Monday, October 03, 2011
2011 DC Red Dress Trash
Since the Red Dress Run was technically MVH3's run for that day, it only seems logical that I write up a trash about it (plus, I haven't written one in a while and I miss it!). But what to say about that day? There were shenanigans, to be sure … so many shenanigans. Best to start at the very beginning.
Morning came early at the Casa de Fatboy Pounding. After the lingerie run the night before, we took the sexiled Claim to Flame back to our apartment for some chicken chili and beer. We all consumed far too much of each and then called it a night at around 2. The next morning, I woke up at 6am for no reason and couldn't get back to sleep. And it was cold and raining. It sucked. We rallied as hard as we could, getting dressed and taking a bus to the metro and then sprinting through the cold windy rain to the hotel, arriving just after 11. We signed in and received our giveaways – some nice plaid table napkins. Oh wait, that was supposed to be a kilt? Now I feel bad for using it to blow my nose.
Fatboy Slim and I met up with some Hillbillies in the lounge area, and then the waiting began. Kegs weren't tapped til noon and it was only 11:30. There was nothing to do except sit anxiously in a circle and stare at each other, so that's what we did. When Motormouth finally announced that kegs were flowing, we all dashed up and were first in line to get beer. Hooray!
But those cursed hotel employees kept trying to do their jobs and set up for us, and this meant that they kept opening the doors to the outside. And every time they did this, a blast of cold air would enter the room and freeze us. Cold beer plus cold air plus hangover from the night before equals not much desire to drink. Yet drink was the only thing that could solve all our problems for us. This situation demanded a drinking game.
Hillbilly hasher Just Christina sent her boyfriend THA,NG! to the hotel gift shop to acquire a deck of cards while the rest of us argued about what to play. Asshole is too difficult; Kings has too many rules to remember; Go Fish is too boring. We needed something fast and simple. And thus was Make Shit Up born.
Make Shit Up is quite possibly the stupidest card game of all time. Originally, the only rule was that whoever draws the lowest card has to drink. Then, as the game progressed, more and more rules were invented so that everyone ended up drinking nearly every round. The most exciting was when the cards drawn by various players formed a straight, at which point there would be a "waterfall" – when you can't stop drinking until the person before you stops. The result of this game was that after about ten minutes of play I needed to refill my 20oz mug with Patent Snakebite (half Blue Moon, half Woodchuck cider), and after another 15 minutes of play I decided I needed a hiatus or I would get too drunk and never be able to make it through the whole night. The time was 12:30.
Make Shit Up continued through the afternoon, with Twinkle Twinkle Little C*ck teaching newcomers the rules until the game had reached self-sufficiency and all the founders had moved on. It was around this time that the MVH3 crew arrived. And they were looking fine! MOAP looked like she had robbed a 12-year-old of her clothes. Whore Moans actually HAD robbed a 12-year-old, as she was wearing some sort of school uniform. Keeping in the spirit of things, Can't Keep it Shut had her hair in cute little pigtails. Deep Throat had on her May Queen accessories, confirming my suspicion that she planned to extend her grip on power for as long and far as possible. Hmm, curious that the Mt. Vernon May Queen decided to crown herself Queen of the Red Dress Run in October…
Then you had Roxy Moron in a stunning sequined number, which, if memory serves, he got from Tore Ass's trunk-o'-junk a few months ago and wore for an MVH3 closing circle. Hot Lips Houlihan was wearing a dress that actually looked good on her and wasn't ridiculous at all, but this was more than made up for by The Crying Game, whose off-the-shoulder shiny thing was never in style even when it was brand new. The brooch holding the fabric in place was an especially nice touch. Then you had Sandblast My Hymen in a red witch hat (I thought those were supposed to be BLACK!), and Leave it in Beaver wearing a thong under his dress (I only know this because during dinner he stood on his chair and showed EVERYONE IN THE ROOM). As for me, I apparently looked like a gothic Raggedy Ann crossed with a candy raver. The look was completed by black-red lipstick, which was blotted on everyone's cheeks.
After drinking and shivering for a while, it was time to go out on trail. I put on my Red Dress 2009 bathrobe to keep warm and off we went on the walkers trail. We stumbled along, bitching about the cold, until finally we got to the beer check. It certainly wasn't cold in there – in fact, there were so many people jammed in the front room that it was hard to breathe. I waited in the endless bathroom line and then ran out to the patio where there was plenty of air to go around. Sure it was cold, but Just Christina and I realized that if we put both of us in my robe and tied it around us, it was pretty warm.
It was during a rendition of "Jesus Can't Go Hashing" on the patio that we encountered the first Really Drunk Chick of the day. A lovely young lady wearing a hideous cutout dress decided to bypass the bouncers at the bar and climb the fence into the patio area. Bad idea. Fatboy Slim was taking bets on whether or not she'd fall on her face, and she got dangerously close before the bouncers saw her and escorted her away. She had some trouble walking, so they wouldn't let her into the bar. You see now why I felt it was important to take a break from Make Shit Up – I didn't want to be that girl! There she sat shivering on the front stoop until beer check was over and we went back out on trail. Poor thing.
When we got back to the hotel, it was time for dinner. A profound silence descended as everyone dug into the food (which was delicious, by the way). I didn't even care where I sat; as long as I had food, I was happy. The problem was, all the food was sobering me up so I was getting sleepy and cold again. Solution? Time for another round of Make Shit Up. And make shit up we did. I played that stupid game on and off for HOURS. At some point, OTH4's Shirtless Marines contingent joined us (by this point, they were all shirtless) and the game started to get rough. Waterfalls would continue until cups were emptied; new rules were made up that required the guzzling of an entire mug of beer; new players would join and then stagger off after only a couple of rounds. Fatboy Slim brought a girl over who wanted to play because she said she was still too sober; he left for a few minutes and when he came back she was crawling around under the table taking pictures up people's skirts. Make Shit Up was taking no prisoners.
Soon it started to claim victims, however. The Shirtless Marines disappeared to the dance floor for a while, where the MVH3 crew was tearing things up (it was too crowded in there for my tastes – I was getting claustrophobic), and when they returned Don't Ask Don't Yell was clutching ice to his eye after receiving a savage accidental head-butt. By the end of the night, his eye was swollen shut and I bet he's got a hell of a shiner now. Then our game started being disrupted by a DJ setting up equipment by our table. We couldn't figure out why this was going on until someone looked at their watch and said they must be setting up for karaoke that would start at 9. It was only 8PM at this point.
Things started to come apart soon afterwards. I signed up for two karaoke songs but then left the room and forgot about it. I went outside with Fatboy Slim while he smoked, and another Really Drunk Chick was on a fit of destruction, throwing everything she could get her hands on into the pool. Fearing repercussions, we fled the scene and then watched through the window while ChippenFailz tried to subdue her. It was sort of like watching a Spanish soap opera, where you have to make up your own dialogue. He would grab her shoulders and talk to her and she would seem calm, only to then break away and knock over an umbrella. Then we would sit her down on the edge of a planter and give her a hug, but moments later she would spring past him and throw another chair into the pool. Never a dull moment.
Things inside were mostly starting to calm down as people started to leave/pass out. My tippy cup nemesis Pardon My Penis from SMUTTy Crab recruited me to join a game, but then Osama Bin Hashing informed me that it was strippy cup, not tippy cup, so I ran away before I could reestablish dominance over Pardon. I had way too many layers on to play strippy cup anyway – it would have been unfair to the other players (and I'm damn good at tippy cup!).
Besides, there were other matters to attend to! Just The Tip, female lead in the Shirtless Marines contingent, had had a few beers too many over the course of playing Make Shit Up, and she was not feeling her best. What she needed was a barf and a good night's sleep, and we resolved to help her out with this. But she looked very, very sad about her condition, so I decided to cheer her up by giving her a hug. BAD IDEA! She quickly turned into a zombie-vampire, sinking her teeth into my neck savagely and repeatedly. For the next 24 hours you could actually see a full set of top and bottom teeth in my skin. She also bit my thumb and wouldn't let go until I said "drop it!" as one might say to a dog. She's a wild one!!
Once White Fang was safely deposited in bed, we went back downstairs to discover that the beer had run out. Nothing says "party over" quite like there being no more beer, so with that, we went up to the hotel room THA,NG! and Just Christina were generously letting us crash in and called it a night. Well, almost – first we had to make fun of Fatboy Slim who had Cookie Monster eyes (when he gets drunk one of his eyes gets lazy and they don't look in the same direction. If you haven't seen it before, it's a treat), argue with a security guard who was talking smack to us in the elevator, run to McDonald's across the street, and watch with disgust while Fatboy Slim ate his Big Mac layer by layer. Another successful Red Dress run.
But since this is technically supposed to be an MVH3 hash trash, I will leave with this image, which I think was one of my favorite moments of the entire day. Early in the evening, The Crying Game had gotten sick of wearing his dress, so he changed into Red Dress 2010 basketball shorts. That is, he put them on over his dress, with the dress tucked into them like a shirt. At one point, I looked over and saw him standing at a very odd angle eating a sandwich. I will have to demonstrate the strange angle that he was standing at, as it is hard to describe. Picture someone leaning back against a pole with just their shoulder blades touching it. Now take away the pole. It was the Leaning Tower of Crying Game. I walked up and asked him how he was doing and he grinned and said "goooooooood." I never doubted it for a second :-)
For those going to Savannah, have a fun and safe trip … and for everyone else, see you Saturday for shenanigans at our place!!!
On-on, Patent Pounding
Posted by Late Nite Drive Thru at 5:00 PM