EWH3 #587 – Tunnel Recovery Trail, Foggy Bottom
Hares: Underground Railroad, Cock-a-Doodle-Me, Pittsburgh Kneeler, Felon DeGeneres, and Brokeback Mama
Brew Crew: Mannipple Lickter, Roll Over, Bitch!
Virgins: Just Ben, Phil, Stephanie, Chuck, Scott, Vicki, Dave, Chris, Matt, Andrew, Rob, Jeremy, Eliza, Dagny, Erin, Elizabeth, Lisa, Keeley, Clare, Eva, Kate, Christina, Kevin, Mitchell, Rachel, Sam, Alex, and Stan
Visitors: Cherry Peddler (Samurai H3), Garden of Beatin’ (Bloomiongton, IN H3), Ho White and the 7 Dwarfs (Anchorage H3)
After last week, for the first time ever on a Thursday, the whole entire pack did NOT want to get wet. Fortunately, the hares were much obliging: Instead of getting us wet, they took us around every dorm, frat and sorority house on GW campus… which, come to think of it… After that, the pack headed toward the Kennedy Center, ran through the Watergate, and down to the Georgetown Waterfront, where the trail pretty much disappeared. After a lot of back checks, bad trails, no trails, and FAILs in general, we finally picked up trail again, and ended up at the beer check near P Street Beach. Unfortunately, the police were already there. The pack backed into some trees nearby, people filled up pitchers from Plan B and passed them back to the crowd, but a lot of people weren’t getting any beer that way due to the crowd. Now, that’s not the kind of dry that I want to be at a hash. Fortunately, a few resourceful souls went to a liquor store, got a few cases of beer, and some of us had our own beer check underneath a weeping willow. WIN.
Being one of the 10 people who helped down a case of Natty Light at the DIY beer check, second half of trail is a wee bit blurry. It was short, and we ended up downtown in an alley. We didn’t circle up there, though. No, we got our bags, headed into Recessions, a basement bar with really low ceilings, and had end circle there. At least the hash was kind enough to buy us each a big beer, seriously, those mugs are the size of my whole torso.
- Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Cock not only got a new dude magnet, er, dog, Hoover, he named him after something that’s very good at sucking.
- Keyless Entry thanked 3-2-1-Fuck Off for dressing her. Shouldn’t he be doing the opposite?
- Uh-Oh! A Squirty Ho! didn’t remember his own name. Dude, isn’t it supposed to be other people’s names you forget, later on?
- Just Greg and John 3:69 both wore brand new drinking vessels.
- A Salt My Ass got lost when he left the GMU campus and ended up finding the hash.
- The hares, because I want my $5. Five dollars. It’s like Better Off Dead, but with inflation.
- I’ll Packa wasn’t getting enough attention from And I’ll Push Back so he took a shot in the eye from Just Brian.
- Spinal Tap: We didn’t know Harry Caray had a long-lost twin.
- Brew Crew parked Plan B in spot #70 at beer check, even though 69 was open.
- Just Andrew had phone sex on trail– wait, no, he was just calling his mom to tell her he was ok.
- I’ll Packa and Just Katy were holding hands on trail. This is a hash, not a Lifetime Original Movie, y’all!
- Shetland Blow Me and Just Kristin had sex at beer check instead of doing it on trail like everyone else does.
- Tony Panda swallowed too much.
- Whiskey Business tried to shotgun a beer, and gagged because it was too big, and it erupted all over his face like an Icelandic volcano.
- Just Cynthia was wearing a t-shirt that said, “UCLA.” Just Julie was wearing one that said “Fuck UCLA.” They should re-enact that in circle for the pack, no?
- Just Mary wanted to rename Uh-Oh! A Squirty Ho! “Pretty Pretty Princess,” showing that she already knows what EWH3 is really all about. On a side note, Uh-Oh, your sash abnd tiara will be ready soon.
- And finally, Uh-Oh! A Squirty Ho! (yup, again–it’s like he’s trying to be the new Topher) complained about his wrists hurting from holding my beer. Funny, I’d have thought his wrists were in plenty good shape.
Violations from the Crowd:
- Whiskey Business didn’t finish his down-down beer, and it didn’t end up on him, either.
- Uh-Oh! A Squirty Ho! got called out by Monday, Sticky Monday for flirting with the scribe. For the record, Monday was not referring to me, but to Whiskey Business.
- An Inconvenient Poop thought she was in Panama in the 1940s, at least judging by her hat.
- Poke an Eye Out turned down a shot.
We didn’t do a naming due to being indoors, so instead we just all drank more giant mugs of beer and tried to get laid.
Tits for Tots