Hares:  Me Likee-Lickee-Caca, Tit-Ka-Boob, WOWO, Underground Railroad and Mellow Foreskin Cheese

Brew Crew:  Chicken Phucker, Just May

Virgins: Justs Jessica, Christian, David, Tim, Mark, Al, Rebecca, Leah, Sam, Sarah, Desirae, and Brett

Visitors:  Bang Me, Blow Me, Make Me Cum (Thirstday—Chicago), Just Wendell (Dayton or Smutty Crab)

Ononon:  American Legion

The pack started out by the new DOT building and took off into the sweltering heat and humidity.  We looped through a big chunk of Southwest DC, at one point following flour that was not blue but an odd, beige color (more on that later), and got a bit lost when trail seemed to lead to a WH4 check.  Eventually, we reached the side of the erstwhile Market Inn—way too close to my office for comfort—for a lemony fresh shot check.  After that, the pack ran through a lighted tunnel and into a parking lot under a freeway, that some of us thought would be the location for beer check, but it turned out we had miles to go.  On we went, passing by a school and through some projects, until, just as we were thinking that this trail was shaping up to be a death march, we finally reached the beer check.

Our bellies full of beer, we continued on.  Still feeling my hangover from shenanigans the night before, I walked the second half, which turned out to be a pretty direct stroll from the beer check to our trusty on-in at Garfield Park.  Oh, Capitol Hill end circle location, how we will miss you when whatever construction is slated to take place there actually goes down.


  • Just Scott was wearing brand new drinking vessels.  He had owned a pair of running shoes that looked exactly the same as his new pair, but gave them to a friend just so he could wear his brand new shoes to the hash.  Now, that’s trying way too hard.
  • Ring Toss Salad must not be satisfied with his love life; he was making out with Just Maisie (WOWO’s dog, if you’ve been living under a rock) at opening circle.
  • Eat Your Vegetables wore a headlamp and sunglasses on trail.  He’s not gay; he’s just confused.
  • The hares can’t lay to save their lives.
  • Roll Over, Bitch! likes uncircumcised dick on boys.  It is more sensitive that way.
  • Buttfuck Norris needs to learn to keep a bitch in line; his dog took a huge dump in the middle of an intersection.
  • Chip-n-Fails likes water sports, but he should find a consenting partner instead of sneaking up on harriettes as they are trying to pee.
  • Hair Cuntery has so much trouble keeping a woman, he couldn’t even get one to stay with him when they’re handcuffed together.
  • Peace O’Chum wore a shirt from a 5K and when called on it, said, “A 5K isn’t really a race.”  Raceism AND snobbery!
  • My Little Pony gave a guy a blow job, tried to spit and failed, but hey, at least what didn’t go in him went on him.
  • Muff the Magic Dragon drank the shot at shot check and said, “Mmm, chunky!  Just like I like it.”  Also, just like semen.
  • Just Nick was wearing the shortest shorts I’ve ever seen worn by anyone other than Semen on the Pew.  The torch has been passed.
  • Just David didn’t tell his virgin, Just Dez, to bring running shoes.
  • The hares decided we should do something healthy to counteract the weekly destruction of our livers, so they laid trail with whole wheat flour.
  • Chip-n-Fails’ package was almost hanging out of his shorts.  In the words of one harriette, “It’s like looking at a car crash—I really don’t want to look, but I can’t turn away!”
  • Eat Your Vegetables pretended to not know where the Crucible was, but was not-so-secretly excited about it.
  • Twinkle, Twinkle Little Cock really didn’t know anything about The Crucible.
  • Keyless Entry had trouble counting to 69.  How could anyone forget that number?

 Violations from the Crowd:

  • Peace O’Chum aired out her crotch at beer check.  Dude, we’re not in Baltimore.
  • Rambutt was glad she took 12 inches before trail instead of just 6.  But who wouldn’t be happy about that?
  • Cock Your Suck I Will can’t pour beer and sing at the same time.
  • Cute Lesbian In Training was covered in cum and smoking a cigar at end circle. 
  • Sphincter Shy got second-degree burns while masturbating.  I don’t even want to know.
  • PoPo Disco put on a show for the 12-year-old boys the pack ran by.  I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again—that’s my job, dammit.
  • Fat Friends In Wet Places got tired of waking up in a puddle, so he bought an economy-sized box of Depends.
  • Cocky recruited Cock Your Suck I Will to bang other women, oops, I mean to play rugby.
  • Floral Sex got her braces off—gentlemen, she can now give you head!
  • CLIT demonstrated that she likes big, brown dick.

Then we had a NAMING!

Just Katharine can be kind of quiet, so we handcuffed her to Hair Cuntery at the start of trail, so he could get the goods on her.  She works in media relations, which means she bangs reporters.  This is completely unrelated to Just Katharine’s original field of study; she majored in gay, I mean, French, at Oberlin.  Despite having attended Oberlin, the college that requires express consent for anything sexual (“May I touch your boobies now?”  Awkward!), and whose students coined the term, “womyn,” she has never had a lesbian experience.  Just Katharine likes pigs, missionary position, and anal sex.  She slept with a 15-year-old when she was 20 (I have found my Yoda) and a 42-year old former Olympic gymnast, who was the fittest man she’s ever been with.  Finally, Just Katharine has lived in Tahiti and Senegal.  She got laid in Senegal, so she probably has AIDS now.

Naming Suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:

Mud Diamond

AIDS Worker

Sex Panther

Missionary Robinson

Mary Kay LePorno

Pummeled Horse

Whore Exercise

Cork Grind

Meat the Press


Her Medic Seal


Madeleine All Tight

In the end, the pack named her Meat the Press.

We proceeded to the on-on-on, drank cheap beer, some brave souls ate baked beans from a trough, and the rest of us tried to get laid.


Tits for Tots

EWH3 Scribe

Hares: Assflac, Cock-a-Doodle-do-Me, Chippen Fails, Hair Cuntery, Shamrock Your Cock
Brew Crew: Incredible Edible Schmegg, Slumcock Anywhere
Virgins: Justs Jeannette, Jen, Ben, Masi, Nick, Derek, Christy, Richard, Matt, and Adam
Visitors: None were stupid enough to show up for this trail.
Analversaries: 17—Gerry Ass Tricks; 200—Shamrock Your Cock
Ononon: Library Bar
The pack, including but not limited to the 42,000 male virgins that Just May brought (where, oh where, have bukkake violations gone?), gathered in a grassy area opposite from a Home Depot and some other stores, and took off through some ghetto-tastic alleys, until we reached a 15-foot-high fence. Many were stupid enough to climb over it, but a few of us towards the back waited for Cocky to sweep us around. That obstacle conquered, we stopped at the shot check to drink bad, cheap whiskey before running through the grounds of several Catholic churches, Catholic University, and Trinity College. Fortunately for the young men in the pack, there was nary a priest in sight, and we all made it to the beer check
under the Metro unmolested.
I couldn’t tell you what the second half of trail was like, because I drank so much at beer check, I don’t remember. Actually, I’m lying: I was going to walk the second half as I am recovering from a knee injury (between that and the swine flu, I’ve been the walking wounded this month), but somehow, my companions and I totally missed walkers trail. We managed to stumble upon the hares and followed them to the on-in, which was in the exact same location as beer check, so we really didn’t even need to go anywhere. That was all for the best, though, as the hash revived the long-standing tradition of sandwich night, and I ended up getting to the table to make a sandwich before much of the pack even finished running trail. Tastes great, more filling!
• Gaystation was secretly going to audition to be a Redskinette, but revealed his plans by making up cheers for Sphincter Shy while on trail.
• General’s Farm Animal wiped out while trying to spank a hot, young, female Just, and ended up with a faceful of curb instead of a handful of ass.
• Eat Your Vegetables was reading Runners’ World on the Metro on the way to the hash. He’d have been better off reading Playgirl.
• The hares teased the pack by taking us through so much Catholic property without anyone seeing any naughty Catholic schoolgirls. They were probably so busy being blown by altar boys that they forgot that the rest of us have needs too!
• Gaystation came out of nowhere to the hash—just like he does in bed.
• Cocktuplets loudly proclaimed that she smells like Gaystation. Is that really something to be proud of?
• Dial F and You’re A Pee’n Swallow turned out to be cousins, so they’re moving to North Carolina so they can continue to legally celebrate their love.
• Spincter Shy is so shy about his sphincter that he can’t find it with two hands and a flashlight, as evidenced by his passing the walkers three times while looking for beer check.
• Chippen Fails failed at bukkake—you’re supposed to have many men squirting liquid on one woman, not one man throwing powder on many women.
• Cum Dumpling thinks he’s Dick Tracy; he kept checking his talking GPS watch to see how far he’d gone.
• Just Jill got meat juice on her arm, instead of in her mouth, where it belongs.
• Gaystation combined auto-hashing, safety third, and sex on trail by running backwards into a car and falling onto it with his legs all splayed out, ready for action.
• The hares brought obnoxious noisemakers, the kind you pull out and blow on every New Year’s Eve, into circle. Couldn’t they find anything better to put in their mouths. On second thought, Chippen Fails shouldn’t answer that.
Violations from the Crowd:
• Tar Squeal was so raceist, she didn’t even stop at beer check.
• Popo Disco didn’t bring Marion Barry to the hash.
• Red Vag of Courage had a huge bruise on her lower back, obtained in a tragic doggy style accident.
• Chippen Fails failed again: He hit on a Catholic schoolgirl while scouting trail, but couldn’t make her come.
• Popo Disco refused to drink beer because she’s on the South Beach Diet. Semen, however, is totally permitted; it’s high in protein and low in carbs.
• I Manual Cunt thought we were running the Miami Vice trail and came to end circle dressed like Sonny Crockett.
• Cute Lesbian In Training not only looks like she’s 12 years old; she also
wears a 12-year-old’s bikini.
• Cocky recruited Cock Your Suck I Will to bang other women, oops, I mean to play rugby.
• Popo Disco is getting her tattoos lasered off: You can erase your exhusband’s name, but you can’t laser off the trashy.
• I Manual Cunt impaled himself on a big pole and won his very own Darwin Award. Survival of the fittest, yo.
Then we had a NAMING!
Nobody new much about Just Greg, so we handcuffed him to CLIT at the start of trail, so she could get the goods on him. He’s from New York, majored in linguistics at University of Maryland, and now designs websites for Street Sense, the newspaper published and sold by the homeless. Just Greg likes to have sex
doggy style, with goats, but he didn’t give Red Vag the bruise on her back, because his wife, whose name is Cleveland Rain (at least it’s not Detroit!) wouldn’t approve of that. Yup, he’s married, which means he never gets laid, and explains so much about why no one knew anything about him before Thursday night. Just Greg lost his virginity in a student lounge at Maryland, and used a condom from a vending machine. He has also had sex in a Swedish sauna. While trying to help some Gallaudet students carry their liquor purchases, he dropped a keg. What’s sign language for, “Ow, my foot!?” Last but not least, Just Greg’s favorite STD is the clap, because “it sounds funny.”
Naming Suggestions (that didn’t suck) were:
Helen Smell ‘Er
Skid Blow
Clap On Clap Off
Queering Aid
Eva Braille
In the end, the pack found the combination of gay jokes and deaf jokes irresistible and named him Queering Aid.
We proceeded to the on-on-on, drank cheap beer, and tried to get laid.
Grosses baises,
Tits for Tots
EWH3 Scribe

Hares: Fucks Up, Doc?, Low Pressure Front, Just May and Just Jonathan
Brew Crew: Red Vag of Courage, Sphincter Shy
Virgins: Just Radha, Jordan, Michael, Sam, Ben, Mason, Joel, Liz, Kate, Vickie, April, Rachel, Chris, Eddie, Melody, Tom, Jenny, Laura, Nate, Jill, Abby and Thomas
Visitors: Rumple Foreskin (Stuttgart) and Bitch On Bitch On Bitch (Puerto Rico)
Analversaries: A Red River Runs Through It (200), Late Nigh Drive Through (169), Can’t Get Beaver (169), Blows a Tranny (100), Do Me Howser (100), Cum of a Preacher’s Hand (69), ChippenFails (17) and I Manual Cunt (17)
OnOnOn: Duffy’s

We circled up in the memorial in front of the metro entrance and began the opening festivities. Can’t Find Pussy in a Haystack, our GM for the evening, tried introducing us to the virgins and visitors but needed some help since he had lost his voice. (I hear that performing too much fellatio can do that to you.) Hair Cuntery was enlisted to act as Haystack’s “stunt voice,” because when you need something voiced for you it’s always a good idea use some wanker with a speech impediment! After suffering through the introductions, the crowd was informed that there would be two shot checks and one beer check on this crappy trail.

The trail was mostly urban running with the standard array of urban shiggy for the U St neighborhood: garbage, dark alleys, homeless people, dirty needles, etc, etc. The first shot check came pretty quickly but was also placed in such a way that 80% of the pack totally missed it. That 80% of the pack were the lucky ones however, because the shot tasted like rail tequila and must have been cut with syrup of ipecac. Now I’m a seasoned hasher. I’ve partaken in hundreds of shots on trail. Most of them undoubtedly made with the cheapest booze that money can buy, and never has a single shot gotten me so sick! I felt like retching well into the second half of the run. (Incidentally, I would like to thank our hash flash, Edgar Allan Ho, for following me into alleys so she could document my misery, and my dry heaves, for posterity. EAH your love is like ice cream… laced with cyanide.)

Even with my nausea I was able collect numerous accounts of hashers being stupid on trail during the beer check. I was also able to keep my beer down despite my best efforts and sincere desire to evacuate the entire contents of my stomach.

The last part of trail was more urban shiggy and included the worst smelling alley I have ever encountered. Really, the stench was unbelievable. It was what I would imagine rotting goat bowels might smell like. The second shot check was some red concoction that must have contained the antidote to whatever the hares laced the first shot with, because shortly after taking it I felt 100% better!

Eventually we made it to the on-in, circled up and proceeded with the usual debauchery. As a bonus the hash gods blessed us with an impromptu wet t-shirt contest shortly after end circle began! Now onto the details…


Gorillas in the Fist was at her third “last” DC hash in row. She drank for having more farewell tours than the Rolling Stones.
Doesn’t Pull Out loudly declared that he hated vagina before opening circle. (Well maybe he declared that he hated Red Vag of Courage but she has a vagina so same difference, right?)
Cute Lesbian In Training’s running shorts had some white stains on the butt. She claimed that the stains were paint, but I’m guessing that DPO was too drunk to remember that he needs to take her shorts off BEFORE having sex.
Silver Spooge was concerned that his running skirt wasn’t straight. Silver, wondering whether or not your skirt is straight is kind of putting the cart in front of the horse isn’t it?
Just Zora came to the hash wearing a pearl necklace. We had to explain to her that a pearl necklace is not something you buy. It is something you are given, after the hash!
Edgar Allan Ho was wearing a running shirt that had a pocket between her breasts that she used to store her camera. A bunch of wankers though it looked like a third boob and we violated her for impersonating a marginal character from that sci-fi classic, Total Recall.
I Manual Cunt thought he was going to lucky that night. He was caught doing kegel exercises, err stretching on trail.
Floral Sex was bragging about how tight her own ass was on trail.
Mayonnaise on the Pooper drank for not explaining to her virgin, Just Rachel, that wearing new shoes to the hash is a no-no. (Don’t blame the kids, blame the parents!)

Then we had a very special occasion… a NAMING!

Just Jonathan (one of the hares of this “wonderful” trail) was chosen to be named. At this point the rain was coming down pretty hard and my scribe notes are pretty smudgy. So the following facts we learned about Just Jonathan may or may not actually be factual.

Just Jonathan went to college at the Fashion Institute of Technology. He now works for hedge fund and as a personal trainer. He lost his virginity at 15 and his embarrassing sexual moment was being caught doing it in the National Cathedral pool, after which he had to escape being caught by running down the street naked. He is huge fan of the Ultimate Fighting Championship. Apparently, he has even mopped up blood at mixed martial arts events and has suffered a contusion of his coccyx fighting martial arts. His favorite submission hold is the rear naked choke.

According to his better half he owns way more hair products than any straight man should. When asked for an embarrassing story about Just Jonathan she told us about the first time they had sex: upon returning from the bathroom to freshen up Just Jonathan was already going to town on himself.

Armed with this information the crowd made the following nominations:
• Cumwit
• Bloody Butt Plug
• Total Kock Obsession (TKO)
• MM Gay
• Jizz Mopper
• Menstrual Blood Sport
• Liberachi
• Bruce Me
• Choke Hold
• Buttfuck Norris

Bruce me and Menstrual Blood Sport had a lot of crowd support, in the end though Buttfuck Norris won out as Just Jonathan’s new name. Goodbye Just Jonathan, hello Buttfuck Norris.

We escaped the rain, went to the Ononon, drank our faces off and tried to get laid. (What else is new?)

Until next time…

On on,
Rear Protein Injection
EWH3 Scribe