When: 6:45pm Thursday, July 12, 2018

Where: Fort Totten (Red & Green lines)

Hares: Cheech and Dong, GeriatricMandering, General Tso Dicken, A Midsemester’s Night Cream, and Tuck Tuck Deuce

Virgins: Justs Andy, Sam, Miranda, Justin, Christie, Josh, Kevin

Visitors: Jigglytits, Either Way

Oh, the poor hares stewing in bitter resentment for having the flicker of their birthday candles outshone by Christmas lights, menorah candles, Yule logs, pyromaniac uncles, New Year’s fireworks, and general consumerist holiday bullshit.

Every year. And every year, they wished on those underappreciated candles for a moment to feel special. Loved. Uplifted.

They got pack of unruly wankers sporting sweat-drenched holiday attire instead.


While we usually start off with experienced hasher antics, at least two Justs were brought into the circle for… feedback. Winning for favorite Virgin was Just Justin who brought us all sweets for the snack table. As an orally fixated group that enjoys taking candy from strangers, we let him know that we’d follow him to a windowless white van any night given Thursday. On the other hand, Just Alex needed to be reminded more than once that we point with our elbows. Repeated unwelcome fingering, my dude, we don’t put up with that; this isn’t a church.

Pooples Mountain Majesty regaled us with the tale of how he made some new friends on the rainbow police squad during his adventures at the DC Eagle. What nefarious crime was he the victim of? Someone grabbed his sac. On the plus side there’s video! This looks to be the beginning of a lucrative career in the CCTV porn niche, and we couldn’t be prouder.

Wait Wait Don’t Fuck Me got a little carried away with his safety equipment and was found with a condom on his shoe. On the one hand (foot?), gosh, when you work up to using those where they’re designed to go, it will blow your mind. On the other hand, I’m not here to kink-shame. Pro-tip: be real sure to spell your kink correctly when you search: it’s pOdophilia, mmkay?

We commended the transplant Jigglytits for attempting to scoop up some trail treasure while running through the streets of northeast. They started off their DC hashing career by being rejected by a stranger! Welcum to the family, JT!

Osama bin Hashing noted, while in a cemetery, that he’d had sex in one once. When asked if his partner was alive, he could not answer. Here’s a hint, buddy, if you need a Ouija board for your consent check, you have made several terrible life decisions and are likely to be eaten by a grue.

Throbbin Hood and Just Andy were caught drinking bizarre concoctions and improved on them by crossing the streams, trading fluids, and touching dicks. Well done, gentlemen!

Finally, the Hares were righteously violated for their traumatizing shot check. Bile-colored and tasting of mint and self-loathing. It induced flashbacks to that time after the intervention when the only thing you could find to drink was an unholy amalgamation of Scope mouthwash and NyQuil.


And after all of that, we had a Naming!

Just Brittany is from small town in Wisconsin, and Bipolar Bear made her cum. They worked the Hill together. Our intrepid lass has a degree in economics and then, for shits and giggles, law. During her youth, at the moment of first coital adventure, the gentleman in question bailed out last minute shouting, “Jesus won’t forgive me!” She can get quite rowdy in her sexual adventures, and has ended up with both strained ribs and bruises all over from being pinned to various surfaces. Lucky for her, she has a mom who is very kind and understanding and says things like, “Looks like you got fucked up against a wall like this! [action pose] And this! [action pose] And probably a little like that! [action pose]”
Just Brittany nearly swore off sex forever due to being scarred by dramatic maternal reenactment of her sex life, but she managed to allay those qualms with heavy drinking and hooking up with bartenders at their bars.

Due to the religious fervor in her early sexcapades and the motherly recognition of her sexual stigmata, she was anti-christened Rail Mary by the cheeky Midsemester Night’s Cream!

On-Happy birthday, fuck you – on,

Blow Me Closer, Tiny Dancer

When: Thursday, July 19, 2018

Where: Pentagon City (Blue/Yellow Line)

Hares: Roll Over Bitch, Kooter Kunte, You Can’t Handle The Poop, Tragic Carpet Ride

Virgins: Just Luke, Just Emily, Just Bob, Just Chad, Just Catherine, Just Emily

Visitors: Missile Anus, Nyakkdaaw, Kitty Litter, Trailer Swift (but like, the other one..), There were also some confused PUDJAM hashers

Throughout history, there have been many odd couples linked only by a name.

Mark Wahlberg & Mark Walberg

Michelle Williams & Michelle Williams

Howard Stern & Howard Stern

Jean Simmons & Gene Simmons

Brian Wilson & Brian Wilson

Adam Scott & Adam Scott

Trailer Swift & Trailer Swift

Girls, this is just a friendly reminder that if you share a name, it’s technically masturbation.

Now that we’ve all got some interesting fantasies running through our brains…


Please Step Away From The Whores is used to getting called by the wrong name. Rarely is it daddy.

Tragic Carpet Ride was excited to have a plethora of palms near his junk.

Cum Brew Lay’s balls were passed over for Pokeballs.

Atari 6900 is vehemently opposed to receiving a Blow’N’Go from a stranger, while Midsemester Night’s Cream is happy to let Cheech and Dong tongue her balls.

There were more violations, but I was drunk and we had a very solemn duty to perform…


Just Tamara is not a mean person and has, like, no ragrets. She didn’t want to go to college a virgin, so she had post-prom sex in a giant-ass truck. After a few years of quarantine at Johns Hopkins, she took her super luxurious pussy to Starbucks to give blowjobs to greasy European models. The plot of her own personal porn has taken her to a Costa Rican Hooters, a funhouse mirror hall, the bathroom of a public pool, and a coffee farm.

After an exciting boob-off in which Rosetta Bone’s champion proved victorious, Just Tamara shall henceforth and forevermore be known as…

Caffeinated and chaffed, we moved on to Freddie’s Beach Bar for karaoke and fried pickles (I know that sounds like a euphemism but I actually ate fried pickles at Freddie’s. I didn’t have a “pickle” in my mouth for at least another five hours).

On – wishing to be the friction in your jeans jorts – On
Poon-apple Juice



When: 6:45pm Thursday, July 5, 2018
Where: Minnesota Ave Metro (Orange line)
Hares: Special Head Kid, Pooples Mountain Majesty, Sargasm, What’s a Boner?, PSA, Pay As You Go
Virgins: None
Visitors: Cuntjungle, It’s Not Cum It’s Ranch, Suppository Depository, Floppy Attachment, Pasta In My Pants




Eagle (n.)

1. Eagle is the common name for many large birds of prey of the family Accipitridae. Most of the 60 species of eagle are from Eurasia and Africa. Outside this area, just 14 species can be found—2 in North America, 9 in Central and South America, and 3 in Australia.

2. The Eagles are an American rock band formed in Los Angeles in 1971. The founding members were Glenn Frey (guitars, vocals), Don Henley (drums, vocals), Bernie Leadon(guitars, vocals) and Randy Meisner (bass guitar, vocals). With five number-one singles, six Grammy Awards, five American Music Awards, and six number-one albums, the Eagles were one of the most successful musical acts of the 1970s.

3. The Philadelphia Eagles are a professional American football franchise based in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. The Eagles compete in the National Football League (NFL) as a member club of the league’s National Football Conference (NFC) East division. They are the defending Super Bowl champions, having won Super Bowl LII; their first Super Bowl in franchise history.

4.When a girl gives handjobs to two men, one in each hand, whilst giving oral to another. The combined movement of the three activities gives the impression of an eagle squawking and flapping it’s wings.

This is the freedom that we fought the #secondcivilwar for.


Son What the Fuck? was spotted wearing race-ist attire, but isn’t that the foundation upon which this country was founded?

L’Chymen tried to steal a bike, failing to realize that there were plenty of other people to ride home tonight.

The Hares are still mourning our break-up with Great Britain in much the same way I dealt with my last break-up: beer, literally r*nning away from my problems, regrettable life choices, and lack of personal grooming. Hopefully, they remember to get tested when this is all over.

Many in the pack attempted to violate our RA, but Colliteral Damage was really just trying to keep us warm to prevent another Cold War.

The battle was lost, but there was a war to be won, so we flew on over to DC Eagle to drop trou and watch gay porn, like real patriots.

On- land of the free titties -On

Poon-apple Juice

When: 6:45 PM Thursday June 21st, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!
Where: Tenleytown Metro (Red Line)
Hares: Head Injury, Cheech & Dong, Please Step Away from the Whores, Quid Pro Blow, Vaginal Countdown, and Just Tamara.
Virgins: Justs Carl, Eugene, Jewel, Rick, Lauren, Mitchell
Visitors: Uniform Pussy Service, Betty Cocker

If we hashers have offended,
Drink and sip, ’til all is mended,
As you have all stumbl’d here,
Your scribe will jest to earn her beer.

It was a magical, fantastical, literary, heathenous Midsummer evening! Marking the longest day of the year with revelry is a time-honored practice that we either appropriated and collectively shat upon or upheld in modern style, take your pick.
The ceremonies were initiated by the traditionally incomprehensible ravings of an excitable old man: Dude, That Guy handed out various Tour duh Hash vestments and sacred relics without much explanation but with much ballyhoo. The Mismanagement of Hangover Hash, who elected him to this duty, was duly exhorted to take note of the lessons of WIE Weekend, where everyone learned #neverdude.

The Hares did a suspiciously good job of providing sylvan glades, glowing pixies, teeny bunnies, and even deer. They came crashing back to full hash form by failing to provide a whimsical sprite, Puck, and instead cursed us with the irascible gnome, Tuck. Meanwhile, Traylor Swift practiced her Disney princess/creepy woodsman routine by stalking the local wildlife. It is unclear whether she was trying to befriend them, taking over L’Chymen‘s schtick as resident coercive-snuggler-of-unwilling-fauna, or if she planned to cut out a heart and present it to a narcissistic sorceress queen. Wow. That got a little dark… umm… nevermind… Lolz Deer Near!

And the final pagan rite of the evening was the solemn occasion of…

A Naming:

Just Keegan reported that Mr. Cycle, HIS SISTER, made him cum.
While he was born in DC, he moved around a lot and was in the Air Force, leaving as a second lieutenant. He lost his virginity in Peachtree City, Georgia in something like an interactive book club on The Joy of Sex. He can’t count, so he claimed his ideal Disney threesome was Snow White and the Seven Dwarves for a nice rope bondage orgy. After some thought, he revealed that the number of salads he’d tossed was 4, and he claims to have done the nasty on the grass of a major quad at Georgia Tech. His least favorite drug experience was acid, but his favorite sobering experience was recovering from acid by waking up on his girlfriend’s tits. However, the moment that cried out for a Name was his sorrowful tale of attending a funeral in middle school and being blessed by the mischievous Boner Fairy with a raging and unkillable hard-on. And as we are not ones to thwart the will of the Boner Fairy, we welcum this young wanker as Mourning Wood, so named by Willy Wonka and the Backdoor Factory.

On – Blessed Boner Be – On,

BMC Tiny Dancer

When: 6:45 PM Thursday May 31st, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!
Where: Waterfront Metro – follow marks to start!
Hares: Poon-apple Juice, Special Head Kid, L’Chymen, Poops I Did It Again, The Cumburglar
Virgin: Just Alex
Visitor: Shock My Monkey

Actual footage from trail.


Look, we’re just lucky no one drowned. We called it quits at beer check, drank away our sorrows, and decided to take our namings two by two, male and female each according to their kind.

Just Mike was brought by PSA, a fellow employee of our fine Metro.

He works in quality assurance and confirms that safety checks are, in fact, as much of a myth as we’d suspected. Look, if you weren’t there I’m just going to have to lay it out for you. The dude looks like this:

And lo, he was named What If God Drove Metrobus by Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock.


By the time Just Joanna knelt for her naming, everyone – including her – was prrrreeeettty sloshed. Any incoherence is being blamed on our collective near-drowning. This lovely lass was brought to our fair hash by the sneaky Cheech and Dong, who neglected to give her any sort of warning about the kind of nonsense she was getting into. Speaking of getting into things, she is on record claiming that she loves all of her orifices equally. Her employment is a bit vague… something about social work or consulting and or possibly being a cam girl, and, yanno, we’ve all been there in this gig economy. It turns out she’s a scrapper and might have been an underground cage fighter and/or wrestling pornstar at some point. Inquiries about her early sexual experiences led to the tale of her youth in a North Carolina trailer, being walked in on by the mother of the lucky young man she was riding like a county fair pony. In recognition of her… umm… Southern charm, friendly nature, and down (mobile) homey-ness, she was named Traylor Swift. Props to The Cumburglar for his extremely bouncy bundle of joy.

On – Wet and Wild – On,
BMC Tiny Dancer

When: 6:45 PM Thursday May 24th, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!
Where: Rosslyn Metro (Dark Star Park) – follow marks to start!
Hares: GeriatricMandering, Head Injury, Colliteral Damage, Quid Pro Blow, and Happy Poo Year
Virgins: Justs Jones, Kara, Blake, Camille, and Nick

It was a beautiful evening in to wander around Virginia and then come back safely to our hideout under the bridge like the trolls we are.

The pack chose a variety of adventures, from silly hats to onesies to “motherfucking science, bitches!”

Meanwhile, our fair city decided to put on a show of being DC af: end circle was accessorized by a hip hop video shoot, a charmingly fresh set of porta-potties, and some swanky old white folks clutching their pearls while leaving the yacht club. Oh DC. Never change.

Despite the lovely weather provided by our all-powerful RA Wait Wait Don’t Fuck Me, adventures on trail did include some notable shenanigans.


Backsnatch took Uno Dos Tres on a long cut that was far more perilous than what she’d signed up for. You can’t do that, dude. Hashers are gullible and will follow strange people into compromising situations. It’s practically our best quality.

Dressed cozily as the Cat in the Hat, Atari 6900 was absolutely the hottest pussy on trail. That hat did need to be stuffed and fluffed to stay up, but it lasted long enough that we were concerned he would hit the four hour mark and need to consult a physician.

The Hares vere admonished that a puke check was not discussed in chalk talk.

Perennial FRBs Free Little Willy and Sphincter Shy muffed a fishook check and managed to scatter and confuse the entire pack. Y’all if you’re gonna go around back, you need to use your words and let people know your plan to get behind them. Otherwise things might go fuckin awry.

It turns out that You Can’t Handle the Poop earns his hash cash modeling for Capital Bikeshare, as his wholesome and friendly visage was spotted beaming down at passers-by from their advertising campaign. It is disconcerting for the scribe to use the word “wholesome” and we are intending to send a sternly worded letter to address this affront to hash standards.

Overheard at the hash, Stain Gretsky would like it to be known that she is “into all things double stuffed.” Note: Stain was the sobe GM. This was not a drunken admission. Ladies and gentlefolk, our fearless leader.

Deetz Nuts, dressed in a magnificent unicorn outfit, was identified by a muggle who delighted their child by exclaiming, “Look honey, it’s a brony!” You were turned in by your fellow wanks. Friendship is tragic.

Tuck Tuck Deuce got the pack lost at every check, but shame on Free Little Willy, who was the one complaining… Willy, you know better than to follow him around. When an old man gets lost you call in a silver alert, you don’t assume he knows where he’s going.

And taking advantage of our adventurous theme, The Cumburglar shared a fantasy resulted in an open call to any ladies interested in having a scruffy dude eat McNuggets off their naked body. Because he is a gentleman, he will even buy the nuggets.

And to cap off this glorious evening, we had a Naming:

Just Becky was brought to our fair hash by Wank Like An Egyptian.

She’s from Colorado and knows things about architecture. Her sexual patronus is a dolphin, and she once vomited on an entire frat.  Her sexy Disney pantheon includes Aladdin, Gambit, and Han Solo. The dear lass has something of a high-drama relationship with cars, however. One of her more memorable sexual exploits was being caught fucking in a car by a curious Smokey Bear (that’s sneaky code for National Park Ranger). In a probably-not-sexual endeavor, she was also smashed flat by a car which… induced the kind of traumatic brain injury that leads to hanging around with Wank and coming to a hash of mentally unstable reprobates. Due to her cinematic breadth of vehicular experience, she was dubbed Fury Load by her proud papa, You Can’t Handle The Poop. Nobody let her drive Scrotal, mmmkay?

On – Witness Me! – On,

BMC Tiny Dancer

When: 6:45 PM Thursday May 3rd, 2018. Pack away at 7:15!

Where: Eastern Market Metro

Hares: Trim Shady, Uno Dos Tres Liftoff, Deathly Swallows, & Please Step Away From The Whores.

Virgins: Justs Lily, Amanda, Ryan, Jess, and Sergei

Visitors: Six From Behind and Naughty Nipple Nurse

Welcum to the May Babies Trail! When you blew those “candles,” what did you wish for?

Was it a check-free, blind-turning, pavement-pounding road race? Oh boy! Did we have the trail for you!

Hash math: If you were born full term in the month of May, you were conceived in the September-October timeframe. You are either an ABC baby or an RDR baby by standard E-dubian calendar reckoning. Having been created under the auspices of this season, you are now obligated to consider whether your aesthetic is more defined by: 1) Ill-fitting thrift store garments of questionable history, or 2) Literal trash duct-taped about your person for minimum legal coverage.

The pack took extraordinary exception to the challenges of this trail, however, in addition to bitching about the Hares, there were indeed some other…


Anal Fission was caught distributing unsolicited dick pics, which is horrifying enough, but this was followed by warning of an attendant choking hazard, which is a level of wishful thinking that is definitely sidling up to the delusional.

Just Joanna was commended for desperately seeking to pay Hash Cash. She was told to find the half naked man and give him money. This was a nice role reversal for the shirtless Cash, Quid Pro Blow.

The Cumburglar provided such a moving serenade to Atari 6900 that onlookers got misty eyed. Just another magic bromance, of course, but for such a touching moment there was definitely not enough touching. This bit of unwelcome chastity was decried with a scathing, “Do better, gentleman.” The scribe has needs and a very specific pornhub search string.

Tuck Tuck Deuce was commended for fulfilling some else’s very specific search for “Hawaiian shirt pin up fanny pack grandpa”… Rule 34, folks. It’s out there.

And to cap it all off, Mambo Number Hives delivered a live diss freestyle, rhythmically enumerating her many critiques of the Hares, their ancestry, their trail, and their unacknowledged illegitimate offspring with porn stars. It was, as even Pusha T would concede, “savage”.

But what’s this? The May Babies Trail also named its very own baby!
The charming New Orleanian Just Toussaint was brought to our pack of reprobates by the seductive Chip Off The Old Cock. After sussing out his favorite positions (side doggie style), his porn search string (wow, you should have been there, it was hot), we started to get to the good stuff. He regaled us with his adventures in cougar-riding in Southeast Asia, his tragic knack for interrupting young gay trysts, and how he once kissed his Auntie with that mouth. At church. After going down on his ladyfriend that morning. Owing to that amazing moment, he will now and forever be known as Deep South In Your Mouth. The proud mama is, incestuously, Chip Off The Old Cock, who had already taken his virginity.  Hash appropriate family bonding!


On – Maybe Baby – On,

BMC Tiny Dancer

When: Thursday, June 7th 2018
Where: Dupont Circle
Hares: Homo On the Range, Poops I Did It Again, Hercu-Please, General Tso’s Dicken, Just Tim
Visitors: Hot Tub Slut, Chunda Chick
Virgins: Just Tim, Just Keeli, Just Jess, Just Theodore

When the sunlight strikes raindrops in the air, they act as a prism and form a rainbow. The rainbow is a division of white light into many beautiful colors. These take the shape of a long round arch, with its path high above, and its two ends apparently beyond the horizon. There is , according to legend, a boiling pot of gold at one end. People look, but no one ever finds it. When a man looks for something beyond his reach, his friends say he is looking for the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. Throughout the centuries people have explained the rainbow in various ways. Some have accepted it as a miracle without physical explanation. To the Hebrews it was a token that there would be no more universal floods. The Greeks used to imagine that it was a sign from the gods to foretell war or heavy rain. The Norsemen considered the rainbow as a bridge over which the gods passed from earth to their home in the sky. Others have tried to explain the phenomenon physically. Aristotle thought that the rainbow was caused by reflection of the sun’s rays by the rain. Since then physicists have found that it is not reflection, but refraction by the raindrops which causes the rainbows. Many complicated ideas about the rainbow have been formed. The difference in the rainbow depends considerably upon the size of the drops, and the width of the colored band increases as the size of the drops increases. The actual primary rainbow observed is said to be the effect of super-imposition of a number of bows. If the red of the second bow falls upon the green of the first, the result is to give a bow with an abnormally wide yellow band, since red and green light when mixed form yellow. This is a very common type of bow, one showing mainly red and yellow, with little or no green or blue.

Yeah, yeah, rainbows are cool and all. But you know what’s even cooler? Using passages ABOUT rainbows to assess phonemic production in connected speech! Woo!

If you find yourself reading this passage aloud and notice any of those sounds are particularly *ahem* hard for you, cum find me. I’ve got some oral motor exercises that can help you out.


Throbbin’ Hood proved that he don’t need no daddy.

Just Lady was violated for putting some questionable things in her mouth. I mean, we’ve all been there, but that doesn’t make it any better.

Wait Wait Don’t Fuck Me agrees with Margaret Thatcher that a man of his age shouldn’t ride the bus anymore. My condolences to What If God Drove Metro Bus?

The Hares were violated for the length of their trail. I haven’t complained about something being too long since last night.

The Caps were playing and Ru Paul was slaying so we sashayed away to Froggy Bottom to cheer on the new Stanley Cup champions!

On – NSOMS are actually not evidence-based practice – On
Poon-apple Juice


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
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