EWH3’s MisManagement is absolutely thrilled to announce our kennel’s phased plan to resume limited in-person live trails, which will track the DC Dept. of Health and Mayor’s guidance for reopening businesses in DC. We know everyone’s circumstances are unique, so the option for virtual or solo trails is still available to those who are not comfortable with or able to participate in live trails. The details of our plan and what stage we are currently at can be found here, and we hope to see you on trail soon! If you have any questions or concerns, please contact us at [email protected].
EWH3 #556 – East Falls Church
Hares: Assflac, St Pauli Girl, Have Fun Storming the Asshole, Kung Fu Hand Grip
Brew Crew: Brokeback Mama, Predickamint
Virgins: Just Katie, Nicole, Michelle, Brendan, Greg, Stan, Ralph, Amy
Visitors: None were stupid enough to come out to schlep all the way out to Falls Church
Analversaries: 100 runs–Mannipple Lickter, French Toasted
Ononon: Clare & Don’s
The pack gathered in a parking lot off the Custis trail, all of us asking why on earth we were way, way, out in Falls Church. There were a lot of virgins, especially for being out in BFE in cold weather. I don’t know much about the runners’ trail–coming off a bout of swine flu or something, I walked so as to preserve my voice and my health–but the walkers’ trail didn’t have a hare, a map, or any marks until we got all the way back to the metro. At this point, some people had decided to zen into beer check, some of us followed the actual trail, and some stayed right by the beer van. Good move, because beer check was right by where we started. About half of the runners came in from the opposite direction than the hares expected, but hey, as long as you find the beer, it’s all good.
The second half started off well-marked, taking us through various residential neighborhoods of Falls Church. (Though, really, is any part of Falls Church NOT a residential neighborhood? Yes, Tranny, I know, I’m an urban hipster douchebag.) A bunch of us lost the trail though, and split up: Some took a gravel path through a park where it looked like the runners had been before, while the rest of us, fearing shiggy zenned to Washington Boulevard, found more runners’ trail marks, followed them around some unnecessary loops, and ended up in a parking lot behind a doctor’s office, long after everyone else had gotten in and circle had already started. The moral of the story? Damn, I miss running.
- Little Red Ride Me Good did the “stand by Plan B and keep drinking all first half” trail, which you may say is acceptable hash behavior, but I say is bogarting beer.
- If I Were a Stiff Man was drinking flavored coffee creamer from 7-11 straight, no chaser. He just really missed having white, creamy stuff in his mouth.
- Gaystation wore a ladies’ shirt to the hash, but sadly he hadn’t gotten it from shagging with a lady. Nice try, but there’s no way you’re convincing us you’ve ever done that.
- Just Stan: Apparently, Jesus can go hashing!
- Just Phil lost a used kleenex when it fell out of his shorts at opening circle. Was he trying to stuff them, or was it just evidence that he planned to spend the night with his right hand?
- Eat Your Vegetables complained about thorns on the runners’ trail, despite the face that he should be used to handling a little prick by now.
- Bolo Head Rat was very late for trail, because he’d had his baby with him, lost her in the woods, and looked around for her for a while before giving up and leaving her to be raised by wolves.
- 8 millimeters brought 3 virgins and gave them one flashlight to share, the batteries of which died during the first half of trail. It was their first time; he should’ve been gentle with them!
- Cock Your Suck I Will was complaining about how it was a week later and she still had a sore ass. Honey, it’s called lube.
- Silly Gay Virus shared his plans to put his engineering skills to use by making a Hannah Montana fleshlight. That’s not creepy. No, not at all.
- Wax On, Whacks Off: Colonel Pickett called, he wants the battle of Gettysburg back.
- Oregon Grinder finished trail on her scooter, taking auto-hashing to a new, even pussier level.
- Cum and Knock on my Back Door tied a string between his wrist and his cock in order to convince a girl that he was capable of getting it up. This probably goes without saying, but it didn’t fool her for a second.
Violations from the Crowd:
- Pee Wee’s Little Adventure and Silly Gay Virus helped Cum and Knock on my Back Door attach the aforementioned string. Because it takes 3 guys to do that.
- Assflac, despite having a PhD, can’t tell the difference between left and right.
- Just Barney, who is apparently an actual human hasher, not to be confused with Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Cock’s poofter dog Just Barnaby, ran a race with a beer sticker attached to his shoe–he kept that and threw his timing chip away. He is so smart! S-M-R-T!
- Cunt of the Litter was playing with her iPhone on trail. There’s not an app to make it love you back, you know.
- Speaking of iPhones, Obeastiologist asked if the iPod has a vibrator attachment. Get with the times, someone invented that years ago.
- Mayo on the Pooper’s boyfriend dumped her because she has amazing drafting skills, but her blow job skills, not so much.
- WOWO got a reverse Brazilian done on his face.
Then it was time for our third attempt at a NAMING!
As we said last week and the week before, Just Sharon attended University of Southern Arkansas, which may or may not be an online correspondence school, and where she majored in marketing. 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. We learned this week that she likes mules, cowgirl is her favorite sexual position, she’s a spitter, and she still likes Cum Dumpling’s package.
Naming suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:
- Pork Fried Rice
- Canker’s Dozen
- Hong Kong Ptooey!
- Fortune Coochie
- Brue Balls
- Shanghai Express
- Sesame See Buns
- Happy Ending Meal
The third time turned out to be the charm, and Just Sharon got named Hong Kong Ptooey! This is best said making a spitting gesture on the last word.
Since we had fallen a bit behind, the cops were mercifully absent, and we still had beer, we decided to have another NAMING!
Just Kelsey attended University of Indiana and managed to graduate without being choked or having chairs thrown at her. She majored in English, journalism, and exercise science, and now works at a lobbying firm, the Pederasty, I mean, The Podesta Group. She likes sheep because they’re furry, and she prefers to be on top of them while having sex. One night when Just Kelsey was in college, she blew two guys and didn’t remember it at all. She was later told that people were cheering her on the first one, and she threw up on the second guy’s cock. She once gave Just David a ride home from the hash, and when she got to his place to drop him off, he whipped his dick out and asked her, “This thing between us, is it just physical?” She turned him down, as she has a longtime boyfriend, but methinks that kid will have all kinds of good material when it’s time for him to get named. But I digress:
Naming suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:
- Betty Whored
- Can I Have A Ride Home?
- The World According To Gulp
- Oops, I Blew Him Again
- Target of Opportunity
- Back Seat Driver
The literary wankers lost out to the bubblegum-pop-loving wankers, so henceforth and forevermore, throughout the world of hashing (except Great Falls–fuck them!), Just Kelsey will be known as Oops, I Blew Him Again.
Two namings done, we drank more beer, sang songs, went to the bar, and tried to get laid and/or belliggerent with taxi dispatchers.
Tits for Tots