When: Thursday, November 8, 2018
Where: Smithsonian Metro
Hares: Atari 6900, Whoregon Trail, Sphincter Shy, Poon-apple Juice, Camo Sutra
Virgins: Just Ethan (He was Southern), Just Cole, Just Cody, Just (honestly, I didn’t catch this chick’s name, I was too distracted by Just Ethan’s accent), Just Ryan, Just Josh, Just Jay
Visitors: Missile Anus, In The Shitter, Two Fingers

On a cold November evening, we met to celebrate the true reason for the season: Whoregon Trail and Atari 6900! I mean, veterans too, but let’s be real. After hares away, we sang a few rousing rounds of the button song, while noting Texas Hold Him’s yellow hate, which he was very proud of. Notably lacking was the presence of his sidekick, bicurious George.

Suddenly, the pack was on-out. Your noble scribe took the helm of walker’s trail, leading the charge on a path that was somehow straighter than Schrodinger’s Cock. Across sidewalks and… more sidewalks we trekked. The trail seemed so hopeless that Tragic Carpet Ride expressed his desire to eat a dead human. Not one to be burned twice, I kept my distance.

Meanwhile, on the other trail…

Over hill and through valley, across sidewalk and.. probably also more sidewalk, the pack traversed downtown DC. Doing her part to service men, Jiggly Tits jiggled those tits at the Marines on trail.

God bless American, indeed.

The biggest mistake an alpha hare can make is leaving the pack in charge of their own shot check. Carrying a mere two gallons of a non-descript liquid, we approached The Spirit of Justice, which it turns out is just a big fountain. Shots were had, photos were taken (all by our official EWH3 Hash Flash), and we were on our way. Finally, in the close distance, the pack appeared, having arrived at beer check quite some time before us. I proffered a beer and stumbled upon Dial F popping bottles like cherries.

The pack must have confused the sound of the cork with a shotgun because they were off before my second drink. On the way out, Assmaster 2000 revealed his true form as he found a spot on the swing set so he could lure little girls to have a seat. Like a late autumn Santa, he was just looking for his ho’s.

The second half of trail passed without incident, although Sally the Jizzhound channeled his inner Virginia driver by leaving his blinker on for two miles. I arrived at end only to see Quid Pro Blow dumping chips into his box of donuts. Now, that’s a threesome I can get behind.

In my excitement, I reached into my dry bag to find it not-so-dry. I frantically pulled out to discover a small portion of a wine bottle embedded in. my. hand. Stain Gretzky sprung into action with a first aid kit, proving that not all heroes wear fatigues.

Thanks to this medical emergency, I blocked out the happenings, cumming to only for a very solemn occasion…

The Naming Of Just Lady

Just Lady is an adorable make-out whore. This panty-licker has had the unfortunate luck of living with Sally the Jizzhound for over three years – and no, she’s not the jizzhound. Just Lady likes to hump the bunny (I wish that were an innuendo) and has only pooped on the couch once. Thanks to Rosetta Bone, Just Lady shall henceforth be known as…

But wait, there’s more!

Letting him know his true place, second to a dog, we invited Just Chad into the circle, too!

The Naming of Just Chad

Just Chad definitely doesn’t have a beard. This born and bred Maryland boy loves blind people and the flags they fly. He doesn’t watch porn with dicks in it, leading him to believe he has a big dick. Oh, sweet naivety.  Just Chad is a late bloomer who doesn’t masturbate alone and lost his virginity on a church alter. He doesn’t talk dirty – what a shame – but likes hitting it from the Baaaa-ck. His fetish for powerful women helped him somehow woo an entire female rugby squad, leading to Rosetta Bone’s sloppy seconds of a name…

With glass in my finger and darkness in my soul, we marched to Trusty’s and tbh I can’t tell you a damn thing that happened there except Fireball shots.

On – 69 trails and counting – On
Poon-apple Juice

Dear Gispert, haven’t I written like four spooooky trashes already this year?

I mean, I get it. Halloween is a hasher’s dream. Costumes, glitter, boobs, beer – what more could you want? But don’t you think we’re overdoing it just a little bit?

Eh, fuck it. Give the people what they want.

When: Thursday, Novembe 1st, 2018
Where: Foggy Bottom/GWU (Blue, Orange, Silver Line)
Hares: Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock, Maybe It’s Gaybelline, Cheech and Done, All Flash No Drive, Texas Hold Him, and You Sucked My Battledick
Virgins: Just Stefan, Just Sarang, Just Kelsie, Just Nejla, Just Victoria, Just Kiosha, Just Nate
Visitors: Drill In My Box, Dick On The Table

If you give a hare a beer, he’s going to ask for a glass of Twinkle Juice
When you give him the Twinkle Juice, he’ll probably ask you “Oh No Why?!”
When he’s finished, he’ll ask you for a napkin.
Then he’ll want to look in the mirror to make sure he doesn’t have any chalk on his face.

When he looks in the mirror, he might notice his pubes need a trim.
So he’ll probably ask for a pair of scissors.
When he’s finished giving himself a trim, he’ll want a broom to sweep it up.
He’ll start sweeping.
He might get carried away and sweep every room in the house,
But he sure as hell won’t sweep the trail!

When he’s done, he’ll probably be drunk af
You’ll have to fix up your couch for him with some blankets and a puke bucket.
He’ll crawl in, make himself comfortable, and dry heave a few times.
He’ll probably ask you to log into Porn Hub.
So you’ll play for him from one of your favorite videos, and he’ll ask to see some nuggets
When he watches those nuggets, he’ll get so excited he’ll burst.
He’ll feel invincible in the afterglow, which will remind that nothing can harm him.

So.. he’ll ask for a shot of Twinkle Juice
And chance are if he asks you for a glass of Twinkle Juice,
He’s going to want a beer to go with it.

See what you’ve done? No one is happy about having read this. Don’t ever make me write another spooky trash again.

Violations:

Turn the Meat Around had his panties in a bunch because someone else managed to find shorter shorts than him.

What’s a Boner ate his first marshmallow. Even so, it’s not the first time he’s has something white and sticky in his mouth. And honestly, it won’t be the last.

Lube Bottom Me literally painted his crown with curry. Hey boo, if you’re gonna look like a snack, you might as well smell like one, too.

Fish and Tits was accused of alcohol abuse, brought on by a fit of rage.

Just Emily brought candy but no drugs. Really, what’s the point?

Sally the Jizzhound betrayed his feminist roots by forgoing the taco costume.

Wait Wait Don’t Fuck Me dressed as the resident Mormon of Mr. Roger’s Neighborhood, prompting us to ask…

Won’t you blow my neighbor?

As we celebrated Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock’s 400th r*n, the opportunity for a very spooooky occasion presented itself – then promptly ghosted us like my last four Tinder dates.

So we all rode off on our broomsticks to Recessions. Where y’all know this mouse made some damn good choices.

On – I did it all for the cookie – On
Poon-apple Juice

When: Thursday October 18th, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!
Where: Huntington Metro Kiss and Ride 

World peace, or peace on Earth, is the concept of an ideal state of happiness, freedom and peace within and among all people and nations on earth. Different cultures, religions, philosophies and organizations have varying concepts on how such a state would cum about. We here at the hash believe the path to peace requires a BAC of at least .08. On October 18, we gathered in our pursuit of world peace… through beer.

The night began way out in Huntington. As the pack arrived and began to sign in, Can’t Find Pussy In A Haystack and Baa Ram Him passed out patches. As a millenial, I really appreciate a good participation trophy, and as such took two.

Circle began with the introduction of our sacrificial la- I mean, virgins. Just Britt, Just Kerry, Just Katie, and Just Alex looked on in abject horror at the sight which was unfolding in front of their very eyes: Cum Dumpling attempting to find his own taint.

Our visitor, Phantom, introduced himself and no one paid attention.

The hares, Can’t Find Pussy In A Haystack and General Tso’s Dicken, lured us into a false sense of security by assuring us that they had indeed found the key to world peace: beer!

Within the first minute of trail, General Tso’s Dicken broke the tip. I know she prefers them circumcised, but that generally isn’t considered a DIY procedure. After that rocky start, the pack was off, over the rivers and through the woods. Or at least I assume. I was on walker’s trail, which took us on a rousing tour of the suburban streets of Huntington. Luckily, we were able to scout out the houses that were most likely to hand out full size Snickers by listening to which ones Just Chad was busy bitching about. He claims that he could do better, but we all know those spider webs he shoots are just a metaphor.

The pack finally tricked their treats on up to beer check, where Uno Dos Tres Lipgloss was kind enough to grab me one of the most worldly beers we’ve had at the hash in ages: Bud Light Orange.

Angry and sober, I reached into the beer bin myself. Over-enthusiastically, I pulled out and realized..


I had been iced by
The Hares.

Sadder than a freshman without a bid on Homecumming (that one was a stretch, but believe me), we started off on the second half of trail, where we learned that, after an unfortunate homecumming incident of his own, Atari 6900 is no longer allowed to talk to teenage girls. You’ll be glad to hear, later that weekend, he compensated by attending a Halloween party populated solely by scantily clad women barely old enough to drink.

Just when I thought that the beer selection had killed the concept of world peace almost as badly as millennials killed the diamond industry, we were invited to join in celebrating the 500th run of Can’t Find Pussy In A Haystack with

Bags

Of

Fireball

If it burns that much going down, you should probably call your local clinic.

Thankfully, our brew crew, Quid Pro Blow and Agent Orgy were there to put out the fire with PBR for your noble scribe (and Uno Dos Tres Leches).

Ostensibly, we held a circle with virgins, domestic German beer, and a traditional Australian Hakka. The Fireball in me sang some karaoke, and we all forgot Uno Dos Tres Liftoff’s name again.

With noone to name and no sense of shame, the pack set off on the third leg of trail to Pilar’s Restaurant.

On – World Peace? Why not world whole? – On

When: Thursday, June 28, 2018
Where: Cleveland Park. Hares: Dwarfus interruptus, split her bare, leaning tower of please yah, (Haystack? IDK)
Virgins\Visitors\Long time no see-ums: I have literally no idea, blame the RA!
Brew crew: mourning wood and quid pro blow

Who doesn’t love when mommy comes to visit? Well too bad you ungrateful bastards, it’s tradition! White House made you, and if this trail was any example, White House can undo you too. For instance, when one of the hares, *cough* Dwarfus *cough* decides to do a cute scavenger hunt on trail, but doesn’t share the map with the rest of the hares laying trail. You know it’s gonna be a good trail to walk when you get to prelube and find half the hares drinking their depression away.

Anyhow, the rest of violations:

[x] “I’m not rideable”: said by Sir Lanclitte, to Blow me closer, stupidly not realising he would in fact be ridden around end circle later for having said this.
[x] Blow me closer: wants to fill Sonny up and take control, and honestly who can blame her.
[x] Gaybelline, jumped in the fountain of youth sans kilt, is a real (little) boy!

[x] Fakers dozen: got so hot on trail, she decided she wanted someone to get her wet too.
[x] Tuck tuck: unusually cranky, even for him.
[x] The fitness Bros just Cody and Just Tucker: always cum first when there’s a hill
[x] Commendation for mourning wood – for chilling the drink I bought at start
[x] Night stalker – stalking runners trail at tit checks
[x] Blow me closer – asked for deet, was directed to Deetz Nutz and his roll on applicator

[x]  Goat – wet his pants on trail, calm down sir
[x] Have you blown my stapler: shouting get off my lawn as beer check ended, to our edub children, we actually have an artists representation of the events.

 

Just imagine him more Mexican, and less pasty.
[x] Gaybelline: gave tips to just Christy… About getting named
[x] Cafe O-laid – doesn’t care if she’s on correctly, just if she “gets there”
[x] The hares – no checks at the Czech embassy, must think they’re too good for puns. They aren’t.
[x] Shitty porn story -Asking “anyone go down?” at a check on a hill. Being the selfish lovers we are, nobody had.
[x] Cafe O-laid: I’d rather risk cars than poison ivy, not very safe. [x] (Some of) the hares, commended for saving trail
[x] Quid pro blow and mourning wood – got blown in the same hot tub at spa world. Should probably also book another double date to get some antibiotics.
[x] Lick-hymen – found a doggy bag of poop, was convinced it was a trinket, what a shitty trail

 

On-better late than pregnant-on

Sir Lancelittle

 

Remember those cool chapter books where the authors were too lazy to decide which way the story should go so they left it up to a bunch of nine year olds to choose for themselves? Yeah, this trail was kind of like that, except both stories ended in with cum in your hair and regret in your soul. Wait, was that just me? Didn’t think so.

When: Thursday, October 4, 2018
Where: Tenleytown Metro (Red Line) or Courthouse Metro Station (Orange Line)
Hares: Colliteral Damage, CockWhisperer, Wookin Pa Nub, Hell’s Anal, Tomb Raper, and Can’t Find Pussy in a Haystack
More Hares: All Flash No Drive, Blows a Tranny, Wait Wait Don’t Fuck Me, Special Head Kid, Mambo # Hives, Fire in the Hole
Virgins: Just Eric
Visitors: Plasti-flab, Rotten Whore, Dead Head, Tanned Peaches, Dead Woody, Semen On The Pew, Undercover Jerker, 49 Hands, S&M Man, Little Thunder Clap, Muff Master
Long Time No See ‘Ems: For Sale or Rent

Since y’all have already made your bed and thus have to lie in it so to speak, let me help you choose another adventure. I present: EWH3’s Official Hare of the Dog Guide*. These day (or week) after solutions have been scientifically proven to reduce the effects of your Thursday – and Friday and Saturday and Sunday) night**.

*Disclaimer: Nothing I ever write is “official.” You should take every word with a rim of salt (and a lime).
** probably.
  1. Bloody Mary
    The quintessential morning-after drink, a Bloody Mary can haunt away even the most stubborn of hangovers.
  2. Oral Rehydration Therapy
    Google gettin’ all fancy. Drink water.
  3. Mimosas
    The proper ratio is 9.8 parts champagne, .1 parts OJ, .1 parts despair.
  4. Pedialyte
    The rich man’s Gatorade, Pedialyte is gentler on the stomach and doesn’t taste like clown farts. Pro-tip: Freeze up some Pedialyte pops for summer time ragers. (Note to Miles D. White: please forward any sponsorship offers to [email protected]).
  5. Beer
    Every hasher’s favorite beverage. A crisp beer – preferably combined with a shower – will wash your cares away.
    Image result for shower beer
  6. Saline Drip
    Everyone has that one friend who just barely passed the Ethics course of their nursing program.

6.9 Orgasm
Literally nothing is made worse by cumming.

Violations:

The Hares started strong, walking us past a fire station. Sorry to say, but even DC’s finest can’t stop that burning in your crotch.

Agent Orgy was overheard exclaiming “All I want is to Heimlich someone!” I have it on good authority that she got those thrusts just right.

At start, Schrodinger’s Cock offered his tongue to every single hasher in attendance. Not a single one took him up on the offer.

Image result for tongue funny cat

Wank Like An Egyptian came on a scooter, marking the first and last time someone found a scooter sexy.

Meanwhile, on ballbuster, Tuck Tuck Duece complained, as is his wont. What was the problem this time? Too much beer. Baa Ram Him was also living the #TuckLife, complaining about the abundance of alcohol at shot check. To his credit, he swallowed anyway.

Speaking of complaints, to make up for his blatant mug shaming, Deetz Nuts owes Mambo # Hives a shiny new EWH3 sticker (you can buy one Here!).

The Other Hares were violated for celebrating Halloween early and literally sucking the blood out of every one dumb enough to venture out on that trail.

Maybe It’s Gaybelline shared his personal record for fucking twice in one hour – with a 58 minute nap in between.

Senior Sodomizing Slut blew his load in an unsuspecting harriette’s ear without warning. I guess you could say she didn’t hear him cumming.

As we geared up for a weekend of debauchery, there was no room for a naming. Rather, we celebrated a hasher who stood before us on the anal-versary of his special night (no, no, the other one) in the very same place as his own naming. I don’t know what he said that night, but I do have some guesses.

Shetland Blow Me – a saga in three acts

Maybe he was a cowboy, or maybe he just fucked one.
He might have blown a many men or just a metric suck ton.

He could like wearing saddles, or maybe spurs or boots
He could, like a horse, have the very worst of toots

Whatever brought him to us and whoever his biggest foe be.
We love him dearly, this sad fuck, whose name is Shetland Blow Me.

There are tales of brave hashers who ventured on, to Guapos. Some say they are still drinking those giant margaritas to this day. The rest of us went home to get our final hour of sleep before embarking on another journey that we will surely regret.

On – We Don’t Deserve To Wear White – On
Your adorable ring bear, Poon-apple Juice
and de-flower girl, Mambo # Hives

 

When: Thursday September 27th, 2018.

Where: Braddock Road Metro (Blue and Yellow Lines)

Hares: Too Easy, Fish and Tits, Camo Sutra, Blows a Tranny, and Knocked Up

Virgins: Justs Ben and Grayson

Visitors: Slothy Seconds (who totally doesn’t count, but is delightful, so whatev) and Pretty Pretty Pittsburgh

Long time no see: Mouthful of Clam

The poor long-lost Mouthful of Clam had lamented that It’s Always Too Sunny in San Diego, and he missed hashing in the rain. The cold rain. MisManagement would like Clam to refrain from such inauspicious tempting of the Elder Gods or specify RAIN OF BEER for whatever eldritch being is taking his weather requests.
The RA and Scribe were sodden and shivering, so we decided to speed run the circle.


Violations: The pack probably did some terrible, deceitful, drunken shit. None of it would keep them off the Supreme Court, so who the fuck cares.

No naming. Is everybody happy?

On “You bet your ass we are” on,

BMC Tiny Dancer

When: 6:45 PM Thursday September 20th, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!
Where: Eastern Market Metro Station – follow marks to start!
Hares: GeriatricMandering; Colliteral Damage; Cheech and Dong; Son, What the Fuck; Vaginal Countdown; Rosetta Bone; Deathly Swallows; and Rail Mary
Virgins: Just Riker
Visitors: Fully Drunktional, The Virginator (who is currently homeless), and some foreign wanker whose name I never got, but it’s ok because he didn’t let himself out of the circle. Some say he’s still there to this day.

Honestly, everyone, I sat here for a good ten minutes trying to figure out how to say “Octoboo-er.” I gave up, had a drink, and got spooooooky instead.

and then I made my way down to Eastern Market.

Other things that got spoooooky:

  • The shots – On the first half of trail, the shot check was trapped in the upside-down, unavailable to those of us in this mortal realm.
  • The second half of trail – Our hares provided 11 (eleven!) gallons of shots for the second half of trail, proving they are indeed wannabe serial killers.
  • The cabana boys – Lord, was that a (trick-or-) treat.
  • The trees – They came alive and tried to rip off a man bun (can’t say I blame ’em).
  • The Twinkle Juice – It’s literally never a good idea.

Following a small course correction to account for a party (of ghosts?), we got down to the nitty-gritty:

(Spoooooky) Violations

Twinkle, Twinkle Little Cock brought (gallons of) Twinkle Juice and also literally forgot the word for consent. Much like our repressed memories of summer camp, this is going to haunt us.

L’Chymen hobbled along on a broken foot. Who knew foot jobs could get so violent? (spoooooky feet)

Speaking of violence, Schrodinger’s Cock reminded us that all it takes is one quick smack for him to make a mess. (a spoooooky mess)

Uno, Dos, Tres Liftoff is gearing up for her second campout in a row. Guess she really appreciates a nicely pitched tent. (spoooooky tents)

Much of the pack was worried that our virgin, Just Riker, was r*ce-ist. We were relieved to find out that he’s just into water sports. (spoooooky water)

Stain Gretzky was overheard complaining about some dribble. She really needs to learn to swallow.. her pride.

Just when we thought it couldn’t get any spookier, we were possessed by a very solemn spirit for …

The Naming of Just Jones

Just Jones, a former pet store owner from Texas, propositions strangers on a daily basis. They think humans are easier than animals and are a fan of back porches. They’re not significantly mean and enjoy books about Narnia. They’ve fucked their way through New York, the Vagina Monologues, and their art classes model roster. They like it when it goes swish (No, I have no context for that comment) and know that the most important thing to grab in a hurricane situation is whiskey. They once helped a mom dig an irrigation ditch, which was impressive enough. It was all fun and games and irrigating bitches until we learned that Just Jones has a twin! It was this revelation that led Cum Peg Me to name them…

On – It was a graveyard smash – On
Poon-apple Juice

When: 6:45 PM Thursday September 13th, 2018
Where: Columbia Heights metro station (Green/Yellow) – Rabaut Park
Virgins: Just Kevin, Just Will
Hares: Chip Off The Old Cock, Quid Pro Blow, No Strings Attached, Deep South In Your Mouth, General’s Farm Animal, L’Chymen

1981 – Britney Spears is born

1986 – She makes her stage debut

1990 – The Mickey Mouse Club rejects B-Spears because she’s too young. Smart move, Walt.

1992 – Britney appears on Star Search

1999 – …Baby, One More Time debuts at number one

2001 – PETA gets angry when Britney performs with both a snake and a tiger. Sounds like my Friday night.

2003 – The kiss

2004 – Wedding number one, lasting 55 hours, ushers in the Crazy Era

2005 – Britney becums a bad mom

2007 – After one day in rehab, things went decidedly down hill

2009 – Circus marks Britney’s cumback

2011 – Her 7th album (WTF?) drops

2013 – Time for a show in Vegas!

2015 – There’s a duet with Iggy Azelea

2018 – This disaster of a trail announcement went out.

Even though he wasn’t there, Can’t Find Pussy in a Haystack was violated for providing the pack with Oreos that were just…

Toxic

Goldman Ballsachs was violated for .. everything. He’s been gone forever, and now that he’s back, everyone is begging him: Once this trail shit is over:

Hit me baby one more time?

The Hares were ticking fucking the pack, which many thought made Chip Off the Old Cock a  

But, it was really just women’s empowerment.

Thanks to the hares, this whole trail was…

We were all concerned about General’s Farm Animal. His memory is getting so bad that he started our opening song, but when the dementia kicked in, he got super confused and

Oops, he did it again.

After we finished with all the hits, the pack switched over to the B-side for…

Well, yes. But also…

The Naming of Just Alex

Just Alex blacks out a lot. This floor humper and mattress fucker made himself cum to the hash, thanks to the internet (Holla!). He, and his unnamed penis, continue to cum with the help of computers. Just Alex loves Nature Valley granola bars, ganache, and Swedish fish (or hates them? I’m not sure. My notes are a mess.). He’s blacked out plenty of times – while skydiving, pooping his pants, and during a 30 minute hand job. Despite the pack’s desire to beat that joke like a dead horse, General Tso’s Dicken finished us off with the help of Centaur Roosevelt by naming him…

We trickled on over to Recessions, which is my personal Kryptonite, to channel our inner Britneys.

 

On – Leave Britney alone! – On
Poon-apple Juice

When: September 6th, 2018.

Where: Ballston-MU Metro Station

Hares: Free Little Willy, Pee It Forward, Bear Fucker, Issues & Tissues, Who Wears Shart Sharts, Cum on My Buddy

Virgins: Justs Bill and Erin

Visitors: Stool Sample, Liar Liar Vagina on Fire, Reverend Ranger Ray, Mommy’s Little Fister, and something about bananas (idk, autocorrect completely took over my notes here)

It’s that time of year! More trails devoted to folks celebrating their future alimony payees/payers legally-bound permanent helpmeets! Ain’t love grand?

Violations:

Starting us off strong, Just Jones was violated for walking into a pole. Pro tip: around here we back onto those.

Quid Pro Blow couldn’t figure out if he wanted money or a body part during sign in. It’s in the bylaws, dude. We accept both always.

Issues and Tissues was violated for looking like an adorable fairy princess Snapchat filter. Look, there is a balance in the universe, and if hashers start looking like winsome dewy-eyed sprites, someone out there is brutally gored by a unicorn.

Mellow Foreskin Cheese was angry trail didn’t end in his back yard. In a truly disconcerting turn of events, an old man is yelling at us to get on his lawn.


And in some sort of White Dress rivalry nonsense, Twinkle complained about the trail for five minutes straight. While he’s younger than me and has no excuse to be a grumpy old man, he was getting a head start on that business because just like his translucent, sweat-drenched dress, this motherfucker was SALTY.

 

On “No, seriously, unicorns are dangerous” on,

BMC Tiny Dancer

When: August 30th, 2018.

Where: Minnesota Avenue (Orange Line), Minnesota Ave. side – follow marks to start!

Hares: Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock, Roll Over Bitch, Six Pigs in a Blanket, Poonapple Juice, Deetz Nutz, and Colliteral Damage

Virgin: Just Emily

Visitors: Well Hung, The Ass Man Commeth, Wet Back Sally

We all love a great excuse to not wear clothes in public. Or to wear not-clothes in public, I guess. The creativity! The courage! The Twinkle Juice! An entire kennel attempting to answer the question of what would happen if a challenge on RuPaul’s Drag Race took place in the storage room of a college dorm!

Violations:

The good Sir Lancelittle decided that though he had but one sacred duty, he would neglect that solemn trust and flout traditions by wearing apparel to the ABC. He then sassed the scribe for arriving… somewhat behind schedule. But though I was egregiously tardy, I was righteously unclad, and the pack determined by general acclaim that ’twas better late than clothed, and – duly chastened – our honorable knight did down his beverage.

Just Alex and Throbbin Hood were matchy-matchy in their stunning Ikea-themed outfits. They were not the Swedish twins we wished for, but they were definitely the ones we deserve.

Image result for ikea twin men

The inimitable Poonapple Juice was commended on her outfit which managed to be a horny mashup of Madonna and Jacques Cousteau. We are so disappointed that it did not come with a performance of “Like a Sturgeon.” Or dolphin porn reenactment.

 

And in a tragic example of alcohol abuse, Just Alex baptized Greatest Ho On Earth with Twinkle Juice. While nobody likes to ask, “Why am I sticky?” really no one likes the answer to be “Twinkle and bad decisions.”

 

On “Naked and Unafraid” On,

BMC Tiny Dancer