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.