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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Violations:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Won’t you blow my neighbor?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


I had been iced by
The Hares.

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

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

Bags

Of

Fireball

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anyhow, the rest of violations:

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

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

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

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

On-better late than pregnant-on

Sir Lancelittle