EWH3 #583 – Get Lucky on St Patrick’s Day, Mt Vernon Square/Convention Center
Hares: My Little Pony, And I’ll Push Back, Leggs Over Easy, Sphincter Shy
Brew Crew: Chicken Phucker, Homeland Insecurity
Virgins: Just Heather, Drew, Chris, Sarah, John, Alexis, Dani, and a whole hell of a lot more
Visitor: Just Mark (Honolulu H3), Just Leah (Kona Crab H3)
Analversaries: 17 runs–And I’ll Push Back, Forever Virgin, Trim Shady, If I Were a Stiff Man, Oops, I Blew Him AGain; 169 runs–CumSquat
Ononon: Kelly’s Irish Times
Top o’the mornin’ to ye! Erin go Bragh! After drinking our asses off on St Patrick’s Day, the pack donned their finest green running clothes and met up outside the convention center, to do it all again, with a run thrown in too. Much like most everyone’s day after St Patrick’s Day, I don’t remember all that much, because I was suffering from an epic case of jet lag, but here goes: Trail was shaped like a shamrock and featured the best urban shiggy DC has to offer. Before too long, we reached the first shot check and had shots of straight Jameson. Tastes like burning! We went around another leaf of the clover, passing an ice cream truck along the way. Some folks lingered at the ice cream truck a bit longer than necessary, but for once, I wasn’t one of them. After that, the pack reached the beer check on top of a parking deck.
After having the hair of the dog, we took off again. The second shot check was green jello shots, which, curiously, made me want to sing karaoke. A few shots later, we got to the on-in, in the same parking deck where we had beer check. We could’ve just stayed at beer check and kept drinking, but I guess the jello shots made the extra distance all worth it.
3-2-1 Fuck Off gave up on his vow of chastity and came back to EWH3.
Put It Out tried to relive his youth by playing beer pong at a party the weekend before.
Pittsburgh Kneeler was wearing a t-shirt that said, “This is what a Feminist Looks Like,” despite the fact that she wouldn’t know a feminist if one sat on her face.
Whisky Business complained that his last bike ride tore out his asshole. How the hell does he ride a bike? Without a seat?
Daffy Fuck brought a permission slip to come to the hash, signed by his wife. Someone’s pussy-whipped!
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Cock went through puberty while conducting circle.
Mile High Snub said she was hoping for Asian Mix tonight. Now, I’ve had Asian Mix recently, and you really don’t want to go there.
Oops, I Blew Him Again tried to recruit guys to join her kickball team by promising blow jobs, but not from herself.
Fat Friends in Wet Places was a little too excited about that ice cream truck.
Just Mike refused to take a jello shot on the grounds that it’s not vegetarian, even though a few nights beforehand, he had eaten chicken, which didn’t even contain any alcohol.
The hares promised the walkers shots and didn’t deliver… teases.
Just Brian asked before the hash, “Was I supposed to shave my balls for this?” Yes. Yes, you were. When in doubt, always manscape.
Violations from the Crowd:
Tits for Tots complained about how Asian Mix made her sick. Now, Swedish meatballs, on the other hand….
The hares laid a trail devoid of shiggy.
A bunch of little girls saw I’m Lick James, Bitch! running by and started yelling, “Mayor Fenty! Mayor Fenty!” proving that even black people think they all look alike.
Whisky Business’s dad is disappointed that he turned out to be so gay, to which he responded, “I wasn’t always this way; that didn’t happen until college.”
Bow-Chick-a-Bow-Bow couldn’t find a urinal, so he peed on his tie.
I Manual Cunt is a media slut; he was one of a panel of “beer experts” in the Washington Post.
It’s Tony Panda’s birthday! Happy birthday, fuck you.
Put It Out said, “OMG,” and “LOL” on trail: Just because you text like a 12-year-old doesn’t mean you have to talk like one.
I Manual Cunt, the ’80s called and they want their Members’ Only jacket back.
Nobody Puts Labia in the Corner got a new job on the Hill, where his duties will no doubt involve hanging out under desks and doing things with cigars.
Tits for Tots tried to learn how to say “cougar” in Mandarin while she was on vacation, but learned to say it in Swedish instead.
Then the cops came, and we were just about to pack up, but by the luck of the Irish, they went away, so we had time for a very regular occasion, a NAMING!
Just Alex went to Johns Hopkins and does genetics research. Yup, another one. He loves the cock. No, really: his favorite farm animal is the rooster. The meanest thing he’s ever done was to throw a cell phone at another guy’s balls. He lost his virginity at the ripe old age of 22, to a 35-year-old cougar who was his best friend’s babysitter when they were kids. Just Alex prefers missionary position, so he’s boring in bed. He once got a blow job from a Swedish girl who used her teeth too much (I can assure you, Swedish guys don’t have such problems in bed), so he tried to teach her how to do it right. That just begs the question, how does he know the proper technique for sucking cock? Just Alex once had sex on a swingset in his apartment complex. He also once dated a Brazilian girl who wouldn’t go down on him because it was against the morals of her village. One night, though, she started to head in that direction, told him to roll over, and tossed his salad. Interesting morals, that village has.
Naming suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:
And then, she licked my ass
Parting the River Stinks
Tossed in Translation
Don’t Tell Mom, the Babysitter Gives Head
Adventures in Baby-shitting
Tongue in Cheek
Late in the Pink, Tongue in the Stink
It was a tough call, but in the end, we named Just Alex Late in the Pink, Tongue in the Stink. Shocking, no?
We finished the beer, headed to the Times, drank a lot of Guiness (or cheap cans of Miller Lite, but why?), and tried to get laid.
EWH3 #582 – The Original Jackass Birthday Trail: An ode to Johnny Knoxville (and jorts)
Hares: Put It Out, WaxOnWhacksOff, Whiskey Business, PeeWee’s Little Adventure, Snatch to the Future
Where: Virginia Sq. / GMU
When: March 11, 2010
Brew Crew: Brokeback Mama and Cum Dumpling
Virgins: Just Amber, Just Mary, another Just Mary, Just Kate, Just Aaron, Just Lisa, Just Doug, Just Matt, Just Demi, Just Joe, Just Shelly
Visitor: Cherry Peddler (Japan)
Being one of the first warm weather hashes of the year, a significant number of mostly sex-depraved hashers descended upon the VA Sq. metro, looking for a run, and hopefully a piece of ass later on in the evening. Most got the first part. The second? Not so much. The walkers got neither. Weird.
With the EWH3 hareline truly receding (read: sign up to hare a trail, you lazy bastards!), two veteran hashers stepped in to save the day (PIO and WoWo) and they pulled in the only (piece of) asses they could get their hands on: the newly re-named Whiskey Business (the douchebag formerly known as Cum and Knock on My Back Door) and PeeWee’s Little Adventure. And just because they could, they decided to lay their trail wearing Jorts. The only thing more pathetic than that was the TRUE fact (hand to God) that Whiskey Business, in order to join the kewl kids wearing frayed and totally not gay jean shorts, bought his roommate Subway if he promised to bring WB his jorts to run in. Really, you’ll pay someone else $5 to run around North Arlington wearing jorts? How much would you pay someone to kick you in the balls? Abuse is abuse, that’s all I’m saying’…
Trail was interesting, where we looped around the metro a couple times. We also passed some interesting sites. One of the restaurants we passed on trail was aptly named “PIO.” And did anyone notice that every time we crossed Wilson Blvd., it was next to a Mexican joint? This was also appropriate, cause after passing the last one, the trail quickly turned into shit.
We circled up on the Ballston parking deck, and then the fun began. First and foremost, I would like to apologize for the absolute scathing violations that I meted out to some people. But it’s not my fault you all suck at life. Onto your violations:
·The Hares: With PIO and WoWo haring with Whiskey Business and PeeWee’s Little Adventure, the hash had a distinct “Fathers Take Their Sons to the Hash” feel to it.
·Big Digwas complaining that her pre-hash meal wasn’t enough to hold her over. Apparently St. Pauli’s Girl didn’t give her enough “throat yogurt” before the start.
·Roll over, Bitch! refused to cross the street with oncoming traffic, stating that, “I want to live.” Dude, you live alone with 2 cats, have no girlfriend, and play video games all day. What exactly do you have to live for?!
·Cock-A-Doodle-Do-Me stated earlier in the day that she wanted to dip little babies in maple syrup and eat them. Um, that’s just fucked up. Even for us.
·Sphincter Shy was overheard saying “it’s all over my chest and I can’t get it off.” He was apparently speaking about his ex-girlfriend.
·Just Sarah had on a nice set of pearl earrings. For a couple beers at the bar and a shot of 4 Loko, I can give you the necklace to match.
·PIO’s jorts were the best (if you can actually RANK jorts) with the perfect length, frays and holes in the leggings… AC Slater called. He wants his look back.
·Twinkle, Twinkle Little Cock is currently engaged in a “pussy finding” contest with his poofter dog, Jizzmo.Apparently, things are going so badly for TTLC that he had Jizzmo neutered. UPDATE: Jizzmo humped 3 legs Thursday. TTLC humped his right hand.
·Gaystation was wearing a 70s wife beater, 70s cargo shorts while sporting a 70s haircut and chin-strip facial hair. He looked like an episode of Welcome Back, Kotter on acid.
·At the beer check, which was 3 houses away from St. Pauli’s Girl’s house, Big Dig thought that it would be a good idea to go to his place, have a couple of SPG’s homemade beer and then drive to end circle. Who the hell do you think you are, Please Step Away from the Whores?
·It wasn’t even that hot out, but Sphincter Shy decided that he was going to run shirtless. With his gruff facial features and hairy chest, he looked just like Tom Selleck in Magmum PI, but without all that “cool, sexy, studly, every-girl-wants-to-bang-me” baggage.
·PIO conveniently ran trail past his own “PIO” restaurant, but neglected to run us by the “PIO Walk of Shame.”
·Pining over some girl, Whiskey Business told me that he was looking forward to a plate of all you can eat wings at the OnOnOn… unless said girl showed up, in which case she can have a plate full of his heart. Dude, we almost re-named something with a direct reference to syphilis. I think she’d be better off with a plate full of amoxicillin.
·I’ll Push Backa was seen in ending circle with a nifty little Ziploc bag of trail mix that he brought from home. That’s cute… did your mother pack your lunchbox that day, too?
·Vienna Sausage, immediately after leaving beer check, ran headfirst into one of those wooden gates that block exits to parking garages. Germans are stupid.
·Gaystation had a nice little dew rag hanging out of his back pocket on trail. He’s also been hanging around Dupont a lot lately. We know that the rag means… it hurts you to sit down lately, doesn’t it?
We then turned things around, completely mixed up your typical EWH3 circle, and ended with… well. We all know the drill.
Here’s what was discovered about Just Barney:
He was brought to the hash by Obeastiologist, and it was noted that this was the first time OB got anything or anyone at the hash to cum. He went to the University of Rochester for undergrad, and went to grad school at the University of Delaware. He presently works at the NIH as a psychologist. His favorite farm animal is the milk cow, because he claims that they have big teets. His favorite position is reverse cowgirl. He lost his virginity on the playground of the elementary school that he went to as a child (last week seems SO long ago). His most embarrassing sexual moment was when he was given a handjob (presumably by some dude) wearing a handful of rings. It was so painful that it destroyed most of his foreskin.Seriously dude? It’s ok to say, “No, stop, MY DICK IS BLEEDING PROFUSELY!!” Just Barney is married, and (how cute) they have identical tattoos. Except that they didn’t get them together. She had hers before they met, and Mr. Originality over here decided to show his dedication to her and her past by getting the same one. Ah, a permanent reminder of something you don’t understand because you weren’t there… He was truly embarrassed when he was at the airport going through security when his luggage started buzzing. The bags were flagged by security, but fear not, no bomb… it was just his wife’s vibrator. And finally, the meanest thing he ever did to someone was when he threw a meat cleaver at his younger brother.
K through a Fifth
And How Don’t I Make You Feel?
Sword of the Rings
Since none of those names made any goddamn sense, we went with the obvious: Homeland Insecurity. Welcome to the club, d-bag!!
We all then went to the OnOnOn, First Down. It was cool, cheap beers, kick-ass buffalo wings (or so I’m told, a certain someone forgot to order mine!!), and good times. I don’t know what the rest of you all did, but I went home and got laid.
https://www.ewh3.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/EWH3_logo-No-Background.png00Scribehttps://www.ewh3.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/EWH3_logo-No-Background.pngScribe2010-03-23 19:32:442014-03-03 19:06:18Hash Trash: EWH3 #582 – The Original Jackass Birthday Trail: An ode to Johnny Knoxville (and jorts)
The pack circled up on the parking deck above The Continental, and off we went. Down the stairs, up onto that fugly concrete walkway over a park and into the first of many, many checks. We ran through swanky apartment complexes, not-so-swanky apartment complexes, ghetto apartment complexes, and up and down lots of stairs. There were tons of checks, which I like–the pack that runs together doesn’t get lost, injured, or killed alone. On a particularly snowy, muddy stretch, we hit the first shot check. I don’t know what it was–which is often the case at the hash–but it got me warm. The pack then headed into Clarendon and Courthouse, before heading back to Rosslyn for beer check, in an alley behind a rather sketchy hotel. Stay classy, EWH3!
The second half of trail was a lot shorter than the first, but it did have the highest, steepest, slipperiest hill on trail. Fortunately, there was a light at the end of the tunnel, oops, I mean a shot check at the top of the hill. I don’t know what it was, but it was fruity, much like all the rest of EWH3. It was even more slippery going down. I do love me some sledding, but i do like it better when I have a sled. Or a stolen McDonald’s tray. Not long after we got down the hill, we crossed over the freeway and ended up back where we started from, on top of The Continental.
Six Fags got two new tattoos on his calves–each one is a foot with the word “ON” on it. We really should’ve saved the “get a life” song for him.
Gaystation is going to Tijuana, so he got a mule charm to entice the donkeys.
6 Pigs in a Blanket said, very loudly on the Metro, “In my mind, I’m very raceist.” Oops. All the non-hasher passengers who gave her dirty looks must not have heard that silent “e.”
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Cock reached new heights of gayness by buying Jizzmo a Snuggie. Sadly, none of this is a euphemism.
Edgar Allan Ho refused a drink before the hash because she’d just had a protein shake. She then pointed out that the easiest way to get in is through the rear.
St. Pauli Girl told Cum and Knock on my Back Door how to duct tape his junk. I hope those boys have set up a safety word.
Cum Dumpling and Eat Your Vegetables were engaging in nerdiness on trail: They were discussing physics. Why can’t they just go have sex on trail like everyone else does?
When I was asking for violations, Just Tobias didn’t have any, but he did proudly proclaim, “I have sweet and salty nut!”
Obeastiologist complained about his wedding ring interfering with his swimming, but we all know his swimmers work really well.
Violations from the Crowd:
Monday, Sticky Monday was driving around picking up homeless people and taking them to shelters as an act of charity in the cold weather, except the guy he picked up wasn’t a homeless man–it was Brokeback Mama.
Just Melody gave Six Fags his “ON-ON” tattoos.
Assflac complained about the trail, despite the fact that he was autohashing.
Sphincter Shy always comes up with violations, but they’re never funny.
Neither are Mannipple Lickter’s.
Edgar Allan Ho and Big Dig were hopping around like penguins at beer check.
It was too cold and windy for a naming, so we finished the beer, headed to the Continental, and tried to get Jumbo Slice, because due to the lack of good specials, we were all too sober to have any realistic shot at getting laid.