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

When: Thursday August 23rd, 2018

Where: Gallery Place (Green, Yellow, Red Lines – avoid the red line if you can by taking the D6, G8, 70, X2, 80, 42 or P6 bus) – exit at 9th and G. Follow marks to the Portrait Gallery to start!

Hares: Poon-apple Juice, Atari 6900, Mourning Wood, Throbbin’ Hood, No Strings Attached

Virgins: Justs Jamie, Franklin, Alex, Rich, Isabelle, Caitlin, John, Christie, Ksenia

Visitors: Betty Cocker, Dwarf in the Doghouse

Not gonna lie, really regretting using all of my hemline-index economics jokes on the Cropadelphia Trail Trash.  Anyway, trail and skirts were short and sweet, just like I like my romantic partners depositions. And also my Hash Trash. Skirts are a Garment of Power. It is known. Moving on.

Violations:

The sweeper hare, No Strings Attached, was called out for scampering off without even seeing the back of the pack. Dude, we know you’ve heard this before, but you went way too fast and left folks to finish on their own.

Split Her Bare was overheard talking to Just Christie saying, “Texas is a little too hot for me”. He gets that a lot, but really it’s not the heat; it’s the humidity. He’s a sweaty motherfucker. On the plus side, everyone loves a wet t-shirt contest!

And when canvassed for violations, La Gingeracha complained that the Hares laid a trail too short for him to come up with anything funny. He was dragged into circle with them for the crime of implying that there could be a trail long enough for him to be funny.

 

To cap off this delightfully brief trail, we had…

A Naming!

Just Virginia is from Denver and went to school in L.A. On a xylophone scholarship. Which is a thing we now know exists. She came to DC as a teacher but hates children with a Trunchbullian enthusiasm generally unseen outside of cartoon villains and dystopian fiction.


Her younger years were peppered with stories of underage drinking, fucking a boy cross-dressed as Hannah Montana, and how everclear incites her to domestic violence. We’ve all been there, amirite?
In college she professed that aside from her diligent xylophoning, she was very into rugby. Wait. No. Reverse that. Most of the rugby team was into her at one point or another. In an anatomical sense. By which we mean sex.
More recently, she got up to some shenanigans on a Columbia Heights soccer field and was chased off by the local constabulary while incompletely clothed. (Exit, pursued by a pig.)
While there were several suggestions involving her team playing and Hannah Montana-banging, the crowd decided to nod at her educational and recreational activities by dubbing her The Whore You Know. Please congratulate Rosetta Bone on the newest addition to her brood.

 

On “Short skirts and shorter attention spans” on,

BMC Tiny Dancer

When: Thursday, August 16
Where: L’Enfant Plaza – Maryland Ave/7th Street exit – follow marks to start in Hancock Park!

On this joyous occasion, the Hares provided marital advice:
Red Vag of Courage “Listen to her.”
Hungry Hungry Homo “Make sure the table runners match the cumberbunds.”
Red, White, and Poo “Continue being cheap.”
Sphincter Shy “Conceive!”
Deathly Swallows “Let her take it.”


(I can only assume she meant “take the last nug”)

Virgins: Just Ansel, Just Kevin, Just Kerry, Just Alex, Just Shelly (Kelly? Unclear..), Just Melanie, Just Lucy, Just Tenzen

Visitors: None. You don’t invite strangers to your wedding.

Ok, first off I want to note that no one involved in last night’s festivities had ANY right to be wearing a white dress.

Wait, what’s that? The color white is not symbolic of virginity? Rather, the color blue was connected to the concepts of purity, a la the Virgin Mary? Well, then I stand corrected.

At least there were plenty of similarly clad individuals to confuse the evil wedding spirits. And, you guessed it, they did some stupid and confusing shit.

Red Vag of Courage was hit by a car on her way to trail and still showed up to alpha. Wait, isn’t it the bride and groom who are supposed to go down?

Bipolar Bear couldn’t tell the difference between roofies and penicillin.

Mourning Wood was so horny that he called every bar by name, as long as that name was Rhino-related.

Despite Brew Crewing, Schrodinger’s Cock dressed for his photo shoot at Anthropologie.

Just Ansel and Just Kevin tried to keep it tight with sit-ups, forgetting that it’s actually kegles that they should’ve been doing.

Just because the Hares shared their personal advice doesn’t mean they didn’t hide more well-wishes for the happy couple throughout the trail. Luckily, I was there to translate.

The Hares took us past the Titanic Memorial. Translation: May your marriage never sink.
They walked us past a dentist. Translation: May all your blowjobs be toothy.

Walkers had to put forth twice as much effort as the r*nners. Translation: May you always shoulder the weight of the world equally.
And finally, May your marriage be as long as that trail. And waaayyyy longer than Twinkle’s dick.

First cums love, the cums marriage, then cums…

A NAMING!

The Naming of Just Kyle

Once upon a time, The Hyperpoop awoke his roommate, Just Kyle, from his peaceful mid-workday slumber to make him cum to the hash. This amateur porn addiciando likes it natural, but is averse to bushes. He “used to” like animated hentai (as opposed to what other kind of hentai…?), but then he turned 13. This little engine that couldn’t has let down numerous women, whether they request it to be harder, fist-ier, or just somewhere outside of the bedroom for once. While I’m personally intrigued by his band camp days as an oboe player, he’s much more interested in fucking sheep. For reasons that I (and he) can’t quite put a finger on, Dr. Too Little swooped in to save the day, naming him…

With two new Mr.’s and one new Mrs. in tow, we walked the long aisle to Mission, where tequila reminded us all of why we filed for that divorce.

 

On – always the bridesmaid – On

Poon-apple Juice

When: Thursday August 9th, 2018.

Where: Woodley Park/Adams Morgan (Red Line)

Hares: Schrodinger’s Cock, Poon-apple Juice, Son What the Fuck?, General Tso’s Dicken, and GeriatricMandering

Virgins: Justs Pierre and Kelly
Visitors: Œdipussy, Dewalt Thunder Pussy, Sex Ray, Anal Vinyasa

Schrodinger’s Cock can see adulthood from his apartment and celebrated by treating us all to his idea of a good time: an unpleasant itching sensation and pretending to be someone else for attention. To be fair, some of those costumes were pretty darn good. There were Battledicks and He*ad Injuries and Gaybellines and at least two SchroCos. There were kitten-shirt-sporting Tragics. Some folks swapped identities. And – totally unbiased – a magnificent representation of Blow Me Closer Tiny Dancer.  Anyway, congrats to SchroCo for not dying young.

We ended things in Town Tavern and circle was brief and bibulous with birthday beverages!

Violations:

Mambo Number Hives wanted everyone to know that she “took the turkey split and solved it just fine”. Ok. 5 points to Ravenclaw. You need to know that the typo I had was Ravenclam. And I like that better. Ravenclam it is.  You are now Mambo of the House Ravenclam.

Atari 6900 showed off his inimitable style by barrel-rolling down a veritable mountain. It is unknown if he wailed anything romantic as he did so.

 

But the most important information… Wait Wait is one of DC’s most eligible bachelors.  This is not a joke. This is beyond humor. This has passed through joke and gone into some strange land beyond. I leave you with this fact. The pic is a link. You are not ready.

On – Undiscovered cuntry – on,

BMC Tiny Dancer

When: Thursday July 26th, 2018
Where: Dupont Circle. Go to the middle of the Circle and look for exposed midriffs.
Hares: Stain Gretzky, Slothy Seconds, Groundhog Lay, Donald Dick, Cheech & Dong, and Rail Mary
Virgins: Justs Ian, Ryan
Visitors and long time no see ums: Agent Orgy, Abominable Blowman, Areola 51, Little Thunderclap, German Dungeon Porn, Groundhog Lay

There is a famous economics principle known as the hemline index which states that higher stock prices correlate to higher hemlines. In these uncertain times, the appropriate response to a trade war and massive wealth gaps is obviously… crop tops. All of the crop tops. Enough crop tops to ward off an apocalyptic collapse. If we have not yet devolved into a barter economy  as you read this, you are welcome. 

Violations:

The poor dear Maybe It’s Gaybelline set the bar comfortingly low by failing at the down down song. In front of the virgins. While mostly sober.  I do not know if the depth of shade in my opprobrium is sufficiently clear, but y’all, I bothered to type “opprobrium.” Bless. His. Heart.

 

Donald Dick showed up in a corn shirt. No, not Korn, the aggressive soundtrack of my comparatively tame youth, but corn, the grain whose major redeeming qualities are subsidies and horror movies tortillas and fermentability. We are fortunate it did not display beans or squash, as it turns out the gentleman in question profoundly misunderstood the concept of “crop top.”

The Cumburglar was encouraged by the admiration of a dirty old muggle and is rejoicing to have found his demographic. It’s not teen girls. Several of those pointed and laughed. Haters gonna hate, Cumby, don’t you let them dim your shine.

Atari 6900 brought out pizza, ate it on trail, didn’t share it, and ran off. He was righteously violated in absentia for a malicious dine and dash.

To cap off the ill-advised shenanigannery, Slut Machine and (shocking) Gaybelline were overheard discussing a found tampon and the use of this item to rectally administer tequila to the aforementioned dick-waving wonderboy. 1) The title of this specific bad decision is a Tequila Moonrise, and 2) I’m pretty sure that tampon was legitimately scared that things were about to take a dark turn.

On a positive note, L’Chymen was commended for trading crop-tops with the surly scribe. Defying all reason, physics, and the hopes of an entire pack, the shirt managed to contain L’Chymen‘s …tracts of land.

There was no naming, and we happily fucked off to Recessions!

On – Midriffs and Merriment – On,

BMC Tiny Dancer