Where: Van Ness – UDC – Linea roja. Follow marks to the start and looks for the group of guys who looks like child molestors and the chicks who might possibly have dicks.
When: 6:45 PM, Thursday, May 6, 2010. Pack away at 7:15ish.
Hares:Hungry Hungry Homo, T!ts for Tots, Konichi [email protected], Just Lauren, y possible Mystery Hare
Misc: A-B…Tough dog friendly…”small dogs may drown.” Headlamps and a change of dry shoes are suggested. Possible/probable PI. Grow a mustache. Wear a fake mustache. Draw on a mustache. Who cares…but downing ta-kill-ya is so much classier with a fuzzy worm on your upper lip.
4515 Wicsonsin Ave. N.W. Washington, DC
Specials:$5 margaritas, vino, y cervezas. And possible food specials.
https://www.ewh3.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/EWH3_logo-No-Background.png00ewh3razorhttps://www.ewh3.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/01/EWH3_logo-No-Background.pngewh3razor2010-05-06 12:16:372011-05-15 18:22:57EWH3 #590: EWH3# 590 Cinco de Mustache Trail - Thursday, May 6, 2010
Hares: PutItOut, BrokeBackMama, CoXXXonDemand, Just Joe, and Just Anne
Virgins: Lost that sheet in ensuing debauchery, but I do recall a virgin who stated that she was “extremely single.” Probably better to have not lost her name…
Visitors: See above.
Ononon: Quarry House Tavern
Due to poor planning and the awesome traffic in the DMV, I showed up with Wax On, Whacks Off at a more depressing than usual Forest Glen Metro stop, as a great big group of wankers had already hit the trail. Though not there, I can imagine it was something like this – PutItOut double and triple checking the trail map despite the fact that he has hared this same trail multiple times (the memory may be going…), hashers commenting on their epic treks out there (the start was 200 meters outside of the beltway), virgins looking around nervously for the Washington monument or any other sign that they weren’t about to get led into the woods for the world’s largest recreation of a certain scene from Deliverance. You know, the one with the banjoes…perverts.
Relying on WoWo’s excellent ability to shortcut, we wound up at the first beer check before the runners. There were cans of beer and champagne lying around, with a few 4loko mixed in. This may have been the first time 4loko was in Maryland, but hopefully not the last. It’s a movement and it’s spreading. The second leg took us through some fun, quick trail running, where it was great to have a headlamp. Read: When PIO says bring a headlamp, BRING A HEADLAMP. The second beer check was held along some abandoned railroad lines (I assume they were abandoned, but maybe all of MD looks like that when you’re that far out). After more trail running, blowing past some confused diners out for a nice meal, knocking over civilians (We’ll get to that later), and going up wrong parking garages, we ended in an alley off Georgia Avenue in Silver Spring. They didn’t say A-Z for nothing, kids.
We drank, sang songs, and tried our best to say offensive things without offending people:
Just Mary , who came to the hash sporting dreads and multiple piercings, has obviously made a lot of poor decisions in her life, except for sleeping with Mannipple Lickter. In due time.
The Hares only brought 2 cans of 4loko. Didn’t they know that when you go to 7-11 you always have to buy a whole case?
Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock decided that complaining about dry and itchy skin to a girl was a good way to get her attention- and give her a heads up that he has Chlamydia.
Sphincter Shy sent an email to his workers from his hash account. Just because it is sphincter.shy does not make professional.
Cutting Class was so sweaty (How sweaty was he?) that he was the sweatiest Columbian outside of a customs line.
PutItOut informed this scribe that he had been “Oreo-d,” you know, when someone throws an Oreo in your beer and you have to chug it and eat the Oreo. But there was no Oreo at the bottom. Blasphemy.
Clappy Birthday showed up to the hash dressed like a reject from a Mad Max Movie.
Hungry Hungry Homo complained that he cannot fit a whole Whopper into his hand. If he struggles with that much meat, then how does he get through his many lonely nights?
Uh-Oh! A Squirty Ho was overheard saying that he was afraid of dark holes- well no shit, how else do you explain the V-card??
Just Ian was worried that we were violating personal property on trail. Obviously this concern shows that he has never been laid.
C.L.I.T. was worried that the trail was going to ruin her pedicure. Little did she know that some guys were lined up to ruin her bikini wax.
I Manual Cunt was congratulated on being back at the hash. Now he can annoy us in person as much as he does on Digby’s!
Just Amy fell into the sewer water, so this was a heads-up to any guy lucky (?) enough to take her home- MAKE SURE SHE SHOWERS.
Wank Like an Egyptian had the night’s most desperate game when he logically concluded that since taxis pick up women, he should just stand in the taxi line to pick up women.
Gaystation wanted to win all three legs so badly that he knocked over a poor old woman trying to get up some stairs.
Just Rebecca bit Vienna Sausage’s hand a couple of hashes ago. She should know that when we say sausage, we’re not referring to his fingers.
Violations from the Crowd
Come on, you guys remember what happened, don’t you? Two rounds of violaters being brought in the circle because of crickets? Shape up! Though Manniple Lichter was appropriately violated for knocking over all of the orange food and Oreos.
And then it was time for that thing we call a NAMING!
Just Mike went to American University. He was 20 when he lost his virginity (yikes!). His favorite Disney character to masturbate to is the one from the mermaid movie. You know, the Little Mermaid. His most embarrassing sexual moment was when he was drunk and having sex with his girlfriend, Mile High Snub. Wait, there’s more.
When he was done he want to go take his condom off (their condom?) but could not find it. Using his power skills of deduction, he decided to look in the only place imaginable- her vagina. This was really our focus on the naming, and some possible names were:
Little Mermade Me Cum
Under the Semen
After much deliberation and voting, it was decided that Just Mike now be referred to as Under the Semen!
The hash finished up beer and went on for more beer over at the QHT in the form of PBR tall boys. Oh, and about those tater tots….
Visitors: Cherry Peddler (Samurai H3), Garden of Beatin’ (Bloomiongton, IN H3), Ho White and the 7 Dwarfs (Anchorage H3)
After last week, for the first time ever on a Thursday, the whole entire pack did NOT want to get wet. Fortunately, the hares were much obliging: Instead of getting us wet, they took us around every dorm, frat and sorority house on GW campus… which, come to think of it… After that, the pack headed toward the Kennedy Center, ran through the Watergate, and down to the Georgetown Waterfront, where the trail pretty much disappeared. After a lot of back checks, bad trails, no trails, and FAILs in general, we finally picked up trail again, and ended up at the beer check near P Street Beach. Unfortunately, the police were already there. The pack backed into some trees nearby, people filled up pitchers from Plan B and passed them back to the crowd, but a lot of people weren’t getting any beer that way due to the crowd. Now, that’s not the kind of dry that I want to be at a hash. Fortunately, a few resourceful souls went to a liquor store, got a few cases of beer, and some of us had our own beer check underneath a weeping willow. WIN.
Being one of the 10 people who helped down a case of Natty Light at the DIY beer check, second half of trail is a wee bit blurry. It was short, and we ended up downtown in an alley. We didn’t circle up there, though. No, we got our bags, headed into Recessions, a basement bar with really low ceilings, and had end circle there. At least the hash was kind enough to buy us each a big beer, seriously, those mugs are the size of my whole torso.
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Cock not only got a new dude magnet, er, dog, Hoover, he named him after something that’s very good at sucking.
Keyless Entry thanked 3-2-1-Fuck Off for dressing her. Shouldn’t he be doing the opposite?
Uh-Oh! A Squirty Ho! didn’t remember his own name. Dude, isn’t it supposed to be other people’s names you forget, later on?
Just Greg and John 3:69 both wore brand new drinking vessels.
A Salt My Ass got lost when he left the GMU campus and ended up finding the hash.
The hares, because I want my $5. Five dollars. It’s like Better Off Dead, but with inflation.
I’ll Packa wasn’t getting enough attention from And I’ll Push Back so he took a shot in the eye from Just Brian.
Spinal Tap: We didn’t know Harry Caray had a long-lost twin.
Brew Crew parked Plan B in spot #70 at beer check, even though 69 was open.
Just Andrew had phone sex on trail– wait, no, he was just calling his mom to tell her he was ok.
I’ll Packa and Just Katy were holding hands on trail. This is a hash, not a Lifetime Original Movie, y’all!
Shetland Blow Me and Just Kristin had sex at beer check instead of doing it on trail like everyone else does.
Tony Panda swallowed too much.
Whiskey Business tried to shotgun a beer, and gagged because it was too big, and it erupted all over his face like an Icelandic volcano.
Just Cynthia was wearing a t-shirt that said, “UCLA.” Just Julie was wearing one that said “Fuck UCLA.” They should re-enact that in circle for the pack, no?
Just Mary wanted to rename Uh-Oh! A Squirty Ho! “Pretty Pretty Princess,” showing that she already knows what EWH3 is really all about. On a side note, Uh-Oh, your sash abnd tiara will be ready soon.
And finally, Uh-Oh! A Squirty Ho! (yup, again–it’s like he’s trying to be the new Topher) complained about his wrists hurting from holding my beer. Funny, I’d have thought his wrists were in plenty good shape.
Violations from the Crowd:
Whiskey Business didn’t finish his down-down beer, and it didn’t end up on him, either.
Uh-Oh! A Squirty Ho! got called out by Monday, Sticky Monday for flirting with the scribe. For the record, Monday was not referring to me, but to Whiskey Business.
An Inconvenient Poop thought she was in Panama in the 1940s, at least judging by her hat.
Poke an Eye Out turned down a shot.
We didn’t do a naming due to being indoors, so instead we just all drank more giant mugs of beer and tried to get laid.