Hares: Presidential Nasty, Pittsburgh Kneeler, C.L.I.T., Tar Squeal, John 3:69
Brew Crew: Marco Homo, Wank Like an Egyptian
Virgin: Just Carrie, Alina, Cllie, Christian, Sarah, Etiola, Chris, Zach, Susan, Laura, Lauren, Charlie, Noah, and Devin
Visitors: Just Liz (Brooklyn H3)
Ononon: Science Club
What’s even better than going to parties dressed up in scary, wacky, and/or sexy costumes? Running through DC in scary, wacky, and/or sexy costumes, terrorizing all the yuppies leaving their offices! The pack met up in Washington Circle to do just that, and after a bit of checking out all the costumes–almost no one got that I was dressed as mo(u)rning wood without a ton of prompting–we were off. We ran through neighborhoods in Foggy Bottom and West End before heading into Rock Creek Park, sneaking into an old cemetery, climbing up a steep, muddy slippery hill, and, finally, reaching the first shot check, something lemony. I needed it too, having learned the hard way that running through shiggy is even harder when you’re carrying some of said shiggy with you. After more running through the park, the pack hit the second shot check, located in a gazebo, and involving orange pop. Yeah, I said “pop.” I’m from Michigan. Deal. We then emerged in Georgetown and ran through campus, including on some stairways and paths connecting undergrad dorms. By this point, we’d run about 4 miles, so when I saw some guys carrying cases of beer to their room, I was very, very tempted to forget about beer check and make some new friends right then and there. I stayed with the pack instead, though, and followed trail down the Exorcist stairs, across M Street and the C & O Canal to beer check where K Street turns into the Capitol Crescent Trail. Next time, boys.
The pack drank much-needed beer and admired each other’s costumes some more before we got sent off, with the walkers taking a 5-minute head start. They needed it too, because the runners’ trail was pretty much a straight shot through Georgetown and Foggy Bottom to an alley downtown behind the bar, where we drank beer and ogled and/or mocked all the costumes again, some more.
Hair Cunterysaid he found a hairy rope and put it in his shorts when asked about his costume. Isn’t that what he does every night?
Slumcock Anywhwere walked by an apartment building on the walkers’ trail and said, “I think I hooked up here; I remember those stairs.” Stairs, really? That’s what you remember? She must not’ve been very good.
Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Cock: Mark Twain called; he wants the Mississippi River back.
The hares got confused and forgot that the marathon was the past Sunday, not on trail Thursday night.
Cum and Knock on my Back Door took his name too seriously and put a back door on his footie PJs.
Cock-a-Doodle-Do-Me put a cucumber on her chair and pretended not to notice when she sat on it.
Mannipple Lickter asked a walker to carry his jacket. The jacket got dropped in a puddle, getting Mannipple the wettest he’s ever been.
Just Charlie offered to rub another guy’s body down and then added, “I’m not a homo.” Bitch, please.
Just Josh stole his girlfriend’s Hooters uniform to wear to the hash.
Just CJ and Just Laura, having sex on trail is acceptable hash behavior, holding hands on trail is a little cheesy, but wearing matching costumes on trail is just nauseating.
St. Pauli Girl’s Tic Tacs were hanging out of his shorts all night. Or were they roofies? In the ’70s workout costume he was wearing, he might need some of those to have any chance of getting laid.
Oregon Grinder finished trail on her scooter, taking auto-hashing to a new, even pussier level.
Jon Benet Ram Me, when dressed as Lt. Dangle, you really shouldn’t turn homophobic when another hasher asks you to frisk him.
WOWO tried to get a hair transplant and ended up with pubes on his face.
Can’t Find Pussy in a Haystack intentionally went into the light to take a piss.
Hair Cuntery saw Tits for Tots’ costume and proclaimed, “Morning Wood–I got it!”
Violations from the Crowd:
Twinkle, Twinkle Little Cock said he has never had morning wood. His girlfriend must never have had an orgasm.
Tits for Tots got violated to help Twinkle take care of his problem.
Cocky got violated for something or other, which was really an excuse for her, Assflac, Have Fun Storming the Asshole, Cum and Knock on my Back Door, and Pee Wee’s Little Adventure to perform some sort of sketch in which the letters on their sweaters spelled out “F-U-C-K.”
John 3:69 showed her “Kiss Me, I’m Irish” underpants every time she laid a walkers’ trail mark.
Just CJ, Just Laura, and Fat Friends in Wet Places wore banana costumes without their pjamas.
Then it was time for a very regular event; we had a NAMING!
Just Sharon attended University of Southern Arkansas, which may or may not be an online correspondence school. 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.
Naming suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:
Bring on the Semen
Do You Want Lice With That?
Happy Ending Meal
The cops came right as we were taking a last few suggestions, so we had to put Just Sharon’s naming off for another week. Keep these in mind, y’all!
After we were so rudely interrupted by the fuzz, some of the pack went to the on-on-on. It was really crowded, so about half the pack went to another bar nearby, which was less crowded but didn’t have specials. Wherever we were, we all tried to get laid, and if you can’t succeed at that while wearing a Halloween costume, you really fail at life.
The pack circled at a lot a few blocks away from the Bethesda Metro. It being the rave hash, thee abundance of glowstick snapping and strategic placing helped liven up the usual conversations of, “Hey, why the fcuk are we in Bethesda?”
We ran amongst playgrounds (which was surprising how many hashers were able to go within 100 feet), couples on dates eating dinner on patios, and, of course, dark trails. Apparently the hares recommended we bring headlamps, but, just like the Ballbuster, no one can really be sure- so blame your scrapes and crushed ankles on them.
At one point FRBs claimed to hear Obeastiologist giggling somewhere in the woods, laughing as they took a wrong turn. He denies this, but that’s mostly because he does not want to give away his secret of how he can hide his creepily lanky frame in the brush.
The beer check had beer. And we drank it- cautiously, as the hares warned us of a “real second half.” So by real they meant tunnels and hashers busting ass. Headlamps! Of course, no EWH3 tunnel experience is complete without the masses trying to skip it- congratulations, you know who you are! I hope humping your way under that fence was worth it.
Eventually we ended up atop a parking garage for the circle. Don’t ask me where, but I bet it was somewhere near the Bethesda Metro.
While running in the woods, Edgar Allan Ho exclaimed “ Oh! Last time I was here I got hit in the eye and it really hurt!” Hmm, by whom?
Forever Virgin gave us too much information about his morning shower on trail when he described how “it gets harder when it gets wet.”
Sphincter Shy ran up to me breathless, ready to violate, only to tell me that he wanted to violate “that person with the bag.”
Lube Me Up, Scotty was that person with the bag. Her bag weighed forty pounds and was about 4 feet long- obvious midget size, which only troubled the pack as they had to watch where they stepped the rest of the night (and no, I’m not referring to a certain “dog”).
Speaking of “dogs,” Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock was called out for Red Dress Weekend when he played footsies with Cock-a-doodle-do-me in a hottub. Twinkle, just because you have the mustache does not mean you have to actually act like a creepy rapist.
Cum Dumpling, Obeastiologist, and Chicken Fucker were given a life violation for speaking about Dungeons and Dragons in a social setting. Come on guys, really?
Cock-a-doodle-do-me and Cock Your Suck I Will approached me at the beer check for a violation. “We’re going to violate each other,” they told me, as I walked away conscious of wearing gym shorts.
Unobtanium showed his lingering Daddy-issues with his Papa Roach inspired haircut. Listen buddy, just because the salon offered a free dye session does not mean you have to take it.
Mannipple Lickter actually knew the names of many salons for that violation, so we threw him in as well.
Rear Protein Injection decided to spoil the surprise and come in his Boy George Halloween costume a week early.
Violations from the Crowd:
Seriously, I was supposed to write these down? One does come to mind though, when Hare Cuntery violated I Manual Cunt for his sweet shirt that was ribbed for her pleasure.
Also, I, Cum and Knock on My Back Door, was violated for impersonating Al Borland from Tool Time.
Roll, Over, Bitch! saw Tits for Tots by yelling out, “Hey, small Tits!” If you know her, you know that is not a proper way to greet her.
Then we had ourselves a naming! Oh wait…the cops came. Sorry Just Sharon, your time will cum again, and like most hashers, it will come quickly.
Where:Bethesda Metro. Up the escalators and look for chalk.When: 6:45 PM, Thursday, October 22nd. Pack away at 7:15, if we’re lucky.
Hares: Unobtainium, Obeastiologist, Bitch on Bitch on Bitch, I Manual Cunt, and a Just Vicki who may or may not be Swing Cycle because the hares didn’t specify and I don’t care enough to ask.
A-A’, no PI, bring dry shoes and a headlamp. No, seriously, bring a headlamp. What was with all you people who went on the ballbuster without a headlamp, even after I sent out a special email just for you people saying, “Bring a headlamp”? If you can’t be bothered to bring a headlamp, I can’t be bothered to call the hospital when you fall down and break an ankle because you didn’t bring a headlamp. HEADLAMP.