July 16, 2015. 7:00 pm.
Prince George’s Plaza—newish territory for EWH3! What does the modern wanker do upon returning from such a vacation? Writes a review, of course!
“Prince George’s Plaza: What a shitty trail!”
Absolutely nothing here a hasher would enjoy. Running through malls, shiggy, and rivers? Yawn. Cops that pop by, just want to talk about running, and then leave us on our merry way? No thank you.
Following relative convenience from nearly all of the metro lines, we arrived to discover the central bazaar where the local youths congregate. We learned the native cuisine, Dunkin Donuts, offered flavorful combinations of frosting and sprinkles, and paired well with a (this time not skunked) keg of Natty Light.
Our guides, hares St. Paulie’s Girl, Dr. Toolittle, Yule Log, Miss Me Gag Me, and Geriatric Mandering led the pack through sprawling suburban parking lots and into lush fields of PI. Like the region’s cattle, we exploited holes in fences and entered the quiet streams of the upper Anacostia watershed. While the local crop of trail treasure (Just Jesse) proved quite hearty by running the shiggiest part of trail in flip flops, it was sadly too early to harvest and we gave it more time to grow.
After a secluded beer check complete with a spectacular sunset and discarded fax machines, we continued on our trek and arrived at our destination. Here, we were celebrated with the traditional Maryland feast—peanut butter and marshmallow fluff on white bread. Our rituals commenced with Rear Protein Injection conducting native celebrations, which were marred only by the hilarious scribe’s inability to speak the people’s language.
Clearly, a bad time was had by all. Wankers, heed my words and never venture to PG Plaza again.
Stayed in July 2015, traveled with friends.
Virgins: Just Karen, Just John, Just Jane, Just David, Just Eliza, Just Vira, Just Lynn, Just Andrew (X2!), Just Stacy.
Visitors: Goat Throat, Pimple Rain, Code Red, Transylvestite, Uranisian
On-After: Old Dominion Tap House
And, of course—VIOLATIONS!!
- The pack demonstrated how much we enjoy the company of Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock, who ran off into the woods alone, immediately began screaming bloody murder, and nobody came to his rescue.
- Empire Strikes Black boasted the shot tasted like him. Since it was fireball and lemonade, we assume he tastes sour and burns a little bit. Also, he himself knows this somehow…
- Just Kevin came to this scribe’s rescue and saved me from a pesky tag in my sports bra. This good boyscout was praised for his preparedness, but violated for the ultimate safety third of running with scissors.
- Hares Yule Log and Miss Me Gag Me recently got engaged on top of a mountain. Unclear if they celebrated by her climbing to the top, or his efforts in mountin’,
- All Flash No Drive demonstrated what too much teeth looks like by the bloody streaks on Rear Protein Injection’s head, and
- Cum Dumpling documented the benefits of being gay in the military: early retirement and lots of men with whom to have anal sex.
There was no naming because we had to escape the hell-hole of Maryland as soon as possible.
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