EWH3 #611: College Park
Hares: Holy Tit!, General’s Farm Animal, Looney Soccer Dad
Brew Crew: Brokeback Mama, CoXXX on Demand
Virgins: Just Colleen
Visitors: None were stupid enough to come to this trail.
OnOnOn: Rinaldi’s Riverdale Bowl
We met up in the parking garage right outside the Metro, and for those of us who arrived early, the hares gave us inflatable rafts to blow up. We needed them, because our religious advisers haven’t been doing their job, and it was a freakin’ monsoon out on Thursday. Seriously, it was wetter than your little sister. Fortunately, the hares had marked the trail with paint. Yup. Literally. The pack ran off into the storm, and turned off into some shiggy before too long. At this point, everyone wandered around lost; even the hares couldn’t remember where trail went. We eventually emerged, ran through scenic College Park, past some even more scenic Maryland dorms, and into a driveway, where we had our beer check in the pouring rain.
The second half of trail started out promising, with mostly urban and suburban running, and I thought it was going to be a pleasant jaunt in to the end. Little did I know that we had in store the water crossing of death. What had been a placid little creek had turned into a raging river, and, while I don’t mind swimming at the hash, the current on this one was far too strong and too swift to even think about swimming. Even holding on to Just Zach, who’s a pretty big guy, I could barely keep my footing. After that near death experience, I was expecting to see a wood chipper once I got across the river, but fortunately, that was not the case. Once we were across the River Styx, or whatever it was, we ran down a trail, through another neighborhood, and onto a main road, which led to the on-in, behind a bowling alley. Suddenly, I started craving a White Russian, but first, it was time for circle.
Roll Over Bitch! thought we were fording the Mississippi River on the Oregon Trail and brought a dry bag. You have died of dysentery.
Dildo Shaggins wrapped herself up in rubber; she really, really wanted to make sure she’d have protection.
Have Fun Storming the Asshole and And I’ll Push Back were holding hands on trail. This is the hash, not a romantic comedy.
Suck Her for Sushi, despite wearing a Coast Guard shirt, pushed Hand Job downstream in a water crossing so he wouldn’t get swept away by the current. Wow, that makes me feel really safe in our nation’s waters.
Motormouth showed up dressed as a security guard.
Everyone who went to Maryland, thanks for giving us a tour of what dorms you got drunk in.
The hares got lost on their own trail.
Violations from the Crowd
Wreath Around fisted I Manual Cunt.
Dildo Shaggins invented a new kind of prophylactic.
Cock-a-Doodle-do-Me had a lot of trouble saying, “prophylactic,” she couldn’t get her mouth around such a big, long… word.
Tits for Tots dressed like Carmen Sandiego in circle, continuing the theme of computer games we played in school in the ’80s.
And then it was time for a very regular occasion: a NAMING!
Just Zach is married to I Think We Need a Fourth–he lost his virginity to her and everything–and they’re swingers. One of the guests he brought home turned out to be 19 and a virgin–though she wasn’t anymore after that night–and during the night, her car got towed. The car was registered under the girl’s father’s name, which led to a really awkward meeting. He went to college in Chattahoochee, and now works on the hill for a member from Texas. His boss is Republican, but he isn’t. Just Zach got walked in on by his brother and lost his boner. After a trip to TGI Friday’s, he once pooped his pants while riding in a car with his family–his brother was next to him in the back seat–and wrapped himself up in a towel. Too bad we already have a Poop DeVille.
Naming suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:
Daddy Tows Best
Gang Bang Miss Miss
O Brother, Where Shart Thou?
Shootin’ the Cooch
No one can resist a good Coen Brothers reference–after all, they are cinematic geniuses–so we named Just Zach O Brother, Where Shart Thou?
After that, we went to the bar, I mean, bowling alley, drank more beer, and tried to help each other conceive.
F*ck it, dude, let’s go bowling,
Tits for Tots