EWH3 #601: National Underwear Day Trail, Dupont Circle
Hares: Rambutt, Sphincter Shy, Motormouth, CumDumpling, Safe Word, and Please Step Away from the Whores
Brew Crew: Brokeback Mama, Cutting Class
Virgins: Just James, Sam, Eric, Leah, Lindsay, Eileen
Visitors: D Home (Middle Georgia H3), Hashus Interruptus (Gulf Coast H3), Hair of the Dog (Islamabad H3)
Analversaries: 169–Rear Protein Injection
In honor of National Underwear Day, the pack stripped down and circled up in Dupont Circle. And then we waited. And waited. And waited for Rambutt, who was stuck in traffic, to arrive. Because, hey, standing around in one’s underwear in one of the gayest neighborhoods in DC isn’t awkward for the guys here at all. Fortunately, Cum Dumpling had a map, and took over laying trail. Finally, we got things going for real, and took off through downtown until we got to the White House. Not the Capitol, PSA. Just sayin’. Past the White House, we hit the Mall, because there’s nothing like scaring off tourons with flagrant near-nudity en masse. Oh, wait. Except for running in red dresses en masse. From there, we ran through a lot of wet grass to the pond at the Declaration of Independence Memorial (or Constitution Gardens–I’ve seen both names for that little pond between the reflecting pool and the Vietnam Veterans Memorial), skirted a wide arc around the Lincoln Memorial, and finally hit the beer check, by the volleyball courts on the Potomac.
After downing some tasty, refreshing beer, we were off again. The pack headed back to the Mall, but on the south side, ran around part of the Tidal Basin, and through the FDR Memorial, where we happened upon a whole bunch of Boy Scout troops. I should’ve flashed them, but I’m pretty sure they were more into Twinkle Dick anyway. Trail ended under the 14th Street Bridge, in an area that was redolent of fish. Too bad the beer doesn’t kill my sense of smell.
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Cock was sporting a sunburn to match his bright red banana hammock.
Just Eliza wasn’t just wearing new shoes–she was wearing new Vibrams. Drink up!
Just The Flash was advertising how fast his cock was. There are times it’s better not to be a speed demon, yo.
Just Christopher wore a diaper–I thought I’d never have to suffer that sight again ever since Hair Cuntery quit hashing.
PSA didn’t know the White House from the Capitol, even though he’s lived in the DC area all his life. FAIL.
Just Ryan double bagged his junk but still had an accident on trail.
Don’t Ask, Don’t Smell has trouble with the first part of his name: Looking all confused, he asked, “Where are we?” He was standing right under the Washington Monument at the time.
Red Vag of Courage wants a penis so badly, she was jacking off the piece of chalk she was holding.
Just Chris and Just The Flash were “stretching each other out” at beer check. So that’s what the kids are calling it these days!
Cock-a-Doodle-do-Me misses Eats Street Meat so much, she emulated him by showing up really late and running trail with her bag.
Just Itamar got confused about the theme; instead of running trail in his underwear, he showed up wearing a fur coat.
Six Fags got tired of gay sex, so he moved on to pedophilia.
For once, I’ll Packa and And I’ll Push Back weren’t wearing matching outfits.
Just Eliza tried to jump on Whiskey Business in the bathroom at the on-on-on last week, because “rape is one of [her] favorite activities.” Whiskey Business had to drink too, for spurning her advances.
Ass Ogre and everyone else sitting in chairs had to drink because, while they may be old men, despite Put It Out’s near-perfect attendance, EWH3 is NOT an old man hash.
Violations from the Crowd
Surprise! We all found out that Twinkle Dick is apparently Jewish.
Just Rich fought a bush, and the bush won.
Whiskey Business showed up to a jorts party wearing khakis, and it made him cry.
Wait, no, it wasn’t a jorts party–PIO just happened to wear jorts and a purple polo shirt to a birthday party.
The hares drew one true trail giving a reach-around to another. That’s not gay, it’s just courteous!
When the Boy Scouts saw Twinkle Dick running by, they scoffed, “That’s not even a speedo!”
Six Pigs in a Blanket had a smiley face on her ass, but it should’ve been sideways.
Sphincter Shy was slowing circle down by hitting on the beer bitch, but we’ll allow it, because it’s the one day a year when he actually has game.
Everyone wearing EWH3 69-run boxers did a down-down too.
And then, of course, it was time for a naming!
Just Ben got a couple degrees from Duke (Go to hell, Carolina, go to hell!) and UCLA and now does oceanography research for the Navy. When his girlfriend was studying abroad, he bought her a vibrator, and they had a lot of phone sex. One night when his roommate was in, he went to the computer room to talk dirty, and someone came in to print something while he was getting off. Just Ben likes goats, pigs, and Aladdin, and playing music–he plays piano, trumpet, and trombone. He lost his virginity at age 20, to the same girlfriend he later had phone sex with while she was in Italy. Just Ben once threw a guy out of a car, into a puddle of his own puke. He also once got really drunk on Jagermeister, yelled, “I’m Kind of the World!” all Titanic style, and then puked in a trash can and out the window of his building. Finally, Just Ben likes fat bottom girls, and once made out with one of them in the back seat of a car for 11 hours straight. I’m shocked, shocked, I tell you, that he didn’t suffocate!
Names: I Want My Stapler
I’m King of the Hurled!
Henceforth and forevermore throughout the world of hashing (except Great Falls–fuck them!), Just Ben shall be known as Toner Boner.
Is everybody happy? You bet your ass we are! We all went to the bar, drank more booze, and tried to get laid.