Hash Trash: EWH3 #609
EWH3 #609: Bethesda
Hares: Rear Protein Injection, Presidential Nasty, RhinoBlastMe, RU-469, Just Bradley
Brew Crew: Tapped Three Times, Blows a Tranny
Virgins: Just Dave, Samantha, Liz, Sarah, Jesse, Becky, Katie, Stan, Becca, Erin, Ian, Mike, Aviva
Visitors: Pro Boner (Sarajevo H3–transplant, and yes, this is a different one from the Pro Boner who moved here last month), Honey Bunches of Cunt (Portland, ME H3–transplant), FLAB (Hubtown (Toronto) H3)
OnOnOn: Tommy Joe’s
The first half was a death march. Seriously, I think we ran up every hill and through every neighborhood in the greater Bethesda area, including a bit of woods where it was a really, really bad idea for me to have left my headlamp in my other bag. FAIL. After running past a big parking lot where we often have beer check, we hit a bit of the Capitol Crescent Trail and FINALLY ended up at the beer check, in a school (I think) parking lot.
I’d heard that the second half was much shorter than the first. Maybe it was, but given the length of the first half, that’s not saying much. And, the hares added in one more thing to tease, lead on, and frustrate the pack: false hope. We cut through a grocery store parking lot, and went into the parking garage, where we all thought trail would end. But no, the hares had other plans: they sent us into another parking garage, where we also wrongly thought trail would end. After that, we ran through another neighborhood, up more hills, and into yet another parking garage. Trail was supposed to end in that garage, but due to police presence, we relocated to a fourth parking garage, where we ended up not being able to have circle, due to another cop lurking around. It’s Montgomery County, they have nothing better to do. Consequently, we headed to the bar, where we gave out some lovely:
Shetland Blow Me loves himself so much, he brought his mini-me to the hash.
Gaystation was whining about his sore balls, even though we all know it was his ass that was hurting.
Mannipple Lickter said that vaginas are always cold and they suck away body heat. Dude’s gotta stop picking up chicks at the morgue.
The hares said there was no theme this week, but they were lying–the theme was, “parking garages.”
Cum of a Preacher’s Hand is giving up and getting married this weekend.
When asked about whether we could have end circle on the outside patio of the bar, Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Cock said, “It’s still spritzing out!,” in further proof that he was hoping that it’d be raining men.
Put It Out called his dad’s skydiving buddy a “young’un.” The guy he was referring to is about 70.
Hong Kong Ptooey! flashed a bunch of young girls. On the one hand, she’s doing it wrong. On the other, less competition for me!
Violations from the Crowd
The hares told everyone they’d need headlamps, but with the exception of RPI, didn’t bring any themselves.
Please Step Away from the Whores did something wrong at work–the metro caught on fire.
Gaystation said he “didn’t know it was gonna be that deep.” Um. Yeah, you did.
PIO, Whiskey Business, Gaystation, and Cum on Prancer wore matching wife beaters and jorts, because they thought they were skipping the hash and, instead, filming a remake of “Deliverance.” Squeal like a pig, boys!
It was PIO‘s idea to wear the jorts.
Roll Over, Bitch! tried to correct someone on a song and got it wrong himself. FAIL
We were already at the bar, so we skipped the naming and went straight to trying to get laid.
No more parking garages,
Tits for Tots