Hash Trash: EWH3 #608


EWH3 #608: The Grumpy Old (hot) Men Hash, Tenleytown Metro

Hares: BoloheadRat, Wax On Whacks Off, PutItOut, BigBang, MondayStickyMonday, and Ball’o’Dust

Virgins: Just Carla, Mark, Beth, Becka

Visitors: Chubby Chaser, Oregon H3

Undergrounder Pounder, San Antonio H3

Semen on the Pew (Hmmm)

Just Mark, Homeless

OnOnOn: The Dancing Crab

While walking towards the pack at the Tenleytown Metro, I thought for a second that I may have gone to the wrong stop, perhaps the Smithsonian Metro. I mean, was that Obeastiologist over there? Roof Rack? Surely, relics like that belong in museums. Only a hash run by Thursday’s grumpy old hares could attract such company. Anyway…

The pack went off and, after a quick few loops around the Tenleytown area, found itself inside the NW DC woods. We ran along some sweet trails, moving briskly through the woods and finally came to a check. Thinking that we were heading towards the American University parking lot, Obeastiologist and some other hashers (myself included) followed the trail out of the woods and continued to run past the X, because, you know, we’re smarter than the hares. Still thinking that we were going to the American University parking lot, Obeastiologist, myself, I’ll Push Backa, Just Chris, Just Wade and Cock-a-Doodle-Do Me continued up a hill into a parking lot only to be immediately hailed down by security. STILL thinking that we had made it to the AU parking lot, we ignored this security officer and continued to run. STILL thinking it was AU, we ran past the other 2 armed security guards who came out to stop us. And then we got out. And then we saw it was Homeland Security. Apparently they don’t take kindly to a group of people running out of the woods onto their property. Whoops.

Having thoroughly lost the pack (Note to Self: You are NOT smarter than the hares), our little group doubled back, restarted the trail, found where we went wrong (tricky tricky!) and eventually caught up to the pack…at the END. Well, lesson learned, though, from running it twice, I can vouch for it being a pretty sweetly laid trail.


Despite having nearly 1,000 runs combined under their belts, the Hares still managed to lay a sh*tty trail.

3-2-1 Fuck Off, Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock, and Blow Blow Blow Your Boat picked up a black bag full of Windex, and tried to drink it, thinking it was the shot check. Congratulations on being tricked by a bum.

BackSnatch wanted to warn hashers of a tree sticking out on trail, so turned around to yell, and promptly blinded everyone with his light, causing Just Christine to run right into said tree.

And (too soon?) Just Christine was brought into the circle so that she could be reminded that there, in fact, much easier and more sterile ways to get an abortion…

6 Pigs in Blanket was overheard saying that she loves the Fall because it reminds her of eating pie…like apple, and pumpkin, and cream…

Just Chris apologized to me for abandoning our little lost group because he had to take care of some flare-ups. Um, Chris…what flare-ups were we talking about?

Motormouth was seen chowing down on a sleeve of Oreos. Obviously he never got the memo that cannibalism is wrong.

Despite it being for a good cause, John 369 still wore a race-ist t-shirt, and was on the walking trail, too!

Violations from the Crowd

The Hares had more runs than God, and appropriately enough, only God knew where their trail was headed.

Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock’s dogs pulled harder than his Mom did (?)


After trying for ten minutes, Whiskey Business needed WreathAround’s help parallel parking his car.


TittlyWinks brought a baby in her stroller instead of beer.


Despite always clamoring for “Cock! Cock!” Cock-a-Doodle-Do Me glanced away and muttered “ew” when the visitors humored her and whipped it out.


Wax On Whacks Off fully displayed his “run-count envy” when he complained that other hashers runs were “obtained through surreptitious means.”


Rear Protein Injection noted that he kept getting wood in his face, but was upset that it was soft wood.


BoloheadRat fu*ked Pussy With a Porpoise.



And then, of course, we broke tradition to bequeath a new name on a lucky Just! I hope this one appreciates the name given to him….


Just Tom is a nerd who works in the Department of Neuroscience at GW. He was in the Peace Corps in Africa and confirmed everything I thought about do-gooders, as he apparently joined the Corps to get laid (both there and here). He had sex with a woman in Africa, and when asking her what she wanted, she replied “you to marry me and have kids with me.” So he left. He went to North Carolina-Wilmington. He was in an all-black fraternity, secret-handshake and all.


Some names:



Ghana Have a Baby

White Man Can’t Hump

I Miss the Aids Down in Africa

Into the Fire

Token Cracker

Cock in Denial

Undercover Brother


After much deliberation (literally, this sh*t went on for a long time!), Just Tom was named Token Cracker, then got upset, so was settled on BeninPulledOut. Wah wah wah.


We drank, sang songs, and had a good ole’ time.


Whiskey Business

EWH3 Scribe