White House Trail #1587, October 12th, 2014
Hares: Captain Bangaroo, Scrumbag, Cum Brew Lay, District 69 andOsama Bin Hashing
Brew Crew: Sorest Rum and YOCO
Since we partnered with OTH4 this week, here's a recap of those who came first and last:
FRB: All the Way In
FBI: More Men
DFL: Bad Dog
Elmo's Fuck Buddy was violated for passing out in multiple places all weekend and not knowing how a pair of men's underwear got in her bag! (I guess you could say she's used to...sleeping around.)
Boxx Spring, Slimy Limey, Fire in the Hole and Wookin' Pa Nub were all cited for leaving Dwarfus Interruptus behind at the Metro. ("It's nothing personal," explained Slimy, "we thought you were your brother!")
All Flash No Drive was violated for wearing fairy wings and saying, "I'm wearing these to lure pedophiles away from children!"...right before Tony Panda was heard saying, "Riding a bike isn't hard - it's like hooking up with a fifth grader." ("It's not what you think!" he exclaimed. "I meant that you never forget how to hit on underage girls!")
S&M Man was cited for needing a police warrant to take drugs out of a patient's butthole! (Usually cops are more lenient about this sort of thing, but the officer on duty was pretty anal.)
3-Holer was violated for leaving RDR early to run with the men's hash (in hisdress), ran through an obvious back check onto train tracks, and almost got hit by a train...and that's not very safe! (Ironically, that was still less dangerous than anything in the movie "Trainspotting".)
Osama Bin Hashing was cited for wearing shorts so frayed they had to have belonged to Bad Dog! (I hadn't seen anything that ripped and torn since Vin Diesel couldn't make up his mind!)
On - good luck navigating the Red Line - on,
Ginger Snatch
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Red Dress Run Recovery
Hangover Trail #38
Hares: Saigon Sally, Camo Sutra, Fister Roboto, Friends don't let friends f*ck fat chicks (F5)
The morning after the Red Dress Run is generally a time of reflection on how one, in the mere course of 36 hours, could become dissolute, dissipated and depraved, yet still miss the goal of debauchery. But on a crisp fall sunny Sunday morning, more than one hundred souls shouldered that immense burden with the goal of desorbing enough of their recent excesses on a eagerly anticipated non-shiggified run, with the clear goal of having a bit of exercise followed by a quick reprise of the glory that beer and friends can bestow.
JustIn Beaver did her best in trying to capture the attention of the pack and lead them through the H4 oath and a rousing rendition of “Drink the Tequilla.”
We then began a happily dispirited shamble out of circle, interrupted by an unduly-spirited sprinter who solved the first check left up 13thStreet (more about him later). The pattern was then set for up a street, down an alley, up an alley, across a street, down a street, repeat, repeat, repeat. [This applies to the turkeys and "stupid" eagles, the Penguins were more of a wandering walk some blocks to an alley, go in for shots if there are any left, then repeat three times until the on in.]
The rhythm was happily interrupted with a clearly marked trail that ended up, bang, in a box alley a mere 10’ deep, but lo and behold, on the fire escape was a black trash bag filled with bottles of bubbly and cartons of orange juice for Mimosas. A shortage of paper cups was quickly resolved by the clever use of one’s mouth to mix (i.e., take a swallow of OJ, then a swallow of champagne, swhish, repeat).
The alley, street, alley pattern was resumed and the pack was now so spirited that it flashed by the Embassy of Kazakhstan without a pause. Then onto a parking garage with four spirited loops down to P2 to an interior stairwell, emerging into the sun and glaring bright lights of the paparazzi (in this case, Saigon Sally, doing his best impersonation of an Italian cameraman).
More alleys, streets, alleys, etc. to a teasing foray across 14th St. and into the alley behind Le Diplomate so that the tantalizing aroma of one of DC’s best special occasion brunch places could be sampled, free of charge, before pounding on. A momentary reprieve for tired feet was provided by the rubberized surface of the Cardozo Playground, but then back into weaving our way through streets and alleys. The tantalizing mark of “BN” encouraged the pack onward, down another alley past the Hospital for Horses and Dogs to a serious steel fence. Not a simple chain link fence but black industrial steel with pickets extending 8” above the 5’ high top brace. A truly formidable barrier to separate the strong and courageous from the, well... smarter. As was subsequently reported, the reward of going over that barrier three times, in three different spots, and under a 6’ high chain link fence, was a sip/swallow/glug of an excellent Bloody Mary concoction.
Those who survived proceeded apace to go under the walkway that connects the new DC Convention Center to the, well, Convention Center, which allows cars, and also people to continue west on L St. to 7th St., not at all far from the après site. But were we to be allowed to finish our journey yet? NO.
On through a Japanese Zen garden in the almost completed City Place megapolis. Then we proceeded past Samuel Gompers (an early hero of the labor movement) park and into the cool confines of the Verizon Center. Well, as it turns out, actually the delights of its parking garage with a burst of speed to, f***, the seeming thousands who had beat the FRBs to the finish line.
But, there was still beer in coolers, a chance to tell lies about how quick and daring and strong we were, and then the circle, to remind us that we're not. Speaking of which...
Care Bear was violated for bringing a piece of luggage to trail that wouldn't have fit on a plane (remember, folks, check your airport suitcases AT THE AIRPORT!)
District 69 was violated for not knowing where the joint WH4/OTH trail was later that day, which would usually have been okay, if she WASN'T A HARE!
Daddy's Dick was violated for being FRB by cheating (yes, yes, usually acceptable hash behavior) even though somehow in circle he knew that a three-minute start is exactly 180 seconds long. Let's hope he doesn't do everything prematurely *wink* for Do Lay Me's sake!
Tony Panda was violated for giving Shamrock Your Cockthe lame excuse that his arm was sore after pouring 666 jello shots, and Shamrock was violated for believing that was the real reason his arm was so tired!
Then the pack retreated to Fado for social drinking and a delicious brunch. See you in November!
Yours in the Hash,
Queen of the Jungle
F*cking Squid
Hares: Saigon Sally, Camo Sutra, Fister Roboto, Friends don't let friends f*ck fat chicks (F5)
The morning after the Red Dress Run is generally a time of reflection on how one, in the mere course of 36 hours, could become dissolute, dissipated and depraved, yet still miss the goal of debauchery. But on a crisp fall sunny Sunday morning, more than one hundred souls shouldered that immense burden with the goal of desorbing enough of their recent excesses on a eagerly anticipated non-shiggified run, with the clear goal of having a bit of exercise followed by a quick reprise of the glory that beer and friends can bestow.
JustIn Beaver did her best in trying to capture the attention of the pack and lead them through the H4 oath and a rousing rendition of “Drink the Tequilla.”
We then began a happily dispirited shamble out of circle, interrupted by an unduly-spirited sprinter who solved the first check left up 13thStreet (more about him later). The pattern was then set for up a street, down an alley, up an alley, across a street, down a street, repeat, repeat, repeat. [This applies to the turkeys and "stupid" eagles, the Penguins were more of a wandering walk some blocks to an alley, go in for shots if there are any left, then repeat three times until the on in.]
The rhythm was happily interrupted with a clearly marked trail that ended up, bang, in a box alley a mere 10’ deep, but lo and behold, on the fire escape was a black trash bag filled with bottles of bubbly and cartons of orange juice for Mimosas. A shortage of paper cups was quickly resolved by the clever use of one’s mouth to mix (i.e., take a swallow of OJ, then a swallow of champagne, swhish, repeat).
The alley, street, alley pattern was resumed and the pack was now so spirited that it flashed by the Embassy of Kazakhstan without a pause. Then onto a parking garage with four spirited loops down to P2 to an interior stairwell, emerging into the sun and glaring bright lights of the paparazzi (in this case, Saigon Sally, doing his best impersonation of an Italian cameraman).
More alleys, streets, alleys, etc. to a teasing foray across 14th St. and into the alley behind Le Diplomate so that the tantalizing aroma of one of DC’s best special occasion brunch places could be sampled, free of charge, before pounding on. A momentary reprieve for tired feet was provided by the rubberized surface of the Cardozo Playground, but then back into weaving our way through streets and alleys. The tantalizing mark of “BN” encouraged the pack onward, down another alley past the Hospital for Horses and Dogs to a serious steel fence. Not a simple chain link fence but black industrial steel with pickets extending 8” above the 5’ high top brace. A truly formidable barrier to separate the strong and courageous from the, well... smarter. As was subsequently reported, the reward of going over that barrier three times, in three different spots, and under a 6’ high chain link fence, was a sip/swallow/glug of an excellent Bloody Mary concoction.
Those who survived proceeded apace to go under the walkway that connects the new DC Convention Center to the, well, Convention Center, which allows cars, and also people to continue west on L St. to 7th St., not at all far from the après site. But were we to be allowed to finish our journey yet? NO.
On through a Japanese Zen garden in the almost completed City Place megapolis. Then we proceeded past Samuel Gompers (an early hero of the labor movement) park and into the cool confines of the Verizon Center. Well, as it turns out, actually the delights of its parking garage with a burst of speed to, f***, the seeming thousands who had beat the FRBs to the finish line.
But, there was still beer in coolers, a chance to tell lies about how quick and daring and strong we were, and then the circle, to remind us that we're not. Speaking of which...
Care Bear was violated for bringing a piece of luggage to trail that wouldn't have fit on a plane (remember, folks, check your airport suitcases AT THE AIRPORT!)
District 69 was violated for not knowing where the joint WH4/OTH trail was later that day, which would usually have been okay, if she WASN'T A HARE!
Daddy's Dick was violated for being FRB by cheating (yes, yes, usually acceptable hash behavior) even though somehow in circle he knew that a three-minute start is exactly 180 seconds long. Let's hope he doesn't do everything prematurely *wink* for Do Lay Me's sake!
Tony Panda was violated for giving Shamrock Your Cockthe lame excuse that his arm was sore after pouring 666 jello shots, and Shamrock was violated for believing that was the real reason his arm was so tired!
Then the pack retreated to Fado for social drinking and a delicious brunch. See you in November!
Yours in the Hash,
Queen of the Jungle
F*cking Squid
Thursday, October 09, 2014
RDR Pre-Lube Trail!
EWH3# 852: The Choose Your Own Adventure/RDR Pre-Lube Trail!- 6:45 PM Thursday, October 9th, Deanwood Metro (Ballbuster- Orange Line) and Eastern Market Metro (Regular- Orange/Blue/Silver Line)
When:
When:
BALLBUSTER: Thursday October 2nd, 2014. Meet at 5:30, Pack away at 6PM SHARP!
REGULAR: Thursday, October 9th, 2014. Meet at 6:45, pack away at 7:15!
Where:
REGULAR: Thursday, October 9th, 2014. Meet at 6:45, pack away at 7:15!
Where:
BALLBUSTER: Deanwood Metro (Orange Line)-follow marks to start!
REGULAR: Eastern Market (Orange/Blue/Silver Line)- follow marks to the start!
Hares:
REGULAR: Eastern Market (Orange/Blue/Silver Line)- follow marks to the start!
Hares:
BALLBUSTER: St. Pauli’s Girl, Whisky Business, Big Bang, Blows a Tranny and RPI
REGULAR: Sphincter Shy. Whoregon Trail, Red Vag of Courage, Six Pigs and mystery hares.
Weather: PERFECT. I guess the RAs are good for something!
Miscellaneous Crap: SO. MANY. PEOPLE.
On On On: Phase 1!
Virgins: Just Mij, Just Nik, Just Nicole, Just John, Just Pablo, Just Melissa, Just Lauren, Just Kelsie, Just Brendan, Just MJ
Visitors: 5 O’Twat Shadow (Tidewater H3), Chew Toy (Voodoo H3), Cock Ness Monster (Voodoo H3), Deer Near (SOH4/Utica BTN H3), Dickie Wong (Voodoo H3), Dirty Virgin (Cape Fear/Carolina Trash H3), Duck Duck Oops (Skull and Boners H3), Extra Virgin Anal Oil (JustMaddy H3), F.A.R.T. (NYCH3/GGFM), Free 2 Lay (H5), Hand 2 Hand Cumbat (Hariettes for Healthy Hooters/DCRW), I Am What I Eat (Heidelberg H3), Imagine My Erection (Voodoo H3), Motherload (Crescent Shiggy/Voodoo H3), One Trick Dick (Utica BTN H3/SOH4), Penis Colada (NOH3), Penis Fly Trap (Skull and Boners H3), PhWedgie (H5), Slam Bam Thank You Lamb (Voodoo H3), Starship InHerThighs (CKH3), Stinkfinger (Oregon H3), Texticle Teaser (Voodoo H3), Wet Spots (Oregon H3), Straight In the Navy, Barefoot Youngdung (ABQH3), High Speed Cock Bumper (Tidewater H3), Pom Pilot (SOH4), Anatomically Incorrect Ken (Alamogordo H3), Wieners Out (Madison H3), Vanilla Is a Flavor Too (Carolina Trash), Ooh That Smell (Carolina Trash), And They’re Off… On My Face (Carolina Trash), Drunk Neighbor (Tidewater H3), Gag ‘Em Style (CUNT)
See? I told you there were a f%=k ton of people. Circle was so noisy, I lost my voice for a week. Blows a Tranny has never been happier.
Oh yeah, and we had some VIOLATIONS!!!!!!
Before trail began, All Flash No Drive gave me some words of wisdom. She said, and I quote, “all you gotta do is hang in there, make it short and make it naughty!” Excellent advice, AFND!
(Isn’t this the weirdest gif? I mean, is she naughty Pinocchio? Adding that to my “Halloween costumes to consider” list…)
You Sucked My Battle Dick was heard comparing her vagina to a Ferris wheel. Because there’s lots of riders, but she still takes you to new heights every time!
(Boys be like “no way am I waiting in line, it’s my turn next!”)
Jew Cock A lived up to his namesake when he was approached by little kids who immediately pointed at him and screamed, “wow he’s hairy!”
As Christina Aguilera once said, “you’re beautiful, no matter what they say.” So you do you, Jew Cock A. You do you.
Muppet Rapies came into beer check late because, quote, “I got lost in a bush and couldn’t find my way out!” In my mind she looked something like this:
Uncle Bad Touch was asking for jewelry and a wig for red dress because his dress “just doesn’t have enough flair.” The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, UBT.
Mouth Full of Clam confused chlorophyll with chloroform. Yikes.
And finally… the NAMING!!!!
Just Lucy is a neuroscientist, went to Oxford, and wants to have sex with Speedy Gonzales. She swiped her V card at 17 on a boat (with T-Pain, naturally), and then her parents walked in! She pooped and peed her pants at 7000 feet before jumping out of an airplane to escape from a man she had just copulated with. Rife with interesting stories, the names were thrown around pretty early for Just Lucy. The crowd favorites were The British are Cumming, Rip Whored, Parapooper, and God Save the Peeing. The crowd voted, and henceforth and forevermore, Just Lucy will be known as God Save the Peeing!
On- just thinking about red dress weekend makes me nauseous- on,
Mr. hEd
REGULAR: Sphincter Shy. Whoregon Trail, Red Vag of Courage, Six Pigs and mystery hares.
Weather: PERFECT. I guess the RAs are good for something!
Miscellaneous Crap: SO. MANY. PEOPLE.
On On On: Phase 1!
Virgins: Just Mij, Just Nik, Just Nicole, Just John, Just Pablo, Just Melissa, Just Lauren, Just Kelsie, Just Brendan, Just MJ
Visitors: 5 O’Twat Shadow (Tidewater H3), Chew Toy (Voodoo H3), Cock Ness Monster (Voodoo H3), Deer Near (SOH4/Utica BTN H3), Dickie Wong (Voodoo H3), Dirty Virgin (Cape Fear/Carolina Trash H3), Duck Duck Oops (Skull and Boners H3), Extra Virgin Anal Oil (JustMaddy H3), F.A.R.T. (NYCH3/GGFM), Free 2 Lay (H5), Hand 2 Hand Cumbat (Hariettes for Healthy Hooters/DCRW), I Am What I Eat (Heidelberg H3), Imagine My Erection (Voodoo H3), Motherload (Crescent Shiggy/Voodoo H3), One Trick Dick (Utica BTN H3/SOH4), Penis Colada (NOH3), Penis Fly Trap (Skull and Boners H3), PhWedgie (H5), Slam Bam Thank You Lamb (Voodoo H3), Starship InHerThighs (CKH3), Stinkfinger (Oregon H3), Texticle Teaser (Voodoo H3), Wet Spots (Oregon H3), Straight In the Navy, Barefoot Youngdung (ABQH3), High Speed Cock Bumper (Tidewater H3), Pom Pilot (SOH4), Anatomically Incorrect Ken (Alamogordo H3), Wieners Out (Madison H3), Vanilla Is a Flavor Too (Carolina Trash), Ooh That Smell (Carolina Trash), And They’re Off… On My Face (Carolina Trash), Drunk Neighbor (Tidewater H3), Gag ‘Em Style (CUNT)
See? I told you there were a f%=k ton of people. Circle was so noisy, I lost my voice for a week. Blows a Tranny has never been happier.
Oh yeah, and we had some VIOLATIONS!!!!!!
Before trail began, All Flash No Drive gave me some words of wisdom. She said, and I quote, “all you gotta do is hang in there, make it short and make it naughty!” Excellent advice, AFND!
(Isn’t this the weirdest gif? I mean, is she naughty Pinocchio? Adding that to my “Halloween costumes to consider” list…)
You Sucked My Battle Dick was heard comparing her vagina to a Ferris wheel. Because there’s lots of riders, but she still takes you to new heights every time!
(Boys be like “no way am I waiting in line, it’s my turn next!”)
Jew Cock A lived up to his namesake when he was approached by little kids who immediately pointed at him and screamed, “wow he’s hairy!”
As Christina Aguilera once said, “you’re beautiful, no matter what they say.” So you do you, Jew Cock A. You do you.
Muppet Rapies came into beer check late because, quote, “I got lost in a bush and couldn’t find my way out!” In my mind she looked something like this:
Uncle Bad Touch was asking for jewelry and a wig for red dress because his dress “just doesn’t have enough flair.” The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, UBT.
Mouth Full of Clam confused chlorophyll with chloroform. Yikes.
And finally… the NAMING!!!!
Just Lucy is a neuroscientist, went to Oxford, and wants to have sex with Speedy Gonzales. She swiped her V card at 17 on a boat (with T-Pain, naturally), and then her parents walked in! She pooped and peed her pants at 7000 feet before jumping out of an airplane to escape from a man she had just copulated with. Rife with interesting stories, the names were thrown around pretty early for Just Lucy. The crowd favorites were The British are Cumming, Rip Whored, Parapooper, and God Save the Peeing. The crowd voted, and henceforth and forevermore, Just Lucy will be known as God Save the Peeing!
On- just thinking about red dress weekend makes me nauseous- on,
Mr. hEd
Tuesday, October 15, 2013
DC RDR is Just Like Apple Pie
After 20 years, I’ve come to the conclusion that the red dress run is exactly like a homemade apple pie.
I know it’s a crazy comparison but let’s work this thing out on paper, shall we?
About a month ago Little Big Man and I were at the mall. All of a sudden I realized we need to get some red dresses so he and I head over the ladies section and there we stood. We went digging through the racks to find just a few red dresses, none of which really made the cut. But we took them out, we touched them, we checked the sizes and Little Big Man then asked me out loud in the middle of the women’s section, “Mom, what size dress do you think I am?” That might send some normal moms into a complete mental freeze and a small pucker up the backside as mom thought about telling dad of this new turn in their lives.
But not I.
I sized him up and told him probably a 16 or an 18 to be safe.
And then I watched as a few people sized us both up and moved away from the ladies section quite hurridly.
As one goes to the store to find apples for this homemade pie, we head to the produce section where we’ll stand there for the next few minutes groping apples like our prom date groped us in the back of his daddy’s Ford F150.
Oh.
Was that just me?
We pick up each kind of apple and we feel for firmness, we smell them, then we try to figure out how many to buy and do we want any to simply eat as they are?
You may stand there awhile feeling up the produce and oohing and awing about the macintosh orthe red delicious or even the pink lady. In the end, I always buy a few granny smiths and then whatever else looks appealing and feels good to the touch.
When we finally get our dresses home we hang them up and maybe try them on for size and then start to plan the rest of the outfit. For many a man that I saw at DC RDR this year this was half the fun. I secretly think that men like to dress like women – hell – I only saw men throwing glitter all over the place this year and if men are spending time going to Michaels to buy glitter then they are working way too hard to be like a woman. I saw many a male hasher with matching purses, hats, jewelry, hosery, topped off with a full panel of mani-pedis to boot.
All The Way In looked like he could have made a fortune that evening if only he just went outside and stood on the corner. I passed him three times before I realized She was a He and a He that I knew.
We get our apples home and we wash them and we trim off the skin. We dice them up and throw them in a bowl, add lemon juice and then add all of the spices – nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, salt, some flour and some sugar. We mix all that up and then try a few pieces. Yeah that’s pretty good so you have a few more. Then you have to cut up some more apples because you’ve stood there eating half the apples. We finally put them all in the pie shell and cover it up with the other half of the pie shell then egg wash the top, add sugar to the egg wash and put this massive masterpiece in the oven to bake for 40 minutes or so.
We don our new red dress finery and we show it off to 600 other hashers who have just done the exact same thing. Everyone looks great – they surely made the 20th anniversary extra special. The glitter this year made everyone more fabulous than normal. I saw more sparkly man sweaters than I care to admit. “Man sweater?” you ask.
That’s the cro magnum dude you saw with the spaghetti strapped red dress and all his manfur hanging out.
And yes I mean on his chest AND on his back - all being shown off with a nice smattering of red glitter stuck in and amongst the fiberous mansweater. How these hashers went home alone, Ill never know.
We take our apple pie out of the oven and leave out so everyone can admire how good it looks – minus the red glitter, of course.
We then sample what red dress has to offer. We walk around the venue, checking it out. Music was thumping and everyone was hanging out with friends and having a great time! We spy the two bars fully loaded with a fabulous selection of beers that were available this year – fat tire and 60 minute IPA among two of them!
“what?”
“for real?”
Sweet red dress of yore! This is awesome!
Did you stick to your coors light or bud so you could have more and not get so wasted?
I can guarantee that process didn’t work out so well for about 25 percent of the young hashers there. One in particular had 7 beers before even leaving for the run.
Many of us took our new personalized red fleece coats and put them in our hash bag so we could be sure and not leave them behind as they were way too nice to lose.
We then leave on the hash and meander our way over to the beer check where more dancing, more drinking, more hanging out with friends occurs. Or maybe some wayward red dress harriette , who obviously has no idea how frightlfully bitchy, loud and scar, who lives up the wall plaque in her kitchen “if the broom fits ride it !” Dual Airbags is, looks at Little Big Man and asks, “hey, you wanna make out?”
Mommy isn’t real sure if there was an answer or this chippy harriette just slams your baby boy up against the wall and jams the devil tongue of hers down his throat like she was trying to get to his family jewels THAT ARENT FOR SALE from the inside.
Or so I’m told.
Several times.
By several different hashers.
And by his dad.
Who, by the way is smiling and high fiving this freak little side show that is now a main attraction at the beer check. “yeaaah, that’s MY boooouuuuuuuyyyy!” And who will sleep with the dogs for allowing this manhandling to even happen.
How many times have I said to not to manhandle the produce?
You little chippie whore of a harriette?
We head back to the original bar where food was set up but no venue every really gets it when we say have a lot of food and plenty of it.
What was there plenty of? Beer.
As the hours pass you may not quite remember where the people you came with are.
Or maybe one of you is lost.
Or maybe one of you is passed out and maybe one of you hasn’t come back from the beer check yet.
Or maybe now the beer goggles are starting to get fuzzy and you cant be sure if you saw who you were supposed to be seeing or not.
Or maybe you remember what just happened at the beer check and to avoid any questioning or any unpleasant conversations with Mommy, you stay kind of lost.
In any case what doesn’t happen very often at red dress run is uttering or even hearing the following question to any red dress attendee save for one poor little Over The Hump hasher …
Slippery When Wet spies Little Big Man somewhere in the nightclub and asks
“Have you seen your mother?”
Back at home our apple pie has cooled off. We take a sample of what this pie has to offer – we cut it into it and we take a huge slice and put it on our plate. We take out the vanilla ice cream and put a great big dollup atop the pie. We take our spoon and dip into the melty coldness of the vanilla ice cream is it meets the crunchy goodness of the sugary crust with the gooey warmness of the cimmamony baked apples.
But remember, you can have too much of a good thing. Two slices, or God forbid, three slices will give you that very sick, holy crap, ive gone into a sugar coma type of feeling.
Too much beer in too short of time with not enough food can also put you into a coma..
Too much tongue sucking by chippie harriettes will also put you in a coma.
In any case, you end up asleep on the couch, all the while saying, I should really learn to pace myself.
On On
Dual Airbags
Great job DC RDR MM 2013!!
About a month ago Little Big Man and I were at the mall. All of a sudden I realized we need to get some red dresses so he and I head over the ladies section and there we stood. We went digging through the racks to find just a few red dresses, none of which really made the cut. But we took them out, we touched them, we checked the sizes and Little Big Man then asked me out loud in the middle of the women’s section, “Mom, what size dress do you think I am?” That might send some normal moms into a complete mental freeze and a small pucker up the backside as mom thought about telling dad of this new turn in their lives.
But not I.
I sized him up and told him probably a 16 or an 18 to be safe.
And then I watched as a few people sized us both up and moved away from the ladies section quite hurridly.
As one goes to the store to find apples for this homemade pie, we head to the produce section where we’ll stand there for the next few minutes groping apples like our prom date groped us in the back of his daddy’s Ford F150.
Oh.
Was that just me?
We pick up each kind of apple and we feel for firmness, we smell them, then we try to figure out how many to buy and do we want any to simply eat as they are?
You may stand there awhile feeling up the produce and oohing and awing about the macintosh orthe red delicious or even the pink lady. In the end, I always buy a few granny smiths and then whatever else looks appealing and feels good to the touch.
When we finally get our dresses home we hang them up and maybe try them on for size and then start to plan the rest of the outfit. For many a man that I saw at DC RDR this year this was half the fun. I secretly think that men like to dress like women – hell – I only saw men throwing glitter all over the place this year and if men are spending time going to Michaels to buy glitter then they are working way too hard to be like a woman. I saw many a male hasher with matching purses, hats, jewelry, hosery, topped off with a full panel of mani-pedis to boot.
All The Way In looked like he could have made a fortune that evening if only he just went outside and stood on the corner. I passed him three times before I realized She was a He and a He that I knew.
We get our apples home and we wash them and we trim off the skin. We dice them up and throw them in a bowl, add lemon juice and then add all of the spices – nutmeg, cinnamon, allspice, salt, some flour and some sugar. We mix all that up and then try a few pieces. Yeah that’s pretty good so you have a few more. Then you have to cut up some more apples because you’ve stood there eating half the apples. We finally put them all in the pie shell and cover it up with the other half of the pie shell then egg wash the top, add sugar to the egg wash and put this massive masterpiece in the oven to bake for 40 minutes or so.
We don our new red dress finery and we show it off to 600 other hashers who have just done the exact same thing. Everyone looks great – they surely made the 20th anniversary extra special. The glitter this year made everyone more fabulous than normal. I saw more sparkly man sweaters than I care to admit. “Man sweater?” you ask.
That’s the cro magnum dude you saw with the spaghetti strapped red dress and all his manfur hanging out.
And yes I mean on his chest AND on his back - all being shown off with a nice smattering of red glitter stuck in and amongst the fiberous mansweater. How these hashers went home alone, Ill never know.
We take our apple pie out of the oven and leave out so everyone can admire how good it looks – minus the red glitter, of course.
We then sample what red dress has to offer. We walk around the venue, checking it out. Music was thumping and everyone was hanging out with friends and having a great time! We spy the two bars fully loaded with a fabulous selection of beers that were available this year – fat tire and 60 minute IPA among two of them!
“what?”
“for real?”
Sweet red dress of yore! This is awesome!
Did you stick to your coors light or bud so you could have more and not get so wasted?
I can guarantee that process didn’t work out so well for about 25 percent of the young hashers there. One in particular had 7 beers before even leaving for the run.
Many of us took our new personalized red fleece coats and put them in our hash bag so we could be sure and not leave them behind as they were way too nice to lose.
We then leave on the hash and meander our way over to the beer check where more dancing, more drinking, more hanging out with friends occurs. Or maybe some wayward red dress harriette , who obviously has no idea how frightlfully bitchy, loud and scar, who lives up the wall plaque in her kitchen “if the broom fits ride it !” Dual Airbags is, looks at Little Big Man and asks, “hey, you wanna make out?”
Mommy isn’t real sure if there was an answer or this chippy harriette just slams your baby boy up against the wall and jams the devil tongue of hers down his throat like she was trying to get to his family jewels THAT ARENT FOR SALE from the inside.
Or so I’m told.
Several times.
By several different hashers.
And by his dad.
Who, by the way is smiling and high fiving this freak little side show that is now a main attraction at the beer check. “yeaaah, that’s MY boooouuuuuuuyyyy!” And who will sleep with the dogs for allowing this manhandling to even happen.
How many times have I said to not to manhandle the produce?
You little chippie whore of a harriette?
We head back to the original bar where food was set up but no venue every really gets it when we say have a lot of food and plenty of it.
What was there plenty of? Beer.
As the hours pass you may not quite remember where the people you came with are.
Or maybe one of you is lost.
Or maybe one of you is passed out and maybe one of you hasn’t come back from the beer check yet.
Or maybe now the beer goggles are starting to get fuzzy and you cant be sure if you saw who you were supposed to be seeing or not.
Or maybe you remember what just happened at the beer check and to avoid any questioning or any unpleasant conversations with Mommy, you stay kind of lost.
In any case what doesn’t happen very often at red dress run is uttering or even hearing the following question to any red dress attendee save for one poor little Over The Hump hasher …
Slippery When Wet spies Little Big Man somewhere in the nightclub and asks
“Have you seen your mother?”
Back at home our apple pie has cooled off. We take a sample of what this pie has to offer – we cut it into it and we take a huge slice and put it on our plate. We take out the vanilla ice cream and put a great big dollup atop the pie. We take our spoon and dip into the melty coldness of the vanilla ice cream is it meets the crunchy goodness of the sugary crust with the gooey warmness of the cimmamony baked apples.
Too much beer in too short of time with not enough food can also put you into a coma..
Too much tongue sucking by chippie harriettes will also put you in a coma.
In any case, you end up asleep on the couch, all the while saying, I should really learn to pace myself.
On On
Dual Airbags
Great job DC RDR MM 2013!!
Tuesday, October 09, 2012
DC RDR 2012
One or two beers were had, and probably the most
useful giveaways we have ever received at a hash event were bestowed-
oversized, personalized flasks! When the hares finally got their heads out of their asses, we all circled up in the
square, causing the scene we had all been wanting to create from the very
beginning. Hares went out, the drunken pack followed. It was a super scenic
trail, taking us past the White House and random protestors. Some of us decided
to “hash smarter, not harder” and took the walker’s trail to beer check… little
did we know there was a third option to just cab to the bar.
Once at On In, we were all in our natural element. Survival of the Spittest and her kid sister Just Helen went to work showing up some harriers
in a game of strippy cup. Shim Job started perusing the visiting Justs
and picking off the drunkest among them. Incredible Edible Shmegg and Math Sucks Let's Fuck! were
the first people in the bar to strip down to just red panties and then
proceeded to tear up the dance floor. In the absence of her fellow DCH4 cougar
sisters, Bavarian Bush had her pick of that entire young and yummy crew of
EWH3 boys. The newest DCH4 romance was revealed when bar security busted down a
locked closet door and inside was a pair of familiar (and very guilty-looking)
faces, Wreath Around and Skeeter on my Tweeter. And Cho-King Hazard, despite being in
a beautiful and classy ball gown, practiced slapping Blinded by the Spooge across the
face in a do-over of what many of us witnessed at BAH3 GDR earlier this year.
After several beers and watching a few people fall on their
heads while attempting the stripper pole (seriously, ask Late Nite Drive Thru for
the real reason she had to take Ass Spelunker to the hospital),
we were back to McFadden’s for private debauchery within stumble distance of
the hash hotel.
On On! Math Sucks, Let's Fuck!
Sunday, October 07, 2012
RED DRESS RUN RECOVERY!!
Hares: WH/Hangover Hash combo
False Advertising,
This is almost unprintable as submitted. My edits are below.
-ed.
It was a cold and drizzly morning, but about 40 functional alcoholics faithfuldragged themselves out of someone stranger’s bed to make a last desperate attempt to get some nookie instead of passing out in some stranger’s bedparticipate and continue with the booze-fest camaraderie of the night before.
The trail was laid by the newly-christened Hanger Over hash. They were dumbthoughtful enough to lay an actual trail, with running and everything. About 10 or 15 hashers ran the trail while the rest were too hung over contented with a leisurely stroll through skanky alleys the city.
The pack looked way hotter last night enthused as they first drank even more alcohol refreshments provided by White House to avoid the shakesdehydration.
The hashers shared furtive, embarrassed glances stories about the night before and new-found one-night-stands friends exchanged fake contact information.
The On-On was held at Madhatter which was totally unprepared a perfect venue for this scary looking lively bunch.
At the On-On the hashers chatted about the asinine fun things they did on trail.
On-On,
False Advertising
Monday, October 03, 2011
Tuesday, October 14, 2008
RDR Thanks
I've never seen so many packages in all my life.And it aint Christmas people.
How on God's Red Earth did Ugly Naked Guy get in?
And he was dancing around with a sock on "mantown".
Now I know what put a sock on it and bury it in the backyard comes from.Mantown.
Not many women think mantown is beautiful - I certainly didn't see any beautiful mantown graffiti artwork while walking the streets of DC. Mantown never gets trimmed up and shaved because men have not come to know and love a Brazilian bikini wax like most of us. And I know most of you have one question for this fat, old woman with a Brazilian bikini wax - why?Not me sister.
I still search ebay for Nair.
Anyway, I see most of you take the time to really go all out for RDR - get new dresses, new undies, new bras and the like. The thing I crack up in seeing is all the 2 day old man stubble out there. Are most of you men still afraid someone downtown is going to mistake you for a woman? Is that why you don't shave and wear tight dresses so that the mantown package is visible and cannot be mistaken for, oh, I don't know, a genital wart?
The only man I thought could have passed for a woman is All The Way In currently hashing with OTH4. My God, he put most of us women to shame. To shame, I say, to shame. If he swayed his hips just a little more and had a purse, hell, I would have asked him to come home with me, for God's sakes.
Anyway - to Motormouth and company -
that was fabulous!Good job guys!!!!
Dual Airbags
How on God's Red Earth did Ugly Naked Guy get in?
And he was dancing around with a sock on "mantown".
Now I know what put a sock on it and bury it in the backyard comes from.Mantown.
Not many women think mantown is beautiful - I certainly didn't see any beautiful mantown graffiti artwork while walking the streets of DC. Mantown never gets trimmed up and shaved because men have not come to know and love a Brazilian bikini wax like most of us. And I know most of you have one question for this fat, old woman with a Brazilian bikini wax - why?Not me sister.
I still search ebay for Nair.
Anyway, I see most of you take the time to really go all out for RDR - get new dresses, new undies, new bras and the like. The thing I crack up in seeing is all the 2 day old man stubble out there. Are most of you men still afraid someone downtown is going to mistake you for a woman? Is that why you don't shave and wear tight dresses so that the mantown package is visible and cannot be mistaken for, oh, I don't know, a genital wart?
The only man I thought could have passed for a woman is All The Way In currently hashing with OTH4. My God, he put most of us women to shame. To shame, I say, to shame. If he swayed his hips just a little more and had a purse, hell, I would have asked him to come home with me, for God's sakes.
Anyway - to Motormouth and company -
that was fabulous!Good job guys!!!!
Dual Airbags
Monday, October 08, 2007
RDR 2007
If you didn't show up because of last year, you missed out.
RDR is an event.
It was fashion, fun and fabulousness all wrapped up in a shiny shriners club.
There were several from OTH4. Slit Lightning, TBOS, Amber Alert, Waxing Wilbur, Chasing the Beast, 14K, Molly Hatchet, One Pump Chump and Dual Airbags.
We started out at Slit's and Spankers house and walked down the street in our red dress attire to King Street Metro.
And as we should, we attracted alot of attention.
The good, the bad and the ugly was with us.
You try to answer all the questions but then find it's more fun when you leave them guessing. it's fuuny when it's one person all by themselves but a group of crazy attracts attention.
We get on the metro and during the ride Flying Burrito boards the train... in shorts.
AH HA!
He was too scared to walk to the metro in his red dress all by himself. I think if he should have worn his red dress all by himself. People would have made wide berth around him and not bothered him at all. In fact, their thoughts would be something along the lines of, "Look at that crazy mother f*cker."
I know that's what I would have said.
About a month ago we were running at lunch and some crazy dude in a pink tutu came running out of the woods out of no where.
Did we ask him could we help him?
No.
Did we ask him why on God's Pink Earth did he have pink tutu on while running in the woods?
Nope.
Did we bother to ask him if he was ok, even?
Hell no.
What did we do?
We made a wide berth around him and we said, "'Look at that crazy mother f*cker."
At another stop 14k and his pretty pink panties scared the would be passengers and they ran to another car.
I guess the stitching in his panties screaming for mercy scared them.
So we finally arrive at MacPherson Square and take the walk of doom in a red dresses through the throng of DC's homeless. Talk about feeling like a failure in a red dress - if a homeless guy has the drunken cajones to yell that you're ugly should you take it seriously? How about if he tells you you look better than his momma? Where do you draw the line between homeless reality and reality?
Finally the site of someone else in a red dress!!!
So we sign in and are told to head to P2 which happens to be the Party Party room.
And it's like being led into the Happy House at Fairfax hospital - the 4th floor!
Come On In - we know you here!!
There are piles of people you haven't seen in a long time.
Some people look fabulous and more don't.
Let's take about RDR fashion, shall we?
Did anyone take a good look at Strange Ground Chuck?
He's preggers - I'd lay money on it.
You know who had a fabulous purse?
It was I Love Lucy!
Continental Drip.
He had on a babydoll dress made from material with beer glasses all over it.
I'm betting a big amount of money that Vera Wang was not the designer.
And I'd bet that the designer had a beer, a moon pie, and an RC cola and was living in a house made of tin.
Aunt Flow.
What can you say about a Aunt Flow?
I thought she was hot.
The older I get, a good looking cane makes me randy.
Big Bang.
His 6 oclock shadow hanging out of that dress was inspiring.
And when Coin Operated walked up and screamed, "OHHH, we're wearing the same dress!!" and she had boobs hanging out of hers instead of hair,
I would have to say that she did indeed looked a tad better in that dress.
but only because she had boobs.
If she had hairy boobs hanging out of that dress it would have been a landslide.
But then at some point Big Bang and Aunt Flow swapped dresses and I was hot for Big Bang.
Bad Ditch.
H O T.
New Orleans makes em H O T.
Number 2.
Picture it - Drew Carey with his own Drew Carey glasses and a skimpy red dress.
Goose pimply.
Wanks With Wolves.
that woman has some serious boobs hiding behind a seriously hideous house dress.
I was hearing cow bells every time I neared her.
Makes you ponder whay they call those things Moo Moo's.
Hard Drive.
Lovely hat, and fabulous Espirit hand bag.
but frocky. Very frocky.
So Hot I'll Turn You Gay.
Need I say more?
Hermies.
Big, hairy guys in big, saggy diapers is not as cute as when they were ohh, saaayy 6 months old.
In fact, it was downright scary.
And like a car wreck, I kept slowing down to stare.
And Ass Ogre.
Why on Gods green earth did I think he was wearing underwear? He must have kissed me, and hugged me 5 times and while I was eating my dinner on the steps he waved and his dress rode up and his peepee hung out.
Fantesticly funny.
Virgen Avec Mary.
Very cute black hat and stockings.
She is just cute, cute, cute.
PutsItOutSucksMyDick.
Ever wonder what Hugh Hefner would be doing if he ever got out of those pajamas?
Why poeple would be going up to him and saying he looks just like Phil - parasol, funky Minnie Pearl hat and everything!
Wycked Felina!
ggggrrrrrrrrrrr.
She makes 40ish fabulous!
And who could forget the strawberries.
I just wanted to lick them.
All of them.
Lick, lick, lick.
Speaking of licking - I have never seen so much motorboating in all my life! Titly Winks was very good at it. She hoisted up Wanks With Wolves' boobies, got them in the right position and it sounded like an outboard motor in a big, old, tin trash bin!!
Man - she's good at that.
I was jealous.
She would have motorboated me she said but my boobs hadn't seen perky since I was 5.
Apparently she has scruples about who's boobs she's gonna put her face in.
Humph.
Wowo.
Any man that can wear a wrap around dress without waxing his chest is a man I'll sleep with.
14k.
he's a handsome woman, in too short, too tight dress.
Listen 14k, did we not just discuss this Friday night?
Lycra and fat do SO go together like peanut butter and jelly.
You wear it good, guurlll.
Suck Cock for Crack.
I want to run my hands through that thick, dark, hair.
It reminds me Elvis and Wayne Newton all wrapped up in tall, dark and handsome.
Yum. and me.
yummie.
Full Metal Balls.
Could go running through the streets nakid for all I care. I've seen him naked all my life and I swear, he gets better lookin every time.
And Hows Her Bush.
Ever been to Myrtle Beach?
They have a "Drag Show Theater" and I think he's the main attraction.
Jag Queen.
Some Pepto Bismal bottle is missing it's pepto.
And Boy Toy's dress.
tsk tsk tsk.
Someone's bagpipes are naked.
It was miles of plaid gone bad.
"Plaid Boy, Plaid Boy Whatcha gonna do? Watcha gonna do when the Scotman comes for you?"
Ah yes.
We could go on and on and on.
But who am I, Joan Rivers?
Fun.
It was fun.
A best dressed contest in the house of the homeless?
What could be funner than 500 people in red dresses in the middle of a city park on a beautiful Saturday afternoon? And we're trying to have a contest?
Idiots really.
But watching idiots IS fun!
That's why I go to work every Monday morning!
We walked by the White House and all the protesters in Lafayette park.
We stopped traffic and posed for pictures for all the tour buses!
We gave head through the iron bars of the stairway at the beer check
(ok, that was only one chick giving head to one fella but it was fun to watch.
Although peni are ugly. Especially one you don't know personally).
I never saw so much beer chugging by women in all my life. It was like a frat party with no frats.
Just bras.
And lots of them.
All over the place - even the men were wearing them.
And motorboating.
Everywhere.
At any moment.
I think it's an olympic competition now.
Back at the Shriners the DJ had everyone grooving on the dance floor.
Fabulousness.
If you can combine fashion and fun so flwalessly then you get fabulousness.
And who knows fablulousness better than WoWo?
no one.
Good job Wowo.
It was FUN!
On On
Dual Airbags
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