12 Feet of Woman

I head (head? who said head?) to the Hilton on Mass Ave where they have a rooftop pool party happy hour on Fridays. Unfortunately, the weatherman scared most partygoers (and many of my friends) away with the gloomy forecast. It never rains, but the threat keeps the attendance low, which is actually kind of cool cause my friends and I can actually sit and hear each other think. The swimming pool is open, but no one is in the pool.

I brought my bathing suit and am disappointed that no one wants jump in.

My friend, L, and her date, D, ask me, “Why don’t you get in? We’ll watch you.”
I reply, “I’m not that bold to get in a pool by myself with everyone watching me.”
RU-469 retorts, “Yes she is!”

Well, regardless….it’s just a tad too cold today for me – y’all don’t want to see me nipply, do you?

IAHCL is texting a pal. L and D want some background on him. Now, I don’t know why RU-469 felt it was important to share this particular story, but since she let the cat out of the bag and I get a cool expression out of it, I’ll share it with y’all…

Several weeks ago, RU-469 and I are partying pretty late and miss the last train to go home. We both decide to crash at a house rather than go through any trouble trying to get home. I was definitely under the influence – I don’t know about RU-469 – I can’t say I’ve ever seen her trashed…In any case, we both decide to jump into the bed occupied by a passed-out guy. He never moves the entire time…

D is incredulous, “You mean he had 12 feet of woman in his bed and he didn’t wake up?”
RU-469 replies, “Yep, pretty much”

D shakes his head in disgust. I guess having two women in bed with a guy (let alone 12 feet of them) is a relatively rare experience that shouldn’t be passed up, no?

Technical note: RU-469 and I aren’t quite 12 feet of woman. See, I’m a bit on the short side….I fall somewhere between 5’8 ½” and 5’8 ¾“, so to simplify matters, I say I’m 5’9”. RU-469 is 6’2”. So between the two of us, we’re 11’ 10 ½ - ¾“ tall. But why should I be so technical? Yep, we’re 12 feet of woman. Who wants us to climb into their bed next?

L and I have had lots of fun (and luck!) at Café Citrón, so we suggest to the others to head (head? who said head?) there next. However, after 3 VERY tall margaritas and no snacks, I suggest we hit a place to eat first. Besides, it’s 9:30pm – Café Citrón doesn’t start hopping until later. We run into the Big Hunt after verifying they serve vegetarian food (L doesn’t eat red meat or chicken) and scarf down some food. Terrible service! And the waiter automatically tacks on a 20% gratuity! There were only 5 of us! Remind me not to head to the Big Hunt on a Friday night. Now, a month or so ago, there was a freaky talking boob advertisement in one of the ladies bathrooms. I take the ladies downstairs to find it, but it’s gone! How disappointing! I wanted to hear it say “I'll show you mine if you show me yours” again. Ah, well…I can’t have everything, can I?

Ahhh….Café Citrón! I don’t like them exorbitantly because they’re always super-crowded, but they always play a good mix of international music (and since I pick up the tunes I want to pirate in clubs, this bar is a good source for the unique). I guess the margaritas haven't completely worn off cause I’m the FIRST and ONLY one on the dance floor. And have I told y’all that I’m high energy? Let’s just say I jiggle every part possible when I dance. I really don’t want to know what I look like when I dance because if I ever saw myself, I’d probably stop and I really don’t want to….I do LOVE dancing! Now I’m strutting my stuff on the dance floor and I look over at L and RU-469 and they’re looking at me and laughing their asses off. What the hell! What’s so funny?

L tells me, “There are, like, 4 guys lined up behind you waiting for an opportunity to jump in behind you, but you’re moving so fast, they can’t catch your rhythm. They held up their hands and shrugged since it was hopeless.”

I don’t want any random guys jumping behind me and grinding me anyway! You ask and you shall receive, but don’t go jumping me! I won’t go for that!

Booty Call Queen

Today is the Dingo run I've been warned about. Apparently, he likes super-long trails with lots of shiggy. It doesn't help matters that this is an A-Z trail (start: Woodley, end: U St). I'm determined to run, though. IAHCL and Just Kelly are willing to represent for the DFL contigent. I promise to stick by K throughout the run cause she's new and hasn't met too many people just yet. We climb up that stinking vertical hill up out of Rock Creek Park that lets us off at the base of the Duke Ellington bridge.

Dingo takes one look at K and I and says "I'm not sweeping up walkers on the runners trail. If you wait here, the runners will pass right through here again in a 1/2 hour."

Jeez, dude, calm down! We just climbed that stinking hill! We need to catch our breath!

At first, K and I want to continue running, but after I think about it, I say to myself, "Why wear myself out now when if I just wait here, I'll be able to run the entire trail."

So we wait - we're not the only ones either - about 10 others join us and we walk to the shot check which is in front of the entrance to the National Zoo. And damn! those shots are potent! Knock-you-on-your-ass strong! K and I shortcut the rest of the trail. We're told where the beer check is and run straight there. Apparently, nobody ran on trail today cause everyone lost the trail. Overall, I didn't get a lot of running in today, but it's better than being worn out and bitchy from running too much.

I get violated again! RU-469 submits my name to PIH cause my headlamp is illuminating my boobs with a nice red glow. Red light district is open for business - y'all have already heard me talking about this! This is old news! But I haven't been violated for it yet...I am way too high-profile now. This is what I get for being a media slut! I think this is going to be the beginning of a long series of violations - as long as I don't become as infamous as Hokie I should be okay, right?

We head to the bar, and boy is it crowded! Cans of Schlitz beer are going for $2 - pretty damn cheap for a bar! I flit around doing the social butterfly thing and run into Eat Street Meat and his friend Mary Ellen (the guys are all salivating over her cause she's got an impressive rack). ESM doesn't know my hash name cause he met me when I was a "Just". I tell him my hash name is Late Nite Drive Thru.

He asks me "Are you some kind of Booty Call Queen?"
I go, "What? A Booty Call Queen? What's that?".
ESM says, "Never mind - don't worry about it."

Now once my curiosity is aroused, I have to satisfy it. I have some idea of what he's referring to, but want some verification.

I ask, "So you think I answer tons of booty calls?"
OFE happens to be ordering a drink beside us and he usually gives me the unvarnished truth, so I ask him, "Am I a Booty Call Queen? ESM thinks I am."
OFE replies, "Hell no! She barely answers her phone!"

I then explain to ESM (cause he apparently misinterpreted the reason for my hash name) - my real name is Wendy and Late Nite Drive Thru is based off Wendy's restaurants being open late. My gosh! I know many people snicker and smile when they hear my hash name, but no one has openly confronted me about it in those terms. Must be due to my red light district violation. Damn you, PIH! You could have picked one of the million of other people to violate instead of me!

The Underwear Oracle says....

What Your Underwear Says About You

You tend to buy new underwear instead of doing laundry. You're a closet exhibitionist who gets a thrill from being secretly naughty.

The Underwear Oracle

Hmmm....I agree except about being a closet exhibitionist - aren't I openly an exhibitionist?

Movie Night

I don't watch much television, but do like to stay on top of current movies. I haven't seen many movies recently - I guess cause they're pricey and I've been so busy. The last movie I saw was Wedding Crashers. I do subscribe to Entertainment Weekly to at least know what movies are worthwhile (apparently the 40-year Old Virgin is worth it, according to EW and Weeeee!).


Since I'm a subscriber, I received a surprise free pass to watch Flightplan with Jodie Foster. Not a movie that I would pay to see, but I have a free pass and my girlfriend, L, lives 2 blocks from the theater. It's a good excuse to hang with her and catch up on our social lives.

Verdict? Not worth it. The plot is thin and airplane takeovers is a theme that has been re-hashed too many times by the movie industry. If you like this type of movie, then wait for it on video, but don't spend $8-9 to see it.

I would like to see the Aristocrats. Maybe I'll somehow fit time into my schedule to go see that one.

Escaping through the Grace of the Sh*t

I arrive at the Sh*t hash and start my usual round of mingling around the crowd. I run into C*ckSpur who was at the scuba diving trip with me this past weekend. He's upset that I didn't name-drop him on my blog. Dude! I can't mention EVERYONE I talk to! I promise to mention him if he does something stupid.

But actually, he did do something that warrants mention and it totally slipped my mind (hey! you can't expect me to remember EVERYTHING when I'm composing these posts, can you?). In fact, what he did merits a nomination for a violation.

On the scuba trip this past weekend, all the divers were camping out at Lake Rawlins, but CS was too TIRED to set up his tent. So instead of hanging out with the rest of us and listen to DQ and RW crack jokes, he split at 9:00pm to rent a hotel room for $55/night (vs. the $15 to camp). The next morning he doesn't appear at the designated 7:00am start time. In fact, he doesn't show up until 8:30am. By that time, the divers have pretty much finished up their dives, so he doesn't even complete his certification because he missed his last dive. He claims he missed his wake-up call and was in such a rush to head out of the hotel, he didn't even shower! Man! after diving in the lake that would have been the FIRST thing I would have hit - forget the bed! We know where your priorities lie!

And why is it that everytime I nominate someone for a violation - I get violated for nominating that person? It's unfair! It was a legitimate violation, but everyone wants to know WHY I know he didn't take a shower! He told me, is why!

The fun doesn't end there though! I'm nominated for the hash shit. I've never been nominated for the hash shit before and the reason I'm nominated is so lame! I run the walkers trail cause Nub said the runners should try to shorten the length of the trail since it's getting late. I guess I'm the only runner that wants to continue running cause I'm the FRB for the walkers - like that's something to be proud of! But y'all know me - I crack jokes about myself all the time, so I joke about wanting to be a FRB running the walkers trail.

So it's me vs. the virgin hare Just Scott (he made some mistakes laying the trail). Well, of course, everyone cheers just as loudly for me as for him, so we have to have a trial by down-down. Oh no! I can't chug a beer! I'm gonna get the hash shit for sure! We both pull full cans of beer from the cooler and pour them into a plastic cup. I head back to the circle and Holy drinks 3/4 of my beer for me. Whew! I have a competitive advantage now. But guess what! I still lose the down-down race! By rights, And Hows Her Bush should have awarded the hash shit to me, but since I'm not a regular sh*t hasher - he awards the hash shit to Just Scott. That was a close one!

Planning a Night Out

I've been a very bad, bad friend. I've fallen so in love with hashing that my girlfriends have been hunting me down for the past 1 ½ months trying to hang out with me and I've been unavailable. Well, I promised several of my girlfriends that I would hang out with them this week. I made a date with L (my compatriot from the FL trip) to see Flightplan on Wednesday and promised T (a MBA girlfriend that’s totally wild!) I would show up at C’s (another MBA girlfriend) work happy hour (boy! this is getting confusing). On top of that, I just got S (MBA girlfriend) a job at Hecht’s. To celebrate, she wants to hang out for happy hour on Friday. So when I woke up on Monday morning, my schedule looked pretty empty, but I booked up fast.

Well, L calls me this afternoon and says, “Remember I went on that date at the Dupont Hilton a month ago? Well, I’m trying to round up a group to go there again this Friday.”

Now, if you’re not familiar with the Dupont Hilton (not the big one - the one on Mass Ave), they have a special Friday happy hour from 5-11pm every week where you access their rooftop pool and get poolside bar service, DJs, and drink specials all evening. I’ve been dying to try the place out and DC101 really hyped the place up a few weeks ago when they had one of their parties there. I committed to going out with S on Friday, but we didn't specify WHERE.

I tell L, "Hold that thought. Let me ask S if she's interested and I'll get back to you."

S is interested and invites a few of our mutual friends as well. Great! I love killing multiple birds with one stone (I'm a total multi-tasker!)! Plans set for Friday, I move onto my Monday evening plans with T. IAHCL is down in the dumps cause she's having boy trouble, so I invite her to join me and T for the evening.

Head to Karma and meet T and C. They introduce me to the host. Well, my blog isn't the only way I gain Internet stalkers!

Stalker #4 says, "I saw your profile on e-vite. You're a big fan of Cloud?"
I reply, "Yeah. Nice atmosphere - very swanky."
"You have a very cool profile. I'm thinking of posting one now that I've seen yours."

My profile is cool? I don't say much - actually it says less than my blogger profile, although the description is identical. Does this mean that e-vite will help me out more than match.com could? Interesting...

IAHCL arrives and gives me and T the low-down. The gist of it is - she needs to party! So what's a few more friends at a bar? I invite them to the Dupont Hilton on Friday - they are all over it! So are the other chicks at the happy hour - I promise to send T an invite and she promises to forward it on to the others. Looking good - 10 chicks in bikinis at a pool, but should I invite guys?

Major to do for Tuesday: send details for the Hilton to girlfriends and call L to see whether to invite guys.

Scoring the digits

It's another early morning at Lake Rawlins. MLL is up to his usual prankster self cause he places a coke can on the fire and it explodes like a firecracker. DQ has his back to the fire and jumps 3 feet in the air. You had to have seen his reaction - too funny!

RW and I head for DC at 10:30am. I'm gonna miss the WH4 hash. Damn! There goes my running! I totally HAVE to run at least twice a week. Gotta keep improving - maybe the Sh*t hash will be accessible this week (need to check that out).

I call MM, "Whattya up to today?"
MM replies, "Heading to Georgetown - wanna hang out? I know you have your bathing suit - you were swimming all weekend."
"Sure - I'll give you a call once I hit DC."

See, I always have a backup plan for my social calendar - very important!

MM has a new girl, Robin. She's very nice and I hope she sticks around. We both enjoy playing the role of boat wenches and change into our bikinis - mine's white, hers is neon yellow, and I'm brunette and she's blond. What variety! See, you're more likely to get docking privileges on another boat if there are attractive, scantily-clad women aboard. MM employs this strategy often.

MM pulls up to the waterfront and R and I prep the boat for docking. I'm on the bow of the boat (extremely visible position!) tossing lines to Max (another boat owner I met during the 4th of July - he's great!). Once docked, R and I sit on the bow and pose for the tourists snapping pics of the boats (I'm such a media slut!). Max joins me and suggests I enter sales (he tells me I have a great personality - isn't he sweet?). He gives me his cell # and tells me to contact him for a job opportunity at New York Life Insurance. Score #1! I'll check this out!


And guess who I run into? Marie! She was on Dr. J's boat the last time I was in Georgetown - she's such a sweet girl! She spies me hanging out on the boat, so I invite her aboard. She's eating lunch with a friend from L.A. who's an actor, Poncho. They both join us and are impressed by the casual, fun atmosphere on MM's boat. Look! MM and his guests KNOW how to have a good time!

I have to describe Poncho to y'all. The dude is a giant! He is 6'8" - even RU-469 is impressed by his height - and is pretty stacked. I wouldn't say football player huge, but close. Wanna check him out? He has a website since he's an actor. I have his business card - score #2! Pretty good looking, isn't he? But he's an actor - of course, he's gonna be hot - can't make it big otherwise. And of all the days when I should have worn my superstar sunglasses! Poncho is wearing sunglasses just like mine, but without the rhinestones. Dammit - we could've been superstar twins!

Poncho is a social butterfly. Typical star behavior - on his cell phone, talking to the hot chicks, drinking shots with the buddies, and running from the boat to the bar and all around introducing himself to his fans (even actors that aren't household names have fan clubs apparently). Since he's acting like a star, he buys the females a round of shots (in order to get into the bar, I have to put on shorts - it's 8:30pm, I'm getting dressed early tonight - still don't have a shirt on, though). He orders kamikazes - those kamikazes are triples! They don't taste strong, but hell if doesn't take 3 swallows to get down! I'm now a very happy camper and silly too!

Anyone who has spent anytime in my vicinity knows I have VERY powerful lungs and tend to shout A LOT. We, the four beautiful females, sit in a row facing the boardwalk dangling our legs over the side of the boat (yes, we're still posing for the tourists!).

Poncho returns towards us from one of the bars and I shout out, "Hey Poncho! How's it hangin'?"

Everything gets pretty quiet for a minute there...Cut me some slack! It's a form of greeting - it just has another connotation.

He replies, "To the left"
Marie tells me, "You're so silly"

Yes, I am. Anything else?

Now, usually, the atmosphere on MM's boat is contained to socializing only among the people ON the boat. Tonight, since there are 4 females on the boat (and 2 are wearing bikinis), we're interacting quite a bit with the boardwalk strollers and other boat parties. And what a change! I have a total blast! Guys are stopping by asking for my name and I get a kick out of introducing myself as Late Nite. It IS my name! So what if they start thinking of other things? I can't prevent them from using their own imagination! One of the other boat owners gives me his business card (to learn about hashing, he says). Score #3!

I Just Don't Get It

MLL wakes us up with his scuba chicken crowing at 6:45am. Damn! Can't a person get some sleep around here! How come he's such a morning person? And cheerful too. Disgusting! I crawl out of my tent very slowly since I'm half-asleep.

Doucheberg takes one look at me and says, "That's a scary face to wake up to in the morning".

Thanks a lot, DB - I really appreciate being called ugly first thing in the morning - you really brighten a girl's day.

All the divers suit up and I struggle to put on the 7mm wetsuit MLL provides for me. I'm wearing the exact same equipment I wore when I was at Lake Rawlins in July. I even have to strap on that stinking-ass heavy 26 lbs of weights around my waist to ensure I sink (and that doesn't even include the weight of the air tank and BCD!). But guess what? I jump out in the lake and I STILL don't sink! Ron (TWIG's husband) gives me 8 more lbs. Finally, I sink! I'm carrying a total of 34 lbs. I'm not called Bob for nothing!

I'm exhausted after my first dive, though (go figure! with all that weight, who wouldn't be?), and leave the water early on my second dive to take a nap under the diving canopy. While I'm napping flat out on my back, RW takes the opportunity to place a banana on my crotch. Dude! Do I look like I need an inanimate object? I was sleeping, not having an erotic dream!

Woolly and Designer show up and I explain my diving issues to Designer. She is so helpful! She used to have the same issues I'm having (she's extremely bouyant too), and offers to let me try out her gear. Oh man! I feel as free as a bird with her BCD and wetsuit on. What a difference! I sink on my first try and I probably don't even need the precautionary 8 lbs I weight myself with. First item on wishlist: a 1.5mm wetsuit. No cold weather diving for me!

Later that evening, the scuba divers group around the campfire. DQ and RW start telling the group jokes. Well, I'm not very good with jokes (I'm a little SLOW - and yes, I mean mentally). Most of the jokes they tell, I'm going "huh?", or 10 LONG seconds after everyone else has finished laughing, I go, "I get it! Ha Ha!". Pitiful, aren't I? Except I TOTALLY understand the filthy, dirty jokes (esp. if the punch-line has something to do with c*ck). What can I say? I have a one-track mind.

I do, however, inadvertently reveal my chain fetish to the joke masters (DQ told a joke about torture chambers in hell and I asked him if the chambers contained whips and chains). Now, don't get me wrong! I'm not into pain (no whips), but isn't it a bit thrilling to think of being tied down or tying someone else down and taking advantage of that person? No? Oh...it's just me then...I'll revert to my fantasizing in private, then...maybe about Mr. Vin Diesel in handcuffs...ooohh...

I'm a tease?

This is my scuba diving weekend. I'm returning to Lake Rawlins, VA to hang out with other scuba hashers and to get some more practice dives in. I just got certified in July and since I don't have any scuba trips scheduled in the upcoming months, I feel that getting some more experience will be valuable (and fun, too!). Miller Lo Life is the instructor and he's great! In fact, he gave me a scuba "hash" name - I'm Bob. Why? Well....I have certain parts (T&A) that act as personal flotation devices, and as a result, I can't sink at all. So, if you're in danger of drowning, grab a tit (or maybe two) and hang on!

I meet up with Road Whore for the 3 hour ride down (where's your mind at? driving down, no mounting!). We catch up on current events cause RW hasn't hashed in a while (he started a new job - prevents him from hashing after work). I tell him about the graffiti hash and that I consider myself a prude cause I won't reveal my tits to the hash.

RW tells me, "You're not a prude - you're a tease."

A tease? I like flirting with everyone and having a good time, but I'm not trying to lead any specific person on (well, maybe one or two, but they're potentials). Hell! I guess I don't understand the definition of a tease, but if that's what I'm going to be labeled as, then label away. I'll choose where to bestow my favors when it's right for me - thank you very much!

Arriving at the campground, I'm introduced to all the scuba divers as "Bob" cause TWIG is there and it's too confusing to have 2 Wendy's running around. Of course, not everyone is a hasher, so then we have to go into the explanations of why I'm called Bob. And I actually answer to the name, too! Doesn't take long to train me!

Shortly afterwards, Doucheberg, F'Em Dano, and Dairy Queen arrive with their mountain of equipment. Damn, dudes! You pack worse than females! How much stuff do you need for a weekend? Unfortunately, they can't unpack their vehicle immediately cause the sky opens up into a torrential downpour within 5 minutes of their arrival. I, of course, am prepared and break out my red MD alumni poncho. RW wants to borrow my poncho to go to the latrine without getting wet, but I refuse.

I tell him, "I'd let you borrow it, but I don't trust that you wouldn't piss down the front of it!"
He replies, "I promise I'll only piss down the back!"

Too funny - but no thanks.

But to further test my "tease" label, I strip out of my jeans and walk around with only my poncho and shirt (No one can see anything! The poncho hangs down to my knees! Although someone does try to shine a flashlight up my poncho. I can't remember who - MLL fed me a beer and my memory is hazy.)

Commando!

I've found a new motivational technique to help improve my running speed (and it works!). At the beginning of a hash, I pick out a hottie that I KNOW runs faster than me (isn't that everyone?) and would like to talk to. While I'm running, I picture myself catching up to him (the mental picture is very important!). I tried this technique on Tuesday at the Sh*t hash and was pretty impressed with my endurance at the end of the evening. Well, it works spectacularly tonight (of course, the 2 shots at the shot check might have had something to do with it too...)! I'm so energized that I actually sprint a couple of times during the run (ahh, betcha didn't know I had it in me, didya?). In fact, I'm called an overachiever on several occasions during the run; when I'm the crazy person running through the calf-high water passing all the other waders (thank god the stream wasn't rocky!), and during the final leg when I get to feel cool for running past all the walkers on the walker's trail (such a dweeb, aren't I?). But it's a long a$$ trail! We started at 7:15 and I don't arrive at the end until 9:15 (and there were only about 15 people there in front of me). I like the shiggy (although I complain loudly, I'm not serious - I just like the sound of my own voice or something), but plenty of other unhappy hashers didn't.

I, as always, am a fashion-plate with a zebra-striped sportsbra tank (its not new! I just don't wear it much) .

However, Mellow complains, "Your sportsbra is not low-cut. You're not displaying any cleavage tonight".
SCFC overhears the comment and chimes in, "Damn! There goes my entire reason for attending!"

Gosh, guys! How about next time I let YOU pick out my wardrobe!

I am encouraged to go commando tonight by Arrrr She Blows. I'm a little worried about going commando since I'm wearing low hip-riding shorts, but I have to admit it's extremely liberating! Lube inspects me for plumber crack while I bend over for her, and proclaims I'm fit for public viewing. I've never realized how much more comfortable it is to walk around with just your pants and nothing else on underneath. I think I'm def going to try this more often!


What is it about Toothfairy and his camera? Tonight, I put on another Toothfairy-inspired changing sequence. I swear! He totally eggs me on! It's like he's directing me on camera - "No, move to your left a bit. There! Perfect!" and he'll snap a pic for the hash website. Ahhh, but I love the spotlight, and he does manage to take entertaining shots! Unfortunately for me, I'm in such a rush to change and avoid displaying something I shouldn't, I pop one of my earrings out (no, not a boob!) and it falls in the grass. I can't lose my cool, I'll find it! I command Richie Cum-in-Hand to stand in the spot exactly where I lose my earring while I put my bra on. Once my boobs are covered, I root around on all fours in the grass looking for my earring.

Ahhh, look! Isn't this an enticing doggy-style shot?

Looks like RCIH is inspecting the view, too!



Just Lissy gets named tonight! Fizzy is handcuffed to her the entire night and has some good stories to tell. He comes up with the name "Ho, Ho, Ho Cucumber" based on her sex toy story. I am inspired! How about "Ho, Ho, Ho Cue-Cum-Her"? Not bad, but it doesn't win the crowd. She is named "Jerkin the Gherkin". Good name, but how am I gonna use "Jerkin the Merkin" now?

I made pre-arranged plans to crash at DITE's house and parked at the metro, so after leaving the bar, I offer Mellow a ride back to Ballston cause he doesn't live far from DITE. Mellow loves my car and once he realizes how close he lives to my work (about 5 blocks) - he extends me an open invitation to crash anytime I want. Thanks, Mellow - I'll keep it in mind (I'm gonna have to start a little black book of names and locations of people that have opened their homes to me)!

Plural for Pen*s

I walk through my front door tonight and ask myself, “Hmmm…what’ll I have tonight?” Leftover Chinese takeout – I haven’t been very domestic since I discovered hashing. Although I enjoy cooking and am pretty good at it, my run-around-at-all-hours-of-the-night lifestyle doesn’t leave me with any spare time (and I hate chores! – good excuse to avoid them). Last week, I bought a 6-pack of Smirnoff Ice for the Nats game and only drank 3. The other 3 are sitting in my fridge. Now, I almost NEVER touch alcohol in my own house. Sure, I have some rum and bottles of wine, but I use them for cooking not drinking (ahhhhh, are you disappointed?). But I do LOVE Smirnoff Ice and I hate to see them just sitting in my fridge for the rest of eternity, so break one out and sip it. Yes, I said sip…I take my time (with drinks, that is). Now that I’ve got a nice buzz going on, let’s see how well I can sort my laundry. But y’all don’t want to hear about my chores, so instead I’ll answer a question that was posed to me last week.





What’s the plural of pen*s? Well, I googled it and below is what I found on the Straight Dope (I only stole one paragraph - it was a pretty long explanation):




Dear Straight Dope:

What exactly is the plural of pen*s? I would say pen*ses, but it seems too simple and obvious. Is it pen*s, like deer, or maybe peni, like fungi? --Sissy, Emerald Isle, NC

SDSTAFF bibliophage replies:

If you have more than one, you should be writing to Ripley's and not to the Straight Dope. Heck, Sissy, if you have even one, the first thing you should do is change your name to Buddy.

In this case, your first instinct is a good one. The English-style plural is usually acceptable and often preferred. When you don't know what the Latin plural is and don't have a dictionary handy, you should choose the English-style plural rather than try to guess. In your example, pen*ses is a perfectly good plural of pen*s in English. Many people who deal with pen*ses professionally use the Latin-style plural penes instead. That's fine too, but even among urologists, pen*ses seem to predominate. Seems, rather. "Pen*ses" seems to predominate.

So survey says....pen*ses!

LNDT Enters the Red Light District

I arrive at the Sh*t hash's beginning circle ready for action. Last Thursday, I stumbled about in the dark with the rest of the pack on Semen's bushy trail. See, I forgot that daylight was leaving us earlier and earlier everyday. I had a headlamp in my hash bag, but didn't bring it on trail. As a result, I'm determined NOT to make the same mistake again, so I pull my headlamp out of my bag BEFORE arriving at the start. Unfortunately, when I wear my headlamp I usually blind the rest of the pack when I point the light towards them. Since I try to be courteous, I try wearing my headlamp in a location that won't blind anyone.

Where do I place it? I thought about putting it around my waist, but I don't want to stretch the band out (it is supposed to fit on my head, you know!). There's no clip on the lamp or I would clip it to my shorts like I did with the blinkers at the beach invasion. Ahhh! I know! It will fit around my neck just fine! But since I don't want it to flop around, I adjust the strap so that it fits snug around my neck. Well, whaddya know? I look like I'm wearing a funny dog collar - woof, woof! No dogs (b*tches) allowed on trail! Maybe they'll make an exception for me!

Wearing a lamp around my neck is a bit odd to the other hashers.

Gay Caballero asks me, "Won't that be uncomfortable and leave hickies on your neck?"
"Hmmm....Well, I've never tried this before, so today I'll experiment and see how it works."
Others ask, "Does your lamp have the right angle to light your path? It looks like it will only illuminate your boobs."

Well, for your information, it does illuminate my boobs, but MOST of the light projects about 3-4 feet in front of me. Perfect! It fits my stride.


My headlamp has three settings: regular ol' flashlight, blue LED, and a red light.

The first setting is the red light, so when dusk approaches and I flip my headlamp on, the othe hashers around me go, "Ooohh...leave it on the red light!"

Sure, no problem - whatever you want - I serve to please. Isn't it appropriate that I (Late Nite Drive Thru) have a portable red light district surrounding me?

Fun trail - a bit long, but I feel energized afterwards which is a good sign. And like most Sh*t hashes (or so I'm told), the ending circle is nowhere near the beginning. I'm completely lost (I don't know anything about VA geography). So even though I'd like to head to the bar early, I'm forced to watch the naming of two Justs - I'll call them Guy and Girl.

Now I usually don't pay attention during namings, but some of the things I overhear during this naming bear repeating.

First, Girl is asked, "What's your favorite sex toy?"
She responds, "A purple beaver"
Oooh! I walk up to Kane and whisper, "Merkin! Let's name her something to do with a merkin!"

Now if you missed all the drama on Elevatorfish and I Can't Believe It's Not Vodka! you'll have no idea what a merkin is. Here's a definition for you (straight from dictionary.com):

mer·kin ( P ) Pronunciation Key (mûrkn)
n.

A pubic wig for women.

And apparently merkins are all the rage in Europe with girls wearing hot pink, neon green and even PURPLE ones! So is it any wonder that when Girl mentions her favorite sex toy is a "purple beaver", that's the first thing that pops into my mind?

Kane asks me, "What rhymes with merkin?"
I reply "Jerkin"

So Kane submits the name Jerkin the Merkin. Neither Guy nor Girl end up with that name (mostly because it ended up on Guy's list of names, not Girl's), but I now have a hash name I can submit whenever the subject comes up again. Wouldn't that be a great hash name?

One other thing that gets me rolling (but maybe it isn't so funny now - I'm debating), is the response to the question, "What's your favorite sexual position?"

I think Girl's answer is something involving a bj or a 69, cause someone (maybe Rodeo?) shouts out, "But she spits!"
Udder replies, "But not in your eye!"

You had to have been there...I swear it's funny....

Finally, the namings are over and we head to Murphy's. Shamrock has been very industrious in our absence and secured a large table near the entrance. I sit down next to PSA and we discuss mismanagement stuff - I'm thinking hash kash for WH4 - not the money collector, but the attendance keeper (best way to meet new people!). I turn away for a few minutes to speak to someone else, but when I turn back towards PSA later, I pivot my legs towards him as well. OMG!! I almost kneed him!

My knee hits his inner thigh, and I exclaim, "I'm sorry! I didn't hurt you did I?"
PSA jokes, "No, but I have a hard-on now."
Kane's observing and says, "Are you blushing?"
"Yes! I'm blushing!" as I'm hiding my face in my hands.

I am a total klutz, but I don't usually come that close to contacting THAT part of a guy's body. What a way to complete the evening! He must not mind too much, though - he gives me a ride to the metro station. Thanks, PSA!

MBA Ladies Dinner

Okay, okay! So I exaggerated a bit - the MBA ladies are not getting together for a wild night out on the town, but to spend a sedate dinner to catch up and discuss how we can help other female MBAs succeed (Can you really imagine MBAs rocking a place down? - I think not!). It's a good crowd, though, 21 MBA ladies show up at Guajillo's in Rosslyn (biggest crowd yet).

Everyone is shocked by the changes in my appearance:

"Your hair is straight!"
"You look so alive!"
"Have you lost weight?"
"Yes, I've joined a running group" (no, I can't tell them I joined a "drinking group with a running problem" - they wouldn't understand - I do have to maintain my prof rep, you know!)

I'm asked if I'm still at Hecht's and if I'm looking for other work. I explain that I was close to locking in on two jobs but they fell through in the last month (what a major disappointment!).

Others are in transition too:

• One is moving in with her sister in Florida and going to begin a job search there while unemployed
• Another can't stand her consulting job and is looking for referrals and suggestions from us
• Another loves her new job at Blackboard (she started 3 weeks ago)

And, of course, the inevitable pregnancies. Why is it that once women have checked off all the major accomplishments in their mental to-do list (getting a MBA is one), they go, "Time to start a family"? Two classmates pregnant already, I'm sure I'll be encountering more and more in the next couple years.

So this wasn't a party, but an extremely frigid jump into a pool of reality (about time I needed a wake-up call!). Have I sobered up? - hmmm, not quite, but I will try to concentrate on the task at hand.

Racing for the Airport dream

Boozie posted a dream she had last week and I guess I’m a total copycat, so I’ll write about one I had last night. My dreams tend to take on a nightmarish quality, though – I always seem to be in a rush to do something and am racing against time (a recurring theme…am I scared of time? – I wonder).

I dreamt that I needed to fly out of Dulles airport with my brother, sister, my dad, and my dad’s significant other (I can’t recall if it was supposed to be my mom or my step-mom, or some generic mother figure – big give-away there on a sub-conscious level, isn’t it?). We’re all running out of time to get to the airport and are running to the metro station to catch the blue and yellow lines, but we specifically want the yellow line (Look, I know metro doesn’t run to Dulles and you certainly wouldn’t catch the yellow line – it’s a dream! Although it could be National, but I wouldn’t have been gung-ho on the yellow line then). One other odd thing - the yellow and blue lines have separate platforms (maybe I am thinking National airport - don't they have that odd 3rd platform in the middle?).


Now this is where the weirdness sets in. We get to the platform and I realize I’m missing my sequined red evening purse (I don’t own one, but in the dream I do). My dream jumps to a Hecht’s store where I'm digging for the purse underneath a table fixture. I find my purse and inside are a pair of Dooney & Bourke shoes (yes, D&B don’t make shoes and how the hell can shoes fit inside an evening bag?). Well, since I was rooting around in the main store looking for merchandise I left under a table, I get picked up by security for trying to steal. I try to convince them that the stuff is really bought and paid for while my dream jumps back to the metro station (without the red sequined purse).

This time the metro station is enclosed by an indoor swimming pool approximately 20 feet across with a tiny 1-foot glass-windowed ledge all around and a small bridge in the center leading to the platform. This sequence actually gets replayed several times. The first time I try to walk around the ledge of the pool, my sister and brother push me in and I freak since I just had my hair done (yes, I know! What is so goddamn important about straight hair! I’ve become totally paranoid about it!). The second time, I safely navigate the ledge around the swimming pool and successfully meet up with my dad. This time he has a huge red suitcase (which actually resembles a suitcase I own), and there wasn’t any luggage earlier in my dream (interesting how things in dreams pop in and out, isn’t it?). Of course, as with all my dreams, my dream ends without a conclusion (how frustrating!). Do I make my flight? Why is my family in my dream? I’ve never traveled with anyone other than my sister.

Boozie, where’s that dream book?

20 Questions

I don’t manage to get any sleep cause when I get home I decide it's time to check out the financial situation. Good news! Plenty of cash left over from 1^st monthly paycheck to give me lots of leverage for the rest of the month. But I can’t go hog-wild yet, student loans haven’t come due, but since I borrowed <$10K, there’s no worries on that score either (that’s why I sacrificed my social life for 3 years – almost NO debt upon completion – only way to do it!).

RU-469 and I meet up again to head to OFE’s party together cause I have no idea where he lives and she does. As skinny as RU-469 is, she is not fond of the physical activity, so she asks me to call PIH to pick us up at the metro. Such a princess!

I’m surprised by OFE’s guests – it seems that a good portion are pretty good friends of mine, so how come I was one of the last ones to find out about it – and invited by PIH, not the host! Don’t you like me, OFE? Lots of Sh*t hashers in attendance too – watch out! Recipe for me to do something stupid!

Kane tells me he’s fascinated by my blog and that he’s going to be Internet stalker #3. Sure, dude! Join the fan club! Unfortunately, I don’t know who all my stalkers are – nor do I really care – as long as I’m giving everyone a good time (pun! pun!)! And no, I won’t tell who stalkers #1 & #2 are!

I get some more compliments today:

• PPE and Aerola Borealis tell me I have a distinctive a$$ - distinctive, huh? Not sure what that means, but hey sure!
• We’ve Got a Bleeder thinks I cause him to have an allergic reaction, but after I hug him – he says his allergies are all cleared up – glad I could be of service! I’m natural Claritin!

Friendly Thighs breaks out a dice drinking game. I’ve never played a drinking game with dice, so I jump in enthusiastically. Whew! What a fast paced game! After the first game, FT realizes we’ll all be on the floor at the pace we’re drinking, so she adjusts the rules. Doesn’t do me any good, though. I’m nominated to chug my FULL beer at the end of the 2^nd round. Can I say this again? I CAN’T chug beers! Not enough practice in college, I guess – too much studying, not enough fun – that’s why I’m getting it out of my system now – or is this the beginning of a perpetual pattern?

Since the drinking game lets loose some of the marbles in my head (including my mouth), I’m totally open to answering the 20 (sexual!) questions that Holy F*ck asks. What am I thinking? I totally reveal my sexual tastes – ouch! Not something I share with any Tom, Dick, or Harry! And no, no transcript will be provided – although IF it was sold, I’d get TOP dollar – cha-ching $$! It’d be like having a blueprint to my psyche – isn’t that worth something?

MD vs. Clemson

Not good. MD loses to Clemson. Final score 24-28. They give it up in the 4^th quarter! How could they! They were leading the ENTIRE game! I’m ashamed of my team, but at least the game is entertaining. To make matters worse, am I sitting where MD fans are supposed to sit? No! I’m sitting in the visitor’s section surrounded by crazy Clemson fans in bright orange shirts! Well, when you get free tickets, you can’t be picky about where you sit. I wonder where Turtledick is sitting. If I knew his digits, I would catch up with him – I’m sure he has a fun tailgate – despite the fact that MD doesn’t win. RU-469’s tailgate breaks up, so I head home (hopefully to sleep!) for a few hours before heading out for OFE’s house party.

Don't Cha Wish You Could Dance Like Me?

I re-enter civilization today. Not that I wasn’t a part of it to begin with, but my old-school ghetto phone had horrible reception and caused me non-stop ridicule whenever I whipped it out (where’s your mind at? I’m not a guy!). So I purchase a LG VX5200 – a pretty basic phone, but a HUGE upgrade for me. Unfortunately, I’m still receiving phone calls on my old phone until the port is complete. Ah well, can’t have EVERYTHING immediately (patience, girl, patience!).

I head to Beltway Bob’s, which is being held at Tortilla Coast today. I have lots of fond memories of this place cause this is where my infamous body shot with Butt Brown Ale took place (and where the mgmt yelled at me for taking my shirt off – “this is a family restaurant” – hah!). I order a pitcher of margaritas, and, most importantly, food! And yes, I drink the entire pitcher (I love the fru-fru drinks)!

I meet Fagnostic (not the first time, but probably the first time we actually exchange more than 2 sentences) and he decides to induct me into the Church of Fagnosticism (does this mean I’m special?). I learn that others hold positions of importance:

• PIH – Inadvertent Monk
• Toothfairy – Deacon
• Meatloaf – Reverse Cowgirl

PIH and Fagnostic ask me to leave so they can confer on the appropriate (sexual?) position to suit me, but end up forgetting their task (so I guess I’m just a priest or some such).

OFE discovers that the harriettes, when lined up next to one another, resemble the Cingular bars. He attempts to take a picture with his phone, but the picture doesn’t come out very well. Too bad, dude – maybe you can win that $50,000 in another way.

Now OFE never wants the fun to end before 1am, so he gets a crowd to go to Adams Morgan. He takes us to the Angry Inch, which I’ve passed many times and always reminds me of the movie Hedwig and the Angry Inch, but have never been inside. As soon as we walk into the upstairs bar, the DJ is playing “Don’t Cha” by the Pussycat Dolls, and of course, I am sashaying to the beat (if you’ve got hips – learn to use them!). The chorus for the song is “Don’t cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me”.

Well, some dude walks up to me and says, “I wish my girlfriend could dance like you”.

Thanks for the compliment, man, but you have a girlfriend? Or are you trying to incorporate the song into your pickup line? Go home and practice a bit more!

The Angry Inch plays a very eclectic mix of music – I like most anything with a beat, but I have to say that mixing metal, hip-hop, country, and 80’s is a bit strange. I dance up a storm (as always!), but am game to try out another bar when the Angry Inch becomes to crowded to move. Unfortunately, at this point, it's 1:15am and RU-469 (who I volunteered to let crash at my place) is ready to call it a night. The next bar we enter is Nolan’s, of which I’m not a fan – not the right crowd, so I relent and RU-469 and I head to my home to crash for a few hours before the MD tailgate at 9am.

Scribe Dress Run

So today is the day. Pussy in a Haystack told me last week that I could scribe for him soon, but I never thought it would be today! Thank God I've resorted to carrying a tablet with me at all times (you never know when a flash of brilliance will hit you!). As far as scribing and compiling information are concerned, I do fine, but my delivery during the circle needs work. PIH and Test Tube promise that I'll get better. I think I can too - it's just like giving a presentation - just less time to prepare, is all. I have to say, scribing is hard work! At beer checks and circles I spend all my time circulating for dirt and I never have any time for beer or snacks or anything! Def CANNOT do this week in and week out! But every other week is okay - gotta have some fun sometime!
I discover that being hash scribe can make you unpopular - 1 Time at Hand Camp is interested in conversing while at the beer check but once he discovers that I'm scribing, he runs away (He does come back when my duties are over). And other people tell me things they shouldn't necessarily tell me - I've learned I've gained a few Internet stalkers. At Galaxy Billiards, hasher #1 knows my schedule for next weekend better than I do (I'm going scuba diving and won't be attending Fagnostic's party - his source of information: Evite). Hasher #2 has been checking out my body shot pics from the pub crawl - he says they almost got him fired (guess looking at boobies at work is a no-no!). But both stalkers (oops, I mean hashers!) #1 & #2 totally can't believe I'm 29. What? Are 29-year old females supposed to look like hags or something? I'm older than hasher #2 by 4 months and he looks like a 23-year old himself, so he really has no room to talk!

Now Word to the Motherbird described the "manly" tequila shot last week, but I get to see it in action tonight (it's the same group of dudes, too! crazy MF's!). If you missed her description, here are the steps:

1. Snort salt
2. Slam tequila
3. Squirt lime in eye

Let me say it again! Crazy MF's! Of course, about ½ of the group are new recruits and swear they'll never do something foolish like that again! As long as you all do something equally foolish in the future that I can witness, be my guest! So today I've experienced the holy trinity of hashing behavior.

According to OFE, hashing behavior includes "balancing sane, stupid and f***ing retarded" performances.

1. I am sane
2. Stalkers (ooh, I mean hashers) #1 & #2 are stupid
3. "Manly" tequila shot drinkers are f***ing retarded

I think my evening's complete, don't you?

P.S. I don't think hashers #1 & #2 are stalkers or stupid, I'm just applying some literary style to my posting! But the "manly" tequila shot drinkers are STILL f***ing retarded!

Nats Game

Each morning I pack my bag with the supplies I'll need for the coming day: work shoes, lunch, reading material - and, if necessary, a change of clothes for evening activities. Since I'm planning on going to the Nats game this evening, I pack comfortable dress-down clothes. But isn't it ironic that my comfortable clothes (wifebeater, blue jeans, cowboy boots) make me look like I totally deserve my 32% white trash score from my previous posting? (I swear I had no idea that I would be taking that test today!) I'm def living up to my back country hick roots (at least I didn't grow up in a trailer park - although my mom lives in one).

Walking through the Nats parking lot, I'm looking for section G to meet up with PSA. On the way, I walk past 3 police vehicles where 2 cops are stationed (big mistake!).

One of the policemen says to me (rather threateningly too), "Do you have booze in that bag?"

I totally freeze - I don't know what to say - are they going to confiscate my six pack of Smirnoff Ice?

I tentatively reply, "Yeah"
The 2 cops bust out laughing, "Do you mind sharing some of that with us?"

You can't imagine the relieved look on my face at that moment.

I reply, "Actually, I'm looking for friends and they're supposed to be around here somewhere."
The cops respond, "Well if you don't find them, come back and join us. You won't find better protection."

Nice guys, those cops. They have a joke at my expense, but who doesn't?

Now I'm not a baseball fan, but I want a change from the usual bar scene. I'm also in a laid-back mood this week and want to take it slow, hence my attendance at the game. Since baseball isn't my thing, I talk to PSA about a variety of other sports and ask about the soccer season.

PSA responds, "Why don't you ask the sport idiot (F'em Dano) when the soccer season began?"
So I turn to FED and go, "Hey, sport idiot, when did soccer season begin?"
FED is a bit startled and PSA jumps in and explains, "I called you a sport idiot because you know all those statistics and sh*t."

FED looks a bit happier that PSA called him the idiot first, but we all get a good laugh from his expression.

I can't say that the game is terribly interesting. FED teases me mercilessly for not paying enough attention and for clapping when I'm supposed to be booing and vice versa. Look, I didn't come here for the game - I came for the environment! Besides, it's my first Nats game - I have to say I went at least ONCE this year!

I suppose the Nats lost - we leave during the 7th inning when the score is 10 to 1 - pitiful! So I have a fun, low-stress evening that doesn't require me to exert lots of energy. Not a bad way to wind down the summer, wouldn't you say?

I'm 32% White Trash

So, I've checked out some of the other people Boozie tagged and found this cool white trash test on Patsy's blog. Gee, I'm from slower lower DE - how could I possibly be 32% white trash?

I am 32% White Trash.

The white trash in my blood will not keep me from becoming a doctor or a lawyer, but it will keep me from a good haircut and any sort of fashion sense.

Take the
White Trash Test
@ FualiDotCom

Tag! You're It!

Boozie tagged me today - so she knows I'm checking up on her since I'm completing this list!

7 things you may not know about Boozie:

1. She's very vocal (meaning she has very strong lungs)
   
2. Her boyfriend makes me blush
   
3. She makes me blush
   
4. She's not fat (not if she weighs the same as me!)
   
5. She can outdrink me
   
6. She has a BIG heart (but maybe you could tell from her blog)
   
7. Her tits are real
   

7 things I have never done and may never do:

1. Bungee jump (Boozie typed this, but I'm afraid of heights too)
   
2. Fly a plane (although I'd like to - it's very expensive)
   
3. Own a rodent (gross, smelly creatures! - squirrels aren't even cute!)
   
4. Go to Antartica (I hate the cold!)
   
5. See Mardi Gras in New Orleans (will it ever be the same?)
   
6. Smoke
   
7. Illicit drugs (I should get security clearance for that one!)
   

7 things I did NOT do this weekend:

1. Get laid (I'm thinking I have a snowball's chance in hell right now)
   
2. Catch up on my 15 million magazines that are collecting dust on my dining table
   
3. Pay bills
4. Return my broken sandals to REI
   
5. Buy a 350-Z (although I want to!)
   
6. Get a job (please hire me! Then I can buy the 350-Z!)
   
7. Make my bed (Boozie typed this also - I never make my bed - what's the point? It's gonna get messed up anyway)
   

7 times I was almost killed or seriously injured

1. I was 4 years old and not wearing my seatbelt - go figure it was 1980 (what child safety laws?). My mom was in a car accident and I went flying through the windshield.
2. Last Thursday, I choked on a piece of steak and couldn't breathe for about 30 secs. (seriously!) My co-worker thought he was gonna have to do a Heimlich on me. I stuck my hand down my throat and pulled it out (at least I know what I can fit down my throat!).
   
3. In high school, playing soccer in gym class, I ran full speed into a guy that outweighed me by 30 lbs. - it was like running into a brick wall (I can still feel it today just thinking about it)
4. I was beat by my step-dad when I was 8 yrs old until I was black and blue all over (my dad got custody of me then) - I know that's very sad, but these things happen sometimes
5. These 4 things are scary enough - do you really want any more?
   

7 people to tag:

1. Captain Save-a-Ho (cause he's so random)
2. Word to the Motherbird (she is too)
3. Shanghai Shaggins (cause she finally posted something!)
   
4. The Non-Dating Life (cause his early postings are so entertaining and educational)
5. Pound (she supports normal weight women around the world - go Dove!)
6. Give me Spirit Fingers Dammit!! (cause the fashion no-no's are falling over hysterical!)
7. DC Blogs (cause he thinks I'm entertaining enough to list on his site)
   

What Great Friends I Have!

My best friend from the MBA program, C, calls me at 10:30am. Damn, it's too early to be answering the phone! But, what the hell, I'm awake now and find out that she (with her husband in tow) want to go to Todai at Fair Oaks Mall. I love Todai, so I immediately charge out of the house (with my hash bag) to join up with them. Little did I know that C's mother would be coming along.

A little bit of background here: C and I have the same kind of love-hate relationship with our mothers. Both of our mothers were not exactly the classic maternal type. Translation: We had a slew of babysitters that we had close relationships with because our moms were too busy doing other things (aka shopping, travelling, hooking up...you name it).

Now C's mother informs me that she needs me to do a favor for her. C tells me not to do it (because once you do one favor it usually snowballs), but I agree because she only wants me to make a phone call in Spanish. I complete the favor and lo and behold! Her mother tips me! A tip? For making a phone call? And what a tip it is too! She pulls out what appears to be a memo pad and rips a $2 bill off the pad! Is it a real $2 bill? Since when do $2 bills come on pads? I didn't even know they were still in circulation and I certainly don't know what to do with it. I'm afraid to even spend it. Will stores accept a $2 bill? C informs me that yes, it is a REAL $2 bill and that her mother goes to the bank and buys a stack at a time and takes them to a printing company where they put some glue on the end to make them stay together. What a novel idea! A bit odd, but def unique!

After lunch, I head to King Street for the WH4 hash. I'm really thirsty when I arrive and start the hash drinking beer (which I NEVER do!). I really try running today, but either the food (or beer) I just ate (drank) is sitting too heavy in my stomach or I'm just not feeling good today, so I join the walkers and go to Designer Bush's house for another pool party. I totally forgot to pack a bathing suit, but DB says it's okay to jump in with my running clothes, so I do. Not many people get in - most just stick their feet in. Nemo is there again this week, but he has a new pal, a sea lion. I'm not any more successful with the sea lion than I was with Nemo - actually, I'm worse. I keep tipping off the front of the sea lion!

Rocket tells me, "You're too top-heavy" and proceeds to demonstrate the correct mounting procedure.

Thanks for the lesson, Rocket! I'll keep it in mind next time. Rocket isn't done, though, and proceeds to position Nemo and the sea lion in sexual positions. Now, Rocket, I don't need THAT kind of a lesson!

The pool party is fun and the hares faked us out. We thought the pool was only a beer check, but turns out that they take us around the block and lead us straight back to the pool.

I drink WAY too much, though, and am totally buzzed on the trip back to C's house (I left my car there and they live on top of a metro station). Since I'm not comfortable with driving and have to (urgently!) pee, I ring C's doorbell to see if she's home. C isn't home, but her husband, F, is, and he tells me to sit and wait for C to return. When C arrives, we decide to go to get dinner at the Silver Diner. Well, well!

I tell C, "Our waiter is really cute, but looks so young!"

So what do my friends do? They interrogate him and inspect his driver's license. When we finally know all the details about his life, they pronounce him safe to date and ask the waiter if he'll date older women (he says yes - eagerly). Oh, the embarassment! That my friends have to find men for me!

I did leave my phone number, though. And that $2 bill that was burning a hole in my pocket? He got that too.

Keeping Up the Insanity

Hanging out with Sh*t hashers is educational. Look at the lessons I've learned below:

Lesson #1:
Do Me Howser is a total clown (okay! okay! He's not a Sh*t hasher, but as TW's boyfriend, he's an honorary one!).
He drinks, like, 5 flirtinis and performs oral sex on a beer bottle. He totally makes me blush! There is no way that I can look at him while he's being so obscene, so I turn my chair away from him and tell TW to control him. He does manage to break the ice, though. He tells us that he drives the gayest car on the planet (Mazda Miata) and tries to convince us that it's a good investment. Sure! Keep justifying why you drive it, but you won't convince me to buy one!

Lesson #2:
Metro is addicted to karaoke.
She has a PlayStation that she hooks up and sings karaoke all night. I'm even roped in to sing a song when everyone walks out the door - I believe it was Toxic by Britney Spears (okay! I confess! I love Britney Spears' music! Does that put my psychological age at 15?).

Lesson #3:
Sh*t hashers are a bad influence on me.
I swear that when at least 1 Sh*t hasher is in attendance, I manage to go above and beyond my normal level of stupid behavior. I'm going to blame it entirely on the flirtinis that Metro concocted. I only had 1, but it's still their fault!
I took my shirt off. At least, I also con Roofie into taking her shirt off, too. Am I dancing? stripping? stretching? My memory is totally under a beer haze and I can't recall what prompted me to strip. I do recall that I'm surrounded by men that are stuffing $1 bills and loose change in my panties and bra. I lose most of the change cause it falls out of my bra, slips through the cracks in the deck and falls down to the apartment underneath. But I do manage to salvage $2.50. Ooh! What a profit! Let's see what I can rake in next time!
Correction: When I get home and undress at 5am - I sit down to pee only wearing my bikini underwear and realize I'm still jingling (and no, my boobs don't jingle - jiggle, yes, jingle, no). When I locate the source of the jingling, I realize that 30 cents had (somehow) slid between the lining of my panties. What a find! Now I have more bus money! Total profit: $2.80

Lesson #4:
Always be prepared for cold weather.
When the temperature drops after 1am, I'm cold and shivering and wondering what I can do. Then I remember! I keep a pair of coveralls that I received for working in Hecht's distribution center in my car in case I need to change a tire. I change into the coveralls and totally feel like one of the chicks from Cannonball Run (you know the scene - the girls in the muscle car get stopped by a cop and try to buy him off by unzipping their 1-piece suit). Several of the guys even ask me to change their oil.
But someone throws a bottle cap down my coveralls while I'm sleeping in the arm chair and it's not until I stretch out on the floor and it gouges my boob that I realize it's there. Damn that hurt! Who did that?

The Woodley Estate

MD beat Navy! Woo-hoo! Damn, I love football! Too bad I never watch tv, so I have no clue what the game schedules are. Of course, I have no excuse, I think the MD alumni association sends me 15 game schedules a year, but they're buried in my stack of mail on my dining room table cause I'm never home to read through that stuff.

So, I arrive at the Woodley estate party grab a beer, drink a shot off the luge and plant myself in front of the tv to watch the game. Damn shame - I abandon Lissy to her own devices to watch a football game (what kind of friend am I?). I am joined by Ike, who's a resident of Woodley and 2001 MD alum (I think he's shocked to find out I graduated in 1998). Fortunately, I arrive at the tail end of the 3^rd quarter of the game, so I'm not totally anti-social the entire night.

I've been around a shot luge before, but have never participated (haven't participated in beer pong or flip-cup yet, either - yes, I know, what was I doing undergrad? - not drinking!). After my first shot goes down so slow, I opt for some Hot Damn! for the 2^nd round. Stuff's not bad, but it comes down so quick that I start coughing - ahh, how embarassing!

Drip Dry arrives at the same time as Lissy and I and breaks out these adorable 70’s era shoes that have a hollow sole. She’s telling us that she tried to give them to her friend but they were too big for her feet. Since the shoes are a size 9 and I wear a size 10, I ask to try them on. Oh, I totally love the shoes! Of course, they make me 6 feet tall, but I don’t care! Since DD only paid $2 for them, she doesn’t mind parting with them – does she not like them for some reason? I would never give these shoes away! Of course, Sause totally loves me in the shoes (I think he has a thing for Amazons) and walks me around the backyard with my arm on top of his shoulders. What a shame! There’s only, like, 5 guys taller than me in the heels – Groggy, Hands Solo, 2 Short 2 Phlop and a couple others I didn’t meet. Back to the 5’8” standard – much easier selection that way!

Another Boat Party

Yes, I know! What the hell am I doing back on MM's boat after the last week's misadventure? Well, after partying for 5 days straight, I'm really ready to stay home and relax, but can you really expect me to stay home on a Friday night? Fortunately, I'm let out of work early and manage to catch a catnap at home before heading out for the evening. Isn't it funny when you're hours behind on sleep how little sleep you need to feel recharged?

Arriving at MM's boat I present him with a handle of Captain Morgans rum.

MM is so pleased, he shouts to the entire waterfront, "Don't I have great guests! She brought me a handle of the Captain!"

Well, MM, you did call me earlier and told me you were out. Did you think I wouldn't re-stock you? (that sentence sounds sexual for some reason, or maybe it's my imagination...)

Dr. J comes by (I love Dr. J!) with yet another attractive female, Marie (That man has a different woman on his boat EVERY time I see him. Go Dr. J!). He asks me how I'm doing this week because I ran into him last week when leaving MM's boat.

He tells MM, "I thought you scored with her last week, but when she told me she had a rough night, I didn't know what to say!"

MM, if everyone is going to think we're dating because we're friends, I've gotta stop talking to you!

Even Grab My Ass thought I was dating MM because when chicks are walking down the waterfront, I pointed out - "Oh, MM will like the one in the striped top and the one in the green dress, and check her out! Oh, definitely!"

Look, I like to help my male friends score - any problems with that?

Okay, and I totally have to violate Roadkill the next time he's at a hash. I get my superstar sunglasses back tonight and get the REAL story from Macy (who is def not his cousin! sorry, if I'm ratting you out RK!). RK gave MY sunglasses to her as a present and then TOLD her she HAD to give them back to me! Damn, RK! You're losing points big time! But I don't keep my sunglasses long cause Test Tube Baby tries them on and loves them. He wears them the entire night - I have to admit they don't look bad on him. In fact, he likes them so much he wants to wear them this weekend. Well, it's not like I don't have several pairs of sunglasses, so I relent - but I better see them at Monday's hash!

Okay! Is everyone's sense of time distorted? I started hashing the 2^nd week of June but everyone thinks I’ve been hashing for 6 months.

I tell Woolly, “Well, I do get around!”.

Of course, I’m referring to the fact that I talk to everyone that’s within earshot. Why discriminate? Even MM thinks I know more people in the hash than he does (and he’s been hashing about 2 months longer). It’s skill, MM, pure skill! Besides, I have to scope out the potentials and plan the attack!

All in all, the boat party is fun, but since I’ve been partying all week, my energy reserves are low. As a result, I’m mellower today and the boat party seems calmer than the previous week (more chit-chat, less make-out sessions between females and males). MM, I know you call yourself the “enabler”, but I think I deserve that title too – when people see me doing stupid shit, they feel freer to follow suit. RK, you’re right, I should have been a psych major! I analyze people way too much!

Graffiti Hash

The Graffiti hash is a blast! I don't particularly remember the run, but all the comments that people write on my shirt are vastly entertaining!

Graffiti on my shirt:
Bolo -

1. If Only These (my boobs) Were Brains
2. I'd Do Bolo for Beer

3 Ring Cervix - What would she do for Shots?
Double-Stuffed Whore-E-O -

1. Will Puke 4 Beer
2. Tastes Great, Even Late (with an arrow to my crotch and a cooch drawing)

Fizzy - Objects Under Shirt are Larger than they Appear!
OFE - Strippers Make Me Wet (so true! check out yesterday's posting!)
Big Bend Over - Touch my Boobs
Toothfairy - My Favority Photo Spot (circle around left nipple)
2 Tanks - I'm Looking for a Tuna Can Dick
Unknown (and my fave!) - I Like 'Em This Long (line drawn with 10 underneath) - Hey! That line isn't 10 inches long! Where's that person's ruler?

Graffiti I wrote on other's shirts:
3 Ring Cervix - Bikes Make Me Vibrate
It's A Hard C*ck Life - I Heart Midgets
2 Tanks - Blow Me, It's my Last DC Hash
MM - I Let it All Out on His Boat - LNDT
OFE - Stroke Me, Don't Stir Me (Oh, and I go down on OFE to write this one!)

DSW - Late Nite Went Down with J
Random virgin: I Have a Hard Ass! (cause I felt his ass - it was really tight!)

Now, after the run, I figure that most t-shirt writing is complete, so I remove my graffiti wifebeater and attempt to remove my sportsbra while holding a towel over my tits. Unfortunately for me, Toothfairy spies me changing and wants to take a picture. MM notices and pulls his flashlight out and puts me in the spotlight. My sportsbra is halfway over my head and now I have a crowd watching!

The crowd shouts, "Show us your tits! Show us your tits!"

DSW pretends to come over and assist me in taking off my sportsbra. Instead, she tries to pull my towel off me! DSW, you're supposed to be my friend! Somehow, I manage to put my top on without revealing any body parts (other than my back).

Now, I'm well known for my multiple costume changes in an evening - I don't disappoint tonight!

I'm at the circle and Big Bend Over says, "Where's your shirt, I want to write something on it."
Since I'm Miss Please Everyone, I say, "Sure, why not?" and walk over to my bag to put my wifebeater back on.

I don't want to go through the hassle of putting a bra on, so I put my graffiti top on without benefit of any support (girls my size shouldn't go without a bra unless the top has a built-in shelf bra - my wifebeater doesn't have this feature, so it must not be pretty-I don't wanna know!). My breasts are a bit nipply today (I must really get turned on by attention!) and I experience a whole round of graffiti based on my tits. You know, I never thought about my tits being special before hashing (I was actually ashamed of my tits before). All of this tit admiration is going to go to my head and I'll develop a huge ego if someone doesn't deflate it (pun! pun!).

Now, who knows what got into me tonight, but I must have taken some stupid pills or someone slipped something into my drinking water. I'm super-hyper and dancing and bumping into the people at the bar.

I bump into Doucheberg and grab his arm and say, "Oh! Excuse me! Nice bicep!"
Then I bump into a virgin and grab his ass, "Sorry...Damn! What do you have down there?"
Bobbi is standing there and tells me, "Don't think you can get away with that now! I know your MO now! You bump into people and grab random body parts!"
I reply, "Damn! What am I going to do now? That tactic was working so well for me!"

I then proceed to grab all the asses of about 5 guys in proximity to me. Damn! I like men's asses! I think they're my favorite body part after large guns! If only it was stylish (or comfortable) for guys to wear tight pants!

Sidenote: My sunglasses are recovered. Roadkill did run off with them - he forgot that his cousin kept them for safekeeping.

Bar Hopping

Never again will I doubt OFE’s ability to put together a rocking happy hour. Although the hashers start out chilling and conversing raunchily at Bailey’s (which is where I thought we would stay the entire night), OFE puts our asses in gear and we end up hopping from bar to bar and staying out until 1am (I never thought I would stay out that late on a Wednesday night!). Bailey’s is cool and serves its purpose – it loosens us up for the strip club and multiple rounds of shots at the Crystal City Sports Pub.

Tonight I’m wearing work clothes, but my work clothes aren’t like other people’s work clothes (I work in retail – go figure!). I’m wearing a red ribbed tank and a knee-length zebra patterned skirt (I’m flaming!).

Knee Deep mentions, “You look very good in red. I can’t wear that color – I bet Nub can’t either”.

I, of course, have to prove this, so I remove one of my coral earrings and hold it up to Nub’s face. Yep, red does not suit him at all! Later, at the sports pub, Nub and I compare our shirts (they’re both ribbed – mine has wide ribs, while his are narrow).

I tell Nub, “My shirt has more texture than yours”
He replies, “It’s ribbed for your pleasure”, and then grabs my waist and rubs his hands up and down (like I’m wearing a condom!).

He’s funny. I understand now why girls like him. He grows on you.

He then asks me, “Why were you holding one of your earrings to my face earlier?”
I tell him, “I was checking to see if you look good in red – you don’t.”
Nub replies, “Oh no, how am I going to wear a red dress for the Red Dress Run then?”

I pull the edge of my red shirt up to Nub and show him how it contrasts against his skin.

Lube speaks up, “Why don’t you try LNDT’s shirt on, Nub?”

Since I can’t take my shirt off in front of everyone in the pub, I drag Nub to the men’s bathroom (where the urinals are full) and exchange tops with him.

Nub cries out, “I can’t go out there! I look so gay!”

He totally looks like he’s ready to step into a gay club and get down with some techno music. I drag him out of the men’s bathroom. The pool players grin at us and the hashers peal out in laughter upon seeing the two of us. Of course, this time it’s Nub dragging ME back to the men’s bathroom (he couldn’t run back fast enough!).

Oh, how could I? I’ve skipped the strip club! Don’t worry, plenty of details on that score! I have to admit that I enjoy going to strip clubs – I enjoy flirting with both sexes (I swear I’m heterosexual! I’m just an attention hog!) and strip clubs allow me to flirt shamelessly with both guys and girls without any misunderstanding later. Surprise, surprise! Turtledick has a front row seat with the strippers – totally hilarious! His wife, Bend Over Rover is great! She understands him so well! I’m so jealous of their relationship!

Well, men always enjoy seeing women give strippers money, so I’m nominated to give one of the strippers a dollar bill. Stripping is all production (something I’ve actually considered, but I’ve got too much meat) and knowing this, I wait for the stripper to notice me. When the stripper crouches down on all fours and slowly crawls towards me, I play along – I crouch down, extend my body forward and meet her stare as she approaches me. Oh! The male hashers love it (the other men in the bar probably do too)! In fact, PeeWee Gayhouse comes between us while I’m sliding the dollar bill under her abdomen and asks us to get closer. The stripper isn’t allowed to touch me, though (oh well! Next time we’ll go to DC where there are no rules!). Later, when the stripper comes by the table, she gives me a kiss and thanks me.

At this point, a group of us run to the sports pub for a round of shots. When we get back to the strip club, they’re blaring loud dance music and I’m wasted. Well, I’m a HUGE lover of music (yes, you’ve heard me say this before!). Since there isn’t a dance floor, I just go wild in my chair.

Pewee comes over stuffs a dollar bill under my skirt and says, “You’re stealing business from the strippers”.
I reply, “I can’t help it – I’m a wild animal today!”

Lube likes the sports pub so much that she recommends leaving the strip club and heading there for our next round. While heading over, OFE, Crack Spackler, and Porn to Fail volunteer to move cars. I’m not capable of moving my car, so I hand my keys to Crack Spackler and tell OFE that my car is parked 2 spaces in front of his.

Well! When Crack Spackler and OFE return ½ hour later, they ask me, “Where the hell is your car? We drove all around the parking garage looking for it.”
I reply, “I told you that my car was on the street, not in the garage!”
Crack Spackler slaps OFE and demands, “How did you not hear that?”
He replies, “I wasn’t listening to her mouth, I was listening to her tits.”

Men!