EWH3 #644–The Titanically Chicken F*cked Trail: Francis Scott Key Park
Hares: Chicken F*cker, Homeland Insecurity, Turdette Syndrome, Homo Arigato, Mr. Robutto
Brew Crew: Oedipus Sex, Little Bunny Poo Poo
Virgins: Just Terry, Thor (really?!), Michelle, Kristin, Elios, Liz, Miley (really?!?!), Blake
Visitors: Chicken Pot Guy (NOLA H3), Hoover Daaaaaaamn (St. Louis H3), Double Header (Cairo H3)
Analversaries: 169–Bad Dog; 269–Shamrock Your Cock
OnOnOn: Mad Hatter
Yup, I’m back, bitches, making a special appearance just for this week. (Dear god, I hope it’s just for this week.) It was the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic, so we all dressed up, some in floaties and life jackets, some in formal wear, and me in a vintage, black fascinator with a widow’s veil. What? I was mourning Leo! Having been injured, I stuck to walkers’ trail. But, from what I heard, runners’ trail was over 7 miles long and went through lots of shiggy and some water crossings, so, in other words, just like any other Chicken Fucker trail, but surrounded by preppy white people instead of Marion Barry and a sock pimp. Bitch set us up.
Chicken F*cker didn’t run us through the ghetto. My world is askew. #cognitivedissonance
Everything Butt wore a raceist shirt. So did Just Elios, but given the collapse of the Greek economy, maybe that’s all he could afford, so we’ll let it slide with him.
Brown v. Board of Fornication flipped up a kilt to reveal a perfectly good ass but failed to smack it. #whybother
Preparation Ohhh, Snatch Shot, and Just Micha wore outfits that had us all wondering what the Titanic had to do with peacocks.
Just Anna stole from DC public school students to make her costume, as if they didn’t have it bad enough, what with having Whiskey Business as a teacher.
The hares bought ice from some random Asian dude on the street; they must have confused “ice” with “pirated DVDs” or “5 dolla sucky sucky.”
Cock-a-doodle-do-me came into beer check crowing about how she beat Cock Soup.
My Little Pony claimed he was using his phone to look for beer, but we all know he was actually sexting on trail.
The Scarlet Letter wiped out on trail; she just can’t stay off her knees.
Sphincter Shy peed out in the open at beer check; obviously he’s not bladder shy.
Hungry Hungry Homo got a physical on trail. Or at least, I saw him turn his head and cough.
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Cock was wearing a sailor cock hat. Or a sailor cop hat, but it’s funnier my way.
Dicklomat tried to hand Twinkle a bottle of Purell he found on the street, because he “looked like [he] needs it.” Clearly Dicklomat got it wrong; he should’ve handed it to Chip ‘n’ Fails.
Violations from the Crowd
Dildo Shaggins emailed a bunch of people asking if they’d seen a pair of pants she lost. The missing pants turned out to be at Put it Out’s house–which is also where Shaggins lives. #bronxzooscobradidbetter
Can’t Get Beaver was suffering from a kickball injury. How is that even possible?
One if by Man; Two if by She pretended to be relieved that the person smacking her ass was just Twinkle Dick instead of a girl, as if she ever wants fewer women in their relationship.
And then it was time for a very regular occasion: a NAMING!
Just Julie is from North Jersey, studied psychology at University of Delaware, and got a PhD in neuroscience at GW, where she still works at a lab. Another overeducated hasher, woop woop! She likes Aladdin, billy goats, World of Warcraft, and Homeland Insecurity, so much so that she went and married the latter. Just Julie claims to be a “lazy lover” and sometimes has sex while drugged up on Ambien. While at a work party, she did a bunch of tequila shots, got so drunk that she couldn’t find the bathroom, and peed in a dog bowl. The first time Just Julie also once got a Dutch Oven from Homeland Insecurity, she rolled over and gave him one right back. Finally, she lost her virginity to a neighbor when she was 14.
Naming suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:
Black and Yellow
For some reason, we ended up throwing her back, so everyone remember the good ones for next time.
After that, we tried to go to the bar, heard they weren’t letting any more of us in, migrated to the Big Hung, drank more beer, and tried to get laid.
Hasta la vista,
Tits for Tots
EWH3 Scribe Emeritus