Marine Corps 10K

I'm at it again! I'm a r*cist!

Today I wake up at the crack of dawn to particpate in the Marine Corps 10K. No! not the marathon! No way! I'm supposed to meet up with Slurpee at the back of the 10K lineup, but I never locate her. Ah well...I guess I will run alone.

I have to say, though, having observers the entire course is great incentive to run faster. Everytime I see a Marine, I think I run just a bit harder. My official time? 1:05 - approximately a 10:30 mile - very good progress since the Army 10-miler! Of course, this was a much harder trail than the Army 10-miler.

Pimp n' Ho Party

It took me 9 months, but I finally repaired the red vinyl dress (courtesy of Fagnostic) in preparation for KP & Udder’s Pimp n’ Ho party (which, I have been told, it is only a coincidence that the Pimp n’ Ho party is the day after the Pimp n’ Ho hash – I guess the great minds of MotorMouth and KP think alike!)

Now, earlier in the week, I was fortunate enough to observe Fuxedo racing through the streets dressed as a drag queen for the annual high heel race (no, he isn't a drag queen! however, he is fond of recycling red dress apparel for multiple occasions). During the race, he had these fabulous red vinyl thigh-high boots, which I supposed would be PERFECT with Fagnostic's dress. Of course, I asked him if I could borrow them. And the kind gentleman said yes!

So here I am, at the Pimp n' Ho party and the only thing I'm wearing (besides jewelry) that actually belongs to me is my supergirl panties. Of course, no one would believe me! How could everything that I'm wearing belong to dudes? Apparently, 90% of the people of the party did not observe me undressing Fagnostic last year. Oh well, their loss!

But the big winners of the Pimp n' Ho costume party would be Hoover Daaaamn and her man, P.I.M.P. (how apropos!). They make a fabulous couple as she is the pimp and he is her ho...and of course, she takes me into her stable, as well.

3 Dog Night is adorable too...and after our little dialog on digbys earlier in the week - several dudes want to know if we will have a repeat sleep over session. Sorry! Not tonight!

Pimp n' Ho Hash

Damn! How many posts have I written but never published? Looks like I started this one but never finished it....oh well....

A themed hash – oh boy! Today, MotorMouth is extremely proud of his haring achievement – he has scored CCR (Crystal City Restaurant) as our on-after. What does this mean? Hashers get to experience strippers (although clad in g-strings and pasties), while imbibing beer and wine (the restaurant does not have a liquor license) and consuming cheap, good food. As a tribute to our entertainment this evening, MotorMouth has requested that hashers dress up as either pimps or hos. I, of course, have plenty of ho attire (no derogatory comments, please!) and have decided to wear a half-top and the leopard-print cowboy hat I brought back from CO Invihash.

Recently, EWH3 has started a trend of pre-gaming at a bar prior to beginning circle and sign-in. Now, at the first of these unofficial events back in the summer, I got seriously buzzed from a vodka-soda and 2 shots. I was so impaired that my mental faculties had difficulties locating names in the sign-in book and Assfault was concerned for my running ability on trail. Since then, Cum Dumpling has vowed that I am prohibited from imbibing prior to sign-in. KP, on the other hand, found the occurrence immensely entertaining and has been gunning for additional go-rounds. So, today, I find myself heading towards Bailey’s where they have happy hour specials of $3.50 shots of Jack Daniels. Since my ho running gear requires the exposure of bare skin in 55-degree weather, I def require a few shots to inject some artificial warmth into my bloodstream! Fortunately for Cum Dumpling, my tolerance is a bit higher than usual today and although happy, I am not incapable of performing.

I was given a bouquet of tootsie pops from a date (don’t ask why!) and placed them in my hash bag for instant snacks.

$1 – suckee, suckee! I exclaim to everyone who signs in.

Sleep Over

Damn! I forgot I wrote this one! Why didn't I publish this?

So I’ve been down in the dumps and in order to get my mind off things, I’ve decided there is only one option – drink myself into oblivion.

I stay with 3 Dog Night cause I don’t feel like metro-ing home

3 Dog Night stirs up trouble by posting the following to digbys:

I just wanted to say Thanks to LateNight for an awesome Friday night
and an EVEN BETTER Saturday morning...

3dognight

Responses from the hash list:

Something we should know about???

Inquiring minds are now curious and want to know.

-My Little Pony

ummm. what?

i guess LNDT is good at making eggs or something?
- Big Bend Over

So I post:

Thanks girl! Anytime I can experience your mirror-plated bathroom ceiling again, you just let me know!

And her reply:

nothing better than seeing a hot girl wearing your shirt in the morning....

I'm up for Friday at KP's.

Now wouldn't y'all really like to know what happened??!! Sorry, I don't kiss and tell!

Search Criteria

Well...checking the sitemeter thinga-ma-bobbie again since it hasn't been reviewed in a while - and boy! are there some people looking for hashers via the internet!

Let's see who was being googled:

1. Obeasiologist (the search spelling - not mine!)
2. Double Stuffed Whor-E-O
3. Metro Ho
4. myself
5. BurboJeff

....and let's not forget the search phrases!

1. hasher lesbians
2. I got my little sister to wear thong underwear (seriously! what do people think they are going to find with this?)
3. I used to work in Chicago (duh!)
4. fizzy's place (Fizzy, did you forget to take a girl home with you for once?)
5. c thru thong (as much as I talk about thongs, I'm not surprised...)
   
6. mexican midget dancing (how could I ever forget about TexMex?)
   
7. in her shorts cowgirl
8. girls sprouting boobs
   

Reactions, anyone?

Sh*t AGM - Wild, Wild West

The trains are so g*ddamn slow today. Thank God, Friendly Thighs is such a wonderful person to pick me up from the King Street metro station. As it is, we arrive 45 minutes late for the start, but fortunately, the Sh*t hash never starts trail on time, so I am still able to go off with the runners. Speaking of runners, why are there only 11 of us? Are all y’all scared of the trail that And How’s Her Bush, Sh*t-U-Gay and Udder Ho are gonna lay? It couldn’t possibly be that bad – we are talking about Udder, you know. Of course, I was concerned when Udder’s car alarm started going off minutes after he took off and the walkers’ hare was still able to catch up with Udder to turn off his car alarm. But who wants to de-pants Udder except Hoot? That’s what I thought! End of story.

…so trail is a reasonable pavement pounder, a little different from Sh*t standards, but okay by a tried and true EWH3er…except…look, we have a tunnel! Okay, it’s not too bad. The water is low enough that I don’t need to get my shoes wet. Uh oh! I spoke too soon! We have to cross the path of 3 other tunnel entrances and 1 has rushing ankle-deep water. MotorMouth chivalrously offers to carry Just Jen (who is just in front of me) across the tunnel entrance. Oooh, me, me, me! Piggy back ride for LNDT, please? Pretty, please? : )~ And surprise of surprises! MotorMouth carries me across on his back. Thank you, kind sir! No wet feet for LNDT today!

And need I mention that our 2 beer checks were within spitting distance of each other? Now I have since learned that one of those beer checks was supposed to be for the walkers. I thought they weren’t getting beer - only shots? Since the beer checks are so close to each other, none of the runners stop for the 2^nd beer check. Let some bum drink the beer!

In any case, the second half of the trail turns out to be much longer than the first half. Not that it is a big deal when the trail is 4 ½ miles long, but Slurpee is really upset that our FRBs, MotorMouth and S.S. Toothfairy, haven’t marked our checks for us. As a clarification, I truly believe all our checks were marked by P. Enis until we entered the last housing development next to Nick’s. At that point, MM and TF (and P. Enis did too, I assume) short-cutted the whole way, which explains the lack of marks. Unfortunately, there is a back check in the housing development which explains her anger. Ah, well…we can’t expect them to solve all the checks!

Now, our on-after is a country bar called Nick’s. It’s apparently an extremely popular place and we have the back room reserved from 4pm until 8pm. They have karaoke too, but that doesn’t start until 9pm. I’m not much of a country fan (see yesterday's post), so although there is a DJ, I’m not really bouncing around like usual. Sorry! I don’t even line dance to pop songs, why would I line dance to country music? My dancing is spontaneous and I doubt that will ever change.

So the announcements are made! Tuppy is the GM (again! Yay for her!) and Hermie is the RA (My God! I have totally got to go to a Sh*t hash, now! I can’t miss this!). There are other people involved too - Nub and Free P*ssy are On Sec, which I believe is the equivalent to my Hash Cash position at EWH3. Can anyone confirm? But other than that, most people that were integral to the Sh*t are still integral. Nice to know that the core likes to stay involved. Good for them!

Karaoke Night

This job is def interfering with my appetite and social plans! I thought I was going to be out the door on a Friday at 5pm, but lo and behold, I’m stuck making copies and delivering binders until 8pm. Of course, I’m not eating while I’m working, so by the time I drive into downtown DC to check out the Beltway Bob happy hour, I’m famished.

I meet up with Slurpee, S.S. Toothfairy, and Wooly Mammaries at Eastern Market, but my first priority is food! After grabbing a sandwich at Subway, we head over to the Southeast waterfront to check out Outback Snakehouse’s boat party. It’s a bit chilly outside, so I hibernate inside (I am wearing a sweater, btw!).

Hoover Daaamn calls me since she’s going dancing tonight and we’re each other’s dancing buddy. Rock It Grill? Of course! I love karaoke! Bye, everybody! Although I love drinking for free, I love dancing even more!

About 15 minutes after I arrive, I spot Friendly Thighs walking into the bar. Well! Whattya know? This IS a popular karaoke joint. She informs me that she is going to do “Summer Nights” from Grease. Since I haven’t signed up for the karaoke yet, I go over to the DJ and ask if anyone has requested Bon Jovi this evening.

“No one? Great!”

Uh oh. Someone signed up for “Living on a Prayer” on the line above me. D*mn it! Ah well, there’s always Joan Jett’s “I Love Rock and Roll”. That’ll work!

In the meantime, I’m asked to dance to a slow, country song. I accept even though the guy is 4 inches shorter than me, but what the hell, it’s only a dance!

When the song is over, the dude asks me, “We could go to another bar for dancing. Do you listen to country music?”
I reply, “Never” .

He promptly stomps off.

What? What did I say? Whatever…I don’t want to go to a country bar anyway.

Army 10-Miler

I completed it! All without stopping once!

My final time: 1:55

I ran approximately a 12-minute pace the first 9 miles and sprinted the last mile. Not sure if that's a good strategy, but at least I finished!

Yay!

Lingerie Run 2006

This is me at the beginning of the evening....


....and this is me at the end of the evening....


Enough said!!

Army 10-Miler

...so I never thought I would be ambitious enough to attempt a race of this length...but people change...

I know several people that are running the Army 10-miler and although registrations are unavailable, I'm training for the race. Hopefully, some inebriated hasher that has too much fun on the DC Red Dress Run will be willing to transfer their rego to me.

...so please! let me know if you've got a rego available!

Training is cutting into my partying time, but it's worth it! I'm so proud of the fact that I can run consistently now. Yay! I'm pretty slow at the moment - about 11:00 mile and hoping to cut it to 10:00. Hey! We all have to start somewhere!

Hashing Disgrace

I'm a disgrace to the hashing community. What kind of hasher is incapable of holding their liquor? I swear I only have 3 states: stone-cold sober (most frequent state since I rarely drink while hashing), slightly buzzed, or totally drunk off my a$$. D*mn lightweight!

I totally got trashed last night because I piled a couple of glasses of wine on top of my pleasant buzz from happy hour rum and cokes. Pitiful! To make matters worse, I had to force myself to puke in order to get back into a semi-coherent state. I'm d*mn lucky to have good friends! Thanks, T and C!

Hash Wisdom

I'm not sure if I should identify the creator of this gem, but at least I'll share it with y'all:

"Every girl believes she has the golden vagina"

Ha! Too funny! ...and too true!

APB Alert!!

Mugging follow-up….

…so 2 of the juvenile delinquents who beat me up were caught the weekend after they attacked me. They ratted their 3^rd partner in crime out and have been sitting behind bars ever since waiting for their court hearings. Well, it turns out that 2 of the 3 aren’t juvies and will be tried as adults. I just received the word that today 1 of the perps was sentenced to 3 years in jail in the “big house” (aka maximum security prison) despite being a first-time offender. The 2^nd adult won’t be tried until August, but hopefully I’ll receive good news concerning him too. I won’t receive any notifications concerning the juvie because of his age. I’m not too concerned about him anyway since all he did was egg the other two on from a distance.

Yay for the justice system!

Another BAH3 6-miler

Daaaaamn! I’m having a good day! I don’t even flinch when the hare announces that the runners trail will be 5-ish miles long. I’m here for my exercise! Double-daaamn! I actually keep up with the front of the pack for the majority of the trail. What’s gotten into me today? 5 ½ miles later – I’m still going strong – very atypical. Is this a turning point in my running career? I certainly hope so!

But….ker...chunk – beer check – stop running for a bit and down a bottle of water.

Ooohhh…lookee – a rope swing hanging over the creek (pronounced “crick” for those of you from Hickville, DE)! Anyone test this bad boy out, yet? No?? Let me give it a whirl, then!

Oops! My wide birthing hips are too wide to fit between the ropes. Ah well, guess I’m gonna stand then. Yippee! Hope I don’t fall! I get an offer to be pushed, but decline the offer (you know, I really need to live life a little – why didn’t I take him up on the offer?).

Ah well…back to running….or not. I’ve found I’ve hit my limit – I’m a walker from here on out. Still…not too shabby for an ex-DFL! Total trail length? 6.6 miles

7 Shot Checks

What a turnout tonight! Boy! 163 hashers have shown up tonight cause the (8!!) hares have promised us 7 shot checks. Lord amercy! Will anyone be capable of walking after 7 shot checks + 1 beer check? And Cum Dumpling, where are you? You’re supposed to be helping me collect money and you’re late this week! By the time he finally arrives, I have a line out the yazoo and can’t even b*tch at him for b*tching at me last week! (Don’t you love female retribution?)

So the line is unmanageable, Cum Dumpling is late, Happy on his Knees chooses that moment to cut the line, and Can’t F*ck Dust wants to know if Tiny Balls has signed in. Give the money to Cum Dumpling, yell at Happy for cutting line, and no, Tiny Balls hasn’t signed in yet. Dust hands me paper bracelets to hand out to hashers signing in (even though 40 hashers have already signed in) – “They’re for the beer specials at the bar”. I assume Happy feels guilty for cutting the line, so he volunteers to help hand out the bracelets. Sheesh! What chaos!

Finally, a break! It’s 7:15pm, I’ve been signing people in for 45 minutes straight and when I finally have a moment to take my bag to the bag vehicle, I spot even MORE hashers showing up! Get here on time, you wankers! Late sign-in is going to be a b*tch tonight.

So it’s another wonderful 90-degree day with a slight breeze. Fortunately, it appears as if it might rain, which should help us avoid passing out from heat and alcohol exposure. Unfortunately, the trail is rather long – not that it really bothers me, but when you’re not expecting a long trail, it comes as a bit of a shock when the distance between some shot checks is more than a mile. As a result, KP gives the runners the option to cut the trail short at the beer check by running straight to the end circle. I, being the improving runner that I am, decide I’m going to eagle this trail (hmmm…what am I thinking?). Well, the 2^nd half ain’t that bad. We really only have 2 more shots at this point, so how much more running could we possibly have?

So I end up at the ending circle and begin my routine for late sign-in.

Dust comes by and asks, “Where’s Tiny Balls bag?”
“What bag?”
“The bag I asked you to give to him at sign-in.”
“Excuse me? I didn’t hear that. I told him that you were looking for him and that was it.”

So now I’m responsible for leaving someone’s brand new WH4 embroidered hash duffel bag among the homeless dudes at Union Station. Dude, I’m sorry, but approaching me when I’m trying to perform sign-in with 100 impatient hashers is not very good timing. Next time, find a non-critical person to perform your task. But would a homeless dude have really wanted a bag that said “Tiny Balls” anyway? I think not…

But lookee here! Clear evidence that the bag was sitting next to me the entire time! It's the greenish bag to my left....duh!

Fortunately, this story has a happy ending. Fizzy, being a responsible hasher, noticed the bag sitting by its lonesome with Tiny Balls’ name embroidered on the outside and carried it with him to the first shot check (which happened to be Roadkill’s place). Now Tiny just needs to chase Roadkill down for his duffel bag!

Jizz Conditioner??

Okay, now I think I have seen it all. I have this sitemeter thingamabob that tracks page views. Well, it also records the referring url, too. I don't peruse this feature often, but I was curious today where my traffic is coming from since I haven't been very dependable recently.

I just about fell off my chair when I saw someone searched for "jizz conditioner" on yahoo and was led straight to my blog! Check it out! #5

Memorial Day hash

So Slurpee, Fizzy, and NWW want to go to the WH4 Memorial Day hash after packing up after the WISSHHH camping trip. I’m beat, but would like to check out the hash, so I accompany them.

But damn! Is it hot outside! I think I should re-think this running thing. But, nope! Slurpee acts like the little drill sergeant that she is and yells that I need to sweat the liquor out of my system. Hmmpphh! There isn’t any liquor left in my system since I purged it all the first night I was at the camping trip.


After running a few miles and have the sweat pouring off me, I take a short nap under a shady tree at the beer check. Cool pavement! Relief! With my souvenir cowboy hat from TX on my face (provided by BabyG – thank you!), I can sleep through any disruptions. It’s quite a long beer check, too. The eagle trail runners take a long time making it back in (yes, this means I’m a turkey!). The trail is combined from this point onwards, though.

However, I’ve lost my enthusiasm for running. I go through the motions, but have lots of stops and starts. Oh well…I do need my rest.

By the time I get back to the start, all I want is food. Unfortunately, the cooks were running on trail, so the grills are just being loaded with food. It’ll be chips to hold me over. But I want me a piece of barbeque chicken!





At the ending circle, Mudflap finally reappears with the WH4 hash sh*t (it’s been in absentia for 4 months). Who’s nominated for hash sh*t? NWW for complaining about the amount of visible wang at the WISSHHH camping trip, Butt Brown Ale and Backdoor Buckaroo for wearing the same gay white Stetsons, and Mudflap (of course) for running off with the hash sh*t for 4 months. Given to….Butt Brown Ale for being the gayest hasher since his name results from drinking beer off a dude’s @ss. Dude! You knew that was gonna come back to haunt you.

Finally! Food is done – grab a piece of chicken and chow down. Ahhh….now to go home and pass out. I’m completely worn out. Too bad I somehow lost my wallet on the way from my car to the front door of my home. I find my wallet sitting on my front door the next morning missing the $60 cash that was inside. What bad luck I’ve been having!

WISSHHH Man-morial Weekend: What a Downer!

I have to admit that my weekend kind of ends on a sour note.

I wake up in the morning to discover that my beloved pimp hat is missing. After searching the campground for an hour, I learn that it has been burned to a crisp and that those Trashy bastards are responsible. They are now on my sh*t list – temporarily, of course. I never hold grudges….and I guess they were drunk – but that doesn’t excuse them from disrespecting my personal property.

And yet another chair is broken due to my presence. I swear I don’t instigate anything! I am just peacefully lying in the Bend Over Rover’s chair sunning myself, when all of a sudden, Limp Biscuit jumps out of his chair and decides to straddle me. What came over him? He leans on the footrest and breaks one of the legs. Of course, is he satisfied with his antics to date? Nope. He next shoves his wang in Schwinn’s face. Schwinn isn’t too pleased and apparently yanks LB’s wang and threatens bodily harm if he ever does that again. Whew! What drama!

Then as my pleasant buzz starts wearing off from the Sparks, I discover that I’m running low. No problem, right? Wrong. I run to 7-11 to purchase a few more and when the cashier rings up my purchase, he refuses my ID. WTF??!! I’m 30 years old! Do I look 18? Doesn’t matter – since my ID is falling apart from extended use, he doesn’t sell me the Sparks. So be it! No more alcoholic consumption for me!

However, one positive note: Just Chris replaced my pimp hat with one he purchased at Busch Gardens. It’s not the same, but it its similar. Thanks, dude! You’re the best!

WISSHHH Man-morial Weekend: Wang Pageantry

After my adventuring last night, I have a bit of a clean-up, sober-up operation to complete this morning. Clean up the area around my tent, take a shower, brush my hair, place my filthy pants in a dry bag – uggghhh! And my head feels so stuffy. Thank God I can hide my eyes behind sunglasses. And for good measure, I break out my leopard-print pimp hat to keep my face shaded from the sun (I’m feeling a bit gremlin-ish – Light bright! Bright light!). Coffee? Anyone?

Fortunately, Slurpee, NWW, and Fizzy want to go to Target for a table. Great! I can make a run to 7-11 for the largest coffee they sell. We discover that the ABC liquor store is right next to Target (very convenient) and purchase additional Bloody Mary mix. But Fizzy, stop giving away all our Bloody Mary’s!

Finally, 7-11! Coffee (for caffeine) – check. Slurpee (for sugar) – check. 4 bags of ice – check. Back to the campsite to let my home remedy take effect – wait for it…. Yep! I’m now an official Mexican jumping bean! Sugar! Caffeine! And Free P*ssy gives me another slurpee! Ooohhh…I’m dangerous now! I still don’t want to drink any alcohol, though. Blaaaccch!

I walk down the side of our cliff-side campground to join Betelgeuse at the beach. I need some sun – I’m very pale (especially my belly). After lathering myself with some SPF 30, I’m good to go.

There’s a picnic bench leaning into the water. You know a couple could get into some mischief on that. It’s the appropriate height for all sorts of deviant behavior. If only….

It’s a rather blustery day, so I have quite the challenge to keep my hat on while sitting on the beach. After fighting with my hat for an hour or so, I head back up to the campground. I see Dirty Dog and Limp Biscuit upon my return.

They ask me, “Can you be a shaker?”
“Of course”

I perform my Brazilian carnival impression.

“Okay. We’ll come find you later to be a shaker.”

And I have no idea what they are asking me to do…

I sit my camp chair in the circle that has formed outside TurtleDick’s and Bend Over Rover’s tent and attempt to relax and enjoy the music that’s playing. Tinky comes through at 3pm and tell us that the trail will begin in 5 minutes. Hmmm…maybe I should run today. @ss Spelunker tells me that he’s haring today’s trail. Really?

“Shouldn’t you be out there laying the trail then?”
“I’ll get to it. I’m preparing for the beauty pageant too.”
“Really? Have any extra costumes? I wanna try.”
“You can’t. It’s for men only.”
“Darn. I thought my pimp hat and sunglasses would be a good addition to the lineup.”

Needless to say….trail never happens. @S, what happened to you? I wasn’t really enthusiastic about running anyways, though. I do have to mention one thing, though. @S, why’d you have to sit on my lap? Was there any purpose to it? I can’t even recall why you did it in the first place. Afterwards, my chair starts falling apart bit by bit.

At 5pm, I place my chair in the Beauty Pageant viewing circle to reserve my spot. When I return, Breathless is occupying my chair and has just broken one of the straps for the footrest. Dude! Not cool! Number 1, you’re sitting in my chair, and number 2, you broke my chair. Go away! But it turns out that the strap breaking isn’t really his fault cause a ½ hour later, the other strap breaks. Figures! A $13 chair isn’t expected to last long, but I thought it would have lasted longer than 24 hours.

The pageant finally begins! All the different components of the pageant are incorporated, too. First, is the evening gown competition. And this is where the wang-flashing begins. I seated myself close to an ex-Okinawa hasher named Crew-It and unbeknownst to him or any of his neighbors, he has been targeted for molestation. As every competitor passes around the circle, they waste no opportunity to shove their wangs in his face. I think CI has more lap dances in an hour than most men have in a lifetime (too bad they were given by men). Wait up! There is one female competing! She has a dildo peeking out of her dress to prove her manhood. Too funny!

Next up, the swimsuit competition. The amount of visible wang has increased exponentially. Some guys have their wang tucked behind them, some guys let their balls hang out of either side of the crotch, and some just let it all hang out. Dudes! Now you’re really scaring me!

During the pageant intermission, I finally find out what a shaker does and respectfully decline to participate. A shaker uses her tits to shake a person’s head during an apple pie shot. Considering the size of the other women’s tits that are the primary shakers, mine don’t hold a candle to their shaking ability. No thanks!

Another section of the pageant is the question and answer section. The correct answer to every question is “World Peace and Free Beer.”

So who is the big winner? Although @S made an impressive showing, P*ssy Whipped impressed the judges during the dance/lip-synch portion of the pageant by ripping his barbarian horde outfit to shreds.

The other contestants start shouting, “He blew Tinky! He blew Tinky!” over and over again once PW is named the winner.

Sore losers!

WISSHHH Man-morial Weekend: Camping Yoga

Yay! It’s Memorial Day weekend and I haven’t had a vacation since TX Interhash in March. I need to get away from the office. I’m taking the day off and riding with Fizzy, Slurpee and Nasty When Wet to the WISSHHH Man-morial weekend camping trip. After a late start, the 4 of us leave the DC metro area at 2pm and immediately run into the parking lot known as I-95. Fortunately, we jump on the HOV lanes, which speeds our progress a bit. During the 3 ½ hour trip, I rock out to tunes on Fizzy’s Ipod, while he gets himself drunk on his “Man-gria”. He even spills some of his man-gria on himself, but that could be my driving at fault, too. For some reason, driving down I-95 inspires my race-car driving enthusiasm to swerve between other cars at 80mph (slow, ain’t it?).

Finally, we arrive at the Jamestown Beach Campsites and start setting up our camp close to Betelgeuse’s mansion. Now, I don’t know what Slurpee was complaining about, but within moments of arriving Tinky Winky names her “SWAB” for Sissy Whiny A$$ B*tch. Slurpee, you can be high-maintenance at the hash, but you gotta keep that trait low-key. You get violated for that stuff – believe me, I’ve learned the hard way!

During setup, my little tent gets christened “the bumblebee” since its short, fat, and yellow and I also discover that I forgot to pack a camp chair. Ugghh! I can’t go all weekend without a chair. No problem. Sleep In Booty knows where Target is and will come with me to pick out a chair. Great! Target has such a deal on camping chairs – I pick up a bright green chair with a footrest for $13.

Finally, I’m all settled in and can get down to the serious business of drinking. First, I want to try some of that man-gria. I’m barely putting a dent into it before a monsoon opens up on us. I first try to hold onto Metro’s tent before it flies away. Then, I help NWW hold her tent down since she didn’t stake it down either.

Finally, an hour later, I can really proceed with the drinking binge. Gin and tonic. Rum and coke. Oh, let’s visit our neighbors, Just Nick and Just Kerri. Tequila shots, jager shots. Hmmm…what else can I try?

I meet Confused Follies and his wife, Money Shot who are assisting Nick set up his campground. Follies, apparently, takes pictures of bras and wants a picture of my black lace bra. No problem. Let me know when. However, it’s pointed out that my black lace bra does not fit me well (in other words, I’m falling out). I explain that the bra is a 38C and I recently discovered that I wear a 36D. Uh oh! Kerri takes offense that I could possibly be a D cup. Since I’ve been drinking and I know what size I wear, I defend my boobies against deflation. Why in the world am I arguing about the size of my tits? I am what I am!

However, at this point, I’m a bit incoherent. I eventually head into my tent to get some sleep and like most people take my pants and bra off so I’m comfortable. Who knows how long I slept. All I know is that I stumble out of my tent in my long-sleeved shirt and panties and just sit on the cold, wet ground for a few minutes until Follies walks by and sees me sitting down in my panties.

He asks, “What are you doing out here?”
“I have to pee.”
“Here let me help you. There’s a tree over there.”

He helps lift me up, directs me to the tree and deposits me back in my tent when I’m done. Back to bed, right? Wrong.

I don’t think 5 minutes go by before my stomach starts feels queasy. Uh oh! I unzip my tent from the bottom, stick my head out and puke. Gross! I don’t think I’m done yet, so I try to climb out of the left side of the tent where I did NOT puke (I’ve been told I was not successful). I crawl about 3 feet from my tent and plant my face in the ground. For you yoga enthusiasts out there, I’m in a pseudo-child’s pose (except my a$$ is in the air rather than sitting on my feet). Now that I think back on it, I’m sure this position is the best one for expelling unwanted liquids from your body – let gravity do the work! However, it must have been quite an interesting sight for KP when he walked by.

He asks me, “Where are your pants?”
“In my tent.”

Would they really be anywhere else? Although I’ve been known to take my clothes off in public places, I’ve never taken my clothes off to crawl drunkenly around. In any case, it is a bit nipply outside, so KP restores my rather besmirched honor by retrieving my pants for me. Once that task is complete, he also escorts me back to my tent (actually, I think he prodded me along like I was a herd of cows).

So, by now, I should have had enough adventuring, right? Wrong. KP prematurely stuffed me into my tent cause within seconds of entering my tent, I’m back outside puking up again (this time fully clothed, though). NWW and Slurpee are preparing for bed at this point and overhear me. When they see me, all they can see is my head sticking out of the bottom of my tent. I crawl back out of my tent (I really hope I didn’t crawl through my own puke) and lie face down on the ground. Yet again!

By this time, I have attracted a crowd of onlookers (and picture takers). Someone has the bright idea to sit me down in a camp chair. Is having me sit upright a smart idea? I obviously don’t want to sit in a chair, and when I get up out of the chair, I lose my balance and fall face down onto the ground. After all that, I only have one bruise on my knee and a couple of small scratches on my arm. Drunk people really are impervious to everything, aren’t they?

This time, Schwinn puts me back in my tent. And this time, I stay there.

TX Invasion

Tonight’s hash is on the red line. Yay! I don’t have to leave so early from work in order to get to the hash on time. I arrive at Dupont Circle at 6:38 pm. I’m late? Says who? Cum Dumpling (the On Sec). Jeez! The hash doesn’t start until 6:45 pm. Why am I considered late? Although, with the summer months approaching, I will concede that arriving early for hash cash is a good practice (easier to check in 150 people starting at 6:30 than at 6:45 when we are expecting to begin circle at 7:05). I’ll see if I can try better.

And look who’s here! Hermaphrodites on Unicycles and his wife, Tube of Meat (TOM), from TX. Good to see you both again! They’re both wild and crazy traditional TX hashers (meaning they’ll say and do ANYTHING). I have to say, though, they are the DFLs to the beer check. Was there some s*x on trail going on there? Hee hee!

Despite Hokie’s presence as a hare, the trail has only some mild shiggy incorporating one stream crossing. I did put on Ivy Block just in case. I don’t need a case of poison ivy like I had last year. That Ivy Block is going to stay in my hash bag all summer long.

It’s a long first half and extremely humid, but all in all, not a bad trail (I was warned about the length, though). We have a shot check on the second half – Long Island Iced Tea – 5 types of liquor. Pow! I don’t need another one of those! Potent!

And did anyone actually run the entire trail besides myself and a few others? D*mn shortcutters! Bleeder, you’re one of the worst offenders! He runs around an entire stream to avoid the water crossing and then later runs across the Indian bridge rather than follow trail below it. He probably does pick up trail on the other side, though. The hares have run the trail up along the road on the other side of the bridge. You guys should know better than to make it EASY to shortcut. Of course, since veteran hashers know every possible beer check in the Dupont/Adams Morgan corridor, it’s an easy task to shortcut.

I know I’m a working girl at the hash, but can’t y’all late-cummers wait until I at least take care of some basic sustenance (orange food) before trying to stuff money down my boobs? Jeez! When I or Cum Dumpling start screaming “Late Sign-In”, you’ll know when we’re open for business. However, I like to circulate the crowd, so I can understand that hashers have some difficulty tracking me down. PSA tries to train me to stay in one spot, but I’m a bit stubborn.

Now, back to our transplants, Hermie and TOM. At ending circle, EWH3 follows a tradition where visitors choose between singing a song, telling a joke, or showing a body part. Well! Since Hermie competed for Mr. TX Interhash by walking around naked for a 24 hour period, I have no doubt what his choice will be (I’m not surprised by TOM’s choice either – she IS married to him). But, KP, do you HAVE to introduce the visitors first? You’re gonna scare all the virgins away before they even get a chance to introduce themselves. Those poor virgins thought they would have to do the same thing when they got called out into the circle. Calm down, now. This is probably the worst it will ever get (well, except for when Schmegg and Schweicken were swordfighting while trying on their 69-run shorts).

And finally, Bleeder can now shout, “Ticketmaster loves the c*ck” and have a backup section since there are more than a few TX hashers that now reside in the area. Hmmm…that Brokeback Mountain fever is spreading!

I've Defected Yet Again!

Today the WH4 hash is located in Herndon and I don’t exactly relish the idea of driving 45 minutes out of my way to hash, so what’s a dedicated hasher to do? Find another hash! Coincidentally, Baltimore-Annapolis runs at the same time as WH4 and I’ve never checked them out. Well, guess what? They’re hashing in Savage today – only 15 minutes from my house – great!

It doesn’t appear that there is any crossover between this hash and any of the DC hashes. I barely recognize one person, Fossil, who recommended BAH3 to me last fall. They’re a fun, young hash, though. It’s a wonder I’ve never hashed with them before (especially since they’re MD based).

I’m considered a visitor even though I’m not outside of the DC Hashing territory, but they’ve got a small crowd, so whatever it takes! And I am questioned quite a bit about DC hashing. The BAH3ers are a pretty insular crowd and don’t interact much with the other DC hashes. A few like Public Enema #1 and Patrol Sock used to attend EWH3 occasionally, but don’t know any of its history or traditions.

Now, I’m either enjoying running more or just getting better at it cause I love the shiggarrific trail that they put together. Three stream crossings, a vertical uphill climb and plenty of all-natural trails – very fun! It’s also amusing to see Bowser’s dogs, Alex and Decca, happily trotting along too. They’re such beautiful German Shepherds! And Fossil’s Dalmatian is such a great clean-up mascot. He def benefits from the blustery day – 2 bags of chips fall to the ground and he chows down!

Before the run starts, I comment that I’m a slow runner.

At Your Cervix asks me afterwards, “By who’s definition are you a slow runner?”

Just as it was in Tampa, I am a mid- to front-packer for the majority of the trail. I just can’t keep up with the 25-year old males in DC who comprise a good third of the pack. It’s good to know that slow is a relative term!

One unexpected note for me, though, is that the hash is kid-friendly. I’ve never been to a kid-friendly hash before and don’t quite know what I should be saying or doing. I do try to keep my swear words to a minimum, but I do swear “F*ck!” at one point when a particularly nasty thorn gets me. That is my only f*ckup, though, so I didn’t do too bad for trying to keep my mouth clean.

I love the namings! There is a lot of pressure in DC to have namings that are fast and funny, but at BAH3 they take their time to think of clever names. The RA actually allows names to bounce around and doesn’t demand that a name be fully fleshed out before it is announced. It doesn’t make for a short naming, but the end product is pretty good. The names bestowed today are Red Hot Chili Pecker and Hot Under Cover (cause RHCP had an incident with some chili peppers and sour cream and HUC left a boyfriend locked inside a hot tub).

The bar is at the Ram’s Head in Savage. I’ve only been there once before and it was pretty recently – a nice place. Unfortunately the waitstaff looks a bit dismayed to be serving a party of 20 people. I order mahi mahi and it takes over an hour for it to arrive! Well, they did tell me that they dropped my fish on the floor and didn’t want to serve it to me. Did y’all apply the 5-second rule, too? I really don’t want to wait any longer – it’s already been an hour! Regardless, I wait another ½ hour for them to serve my food. At least it is extremely tasty. Although, next time I arrive with 20 people, I’m sitting at the bar!

The Backyard Bash

The Backyard Bash! It’s the major fundraising effort for Club 10-56 (the cancer charity group founded by hashers). Last year, Hokie got teabagged after he passed out and t-shirts were made of the picture. This year, Club 10-56 is hosting 3 bands and providing food prepared by El Ranchero. In addition, unlimited beer from 2pm until 10pm! Recipe for drunken, happy hashers!

Shots of every variety are $1. I try multiple jello shots, Shamrock’s cookie shot, and Areola’s Peach Schnapps shot – out of a convoluted copper pipe contraption called “The Money Shot”. Mmmm…yummy! And, as sacrilegious as this may sound, I drink wine the entire evening (except when I’m consuming shots).

Since the host doesn’t want a hundred hashers to destroy his house, it has been locked against invasion. So, how are we to use the restrooms? Oh! Port-a-potties. Hmmm…I remember the last time I was around port-a-potties in TX and my fate didn’t end up so good (passing out in broad daylight is not one of my highest achievements). At least these port-a-potties have hand sanitizer. Upscale! It is broad daylight, though. Fortunately, I don’t have Ring Around The Panties making lethal gin and tonics for me this go-round.

I’m wearing the platform sandals Drip Dry gave me last year at Phatty Matty’s party. The sandals make me at least 3 inches taller, so that I am approaching RU-469’s height. I joke that I’m trying to compete with her. Cause she’s got it goin’ on! (Did I ever write about her booty? – No, I don’t think I did – maybe some other time…) Designer Bush starts laying bets on whether I’ll be able to make it through the night without hurting myself. I guess my reputation proceeds me, huh? I share the love, though. I let all the girls try the sandals on, so they can appreciate the instant growth spurt. Thanks, Drip Dry! You’re the best for spreading all this good will and cheerfulness!

Now I don’t want to explain how the conversation turned to this subject, but needless to say, RU-469, Winn-D*ck-Me and I, start discussing balls and their relationship to ejaculation.

While we are having this hilarious conversation, Kane walks up and I warn him, “I’m not sure you want to join this conversation!”

He doesn’t heed the warning. So be it…

WDM asks Kane, “How large are your balls?”
And I ask, “Do you ejaculate more than the average man?”
“I believe I’m normal, but it’s not like I know what the average man can produce.”
WDM states, “Very true! Well, then, are you one swallow or two?.....Or three?”
I then ask, “Is there a relationship between the size of a guy’s balls and the size of his ejaculation?”

Food for thought…..(pun! pun!)
Scary how we rope innocent bystanders into these conversations, isn’t it?

Loaded comes onto the stage to perform! Yay! Not that our host isn’t a great singer, but Loaded has such peppy songs! Let the dancing commence! (For those that don’t know me, I dance at any opportunity that presents itself.)




Lots of faces I haven’t seen in a while and some I don’t even recognize. TWIG and Road Whore are staff photographers along with my favorite hash flash, PSA. No, there aren’t going to be any incriminating pics today! IHOV is down from Boston visiting us for the weekend, too. She misses DC so much! We miss you too, hon! Come back soon. And Red River has his long, flowing hair unbound today. You sexy beast!

And who does the golden retriever belong to? So adorable! I wrestle with him for a water bottle, but after dragging him behind me around the yard, he doesn’t want to play fetch anymore. Wonder why? Do his teeth hurt, perhaps? And I’m sorry, WOWO – if Maizy is sick tomorrow, I kind of fed her the scraps of beef off the table. But she was just looking at me with her big brown eyes and I couldn’t resist! Besides, what fell on the table was going to end up in the trash anyways. Best to have a dog take care of it.

The band shuts down at 9pm with a final performance by Golden Showers – doing his usual routine – Eminem’s “Lose Yourself”. I think he does a good job, although he appears to be unhappy with his performance. Dude! How many people can rap at that speed? Give yourself a pat on the back for having the courage to do it at all.

Next stop – El Ranchero, the source of our tacos at the BYB. Drinks aren’t cheap here and I’m driving anyway, so I hold off. Dick in the Eye has the bright idea to prank call an individual in Bitch, Where’s My Money’s cell phone. I don’t recall who she calls other than it’s a guy. (btw, BWMM has LOTS of phone numbers – 3 Loris and 3 Michelles and 3 of everything! How do you keep track of them all? And how come I can’t operate like that?)

She tells him, “Your friend just won $1000 and promised to give you half. I’m calling you, so that you know he needs to give you $500.”

Well you can imagine how that conversation went. Then BWMM wants retribution on DITE’s prank. He hands me her phone and tells me to call an ex-boyfriend of hers in San Diego. I’m at a loss. What do I tell him?

I tell him, “DITE’s in jail and she can’t contact any of her friends. She needs someone to bail her out.”

I’m such a coward! I can’t finish the story! I hand the phone over to BWMM and he starts giving the guy directions on sending money via Western Union. He hangs up to cause his conscience starts to get to him. Poor DITE! Her phone rings all evening cause her friend in San Diego is genuinely worried about her. I’m sorry, chickie! But I was put on the spot and that’s all I could think of! In any case, more drunkenness ensues. I take IHOV home with me since she needs a place to crash, and overall, have a jolly good time. No teabagging, though. Gosh, darn it! I was looking forward to that!

Georgetown Bar-hopping

I don’t head out to Georgetown much since Georgetown is SO far from any convenient metro station and parking is horrendous. However, a very good co-worker is celebrating her birthday at Modern tonight, so I will make an exception and explore territory that I usually avoid. I, of course, do not make the journey alone and drag Slurpee, Mursey F*ck, and I’d Do ‘Er along.

First mistake of the evening – start drinking early. Apparently, Georgetown doesn’t start hopping until after 11pm. You know, I do stay up late, but I like to get a head start! We go to the Rhino Bar where the clientele are extremely absorbed in the Detroit-Cleveland basketball game. Don’t ask me who won. I know it was a VERY close game – the ending score was only a 3 point difference.

Slurpee and I comment on how young the guys are in the bar (figures – Georgetown is SO college). We notice a large group of guys with crew cuts. Military for sure.

Slurpee says, “Look, MF fits right in with his crew cut.”

At that point, we both look over at him and WTF??!! He’s practicing his game on some chicks. Hee hee! I didn’t know he had it in him.

He disappears again (not that Slurpee and I notice – girl gossip, you know) and when he comes back he has this “gee whiz” expression on his face. Apparently, he sat down next to a girl on a sofa and was talking to her until her boyfriend returned and told him to get the hell away from his girlfriend. MF, when will you learn? Watch them a bit before you approach them. Don’t go in without a plan.

But does it stop there! No way! We head over to Third Edition. Dead. We go to Mr. Smith’s. It’s busy on the first floor, but they will only let us onto the 2^nd floor. Blaacch! Let’s go somewhere else. I’d Do ‘Er never sets foot in Old Glory, but makes an exception tonight. Good music and decent crowd. And yet again, MF attaches himself to the first pack of girls he spots. At least he’s persistent! Even if he doesn’t succeed.

They’re playing good music in Old Glory, which gets us in the mood to dance. I think it’s about time to head over to Modern to see how K is celebrating her birthday. Well, lookee here! K has got the full course VIP treatment going on! Full bottle service and a private booth that seats 10. Very nice! And look who else is here! Got some directors from the office, too, huh?

I’d Do ‘Er is so funny, though.

She meets K and tells her, “You’re so beautiful. Happy Birthday! I need to get your phone number!”

Ummm….okay….

Picked the perfect place to go dancing, though. Great music! A mix of reggae and hip-hop – it’s been a long time since I’ve been to a club that played this genre of music. MF struts his latino stuff on the dance floor alternating between the three of us girls. He doesn’t hit on any of the girls in this bar, though. Wonder why not? Plenty of them around.

And, unfortunately, I attract yet another stalker this evening on the dance floor. What’s up with 50-year old dudes that dance around girls but don’t approach them or talk to them? Very creepy! Either walk up to a girl and get blown to bits or stay away! Don’t stalk her all evening – ugghhh! I feel like that’s the story of my life! Running away from 50-year old stalkers!

My hashing posse leaves me at midnight. They’re all gonna turn into pumpkins or something like that. No problem for me – I can make it home on my own. I dance a while more with M (another co-worker) and her gang. Drink a bit more, too. One of M’s girls trips on the stairs to the bathroom and falls. Uh oh! 1:30am and people are stumbling drunk. M’s crowd is heading out and don’t want me to walk alone to the metro station (cause we all know what happened the last time I was walking home alone), so they drag me in a taxi with them. What an early end to the evening! At least, I have another full day of partying ahead of me tomorrow! Oh, tomorrow IS today – well, 12 hours from now, in any case.

Cold Hard Cash Feels so Good!

So I haven’t written anything in a while and I’m determined to jump-start my blog once more. What better event than to begin at a hash? And what better way to generate lots of interesting situations than dressing up? I so love costumes!

I pull out my wifebeater from last year’s graffiti hash, aviator sunglasses, and a straw baseball hat I bought in a “junk” store in Rehobeth Beach over Easter weekend. Insert a toothpick between the lips and atta girl! Instant West Virginia hillbilly! The only props I’m missing are a can of Schlitz and some Camel cigarettes. Some people, though, don’t appreciate my sense of style:

KP takes one look at me and says, “I see you visited the stupid hat shop again.”

Dude! Don’t hate the hat! It’s for entertainment purposes! Just wait until I break out my leopard-print pimp hat and gold-rimmed sunglasses! (I need to acquire a gold-plated walking stick, though.)

Double Stuffed Whore-E-O hasn’t hashed in ages and is thrilled that I’m wearing my graffiti hash wifebeater. She wrote the line “Tastes Great Even Late” with the drawing of a cooch underneath. She goes down on me to demonstrate, once again, the proper technique. Thanks, DSW! You know I love you! But I still haven’t changed my mind about swinging the other way – sorry!

And just because my wifebeater has “Touch My Boobs” emblazoned across the front of it, doesn’t give any y’all an invitation to feel my boobs. My poor tits! They get poked and cupped all evening. Can’t y’all keep your hands to yourselves?

Onto other topics….Unfortunately, the OnSec, Cum Dumpling, has deserted me today, so I’ve gotta sign people in AND collect the cash. Whew! This is gonna take forever. Thank God, Jag Queen volunteers to help me out! I’m halfway through my line before he steps up to collect the cash for me. Thanks, darlin! Of course, at the end of sign-in, I’m still responsible for holding onto the wad of cash. Boy! It’s a thick wad at that! 133 hashers – you do the math! Not leaving that kind of change around – it’s going in my all-natural carrying case (my sportsbra, of course!).

It’s a great run, too (lengthwise and personal performance-wise). Of course, I expect no less from the HareRazor, P*ssy in a Haystack, when he hares. Mostly pavement pounding with some moderate shiggy and one tunnel to cross. Fortunately, the tunnel is tall and if you’re capable of waddling, you can cross the tunnel without getting wet. There are some dangerous road crossings, though. Not cool. Can I state for the record, please, that crossing busy highways with cars zooming by at 50mph is not smart or safe. At least it is daylight, but can’t we try to avoid them somehow?

At the beer check, Runs With Bulls tells me, “Man, you look great! What have you lost, like, 20 lbs? Soon you’re gonna be cut!”

So, for those of you that haven’t seen me recently, yes, I have lost 20 lbs since the end of February. It makes quite a difference in my running ability. Not that I run any faster, but I’m capable of running longer distances. Also, I don’t hurt afterwards. And how did I do it? Diet, pure and simple – and patience. I’m not starving myself, just eating lots of fruits and veggies. And the patience part? It’s taken 12 long weeks and I’m not even at my goal yet. Hopefully, I’ll continue my progress in the future.

Back to work at the ending circle. This is actually my favorite part. Rather than wait for hashers to come to me for late sign-in, I circulate the crowd and approach whoever needs to pay me.

“You need change? I’ve got plenty.”

I proceed to pull out a 3-inch roll of cash out of my sportsbra. Definitely surprising to those not expecting me to pull cash out of my tits.

“Here. I’ll try to give you change from the middle of the stash. The outer bills are bit damp since I kinda sweat on them.”
“Thanks, I appreciate the consideration.”

Now, I don’t get to hold onto the money overnight. I’ve gotta hand it over to KP for processing. You think I’m going to go home and swim in it or something? As the circle is closing up, though, I’m ready to book it to the bar and I don’t see him around.

“If KP wants the money, he’s gonna have to hunt me down. Oh, sorry, KP, I didn’t see you there. Here’s the cash. It’s a bit sweaty since I stuffed my boobs with it. Now you can stuff your pants with it.”
“Did you expect me to do any differently?”

You know, I can never win any conversation with him. He’s always got a comeback.

At the Rhino bar, I’m not done collecting money. You see, I mark the people that tell me they will give me money at the end down as IOUs, but at the bar, they track me down and give me money to clear their IOU. Well, I’ve already handed off my wad to KP (for some reason, this sentence sounds very disturbing to me). Well, I proceed to collect an additional $18 and take the cash over to KP every time someone hands me cash.

At one point Jedi Boob TriXXX asks KP, “Why does she keep bringing you cash?”
KP responds, “She’s turning tricks for the hash.”
“Yep! KP is pimping me out. I’m getting better at it too! First, I brought him $1, then I brought him $2, now I’m bringing him a fiver. My price is going up.”
“Really? I thought you were just turning your tricks over faster.”

See what I mean? I can’t get the last word in ever!

Hmmm….other updates…Fizzy is leaving us to go set up a physics department at some university in Midland, TX. He’s determined to set up a hash there, since there isn’t an existing hash in the town. He’s the EWH3 haberdasher, so who’s gonna step in to take his place? Well, whattya know? Big Bend Over has volunteered for the position. I guess he’s doing okay for a trainee – he sold $7 worth of stuff today. Yeah, that’s not a lot of money, but EWH3 isn’t really known for having exceptional merchandise (sorry, Fizzy, but I say it how I see it).

Oh, and I thought I should let Obeastiologist know – You’re getting rave reviews, man! I overheard a couple of comments around the crowd that your delivery of scribing violations is very entertaining. Keep up the good work – maybe you’ll earn a promotion someday.

Responses for "How did you hurt your Arm?"

1. I had a slight altercation with a Metrobus
2. I turned down a date with a pro-wrestler
3. A vigorous hand-job gone bad
4. I was trying to figure out how to perform a reach around. I learned I’m not THAT flexible.
5. I had a tustle with some auditors and I lost
6. Damn nighttime shiggy! Tripped over sex on trail.
7. Bottle-to-arm action for 72 hours straight
8. I was jealous of the fine appendage that Cum Dumpling gave me and set out to earn one for myself
9. I went through a drive thru going the wrong way
   
10. Performing my duties as a fluffer

Beware of Females

Female asks guy: "What happened to our waitress? Did you eat her?"
Guy replies: "Yeah, sure did."
"Was she tasty?"
"Nah."
Another female replies: "Dude! You can't say that around females! Watch yourself!"
"Oh! I totally fell for that one."

Out of Commission

well, y'all...i have now learned a very valuable lesson. it doesnt matter how tough you look or feel, 3 juvie punks can still bring you down.

i was walking home from the bus stop last Wed. night when 3 teenagers mugged me. when i didn't give them any money, they proceeded to beat me up.

what do i have to show for it?

1. a broken right arm (typing one-handed is not easy to do)
2. stitches above my left eyebrow (i now have a matching set to my car accident scars from when i was 4 yrs old)
3. lovely black eye from where the bastards kicked me in the face

i'm now gonna stock up on pepper spray and take some self-defense courses

in the meantime i guess i'll be doing the ol' hunt and peck on the keyvoard

Damn You Austin Hash-Bloggers!

Y'all are making it very difficult for me to keep up with y'all! Stop cumming out of the woodwork. Soon your entire hash will be blogging and the rest of TX with y'all!

In any case, I'm sorry if I'm not linking to your sites cause I can't keep track anymore...

I'm tired...gotta write some more about my weekend...

Update: Wendy-isms

Somehow or another I have left off some of my better quips while writing my blog:

“I’ve had this since I was a virgin and haven’t blown it.”

“Is my brother stiff?”

“How do you want it?”

“You got your junk all over me.”

Yes, I am a metaphorical blonde...

WISSHHH Room Crawl

7:45pm - My room is next to the Sh*t party room – Oh no! I’m never gonna sleep! The music is going to blare all evening long

8:15 - Holy helps me insert Cum Dumpling’s appendage down my pants

9:00 – Room crawl begins

9:05 - Pick up Mardi Gras mask and a shot

9:15 – Kamikaze shot??

9:30 – Jello shots

9:45 – Sh*t Studio 54 blue stuff

10:00 - I have $20 in my back pocket and somehow manage to spend it on a FREE room crawl. I buy a long-sleeved shirt from some lovely Richmond ladies

10:15 - Harley Davidson motor oil drink

10:30 – Totally wasted

11:00 - Clam drink seals the deal

11:05 – PSA takes advantage of my inebriated state

11:15 – Trashers jungle juice

11:30 - I go back to my room, puke once and pass out even with the volume levels in the party room not subsiding one bit.

I’m out of the game after only 3 ½ hours. Poor showing!

Playing with My Toy

Tonight we have a fine run through Friendship Heights.

OTH Hash-a-thon on April Fools Day. 4 hashes in 1 day.

Naming tonight is F*cks, F*cks, Goose – great name! His dad and best friend just happened to be in attendance.

A$$ Master 2000 gives me the top part of Cum Dumpling’s crutch.

Can’t Stop’s last hash – he’s moving to Jacksonville. He’ll be attending the Pensacola Red Dress Run in a few weeks. I try to convince him to go to the Daytona Bike Week. Fizzy will be attending. Although I would love to, I better cut back on all these plane tickets I’m purchasing. 4 plane trips in 3 months is hell on the budget.

Gamers

After the wedding reception, my sis calls and invites us to her hotel suite to hang out and play games with the rest of the wedding party. Boy! Are these people competitive! I’ve never been involved in the gaming scene even though both my brother and my sister are heavy into role-playing.

First, I play a game called “Ninja Burger”. Quite interesting game, actually, but I’m in the mood for something a bit more fast-paced.

How about this one? I jump into a game in progress, “The Great Dalmuti”, as a lesser peon (equivalent to the beer b*tch in A$$hole). In fact, the game is remarkably similar to A$$hole, just a bit more complicated cause the deck has 12 twelves, 11 elevens, 10 tens, and so on. The only problem is that there’s no enforced drinking, no law-making by the Great Dalmuti, and no punishment for not saying “Last Card.” I say, this game needs a few more house rules to make it interesting!

And can I repeat how seriously these people play? When I play a$$hole with hashers, it’s all about who can get everyone drunk the quickest, but my sis’ friends play to win. I see some serious pouting when the game doesn’t go their way. Lighten up, peoples! Have some fun! Y’all don’t need to think ALL the time!

Ghetto Fab Wedding

In honor of my sis's wedding, I want to share this file. Warning: it's 3MB.

THE Wedding

Torture of tortures! I have to get up at 5am, so that we can meet the limo at 5:45am, so that we can have our hair done. And I can’t even think of sleeping after having my hair styled! I’ll mess up my ‘do!

When we return to the hotel, my sis’s fiancé spots us waiting for the elevators. My sis quickly hides behind a column to escape his view.

4 croissants and 4 muffins, a pitcher of orange juice, and some cheap-a$ champagne that doesn’t even taste good adds up to a $96 bill. That’s what you get for renting the presidential suite at the Hyatt.

Sis made us walk 3 blocks to the church. Not that I really mind walking, but when I’ve got to think about sidewalk cracks in my heels, make sure my dress doesn’t get dirty and worry about my sister’s train, it becomes a little complicated.

We run ahead to shoo her fiancé into the church. He can’t see my sis before the wedding!

My brother still clomps down the stairs. Dude! Your feet are too big! Well, they do say the taller they are the harder they fall – and my bro is 6’3”. In fact, since he lost about 10 lbs. My aunt asks me if my brother has gotten taller. Nope, just skinnier – not that he was skinny to begin with. Lookie, here – isn’t my bro adorable?

First, my dad dances with my sis for the father-daughter dance. Isn’t that sweet? Even though my dad is deaf and can’t hear any music, he does a superb job at leading my sister around the room. Guys! Take note! Even a man that is totally deaf can dance! So don’t gimme that excuse! Then, when I drag my brother’s girlfriend on the dance floor for “Brickhouse” my brother jumps in and starts dancing. And he ain’t just dancing like a white boy, either. He’s a-shakin’ his boo-tay! Wow! Where’d we all get our dancing genes from?

Cause you know I’m on the dance floor! My weekly disco ball dance sessions in my grandmother’s living room must have greatly influenced my siblings. Haven’t gone back in time for that one?

Let’s just say I would reconfigure my grammy’s record player by hooking up my boombox with its built-in CD player (I was such an early adopter!). I then turned off all the lights in the living room and forced my grandparents to endure hours of music (my grandparents labeled all of it as “rap” even though it was probably just Bobby Brown or En Vogue or something) played at high decibels and encouraged my siblings and cousins to join in on my boo-tay shakin’.

I can’t say my half-brothers benefited from the dancing genes, though. P dances stiffly (although he seems to enjoy dancing – he’ll dance with any female family member that’s willing to show him the moves) and S refuses to dance at all

My mom breaks her ankle while going down the steps laden with flower arrangements.

Wedding Prep

Oh! How unfortunate! To suffer through endless pampering at my sister’s slightest whim. I have had a full menu of massages, herbal wraps, salt scrubs, manicures, pedicures, waxing, and hair styling.

And my sis has learned the dangers of too much bubble bath with a whirpool bathtub. Since she has rented the presidential suite at the Tampa Hyatt, she luxuriates in her bubble bath. Unfortunately, it foams up a little too quickly. And, of course, her loving sis (me...you numbskulls!) just HAS to traipse in and record this documentation for future generations. You know I'm gonna show these pics to the family, sis, just you wait!!

Rehearsal Dinner

Comfort food vs. haute cuisine – What do you prefer? My sis has her rehearsal dinner at a fab new French/Vietnamese restaurant, BT, in Old Hyde Park.

It doesn't please the male members of my family. Pops (my grandpa) and my uncle complain loudly about strawberries in their salad and gnocchi with their veal. I think the food tastes great! Quit complaining about how it looks and eat it!

Reminder: Never go date-less at a wedding. You are bound to play leap-frog from one table to another because couples HAVE to sit together. My sis approaches me TWICE to tell me to move! Even after I have eaten one entire course! Not cool, sis. Melissa, where are you? You were supposed to be my date!

I'm Not a DFL After All!!

Must be those super-athletic DC runners that make me look bad all the time, huh? I’m running with the Jolly Roger hash tonight and meet a different group than who was on the pub crawl on Saturday. Interesting checks at this hash. Clothing checks and titty checks. Haven’t encountered these checks before?

1. Clothing check – exchange an article of clothing with another hasher

2. Titty check – the first female to the check either solves the check or flashes a dude who solves the check for them

Well, there are lots of titty checks and I solve lots of them. Of course it helps that there’s only 4-5 girls running tonight.

I have to give a shout out to Tuppy from Stroke. And I meet yet ANOTHER WH4 alumni, Smells Like Fish, who wants to give a shout out to Fiddy and Duck Job.