https://www.ewh3.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/EWH3_logo-No-Background.png 0 0 Scribe https://www.ewh3.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/EWH3_logo-No-Background.png Scribe2009-06-02 19:51:562014-03-03 18:18:57Hash Trash: EWH3 #533: Rhode Island Avenue
Hash Trash: EWH3 #533: Rhode Island Avenue
Hares: Assflac, Cock-a-Doodle-do-Me, Chippen Fails, Hair Cuntery, Shamrock Your Cock
Brew Crew: Incredible Edible Schmegg, Slumcock Anywhere
Virgins: Justs Jeannette, Jen, Ben, Masi, Nick, Derek, Christy, Richard, Matt, and Adam
Visitors: None were stupid enough to show up for this trail.
Analversaries: 17—Gerry Ass Tricks; 200—Shamrock Your Cock
Ononon: Library Bar
The pack, including but not limited to the 42,000 male virgins that Just May brought (where, oh where, have bukkake violations gone?), gathered in a grassy area opposite from a Home Depot and some other stores, and took off through some ghetto-tastic alleys, until we reached a 15-foot-high fence. Many were stupid enough to climb over it, but a few of us towards the back waited for Cocky to sweep us around. That obstacle conquered, we stopped at the shot check to drink bad, cheap whiskey before running through the grounds of several Catholic churches, Catholic University, and Trinity College. Fortunately for the young men in the pack, there was nary a priest in sight, and we all made it to the beer check
under the Metro unmolested.
I couldn’t tell you what the second half of trail was like, because I drank so much at beer check, I don’t remember. Actually, I’m lying: I was going to walk the second half as I am recovering from a knee injury (between that and the swine flu, I’ve been the walking wounded this month), but somehow, my companions and I totally missed walkers trail. We managed to stumble upon the hares and followed them to the on-in, which was in the exact same location as beer check, so we really didn’t even need to go anywhere. That was all for the best, though, as the hash revived the long-standing tradition of sandwich night, and I ended up getting to the table to make a sandwich before much of the pack even finished running trail. Tastes great, more filling!
• Gaystation was secretly going to audition to be a Redskinette, but revealed his plans by making up cheers for Sphincter Shy while on trail.• General’s Farm Animal wiped out while trying to spank a hot, young, female Just, and ended up with a faceful of curb instead of a handful of ass.• Eat Your Vegetables was reading Runners’ World on the Metro on the way to the hash. He’d have been better off reading Playgirl.• The hares teased the pack by taking us through so much Catholic property without anyone seeing any naughty Catholic schoolgirls. They were probably so busy being blown by altar boys that they forgot that the rest of us have needs too!• Gaystation came out of nowhere to the hash—just like he does in bed.• Cocktuplets loudly proclaimed that she smells like Gaystation. Is that really something to be proud of?• Dial F and You’re A Pee’n Swallow turned out to be cousins, so they’re moving to North Carolina so they can continue to legally celebrate their love.• Spincter Shy is so shy about his sphincter that he can’t find it with two hands and a flashlight, as evidenced by his passing the walkers three times while looking for beer check.• Chippen Fails failed at bukkake—you’re supposed to have many men squirting liquid on one woman, not one man throwing powder on many women.• Cum Dumpling thinks he’s Dick Tracy; he kept checking his talking GPS watch to see how far he’d gone.• Just Jill got meat juice on her arm, instead of in her mouth, where it belongs.• Gaystation combined auto-hashing, safety third, and sex on trail by running backwards into a car and falling onto it with his legs all splayed out, ready for action.• The hares brought obnoxious noisemakers, the kind you pull out and blow on every New Year’s Eve, into circle. Couldn’t they find anything better to put in their mouths. On second thought, Chippen Fails shouldn’t answer that.
Violations from the Crowd:
• Tar Squeal was so raceist, she didn’t even stop at beer check.• Popo Disco didn’t bring Marion Barry to the hash.• Red Vag of Courage had a huge bruise on her lower back, obtained in a tragic doggy style accident.• Chippen Fails failed again: He hit on a Catholic schoolgirl while scouting trail, but couldn’t make her come.• Popo Disco refused to drink beer because she’s on the South Beach Diet. Semen, however, is totally permitted; it’s high in protein and low in carbs.• I Manual Cunt thought we were running the Miami Vice trail and came to end circle dressed like Sonny Crockett.• Cute Lesbian In Training not only looks like she’s 12 years old; she alsowears a 12-year-old’s bikini.• Cocky recruited Cock Your Suck I Will to bang other women, oops, I mean to play rugby.• Popo Disco is getting her tattoos lasered off: You can erase your exhusband’s name, but you can’t laser off the trashy.• I Manual Cunt impaled himself on a big pole and won his very own Darwin Award. Survival of the fittest, yo.
Then we had a NAMING!
Nobody new much about Just Greg, so we handcuffed him to CLIT at the start of trail, so she could get the goods on him. He’s from New York, majored in linguistics at University of Maryland, and now designs websites for Street Sense, the newspaper published and sold by the homeless. Just Greg likes to have sex
doggy style, with goats, but he didn’t give Red Vag the bruise on her back, because his wife, whose name is Cleveland Rain (at least it’s not Detroit!) wouldn’t approve of that. Yup, he’s married, which means he never gets laid, and explains so much about why no one knew anything about him before Thursday night. Just Greg lost his virginity in a student lounge at Maryland, and used a condom from a vending machine. He has also had sex in a Swedish sauna. While trying to help some Gallaudet students carry their liquor purchases, he dropped a keg. What’s sign language for, “Ow, my foot!?” Last but not least, Just Greg’s favorite STD is the clap, because “it sounds funny.”
Naming Suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:
Helen Smell ‘Er
Clap On Clap Off
In the end, the pack found the combination of gay jokes and deaf jokes irresistible and named him Queering Aid.
We proceeded to the on-on-on, drank cheap beer, and tried to get laid.
Tits for Tots