February 13, 2015. 7:00 pm.

Preparation:
Preheat to 20 degrees
Mix multiple kennels and loosely assemble in Farragut Square

Ingredients:

  • Several friendly visitors (I should start writing these down…)
  • 7 intrepid hares (I’m Tho Thor, Red Vag of Courage, Compost Pile, Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock, Sorest Rump, Tuck Tuck Deuce, Sphincter Shy)
  • 1 run-away wheel
  • A dash of quick-thinking hashers
  • 1 tow truck
  • 1 unexpected on-after (51st State)
  • 1 hell of a Friday the 13th

Directions:

  1. Follow the marks through Foggy Bottom and the Watergate
  2. Arrive at beer check location
  3. Await arrival of hydration
  4. Learn Plan B’s fucking wheel fell off
  5. Retrieve belongings
  6. Reconvene at 51st State for circle and general merriment

Well kids, if you missed this one, you missed a lot. See what happens when you want to stay warm and/or celebrate a successful, loving relationship? FOMO, bitches. Serious shout outs to brew crew (Brokeback Mama) and the hares (including brewmeister, GM, and the doctors, nurses, and family members waiting at Plan B’s bedside) for their hard work and adjustments on the fly. While they were waiting in the cold, RPI conducted circle around a pool table, and we hung out with bartender Just Will and his tight pants (Just Delightful). Violations!

  • Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock ACTUALLY said this to me before we learned Plan B’s fate: “I did my job. The van runs and has four working tires.” It would have been good to see that the tires were attached to functional wheels, but hindsight is 20/20.
  • The hares were violated for getting about 20 men locked inside because, unsurprisingly, not one of them could find the button. As usual, I pressed it myself and the flood gates opened.
  • Wookin Pa Nub introduced himself to me twice within a half hour. I’m still RW&P, and he still has a shitty memory.
  • Just Duke asked RPI to carry the shit, marking the first time anyone has ever asked for his Rear Protein Injection.
  • Fister Roboto may have run through some tit checks, but he took off his shirt later to make up for it.
  • Just Ken thought the bar was called “50 Fist State.” #WishfulThinking
  • Compost Pile and Twinkle made undoing my zipper a two-man job. Happy Valentine’s Day to me! And finally,
  • Plan B was violated for being very late and eventually out of commission. This was a VD-themed trail, not a pregnancy one.

We drank indoors and poured one out for our old friend. There was no naming because we’d already witnessed enough disappointment for one evening. And that, dear friends, is a recipe for an eventful EWH3 Full Moon.

On- there’s a metaphor in here somewhere- On

–Red, White, and Poo