When: 6:45 PM Thursday May 17th, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!
Where: The Swamp of Sadness – No, wait.. West Hyattsville (Green Line)
Hares: Pooples Mountain Majesty, Megan’s Law, Kooter Kunte, When the Ball Drops, Special Head Kid
Virgins: None
Visitors: None

Hold on to you hats, folks. It’s time for another impromptu meeting of the Juicy J Book Club for People Who Don’t Actually Like Reading And Would Rather Drink Beer Instead (trademark pending).

The Cat in the Hat is a children’ book written and illustrated by Theodor Geisel under the pen name Dr. Seuss. The story centers on a nervous goldfish, whose name we never learn. Old Goldie has been left in charge of two young children, Sally (not a Jizz Hound) and he-who-must-not-be-named, while their parents are away. During this rainy afternoon, a tall anthropomorphic cat wearing a red and white-striped hat rolls in and begins to trash their home.

Rather than call CPS, the fish attempts to reason with the Cat in the hat, protesting loudly at the introduction of two feral animals (dubbed only Thing 1 and Thing 2) into the home. The climax of the story occurs when Ole Gold spots the matron of the household and fears he will be fired from his post as ad hoc nanny – and promptly flushed.  

Suddenly, the Cat drives a zamboni through the home, miraculously leaving it spick-and-span before leaving as quickly as he appeared, leaving the fish to wonder if it was all a fever dream.


We’re always so negative here at Everyday Is Wednesday, but Dr. Seuss leaves me feeling all warm and fuzzy. Let’s start off with some commendations instead.

Megan’s Law was commended for providing private tick checks, but let’s be honest. We were really all just happy that he was trying to quench some of L’Chymen’s thirst.

Picture this: The first of the pack get to end but – alas! – Scrotal Recall is stuck!

A commendation to all the wankers (which I’m told was mostly The Hares) that stepped up, for saving the day and freeing Scrotal, proving that while not all heroes wear capes, they do wear silly hats.

Kuter Kunte brought a giant umbrella and Too Easy donned her wellies. Normally, I would violate them for over-accessorizing, but in the absence of Please Step Away From the Whores, they were kind enough to provide us with a different kind of PSA:

Once I got tired of being nice, we moved on.

Throbbin’ Hood arrived in swim trunks and Geriatric Mandering has toes that would make any camel jealous.

Schrodinger’s Cock and Pooples Mountains Majesty both dressed as birds, in a futile attempt to lure in some unsuspecting pussy.

Meanwhile, the Hares just… stopped marking trail? They only succeeded in perpetuating the myth that everyone will finish at the same time.

Now that we (all 24 of us) were soggy and rapidly contracting Lyme’s disease, we moseyed on over to Lee’s to sing a sweet, sweet chorus devoted to a gal named Caroline.

On – so good, so good, so good – On
Poon-apple Juice



But wait! What’s this? BONUS TRASH!!!

When: May 19, 2:00pm – 5 or 5:30ish
Where: The home of the only two wankers dumb enough to invite us over – Sphincter Shy and Whoregon Trail
D’Erections: The  Potomac Ave Metro (Blue, Orange, Silver) was a scant two blocks away. Bikeshare…eeeehhhh….Eastern Marketish? Street parking should’ve been reasonably easy to find (Spoiler: It wasn’t).
Hares: We don’t need no stinking hares! But… chairs! We totally needed more camp chairs.
Miscellaneous Crap: We welcummed glutards and overbought supplies
On-After: TRUSTY’S! And some of us also went to Nerd Nite, duh. 

The EWH3 brew crew is the most noble service a hasher can offer. While many think of brew crewers as martyrs – nay! SAINTS! – our Dark Keg Lord Throbbin’ Hood (minus his nut sack) gathered the masses to reassure everyone that it is not too late to join the ranks of the EWH3 elite.

Those brave enough to attend were treated to a veritable feast of beer, homemade wine, meat tubes, Guac-olate Chip cookies, meat, more beer, some meat for good measure, and – oh yea! – beer.

We learned such valuable information as:

  • How to open a van door, using a key
  • The nuances of strippers and why you shouldn’t tip them
  • How humans rank compared to other species in terms of distance r*nning (so says Hyperpoop)
  • Proper can crushing technique
  • Apparently, you can grow a new butt hole (Son What the Fuck?! was speaking from experience)
  • You can earn prizes for reaching the quite attainable goal of four crews in a year
  • Never wake a sleeping Anal Fission

Did you miss out? Don’t fret! Contact your Brew Meister to secure a date and time and partner in crime to show you the ropes. In just a few short weeks, you too can join..

The few.

The proud.

The Brew Crew.

On – Thanks, brew crew! – On
Poon-apple Juice

When: 6:45 PM Thursday May 10th, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!
Where: Brookland Metro (Red Line)
Hares: Blow Me Closer Tiny Dancer, Geriatric Mandering, Goldman Ballsachs Schrodinger’s Cock, Rosetta Bone, Mouthful of Clam
Virgins: Just Nadov, Just Liz, Just Jessie, Just Drew, Just Jean, Just Ben, Just Linda, Just Kenzie
Visitors: None
Long Time No See-ers: Mouthful of Clam, Mudflap

Time for your literary minded scribe to provide yet another plot synopsis – this time based on the books!

Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone
Harry is a sad orphan who is one day kidnapped by a giant, who informs him that he is – in fact – a wizard ‘arry. The giant and the boy go on a shopping spree where they run through the most ridiculous shopping list, which includes bathrobes, nocturnal animals, and some kitchenware. Harry, along with everything-but-the-kitchen-sink, boards a train to Hogwarts with his two newfound friends. (Meanwhile back at the hash, L’Chymen mistook the Brookland metro for Platform 9 ¾ and almost got hit by the Hogwarts Express.)

So far, the most unbelievable part of the story is that Ron – a ginger – has any friends at all. They face off against a troll, Cerberus, and slightly less than half of their professor’s skull. Despite this violent rampage, the students are commended and sent home to enjoy a summer of fun.

Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets
In true Hogwarts fashion, Harry is visited by another creature of irregular size – this time a midget of sorts. Rather than taking a train, Harry’s friend flies his father’s car into an angry tree. It’s reminiscent of Tony Panda and Shamrock Your Cock’s auto-hashing adventure this week. Harry prematurely tackles Hogwarts’ foreign language component by mastering a language that allows him to converse with snakes. Wank Like An Egyptian, meanwhile, thinks his Parseltongue is the weakest muscle in his body. 

But c’mon, who could control their snake around this fella?

Harry’s conversations with the monsters set loose in the school lead him to a hidden chamber, guarded only by a sad ghost who has been cursed to live her entire life in a toilet. In the chamber, he finds Voldemort’s misguided penpal, whom he saves with the help of Guy Fawkes.

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban
Harry is only in the wizard equivalent of third grade when he discovers his murderous godfather has escaped from prison, his friend’s pet is a full grown man, and his favorite teacher is a werewolf. Being a kid is tough, huh?

Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Harry illegally enters a Tournament of Champions, which requires him to steal from a dragon, save his friends from the bottom of a lake, and navigate a maze of trees. Mouthful of Clam entered his own tournament this week, playing Hide and Seek all by himself.

Despite his best efforts, Cedric Diggory misses prom – mostly because he’s dead and all.

Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix

This is the one where Harry enters his emo stage (we were all there once) after a court appearance. Rather than prepare for the magical SATs, Harry and his friends start an underground fight club. Harry’s depression is intensified when he learns that his fate is intertwined with that of Voldemort and also that there are still two more books how is this series still going?!

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince
Harry’s principal takes a strange liking to him, providing secret “lessons” to him. Harry falls in love with his best friend’s sister. Oh, and Snape kills Dumbledore. 

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows
Harry drops out of school to fight Voldy full time. He finally gives up and allows Voldemort to kill him, but the ghost of Dumbledore past convinces Harry not to die and the world is saved. At this point all of Chekhov’s Guns have been fired, so we are treated to a epilogue in which everyone seems to be seriously repressing their PTSD.  

Now that we’ve covered that, time for some violations:

The Hares thought this trail was Game of Thrones themed and tried to kill everyone off in the first act.

Like a true wizard-born, Whoregon Trail was confused by muggle technology. Like a true muggle-born, George Stuffedanoctopus was confused by Quidditch. And Atari 6900 was confused by how underpants work, like a true Squib.

And a Commendation for everyone who carried bins to and from beer check. Kind of makes me wonder what other gifts they can bring to my forbidden forest.

Now that I’m all worked up, I think I’ll go for a quick -ahem- broom ride.

On – Why Don’t You Slytherin..? – On
Poon-apple Juice

When: 6:45 PM Thursday April 26th, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!

Where: Van Ness Metro

Hares: Put It Out, Blows A Tranny, Can’t Find Pussy In A Haystack, Generals Farm Animal, & Please Step Away From The Whores

Virgins: Just Curin (?), Just Liza

Visitor: Skank the Tank

469 is a value of n for which n!-1 is prime.

Interstate 469 is an Interstate highway in the northeastern portion of the midwestern state of Indiana. In 2004, local officials namerd all 31 miles of I-469 in honor of the late former US President Ronald Reagan.

Area code 469 correlates to somewhere near Frisco, TX.

Year 469 was a common year starting on Wednesday. How fitting.

At the time, the year 469 was known as the Year of the Consulship of Marcianus and Zeno.

In the year 469:

The Ostrogoth prince Theordoric, age 15, returned to Pannonia after living as a child hostage in Constantinople.

The Vandals invaded Epirus, now known as Albania. They were expelled from the Peloponnese (Greece) and in retaliation, take 500 hostages at Zakynthos. On the way back to Carthage, they are slaughtered.

King Euric declared himself independent from the Western Roman Empire.

General’s Farm Animal was born.

Oh, wait…

Regardless of the number on his birth certificate (did they have birth certificates back then?), EWH3 has enjoyed his company at no less than four. hundred. sixty. nine. trails.

469 trails is a big achievement, and we celebrated with a keg (-ish) of some sort of rye beer.

GFA has been hashing longer than this scribe has been alive. His biggest fantasy is to live to see 569. #smallattainablegoals

GFA is the second bass in his choir, which is one base further than he’s gotten in quite some time. #thatswhyhewasscreaminghisownname

In true grumpy old man fashion, GFA was overheard this week screaming “hey deer! Get out of my woods!#oldmanyellsatclouds


Wait Wait Don’t Fuck Me admitted to attending FIVE proms. Don’t get excited about this Casanova, though. He took his sister to all of them.

Schrodinger’s Cock was complaining about the smell while sitting on a trashcan. Maybe he should eat more pineapple?

This was the oldest group of hares we’ve had.. Maybe ever. They showed their age by sundowning quite hard, laying the same trail twice in one hash. They even forgot we had already had a beer check. Meanwhile, on walker’s trail, our hare walked us past a fake dog, proving that just because something is sitting erect, that doesn’t mean you should pet it.

In honor of the man who doesn’t know when to quit, the pack stuck around to drink a whole bunch of celebratory beers and sing about an abundance of El Caminos.


We Guapo’d.


On – #Imtooyoungforthis – On

Poon-apple Juice

As the owner of a lovable purr ball myself, I was honored to be of assistance to this paw-some trail organized by our hares: General Tso’s Dicken, L’Chymen, The Hyperpoop, GeriatricMandering, Poon-apple Juice, and Son What The Fuck?!

Before the Tour du Feline left start, we met our virgins — Justs Clark, Adrian, Andrew, and James — who followed the GMs directions like so:

And while no stray cats were picked up on trail, some hashers clawed it out to make the cut for the EWH3 Drama Club spring production of CATS!:
Amerigo Vespoogie as Mr. Mistoffelees
Greatest Ho on Earth as Grizabella
Shetland Blow Me as Rum Tum Tugger
Shitty Porn Story as Jennyanydots
Tragic Carpet Ride as Old Deuteronomy

GeriatricMandering was scolded for drinking from a can, but she was just following the example set by her cat who likes to lick tuna from a can.

The RA for the evening, Colliteral Damage, was blamed for bringing weather as cold as the hares favorite dessert: mice cream!

And one important question was posed to the hares: I can haz down down?

Thanks to the flowing beverages and patio space at Wundergarten, a rambunctious naming was held.

Just Jon was introduced to the hash by his roommate, General Tso’s Dicken. By day he is mild-mannered researcher, but by night he spends hours modding video games to his personal preferences. The genre isn’t called fantasy for nothing! The number of fandoms discussed during his naming tallies that of recent movie filled with homages to pop culture, and so Just Jon will henceforth and forever more be called: Ready Player None.

Meow, mew, mmmrrooowwww….
— Mambo # Hives

When: 6:45 PM Thursday April 12th, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!

Where: Pentagon City Metro – Virginia Highlands Park, Corner of 15th Street S and S Hayes Street

Pre-Lube: Chevy’s – Where Can’t Find Pussy In A Haystack had no less than six margaritas.

Hares: Please Step Away from the Whores, Can’t find Pussy In a Haystack, Ass Spelunker, Deetz Nutz

Virgins: Just Jen, Just Sasha, Just Amanda

Visitors: Cock Suey, Sprechen Sie Douche

Once upon a time (40 years ago, to be exact), there was a princess named Naoe Hiruta who had traveled the world – far and wide – before settling in the magical kingdom of Washington DC.

Naoe was outgoing and strong, so she attending a gathering of the local knights. While at first they welcummed her with open arms, they soon felt intimidated. “A woman?! Here?! We cannot have it!” they exclaimed and sent her on her way. This princess wasn’t up for their shit, cause she strong and independent.

So, Naoe began her own club – the DC Harriettes and Harriers Hash House (DCH4). DCH4 grew to be the first co-ed hash kennel in the kingdom of DC – “The hash where Harriettes are always on top!


DCH4 came to our trail sans RA, Scribe, shots – they brought nothing! They claim this was an invasion, but they were acting more like refugees.

Actually, there were some DCH4-adjacent Hares, who chose a start location so full of tourists, I thought we were at the Washington Monument. Turns out the wind had just caught the kilt of an unsuspecting wanker.

At beer check, the line was longer than trail. After all that waiting on the roof of the Costco parking garage, there wasn’t even any Kirkland Light!

Blows A Tranny took a break from his shift at Trader Joe’s to hash with us.

We had two race-ists in our midst, Mambo Number Hives, who was quite upfront about it, and What’s A Boner? who tried to hide his reverse race-ism from us, without success.

George Stuffedanoctopus admitted to leaving his vessel in the mug bin for over a week, then using it without washing. I’m all for using Penicillin to treat your STD’s, but you shouldn’t grow your own! At least Leaning Tower of Please Ya knows why it’s so salty now.

The beer was plenty and the Justs were few, so we skipped the naming and went on-on to Champps, where Irish Car Bombs were not – in fact – on special.

On – I’d rather have sharks than tourists – On

Poon-apple Juice


When: Thursday April 5, 22018

Where: Georgia Ave/Petworth

Hares: Red Vag of Courage, I’m Tho Thor, Bless Me Father for I Have Rimmed, Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock, Dial-F, and Shamrock Your Cock

Virgins: Just Ally, Just Leela, Just Tim

Visitors: None?

On After: The Pinch

Mawwiage is wat bwings us togeder today. Mawwiage, that bwessed awwangement, that dweam wifin a dream. And wuv, twue wuv, will fowwow you foweva, so tweasure your wuv – and your beer.

I don’t know much about love or marriage. But there are plenty of people out there who do. Let’s outsource this bitch.

Do you ever put your arms out and just spin and spin and spin? Well, that’s what love is like. Everything inside of you tells you to stop before you fall, but you just keep going. Practical Magic
So, when I woke up this morning and the room was spinning – was that a hangover or love?

“If you love ’em in the morning with their eyes full of crust; If you love ’em at night with their hair full of rollers, chances are, you’re in love.” Miles Davis
And if you love ’em in a lace dress so small you can count their balls, chance are, you’re at the hash.

“Behind every successful man is a surprised woman.” – Maryon Pearson
And behind every surprised man is a woman pegging him.

So, what exactly is the secret to a happy marriage?

“Marriage is like vitamins: We supplement each other’s minimum daily requirements.” – Kathy Mohnke
Life is better with your daily dose of vitamin D.

“Fuck early, fuck often, lick the butthole”Colliteral Damage

“Always be honest” L’Chymen
“No! Lie! Constantly.” Bipolar Bear
“Especially about your illegitimate children. Trust me.” Anal Fission

“Blow jobs every day!” Pee It Forward

“If you want a successful marriage, don’t get divorced.”Maybe It’s Gaybelline

“I just left the mall, I’m getting fly with my baby, yeah
And I can ride with my baby
I be in the kitchen cooking pies with my baby” — Fetty Wap
Pie. Got it.  


Many people don’t know that Turning Trixxx is For Kids and  Hungry Hungry Homo were high school sweethearts. The Hares honored this history by running us past THREE schools. We know you miss the days of study hall BJs, but that trail was last week.

Deetz Nuts needs a refresher on the meaning of the word “honeymoon”.

Atari 6900 proved he has bigger balls than Scrotal Recall.

Just Sara lost her V-Card way before her second hash.

The Hares had to be reminded that, like engagement rings, false trails are giant cock blocks.

The Hyperpoop continued his tradition of not going all the way by stopping a BC 7 at five marks.

And what wedding celebration is complete without a gift?

Schrodinger’s Cock was overheard on trail complaining about not getting off on time.
Just Tim was visiting from Albequerque.
Just Ally was a virgin.
And Please Step Away From the Whores  was – well – PSA.
They joined forces to gift the blushing brides..

Something old, Something new, Something borrowed, and Something blue (balls).

First cums love, then cums marriage, then cums… a new hash baby!

The Naming of Just Odin!

Just Odin, a one-eyed monster who doesn’t play rugby, likes his porn POV. He has to be careful with that VR equipment though, since robots don’t respond well when you pee on them. Just Odin definitely doesn’t own a sex robot in a wig. (It definitely doesn’t live under his pillow and he’s definitely never peed on it). He would trade a foot rub for a BJ, but if you use your teeth, urine trouble. He lost his virginity in 8 seconds, but has increased his stamina since then – up to a full 13 seconds. He may have fucked his sister in Norway, but it was his mythical son, I’m Tho Thor that named him…

When: Thursday March 29h, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!

Where: Navy Yard -Ballpark Metro

Hares: GeriatricMandering, Vaginal Countdown, Blow Me Closer Tiny Dancer, Special Head Kid, Amerigo Vesploogi, and Split Her Bare

Virgins: Just Nakiea, Just Griffin, Just Allie, Just Zach, and Just Matt

Visitors: Six Pigs In A Blanket, London Bitches Going Down

On After: Big Stick

Like any therapeutic support group (and that’s what we are, right?), E-dub thinks it’s important to cum together, re-hash our most traumatizing years, and marinate our damaged cranium contents with psychotropic concoctions.

Beer didn’t make high school fun, but it makes circle less triggering, and that’s the important thing.


Most likely to star in a reality TV show: (Real Housewives of Anacostia) Cum Locker

Tumble Cry was heavily nominated but no one could decide if To Catch a Predator fit the “reality show” genre.

Most likely to show up stoned to home room: Cum Dumpling. And don’t ask that wanker to share either. Rude.

Most likely to show up in answer to Maybe It’s Gaybelline‘s drunken booty call: Don’t Ask Don’t Smell. We hadn’t seen him in a while, but apparently Gaybelline knows exactly what buttons to push to tempt him out.

Most likely to take a ride from a stranger: L’Chymen, who was spotted hopping onto the back of a random biker’s motorcycle on the way to circle.

And in the only commendation for the evening: Most likely to take a stand against alcohol abuse:  Shitty Porn Story, who dove on a downed and leaking beer can like she was trying to live deep and suck all the marrow out of life. (For the children: That is a poetical reference featured in the classic coming-of-age movie Dead Poets Society. For the olds: That movie will be 30 next year. For everyone: RIP Robin Williams)


Some of us in the hash are old enough to have been to, considered, or pointedly avoided high school reunions. But if we’d gone to one without the intention of reconnecting with our old flame and possibly assassinating her dad (Gross Pointe Blank, class of 1997), we probably would have recognized a few folks…

The one who was chubby in high school but came back svelte and with an implausibly amazing rack? Definitely Kindergarten Cock. We got him at revenge-bod stage. Stay tuned for dad bod at the 20 year.

The one picking a fight with a history teacher over a poorly written test question in sophomore European history? Our own Geriatric Mandering, who now has a curated list of primary sources to support her drunken complaint.

The one who shows up to the reunion in all her Harvard gear? A Midsemester Night’s Cream. She says the maroon compliments the indebted-but-overeducated hue of her eyes. She’s so right.


And echoing the hazing rituals from days of yore, we were blessed with a NAMING:

Just Alan is from Albuquerque and in our fair city to complete his masters at Georgetown. The most important thing about his high school experience was cheerleading, which unfortunately did not afford him any insight into women as he arrived at the point of losing his virginity with no knowledge of how anything worked. Shitty sex ed! It’s not just for the Deep South anymore!

As an adult living at home with his mom, his persistent confusion about women led him to believe that riding a motorcycle into oncoming traffic would allow him to make the connections he so desperately desired. Two broken femurs and some other miscellaneous fractures later, his newly-met but very literal crush was breaking down his mom’s backdoor screaming the angelic and froody phrase “DON’T PANIC” to Just Alan’s startled mother. Backdoors and maternal units made another appearance in his stories involving a wacky misadventure where Ma and her date caught our hero being pegged in the living room. The dangers of living at home.

Just Alan proudly identified himself as the office manwhore at the bank where he worked. After fucking (“not dating, just fucking”) his way through his female coworkers, he became predictably obsessed with that one chick who had heard about his game and was having none of it. In true romcom and rapey-stalker fashion, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and badgered the poor woman into dates and an eventual legally binding relationship.

Outside of his Stockholm syndrome marriage, he would like us to know that he is vasectomized, would give a blowjob for an IPA, and was caught disposing of soiled boxers after he’d shat himself at a black tie event.

The nominations were drunken and bawdy, many better than he deserved, but despite a runner-up of “99 Fractures In A Ditch Ain’t Fun” (Rosetta Bone), the pack took into account his mom’s kitchen backdoor fiasco and the unexpectedly exhibitionist pegging event and dubbed him Panic! With The Crisco. Cum Peg Me is the proud papa, celebrating his second boychild. Mazel tov!

On – On
Blow Me Closer Tiny Dancer

When: Thursday March 15th, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!

Where: Metro Center – Freedom Plaza!  – Red, Blue, Orange, & Silver Lines

Hares: Colliteral Damage, Deetz Nutz, Poops I did it Again, Cheech & Dong, Happy Poo Year, Maybe it’s Gaybelline, and L’Chymen

Virgins: Just Kyle, Just Rick

Visitors: Lola-palooza, Floppy Attachment

On After: Recessions

Gaining the Luck of the Irish is not as easy as it sounds. The Irish have a lengthy list of good luck charms and bad omens and it’s hard to keep them straight! We need all the help we can get around here, so here’s a list of superstitions and lucky charms you should maybe consider being more aware of.

  1. Four Leaf Clovers: The hares were marking trail with lots of stars, when they should have been using shamrocks!
  2. Lucky Rabbit’s Foot: Actually, “adhering strictly to early tradition, a person in search of luck should carry the foot of a hare.”
  3. If you trip and fall in a graveyard you will most likely die by the end of the year. (Good on Jack for beating this curse.)
  4. Knock On Wood: “To avoid tempting fate after an unfavorable comment, the best thing to do, per superstitions, is to quickly knock on wood for protection. The belief was originated from the Indians of North America … children would touch a tree to signify safety during a game of tag, thus sparking the knock on wood tradition.” I guess no one told Just Morgan. He tripped into a topiary instead. It’s ON wood, not IN wood.
  5. The End of a Rainbow:In order to ensure no humans could take what they now considered their gold, the leprechauns reburied it in pots deep underground all over the island. When rainbows appear, they always end at a spot where some leprechaun’s pot of gold is buried.” Amerigo Vesploogie dressed as a bear. He wasn’t looking for a pot of gold. He wanted a pot of honey.
  6. Blarney Stone: “The legendary Blarney Stone at Ireland’s Blarney Castle attracts visitors who kiss the stone to get the gifts of good luck and eloquence.” I got something else you can kiss, right here..
  7. Lucky Number Seven: I didn’t have seven people in the circle so (insert your own violation here) for General Tso’s Dicken and The Hyperpoop.

Violations for the less lucky:

Eiffel Plow Her plowed his way through a crowd of school girls at the Vietnam War Memorial. Was France even in the Vietnam War?!

On trail, Throbbin’ Hood was outlining the variety he appreciates in dildos. Short & stocky, long & stockier, black & stocky – just stocky things in general. I guess it’s true that the heart wants what it doesn’t have.

General Tso’s Dicken got so excited at all this stock talk that she immediately had to stop at a hot dog stand to put a weiner in her mouth.

Afterwards, Wank Like an Egyptian grilled her for details for a solid three minutes. Wank, if you’re trying so hard to live vicariously through weiners, why not just talk to Throbbin’? (Or.. are you not into stocky dicks?)

Bonus Round! Tragic Carpet Ride

Tragic claims that when he was a young boy, he could lick his own dick. When pressed for a demonstration, Tragic blamed his changing body for the lack of performance. Ok, like we haven’t heard that one before.

Tragic took that childhood baggage and passed it onto an innocent bystander by yelling in a small child’s face “I have herpes in my ass!” Well, that’s a talk that’s happening earlier than his parents planned.

On trail, Tragic tried to direct traffic by yelling, “Wait! Stop!” Don’t you know? Once it starts cumming, you can’t stop it.

Finally, some of you may have noticed that Tragic’s vessel is in the likeness of Sully, from Monster’s Inc. If you haven’t seen the movie, Sully is actually quite like Tragic. They both spend their time trying to make little girls scream, but only succeed in making them laugh.

As luck would have it, the night was clear and the alley was windproof so we gathered close for a solemn occasion..

The Naming of Just Eric

Just Eric (not Allen) hails from Cleveland and was brought to our city in pursuit of a degree from American University. A former drama club director and high school newspaper editor, Just Eric landed a role as Carlos the Pool Boy’s side piece in Legally Blonde: the Musical. Carlos enjoyed rehearsing their make-out scene – his girlfriend was less appreciative. While studying abroad, Just Eric narrowly avoided deportation thanks to a smoking (literally) cougar named Mary. He wants to be the Fabulous Falcon, but also wants to fuck the Fabulous Falcon somehow? Boy, don’t you know that if you fuck someone with the same name, it’s just masturbation? (Disclaimer: this is the part where I got really confused) Just Eric’s dick might be bigger than Bill’s and he definitely owns Bitcoin. He likes it when the number of limbs in a sexual encounter equals either 0 (Nugget Porn?) or 9 (him + starfish). I heard him call Karl Marx “daddy” and immediately tuned out.

Despite her confusion, Poon-apple Juice seamlessly combined his desires to have cucumbers and muppets up his ass by naming him…

(Again, this raises more questions than it answers..)

Alas, we had made it through the ides of St Patrick relatively intact. We departed to remedy that at Recessions.

On – Erin Go Bra-less – On
Poon-apple Juice


Bonus Round – Part Two!
So, I’m a hot holy mess and never got around to sending you all…

The Naming of Just Nick

Just Nick, a ginger graduate of Virginia Tech, really likes shrimp and funerals. He once picked someone up at a wake and has stolen a non-zero sum of shellfish from another. If given $200, he would probably just eat it, much like stolen shrimp. He spends his days doing something law adjacent, but used to moonlight in life guarding, geriatric fishing, and pig slaughter. His first butt sex experience was also his worst. It’s been variably painful since. Just Nick keeps a Rolodex of all the dicks he’s met and was kind enough to outline some pretty interesting threesomes for us:

Despite his creative approach to math, it was Just Nick’s penchant for Elon Musk porn and the tale of tackling a turtle with a leaf at a music festival that led Wank Like an Egyptian to name him…

On – “Let’s go home and fuck” – On
Juicy J

Friday, March 9th

Captains log, day one, 1700 hours. Our destination is Ocean Shitty, beyond which lies the great unknown. We’ve been traveling for five hours now and have listened to Teenage Dirtbag four times. Our cargo is quite large, with the addition of one (1) unit of Malort. As for my crew, they have already begun to imbibe.

Correspondence from other ships indicates that Hercuplease will be renting himself out for the low, low price of $19.

Supplemental, 1900 hours. I have heard tell of a trail, hared by the valiant women of AssH3. Rather than brave this venture, my crew and I have reconvened in search of rations and to establish telecommunications for future correspondence. The distant calls of “on-on” can be heard in the distance, but the call of a California roll is that of a siren song to my ears.

Captain’s log, supplemental, 2100 hours. Location: Hashpitality Suite. Never have I seen a gathering as this. Can’t Find Pussy In A Haystack and Orange Is The New Snatch have aired their dirty laundry, or are at least attempting to wash it. Captains from across the land have convened and begun their mating rituals, with one Stain Gretzky twerking so hard, it registered a 6.9 on the Richter Scale. We are set to depart of a bar crawl, however the agenda only lists two bars. We may be missing crucial information. 

2200 hours. I have lost control of my crew. Following a rendezvous at Sandbar, hopes were high. However, with the introduction of karaoke and spirits, things have quickly begun to spiral out of control. I fear for my safety and my sanity.


0200 hours. Guys, it’s totally time to go to Seacrets. YAASSSSS. So, like, we get there and the security guards are all “walk through this metal detector, yo” and Just Amina is like “wait, are we at the airport?”

0230 hours. Woo! SEACRETSSSSSSS

Saturday, March 10th

Where: Ocean City, Maryland and/or Bayside Skillet
Hares: Deetz Nuts, General Tso’s Dicken, Too Easy, Goldman Ballsachs, Dude That Guy, Just Becky, Atari 6900
Virgins: Just Jerimeriah, Just Amy
Visitors: Check the rego list.
On-After: The fantasy suite

Captain’s log, Day two, 0900 hours. I have made a terrible mistake. My only consolation is that I was able to fight off the allure of Seacrets. Spirits are low after Dude That Guy was unable to make coffee for the troops. At his defense hearing, he shrugged and stated “ounces, cups, same thing.”

I will provide an update following my attendance at Mimosa Trail. My comrades, Stain Gretzky and Texas Hold Him will report on the events of other trails. Summary to be provided during this afternoon’s bonfire ritual.

Supplement, 0915.  Schrodinger’s Cock has informed me that we did, in fact, go to Seacrets.

1300 hours. Mimosa trail is a great success, relatively speaking. The 16 attendees are in possession of no less than 15 pitchers of mimosas. Spunk Monkey has attempted twice to enter through the kitchen. Tragic Carpet Ride has been stripped of his navigation rights after directing Dwarfus Interruptus on a walk to Bayside, following the flawed logic that Bayside = Seacrets/2.

1600 hours. We have reconvened on the beach. The weather is fair and pleasant. Per report submitted by telecom, the following discoveries have been verified:
Seriously 5-10 was delighted to hear that there is a slit. It made his night.
Orange is the New Snatch discovered a fetish for men who fuck like her grandmother.
Cheech and Dong learned that her mouth can fit so much more than expected!

I am in awe of the colors donned by those in attendance.
Seriously 5-10 wore pants from his sugar mama. They weren’t real leather though, so maybe they actually came from his Splenda Mama.
Orange is the New Snatch was hesitant at the reaction her live crab necklace would elicit. She was gently reminded that crabs should always be disclosed in advance.
Fukushemale was spotted with a silver spatula tattooed to his face. It is my understanding that, in his culture, this conveys a desire to get it in the kitchen.

A special honor was bestowed by the pack to Stain Gretzky, for her notable lack of decorum and overall drunken nature. She is this year’s Rear End Loader.

My peers are to provide summaries of their assigned trails. Transcripts can be found below.

The following report was presented to the pack by Stain Gretzky, following the ball buster trail. A summary is provided by Poon-Apple Juice, who thought she remembered more than she apparently does:
The hares laid a trail that took us up the entirety of the strip. If we had wanted to  r*n in a straight line for an hour without beer, we would’ve stayed in DC for the Rock n Roll marathon.
— After many loops, we were met with a YBF from the night before. Mustn’t have been that great, because I don’t remember being fucked.
Nobody Puts Gaybie in the Corner remarked that this trail was like his dating life: cold and sandy.
Hercuplease was spotted running on the beach, a la Pamela Anderson.
Schrodinger’s Cock was a late addition to the ball buster trail, joining in after losing r*nner’s trail and finding us instead.
— There was a miraculous occasion on trail, the birth of a healthy Gaybie boy!

A second report was provided by Texas Hold Him.
Why Is the Cum Gone? thought he went to bed listening to the sounds of the ocean. Turns out, it was the a/c fan.
— A commendation and thank you to White House H3 for sponsoring the Irish Coffee bar. Dude That Guy did some complicated math to make coffee so weak, someone thought it was tea.
Rosetta Bone refused a drink at beer check because “her body can’t take alcohol before noon,” which is confusing because she’s been known to take it anytime.
Great White MILF was seen wearing a Marine Corp Marathon shirt. Looks like raceism is something else she shares with my mom.
— Between the Google Voice number and going on mimosa trail, Poon-apple Juice really phoned it in today. (That was a joke from Schrodinger’s Cock, proving that miracles really do happen at WIE).
Atari 6900 and the BallBuster Hares were stunt violated for all those half minds who chose spending $100 to r*n for 4 hours over spending the same amount to r*n and drink for a whole WIEEEEkend.
Maybe It’s Gaybelline grew a mustache for 3 months, only to shave a day before WIE. Did he have a court appointment?

The following report was retrieved by Texas Hold Him from a parallel timeline, in which Maybe It’s Gaybelline did not appear in front of Judge Judy:
Gaybelline has not been this excited to be violated by a man since church camp.
— I was asked to read him for filth because someone thought it was dirt.
This mustache isn’t the only thing on his body that grows and disappoints women.
— A commendation, though, because in the spirit of WIE, Gaybelline dressed his face up like Chupacabra’s asshole.

1900 hours. Yo, betches. I got bored listening to those guys talk so I hit up the PBR cooler and now I’m here to be all drunk and solemn and shit.

Just Valerie
Just Valerie is a founding member of AssH3. She was a late bloomer in regards to masturbation and still prefers the help of juice presses combined with workplace porn. This boat captain lives for First Responders’ weekend where she is willing to cement her status as a cradle robber by pursuing men up to eight years younger. When she isn’t boating, rafting, or participating in other various water sports, she works with micro entrepreneurs (or was it micro penises?). Because she’s obviously a member of the nautical mile high club and has been married no less than three times, Poon-apple Juice named her…

We couldn’t just name one!

Just Brenda
Just Brenda is another member of AssH3. This badass bookkeeper totally isn’t in the mob (wink wink). She’s had more group sex than she can count, which is ironic really. Given a choice, she would ditch her turtle sister for a classic rabbit and the chorus line from Beauty and the Beast. She’s quite proud of getting some down in Jamaica and has tits that could launch a thousand ships. For this reason (and maybe more – you’ll have to ask Maybe It’s Gaybelline, or was it Atari 6900?), Just Brenda will forever be known as…

But wait, there’s more!

Just Amina
Four score and seven days ago, Just Amina met a man in a gorilla suit. This man, whom we all know as Atari 6900, convinced her to join us and she hasn’t looked back. Just Amina helps Herndon communicate, which is shocking because she was having a lot of trouble doing just that this weekend. She takes no pride in her sex life and would summarize the entire thing with a shrug, stating “This is unfortunate.” We didn’t get to suggest any names because Just Amina managed to name herself with this thrilling tale:
Characters: Just Amina – sad, lonely, and horny following a break-up
Some muggle whose name is unimportant and maybe he was from Tinder
Setting: Dark and balmy, possibly in a bed or the back of an El Camino
Scene: We find our two lovebirds naked and sweaty. The young gentleman suitor rises from betwixt the legs of his beau and confidently inquires, “was that better than your ex?” Just Amina, not one to mince words, replies…

Just Amy
Whoreballs69 woke up this morning with a receipt taped to her tits, proving that she paid her bar tab at Seacrets with hookers and blow. She wants to have a threesome with Papa Smurf and Smurfette, but would settle for Madonna and Prince, as long as they had a cuddle puddle first. This wedding crasher once made out with a bride on her wedding day and later gave the groom a blowjob so fabulous that he blacked out. We’re all jealous of her life, including the motorcycle racing and plane flying. After much debate, Poon-apple Juice snagged the chance to live vicariously through the newest WIE baby,

2100 hours. I’ve done been fucked, tattooed, and fed so it’s time to parrrtay. Meet you in the fantasy suite.


Sunday, March 11th

0500 hours. A silence has fallen on the captain’s quarters. We will now rest.

Captain’s log, day three, 0900 hours. My team is in need of sustenance. We have maximized the opportunity for this event and are needed back at home base. We shall pack up and depart shortly. A brief conference is scheduled for Barn 34, where the weekend’s summary will be shared.

Time elapsed: 45 hours
Dick pics received: 0
Beers consumed: [ERROR: cannot compute]
WIE babies: 4
WIE virgins: >50%
Group sex-ventures: 27.5
Transactions at McDonald’s: 2
Repetitions of Teenage Dirtbag: 31
Snakes in my Pineapple: 17

On – Is that a snake in your pocket? – On

Juicy J

‘Twas the night before WIE, when all through the burbs

Not a hasher was sober, they were tripping on curbs;

Chalk marks were thrown on the ground by the hares,

Bow Chic-a Bow Bow, Too Easy, Fish ‘n’ Tits, La Gingeracha were all there

The brew crew was nestled all snug in the van

Handing the beer out to us can by can.

And r*nners in their fleeces, and walkers in their caps

Stopped twice for a shot check, while making their laps.

Then once at end circle, there arose such a clatter,

I pulled out my notebook to record what was the matter.

Into the circle I flew like a flash,

To violate the wankers who messed up at the hash.

The moon on the breast of the virgins, so smiley:

Just Rachel, Just Krista, Just Julia, Just Miley

When what? Do my wondering eyes betray me?

A visitor by the name of Ice Ice Lay Me.

With a little old RA so bundled and bold

I knew in a moment she was to blame for the cold

More rapid than blowjobs, those down-downs they came,

As I called out the violators by name:

Now, Schrodinger’s Cock, who heard “Are you?”

And responded “We never even got off, boo hoo!”

On, What’s a Boner?, who came awfully late

Especially when his own hand was his date.

To the top of the hill! To the left of the wall!

Wait, this isn’t walker’s trail! Is it down the hall?

Leaning Tower of Please Ya, and PSA

Stitches Get Bitches led them the wrong way.

So, up to the hilltop the hashers the flew

As I called them for down downs, and Dr Too Little too!

And then, in a twinkling, I heard her just hum

Why? ‘Because of the cold’ her mouth was all numb.

As I drew in my horn, and was turning around

Into the circle Throbbin’ Hood came with a bound.

And his clothes were all tarnished, with what I don’t know

As he told us so proudly “I’m directing a show!

I’ll be dressed all in fur, from my neck to my ass,

Yes, this porn will slingshot me to the top of the class!”

Why Is The Cum Gone? followed him in

As he recounted the dialogue to accompany this sin

His moans – how they echoed! Hear that popped cherry!

His quotes were reminiscent of that time he railed Mary!

Rumspringa told us a story about a dear “friend”

Who met a young woman at his night’s end

He tried and convinced her to join him for a while

But found himself locked out in sexile.

Some claim he rented a zipcar, but we know

It was probably just a borrowed El Camino.

Schrodinger’s Cock was back in front of this dame

For making quite an outlandish claim

He stated “the quicker you finish, the better!”

Not true at all – she needs to be wetter!

A wink of his eye and a flash of his light

Soon gave me to know I’d stay horny tonight.

We spoke not a name, but went straight to the bar

And filled all the hashers with beer from afar.

And laying our fingers on our phone’s unlock code

And calling an Uber, back home we rode.

We sprang to our beds, for one last restful night

And we were all out right quick, like a light.

But throughout DMV, ere we leave by car or truck:

“Happy WIIIIEEEEkend to all, and to all a good fuck!”