When: Thursday, December 26, 2019

Where:  Greenbelt Metro (Green Line)

Hares:  Special Head Kid, What’s A Boner?, and Please Step Away From The Whores

Virgins:  Just Sarah & Just Masha

Visitors: Honorable Vaginal Discharge (Boston); Private Snowball (Florida Happy Hour H3); Jolly Green Jizzer (NYC H3)

On-After: PSA’s hot tub

It was a romp through the burbs with all your favorites: train tracks, strip malls, gratuitous tunnels, curious neighbors, and accidentally approaching a WMATA van bc all white vans look alike… and all the messed up shit y’all did:

Violations

  • Honorable Vaginal Discharge admitted to putting herself into the Witness Protection Program in Okinawa to avoid being bibbed.  Let’s hope Trash doesn’t know how to read!
  • A violation for our runners’ hares, Special Head Kid and What’s A Boner for laying a trail so short and boring they both ran it twice to get enough of a post-Christmas workout.
  • Gunna Probably Spew was showing off to Jolly Green Jizzer: the secret to his speed isn’t hard work and practice, it’s his racing stripes.  You know, that line of hair that goes all the way from his chin to his dick!
  • Atari 6900 was violated for being the worst Songmeister ever.  Upon finding a song check, he sang only the first four words of a song and still managed to fuck it up.
  • And finally, a massive violation to the absolute clown car of a walkers’ trail, since literally every person piled into PSA’s car and didn’t even pretend to go on trail.

No naming, but we had two lady virgins and no immaculate conception so I’ll call that a Christmas miracle.

On – I came back from Jersey for this?! – on,

Stain Gretzky


On the first day of Hashmas, my kennel gave to me
A Yuengling and a Naturday
On the second day of Hashmas, my kennel gave to me
Two White Claws, and a Yuengling and a Naturday
On the third day of Hashmas, my kennel gave to me,
Three Belgian beers, two White Claws, and a Yuengling and a Naturday
On the fourth day of Hashmas, my kennel gave to me
Four orange foods, three Belgian beers, two White Claws, and Yuengling and a Naturday
On the fifth day of Hashmas, my kennel gave to me,
Five Golden Ales!
Four orange foods, three Belgian beers, two White Claws, and Yuengling and a Naturday.
On the sixth day of Hashmas… . oh you get the point.  There’s gonna be beer to drink.

The day we can hash that falls between Christmas and New Years is hereby dubbed by me (at least for this year) Hashmas.  Please join us in Greenbelt for the Hashmas run to Chateau le PSA.  Relatively short trail, and PSA has a hot tub (he is not your towel supplier though so if you want to get dry afterward, please bring a towel).

When: 6:45 circle up, Pack away 7:15!

Where:  Greenbelt metro.  Follow marks to start.

Hares: Please Step Away from the Whores & Special Head Kid

Miscellaneous Crap: Trail is A to B. Some mild shiggy for runners, none for walkers.  Still dark out though, so bring a cranium lamp! Pack smart, have fun.

How Far
Runners 1st half: 1.8 miles
Runners 2nd half:  0.8 miles
Walker’s 1st half:  0.75 miles
Walker’s 2nd half:  0.3 miles

Last train out of Greenbelt to Branch Ave:  10:57 PM

On After: House of PSA (if you’re going there but not planning to run trail, email Hare Razor and he can give you the address.

When: December 19
Where: DuPont Circle Metro
Hares: General Tso’s Dicken, Cheech and Dong, Colliteral Damage, Deetz Nuts, GeriatricMandering, Poon-apple Juice, Ready Player None, Schrödinger’s Cock, Son What the Fuck?!
Virgins: None (you sluts!!)
Visitors: Two from Beijing H3
On-After: Town Tavern

So there I was, dear reader, having definitely remembered that I was supposed to Stunt Scribe this trail and very definitely not running dangerously late (which I would never do) to start in the middle of scenic and deadly Dupont Circle for General Tso’s Dickens’ celebratory Onesie Birthday Trail. For the purposes of brevity I’ll speed through what was no doubt a glorious opening circle in which the hares were probably already drunk and sang us a painfully unharmonious rendition of Joe the Button-man, but the birthday meat and potatoes is that someone shouted ON OUT and we scattered in all directions in pursuit of trail.

Like a gallant gentleperson not running late I let the FRBs find the “correct” route in a southwesterly direction, where we immediately got even weirder looks than usual from passersby in our onesie regalia. The hares laid us an immediate sweet little false then took us on a scenic tour of all three feet of Duke Ellington Park. After dipping down toward L St and finding it decisively too bougee for our tastes, some half-mind extolled the virtues of Milwaukee Jesus Water and then half of pack promptly forgot the third rule of hashing and almost got run over by a bus (myself included).

At some point soon after that we located a school that most definitely had walls, and the school-aged under-30s were told to work our young muscles and go find trail at the promised “under-30 check.” The fact that only one other hasher went to find trail with me heralded my sudden discovery that EWH3 may no longer be home to the “hot young twentysomethings near you” that I similarly was promised when I began hashing [here]. But such nightmares were purged by the splashing waters of Rock Creek, which we avoided like the plague because one does not show up to EW to make one’s feet moist in 30-degree weather. (Thursday is a hashing day, not a frostbite day.) It was here where many of my DFL-running compatriots were reminded that Running is Hard and Why Do We Do this and dropped significantly behind… or ahead… (My memory of my position relative to pack may have been impeded by the imminent arrival of a Shot Check, which tasted like the thousand-year-egg version of a White Claw. I blame Colliteral Damage, who made the bold claim that it was “gin and tonic.”)

Not long after that was a beer check in a cul-de-sac, aka the closest the millennials of EWH3 will come to tasting suburban life. It was there that I learned Doppelbanger struggles to remember the words for gloves despite remembering that Sioux Falls sucks, two visitors made absurd Breitbart-level claims that Beijing’s hash is superior, and Tuck and GFA had their own Ornery Old Man circle. (Reader, I was not invited. Maybe some day. Yikes.)

When asked to describe the status of her alcohol consumption, the General told me that she did not know any songs about drinking. Someone jogged her memory: “What about the song that goes ‘I’ve been drinking, I’ve been drinking?” to which General responded “YES THAT ONE.”

The remainder of trail was short and blurry, much like a bad night at Dan’s. Somewhere along the way a shot check showed us which of the older hash members have been practicing getting down on their knees, and Son What the Fuck and your humble scribe accidentally flirted with a carful of young-looking humans who were really curious to know what we were doing standing around with beverages in such a tiny traffic triangle with such a sketchy-looking human as Deetz. We responded that they must be very fun considering they had fit ten people into a vehicle the size of a SmartCar and they should come find us when they reached legal beverage consumption age before quickly running off to play in traffic. I could tell when we rapidly entered AdMo because the skeptical side-eyes of passersby turned into cheers, and on the wings of such admiration we beat Scrotal Recall to our final destination. Inevitably, as one does, we all gathered at Town to tell the hares how much we hated their trail.

In a brief, drunk reckoning of circle, we:
– Found out that our hares General Tso’s Dicken, Cheech and Dong, Colliteral Damage, Deetz Nuts, GeriatricMandering, Poon-apple Juice, Ready Player None, Schrödinger’s Cock, and Son What the Fuck keep a number of titillating things under their onesies, except several of them, who keep nothing under their onesies;
– Congratulated General Tso’s Dickens for surviving another lap around the sun. She initially failed to remember any other songs about drinking to describe her current mood, then after consulting her phone finally settled on “the one about shots. You know, it goes ‘shots shots shots'”;
– Asked our visitors if they were unzipped or uncut and determined that they were miraculously all single;
– Informed Beijing visitor Molotov Cock that he does not have to look like Daniel Craig in order to visit DC because only some of us are spooks, but we appreciate his dedication to the theme;
– Observed that Just Arthur‘s red shorts were exceptionally appropriate for a Miami Beach hash and possibly less so for a DC winter hash;
– Violated those whose age was less than the temperature outside (or something like that, you all got what I meant);
– Violated anyone who had allowed education to get in the way of their hashing over the last several months and was now taking a “winter” “break,” including Six From Behind and Gonna Probably Spew;
– Made some kind of joke about doctors’ examinations and the Pony Express (look I don’t made the jokes I just record the jokes);
– And sold four necklaces to George Stuffedanoctopus in the hopes that he will more slowly distribute them across the floors of hash bars in the future.

On-cuddliest trail of the year-on,

Stunt #Squadholes, aka Jigglytits