusty the Meat Miser
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