EWH3 Hash Trash #917: The Tun Tavern Remembrance Trail!

November 12, 2015. 7:00 pm

Happy 240th birthday to the Marine Corps! I forgot to get them a gift, so I offer the one thing every marine loves: ACRONYMS (Always Contrived Reductions Of Names You Must Sustain)!

First, some DETAILS (Dull Exposition To An Irritatingly Long Summary):

  • Location: Foggy Bottom Metro
  • Hares: My Little Pony, Don’t Ask Don’t Smell, Rambutt, Sphincter Shy, Gladiator, and Downward Facing Doggie Style
  • Virgins: Just Clara*, Just Mia*, Just Claire, Just Ariel
  • Visitor: Mom Would Have Done It Better—Berlin
  • On-After: Continental
    *They were very quiet. These names probably aren’t even close.

On our tenth celebration of the BIRTH (Babies Immigrate Right Through Hole) of the Marine Corps, the HARES (Hasty Arrangers Rarely Escaping Scrutiny) marched us from Foggy Bottom To ROSSLYN (Really Overpriced, Stale Suburb Longing for Youth Nearby).

FLOUR (Freshly Laid Observations Uniformly Reposed) was hard to come by, as were the promised checks for SHOTS (Small Hydration Opportunities. Tequila, Señor!).

After visiting the war memorials, Teddy Roosevelt Island, and Iwo Jima, All Flash No Drive led us in CIRCLE (Collective Invitation to Refreshments Creatively Led and Executed).

As usual, there were some VIOLATIONS (Verbalized Insults or Lambasts About Trivial Injustices Or New Shoes):

  • Wank Like An Egyptian struggled to dock his Capital Bikeshare. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the first time he arrived to see all slots had already been filled.
  • Dr. Toolittle recently mastered new techniques for neutering dogs with human-sized balls. Let this be a public warning to St. Paulie’s Girl.
  • The hares used very little flour on trail. Apparently they are conserving for the war effort.
  • Make Love Not Warcraft may be even worse at navigation than the hares. He gazed fondly at the Iwo Jima memorial and exclaimed, “Hey look, Tyson’s Corner!”
  • The hares were violated since their trail showed exactly as much organization and forethought as the Iraq war, and finally
  • Tragic Carpet Ride took a Lyft to end circle. After shitting in the woods.

And with that, we ran off to the bar since there was no NAMING (Newly Acquired Moniker Ideally Not G-Rated).

On-Men in Uniforms-On
Red, White, and Poo