The pack gathered on top of the parking deck above the Continental. A few foolish, I mean, brave, souls actually ran trail, which was short, confusing due to there still being hash marks from two weeks ago on the ground, and redolent of Wild Turkey. Most everyone did the smart, er, lazy, thing, and stayed on top of the parking deck, drank beer and Wild Turkey, and made fun of the runners. After all, trail was so short that they probably only burned off the caloric equivalent of a spoonful of stuffing. Either way, a good time was had by all.
Low Pressure Front went and got a puppy that’s even smaller and poofier than Just Barnaby.
Saskatchewsnatch interrupted Bow Chick-a-Bow-Bow’s morning dump for no good reason.
Bow-Chick-a-Bow-Bow told me all about his morning dump. TMI, dude.
Silver Spooge forgot that Seinfeldhad been off the air for a whole decade and wore his puffy shirt to the hash.
Just Bobby gave Purple Peter Eater a new piercing. If he’d wanted one of those, he’d have gone to the mall.
Big Bend Over prefers it on him–you could tell by looking at his shirt.
Any Given Cumday told me a story about BBO’s butt hole, because apparently it was “Overshare with Tits” week.
Peace O’Chum ran a 50-miler. Maybe we should rename her “Donnie the Retard.”
Violations from the Crowd:
Any Given Cumday said she likes to motorboat girls, but didn’t motorboat Edgar Allan Ho. What a tease!
Motormouth was quiet for 30 minutes straight.
Queerly I’m Straight and Peter, Peter, Manhole Eater both wore shiny new drinking vessels to the hash.
Low Pressure Front named his puppy after male genitalia, which makes Just Tama totally gayer than Just Barnaby.
Shamrock Your Cock was sober enough to know that “tama” means “ball” in Japanese.
Finally, we had a round for all the Thanksigving babies present: Silver Spooge, Purple Peter Eater, Can’t Get Beaver, and 3-Ring Cervix.
Then it was time for a very regular occasion, a NAMING!
Just Jason is from Kansas City, went to a bunch of Catholic schools, and eventually majored in psychology, philosophy, and theology at university. He now bartends at Tunnicliff’s, and is there anyone who did not see that coming? He applied for a job at Remington’s, but was rejected. Just Jason’s favorite sexual position is “reverse butterfly,” which involves holding one’s partner in the air and shagging him or her from behind, while he or she wraps her legs around you. We really need a photo to do it justice, but I’m sure hash flash has that covered. He has a tattoo of his family crest going into a Celtic cross. Just Jason once got his nose broken during sex and bled all over the poor girl. He has also gotten it on in a cornfield, and on a roller coaster called the “Zambezi Zinger.” Finally, he once peed in his then-girlfriend’s dirty clothes hamper. Hey, at least there weren’t clean clothes in there!
Naming suggestions were:
Less rape, more willing
The crowd went wild over Six Fags, so that’s what we’ll be calling him from now on.
Since we still had beer, we decided to have another NAMING!
Just Jolie is from Texas and went to Mary Washington University, where she majored in political science. Apparently, there are a lot of lesbians there, because when she met Saskatchewsnatch in a dorm, the first words out of her mouth were, “Are you a lesbian?” She is now a stockbroker at Merrill Lynch. So that’s where all our money went! Just Jolie has dreams about giving head and likes oral and spooning sex, but no anal. She has a bunch of reiki tattoos. Just Jolie has had group sex with one guy and three girls, and has kissed a lot of gay men. She was once blowing a guy who asked her to bite down on his cock, and kept asking her to bite harder, until her teeth were almost touching. At that point, she got skeeved out, and stopped with the biting. That guy’s junk thanks him to this day.
Naming suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:
Thanks For Giving
Lorena Chomp It
She Knows Dick
It was a bit of a close call, but henceforth and forevermore, throughout the world of hashing (except Great Falls–fuck them!), Just Jolie will be known as Lorena Chomp It.
Two namings done, we drank all the rest of the beer, until it was time to drag our drunk asses to Thanksgiving dinner with family or friends.
EWH3# 557: The Marine Corps Birthday Hash- Rosslyn
Hares: Sphincter Shy, Rambutt, All the Way In, She Fingered Me, Gladiator, Hair Cuntery Virgins: Just Derrick, Allie Ross, Megan, Joe, Johnny Sheridan, Nick, Tara- apparently some thought this was a more formal event deserving of their full names… OnOnOn: Rhodeside Grill
The rain beat down that Thursday as hashers strewn throughout the DC metro anxiously glanced out the windows at their real-people-work-spaces. “Will it break?” some thought. “Will I get my chance to run, drink, and strike out with numerous women?” (not speaking from personal experience, of course)
There was no rain as the few, the proud, the hashers gathered in the park-ish area by Key Bridge (although some did come dressed in entirely too much Gore-tex…you know who you are). The trail was, as promised, long and it required headlamps, something the pack learned early on as we were taken over to Roosevelt Island for an early shot-check. After delicious shots (I think) we headed over the bridge and into the city. Tour groups and hare-trickery were everywhere as we ran through the monuments. Reliable sources say that Forever Virgin was the only hasher to take Hair Cuntery’s Washington Monument bait. Hilarity ensued and the pack reached the beer check by Memorial Bridge.
Beer drank, run on. We crossed back into VA by means of Memorial. As we ran past Arlington cemetery towards the Iwo Jima Memorial (who’d have guessed?!) some shockingly handsome FRBs caught the hares! They were totally slow and- oh wait, no, they were helping a man who had run off the road. It turns out we weren’t the only ones drinking and moving fast that night, only we chose to drink and run, not drink and drive. Too soon? I hope he’s OK….
As the ambulance came Cock-a-Doodle-do Me and Nobody Puts Labia in a Corner grabbed the flour and helped finish the trail. After rubbernecking, the pack hit another shot-check and then ran to a parking lot in Rosslyn for circle.
Obeastiologist forced us to play a round of “What Was He Talking About?” Overheard conversation snippet: “Sometimes I get lucky and get it in the first time, but other times it takes a couple of jabs at it.” You be the judge.
Sphincter Shy was violated for the second shot check, because after having that, the pack now knows what felching Hair Cuntery tastes like.
I Manual Cunt of course got it because he knew exactly what felching is. Look it up, I feel dirty typing it.
Red Vag of Courage complained that no one wanted to play with her as she ran across the highway. Look, there are “games” we’ll play with you, but real-life Frogger isn’t one of them.
Double Ohhh Positive and Jedi Boob Tricks had anal in the backseat of a cab without asking anyone and without care for the smell it left in that confined area.
Kandy Panties and ChippenFails had a good time sword playing on trail…a real good time.
Put It Out wore a neon green jacket with “The Best of Times” stitched onto the left breast. Just because you’re a contemporary of Dickens doesn’t mean you have to advertise it.
From the Crowd: Just Some-Random-Guy-Behind-the-Wheel was violated for giving Sphincter Shy and Hair Cuntery their get-laid story of the year. Cock-a-Doodle-Do Me wasn’t getting enough attention so of course she had to hare the finish. I Manual Cunt really wanted to see aforementioned sword fight. ChippenFails f*cked up the circle, which wasn’t so bad since it was the only f*cking he was going to do that night. Nobody Puts Labia in the Corner got violated for being bad at violating. Just Brennen said she came to the hash “to meet new people,” but all we heard was “get laid.”
The hares were violated because 75% of them were not EWH3.
No naming, since Officer Tackleberry broke up the circle. Is it me or is police interference becoming extremely common?
***Insert witty phrase here***
-Cum and Knock on My Back Door
Hares: Assflac, St Pauli Girl, Have Fun Storming the Asshole, Kung Fu Hand Grip
Brew Crew: Brokeback Mama, Predickamint
Virgins: Just Katie, Nicole, Michelle, Brendan, Greg, Stan, Ralph, Amy
Visitors: None were stupid enough to come out to schlep all the way out to Falls Church Analversaries: 100 runs–Mannipple Lickter, French Toasted
Ononon: Clare & Don’s
The pack gathered in a parking lot off the Custis trail, all of us asking why on earth we were way, way, out in Falls Church. There were a lot of virgins, especially for being out in BFE in cold weather. I don’t know much about the runners’ trail–coming off a bout of swine flu or something, I walked so as to preserve my voice and my health–but the walkers’ trail didn’t have a hare, a map, or any marks until we got all the way back to the metro. At this point, some people had decided to zen into beer check, some of us followed the actual trail, and some stayed right by the beer van. Good move, because beer check was right by where we started. About half of the runners came in from the opposite direction than the hares expected, but hey, as long as you find the beer, it’s all good.
The second half started off well-marked, taking us through various residential neighborhoods of Falls Church. (Though, really, is any part of Falls Church NOT a residential neighborhood? Yes, Tranny, I know, I’m an urban hipster douchebag.) A bunch of us lost the trail though, and split up: Some took a gravel path through a park where it looked like the runners had been before, while the rest of us, fearing shiggy zenned to Washington Boulevard, found more runners’ trail marks, followed them around some unnecessary loops, and ended up in a parking lot behind a doctor’s office, long after everyone else had gotten in and circle had already started. The moral of the story? Damn, I miss running.
Little Red Ride Me Gooddid the “stand by Plan B and keep drinking all first half” trail, which you may say is acceptable hash behavior, but I say is bogarting beer.
If I Were a Stiff Man was drinking flavored coffee creamer from 7-11 straight, no chaser. He just really missed having white, creamy stuff in his mouth.
Gaystation wore a ladies’ shirt to the hash, but sadly he hadn’t gotten it from shagging with a lady. Nice try, but there’s no way you’re convincing us you’ve ever done that.
Just Stan: Apparently, Jesus can go hashing!
Just Phil lost a used kleenex when it fell out of his shorts at opening circle. Was he trying to stuff them, or was it just evidence that he planned to spend the night with his right hand?
Eat Your Vegetables complained about thorns on the runners’ trail, despite the face that he should be used to handling a little prick by now.
Bolo Head Rat was very late for trail, because he’d had his baby with him, lost her in the woods, and looked around for her for a while before giving up and leaving her to be raised by wolves.
8 millimeters brought 3 virgins and gave them one flashlight to share, the batteries of which died during the first half of trail. It was their first time; he should’ve been gentle with them!
Cock Your Suck I Will was complaining about how it was a week later and she still had a sore ass. Honey, it’s called lube.
Silly Gay Virus shared his plans to put his engineering skills to use by making a Hannah Montana fleshlight. That’s not creepy. No, not at all.
Wax On, Whacks Off: Colonel Pickett called, he wants the battle of Gettysburg back.
Oregon Grinder finished trail on her scooter, taking auto-hashing to a new, even pussier level.
Cum and Knock on my Back Door tied a string between his wrist and his cock in order to convince a girl that he was capable of getting it up. This probably goes without saying, but it didn’t fool her for a second.
Violations from the Crowd:
Pee Wee’s Little Adventure and Silly Gay Virus helped Cum and Knock on my Back Door attach the aforementioned string. Because it takes 3 guys to do that.
Assflac, despite having a PhD, can’t tell the difference between left and right.
Just Barney, who is apparently an actual human hasher, not to be confused with Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Cock’s poofter dog Just Barnaby, ran a race with a beer sticker attached to his shoe–he kept that and threw his timing chip away. He is so smart! S-M-R-T!
Cunt of the Litter was playing with her iPhone on trail. There’s not an app to make it love you back, you know.
Speaking of iPhones, Obeastiologist asked if the iPod has a vibrator attachment. Get with the times, someone invented that years ago.
Mayo on the Pooper’s boyfriend dumped her because she has amazing drafting skills, but her blow job skills, not so much.
WOWO got a reverse Brazilian done on his face.
Then it was time for our third attempt at a NAMING!
As we said last week and the week before, Just Sharon attended University of Southern Arkansas, which may or may not be an online correspondence school, and where she majored in marketing. She is now a recruiter in the Coast Guard, which is much better than her old job as a manager at McDonald’s. When Just Sharon was in high school, her lesbian softball coach would make the team change out of their uniforms on the bus ride home so she could watch. She has a tattoo of a four-leaf-clover. Just Sharon is a self-proclaimed slut who likes it on top and once made out with 10 to 15 guys while on ‘shrooms at a party, and woke up with a boyfriend the next morning. She loves to show her ass, and ran most of trail with her thong sticking out. Finally, while kneeling on the naming mat as people asked her questions and told stories about her, Just Sharon entertained herself by playing with Cum Dumpling’s junk. We learned this week that she likes mules, cowgirl is her favorite sexual position, she’s a spitter, and she still likes Cum Dumpling’s package.
Naming suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:
Pork Fried Rice
Hong Kong Ptooey!
Sesame See Buns
Happy Ending Meal
The third time turned out to be the charm, and Just Sharon got named Hong Kong Ptooey! This is best said making a spitting gesture on the last word.
Since we had fallen a bit behind, the cops were mercifully absent, and we still had beer, we decided to have another NAMING!
Just Kelsey attended University of Indiana and managed to graduate without being choked or having chairs thrown at her. She majored in English, journalism, and exercise science, and now works at a lobbying firm, the Pederasty, I mean, The Podesta Group. She likes sheep because they’re furry, and she prefers to be on top of them while having sex. One night when Just Kelsey was in college, she blew two guys and didn’t remember it at all. She was later told that people were cheering her on the first one, and she threw up on the second guy’s cock. She once gave Just David a ride home from the hash, and when she got to his place to drop him off, he whipped his dick out and asked her, “This thing between us, is it just physical?” She turned him down, as she has a longtime boyfriend, but methinks that kid will have all kinds of good material when it’s time for him to get named. But I digress:
Naming suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:
Can I Have A Ride Home?
The World According To Gulp
Oops, I Blew Him Again
Target of Opportunity
Back Seat Driver
The literary wankers lost out to the bubblegum-pop-loving wankers, so henceforth and forevermore, throughout the world of hashing (except Great Falls–fuck them!), Just Kelsey will be known as Oops, I Blew Him Again.
Two namings done, we drank more beer, sang songs, went to the bar, and tried to get laid and/or belliggerent with taxi dispatchers.