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.pngewh3razor2010-08-05 16:08:222011-05-15 18:22:57EWH3 #602: National Underwear Day Trail - Thursday, August 5, 2010
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.pngewh3razor2010-07-27 17:50:412011-05-15 18:22:57EWH3 #602: Van Ness/UDC Metro Trail - Thursday, July 29, 2010
Hares: Blows a Tranny, Six Fags, Gaystation, Red Vag of Courage, Sphincter Shy, Just Kristin
Brew Crew: Mannipple Lickter, Jedi Boob TriXXX
Virgins: Just Justin, Elise, Lindsay, Victoria, Morris, Brook, Natalie, Amy, Rob, Judy, Shalini, Simon, Estan, Andrew, Marcus, Maddie, Carrie, Dobromir, and Maria
Visitors: Cockileptic (Bahrain Black Hash), CocoNoNuts (Bahrain Black Hash), Knocked Up (Aloha H3), Taco Sutte (Samurai H3–transplant)
Analversaries: 17–Safe Word, Cum On Prancer; 269–Cum Dumpling
The Betty Ford trail isn’t so much about running as it is about drinking. And drinking. And drinking some more. The pack would run a few blocks through sidewalks and alleys of Capitol Hill, hit a shot or beer check, and run a few more blocks to the next shot. Since there wasn’t much scenery, and, let’s face it, I don’t remember much about what there was, I’ll talk about what really matters: the booze. There were 9, yup, count’em, 9 shot checks and a beer check: wine (from a box, I’m pretty sure–Jesus saves!), something bright green that tasted like lime jello and was mixed with vodka, steel reserve malt liquor (on Six Fags’ swanky back porch), vodka tonic (under a tree in Lincoln Park, and it reminded me why I usually drink neither vodka nor tonic), the green stuff again (on Sphincter Shy’s front porch), beer check!!!!!, whiskey (not Whiskey Business, on Sphincter Shy’s porch again), yet more of the green stuff, something they ran out of by the time I got to it (FAIL–in Pittsburgh Kneeler and Presidential Nasty’s yard), and peppermint schnapps with chocolate sauce at the On-in. Trail ended in a big parking lot under 395 (or 295 or 495; I don’t have a car so I get all the ’95s confused), where we drank even more beer.
An Inconvenient Poop took a cab to the hash.
Cum On Prancer was so worried that trail would be too short, he ran 10 miles before the hash. He’s always worried about length.
The hares ran out of shots at a few of the shot checks. Apparently, they do want us all to go to rehab.
To make it easier for people to tell them apart, Fuck’s Up Doc and Have Fun Storming the Asshole each wore different shades of yellow this week.
Just Eddie thought that Put It Out was Motormouth. Obviously, he’s never seen either of them naked.
Buttfuck Norris let Just Sabin take a huge dump in the middle of a kids’ whiffleball game.
Just Maria has been so unsatisfied with all the men she’s met lately, that she brought a box of vegetables (not Eat Your Vegetables) to the hash.
Underground Railroad was bragging about how wet she was. Honey, it doesn’t count if it’s because your vagina is sweating.
Zamboneme wore a raceist t-shirt.
Just Peter jacked off on trail, which is perfectly acceptable hash behavior, but he did it in some random’s bathroom, which, eh, not so much.
Violations from the Crowd
I’ll Push Back needs instructions on how to have anal: Have Fun Storming the Asshole’s shorts said, “Just do it” on the rear.
Just Victoria wore some brand new drinking vessels.
Zamboneme, when she heard someone asking what smelled, admitted it was her shorts, which had grown mildewy around the crotch. Then she got violated again for saying that there are “several” people who know that her pussy doesn’t stink. And she’s only been hashing in DC for a few weeks. Take a number, boys!
Pee on your Colada may not have been the first person to boot on trail, but she was the first one to wipe out.
Cum Dumpling hit on his brother, CoXXX on Demand. Incest is best–a game the whole family can play!
Cock-a-doodle-do-me wanted shirtless male beer bitches, but wouldn’t agree to have shirtless female beer bitches next week. Come on, whatever happened to equal opportunity?
Cum on Prancer tried to vom, but failed–apparently he doesn’t have much of a gag reflex. Again, boys, take a number!
Mother, May I? is studying to be an OB-GYN because she wants to get close to vaginas.
And then, of course, it was time for a naming!
Just Elyse, a Maine native, went to Mount Holyoke and, despite that, seemed awfully squeamish about the whole idea of girl-on-girl action. She just destroyed a bunch of harriers’ fantasies. She majored in international relations and now works for an international professional exchange program. Just Elyse lost her virginity (very emphatically to a man) at the not-so-tender age of 20 and once got walked in on while having sex. She likes The Little Mermaid and still watches it on a VCR. She met her boyfriend, Fecal Attraction, at an Inauguration Bar Crawl. You could say he put a little change in her hope. While at a reception put on by the pork lobby, Just Elyse got so drunk that she fell down, with a skirt on and her legs up in the air. She must have wanted that sausage really badly.
Names: Cunning Linguist
Yes We Cunt
Tastes Like Bacunt
In honor of Just Elyse’s Maine heritage, and her love of men and men only, we named her Cock Lobster.
Since the cops hadn’t shown up, and we still had beer, it was time for another naming!
Just Sabin is a brown and white German pointer who belongs to Fucks Up, Doc? and Buttfuck Norris. True to his breed, he points at everything–rats, cats, women, you name it. His likes include: choking, beer, drooling, cuddling, and long walks on the beach… oh, wait, not so much on that last one. He hates children and doesn’t like to hump, which is a first for EWH3. Just Sabin once took a huge dump in front of Secret Service officers. When he’s hungry, he clicks, just like Starvin’ Marvin from that episode of South Park where Cartman sponsored an Ethiopian.
Names: Beef Carradine
Because Just Sabin is part black and part white, we named him Michael Jacks-hound.
Those of us who could stomach it went to the bar, drank yet more beer and tried to get laid. After all those shots, you’d think it’d be easy. In theory. You would think.