EWH3 #577 – Union Station

Hares:  Cock-a-Doodle-do-Me, Twinkle Twinkle Little Cock, Fire in the Hole, Snatch to the Future

Brew Crew:  Incredible Edible Schmegg, Just Barney

Virgin:  Just Andrew, Emily and Rob

Visitors:  There was one but my fingers were too numb to write his name legibly.

Analversaries:  17 hashes–Six Fags, Cutting Class, Cock in Fresh Dough, Pinnochi-ho, Nobody Puts Labia in the Corner, I’m Lick James, Bitch!

Ononon:  Trusty’s

The pack met up in front of Union Station, confusing the tourists.  No one came out in circle as a hare representative, but luckily, Rear Protein Injection knew which way to send the pack.  Somehow it didn’t occur to the FRBS that the first check would take the pack through the parking structure attached to the station, even though we have a check going into that parking garage almost every trail we run that starts at Union Station.  Either way, we eventually wended our way through parked cars and buses, only to cross H Street at one of its busiest points and dodge moving cars and buses.  We all made it out safely, but it was not all downhill from there–it’s hard to follow a trail that’s laid in invisible flour!  Nonetheless, we managed to make it to beer check, in a parking lot somewhere.

On the second half of trail, we could actually see the flour, which was a huge improvement over the first half because it meant we could keep moving through the ball-shrinking, nipple-sharpening cold.  I think there was a playground in there somewhere, but beer and cold make my memory fuzzy.  Apparently, there was a water main break that made the hares have to re-route trail, but we all somehow got to the on-in, in a grassy area near Eastern Market, where we circled up.

Violations:

• Just Melanie gave us this round of “What was she talking about?” when she said, “I’ll do both at once.”
  

• Slumcock Anywhere almost didn’t come because it “was blowing too hard.”  Doesn’t that usually work the opposite way?
  
• Just Barney said his balls were acting like tonsils, but he didn’t say whose tonsils.
  
• Duck Job, as one of the original founders of EWH3, should know better than to wear a raceist shirt to the hash.
  
• Buttfuck Norris proved he deserves his hash name by meeting and giving his phone number to a stripper–a male stripper.
• Eat Your Vegetables complained that Spike TV’s Manswers insulted his intelligence and was in poor taste.  Given that he was watching Spike TV’s Manswers for advice on life, can he really talk about matters of intelligence and taste?
• I’m Lick James, Bitch! sank a 3-point shot into the garbage can at the on-in.  Wrong sport!!
• Snatch to the Future was so ashamed of the trail that she denied being involved with it during opening circle.
• The hares whined about the water main break that forced them to re-route trail.  I guess they didn’t want to get anyone wet.
  

Violations from the Crowd:

• Cocky sent all the flour to Haiti.
• I’m Lick James, Bitch! and Buttfuck Norris were holding hands on trail, which not only is much cheesier than having sex on trail but also completes the “men being affectionate with I’m Lick James, Bitch!” trifecta that we’ve had going the last three times I’ve scribed.
• St. Pauli Girl grew a beard because he wants to be just like Chicken Fucker.
• Just Andrew and Just Rob had one complete outfit between them.
  
• RPI harmonized during “Whip it out at the Ballgame,” because he wants to be just like Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Cock.
  
• Can’t Find Pussy on a Haystack gave Roll Over, Bitch! his Caps tickets for Friday night on the condition that he not take A Salt My Ass on a date to the game.
• R.O,B! gave Haystack reason to worry that he might take A Salt My Ass on a date.

Is everybody happy?  You bet your ass we are!  Especially because we skipped naming someone because it was too damn cold to pour beer over anyone, unless we want to get our asses sued when they die of hypothermia or lose extremities due to frostbite.  The pack went to the Trusty’s, drank more beer, played Jenga, and tried to get laid.

I

Tits for Tots

EWH3 Scribe