Goin’ down to Dupont, gonna have myself a time…. Friendly faces everywhere, humble folks without temptation…. That is, until certain WH4 temptresses arrived, such as Czech My Boosh, Necro Feel My Ass, Watch Her Blow and Tip Her Whip Her – I was tempted to do all of the above!  Dupont Circle was actually somewhat gloomy as we were showing up, probably because of the news that Ellen Degeneres and Anne Heche split up, the biggest gay dumping since Satan told Saddam to get out of hell! The fruit loop locals were all lifeless and mopey-faced initially, but then US Boobs and Oral Report reminded them that Richard, the fat naked fag from Survivor, had shafted everyone else on the island.  Then, as we sang Father Abe, you should have seen the excited onlookers watching Circle Jerk bend over for “heave ho!” By the time we finished, a rainbow had appeared bringing cheer to everyone.  In fact there were rainbows everywhere: rainbow shirts, shorts, headbands, umbrellas, bumper stickers and even rainbow Regis ties.

Then we were on-on, running out of the circle down P St. We ran past some old historic church, which Semen on the Pew avoided like the plague since the priests from the last church are still furious.  Then we ran through some residential areas in Dupont, and then past the DC North American Man Boy Love Association (NAMBLA) chapter where several older men were desperately trying to get Test Tube Baby’s attention, to which he responded “screw you guys, I’m hashing!”.  I’m not sure if that rebuffed them or encouraged them. The trail came to a P-check, which meant, according to the hares, that female hashers had to do the checks (P standing for “pussy”…if you have one, you can do the check.)  But the FRB’s, Dumb and Dumber and Harem Scarem blew right through it. duckjob yelled ahead “that was a P-check you pussies!  Chicks are supposed to do P-checks!  You guys are pussies! You will respect my Authori-tie!”

Then we came to a check at the intersection of New Hamphire, S St, 17th St and Swann St. where the trail could have gone at least 10 different directions!  Befuddled hashers went in every direction but couldn’t find true trail.  Just as the wankers were about to kill the hares, Never Saw Him Coming reminded everyone that Holy Tit is Canadian and Canadians f*ck their uncles and fart a lot, so we should blame Holy Tit, not the hares.   Just as it seemed utterly hopeless, Cyclops asked himself, “What would Brian Boitano Do?” to which Latin Analyst replied, “I'm sure he'd kick an ass or two, that's what Brian Boitano'd do!”  Then she cleverly backtracked and ran to the right and picked up true trail.  This led the pack straight to the beer stop, which was at the Spanish Steps off of Decatur.  The Brew Crew, Big Bird Turd and Jail House Cock had beer ready for the pack of thirsty wankers.  Thanks, guys!

Then we started the second half of the trail.  For some reason Major Disappointment was carrying Crafty and then when he put him down, Snatch Shot decided she wanted to be carried, and jumped onto Crafty. Major Disappointment wanted to join the party, so he piled on too, but his fat ass was too big! Crafty was crushed flat as a pancake with blood and guts spurting out of his head.  Oh my God, they killed Crafty!

The trail went down Mass Ave, past several embassies, down to Sheridan Circle and across the Q St. bridge. As we were running across the bridge, Finger Pickin’ Good was running under it yelling ON-ON like crazy!  The pack found the trail down to a check at the Rock Creek Park bike path, and BullSh*t led the pack left, despite seeing and hearing Finger Pickin’ Good go right.  Soon enough they were heading back from the BT, and the trail went back up the hill and across the P St. bridge.  From there, the trail went straight to the P Street Beach and ON-IN, after well less than a mile from the beer stop.  Yank Me Out was visibly disturbed and said “F*ck this trail is short!”  Perk-a-set overheard and reprimanded him not to say f*ck any more because f*ck is the worst word that you can say! Just use the word mmmkay! Mmmkay?

The Circle

There were more VIRGINS this week than there are at most high school proms (even before the prom!)  They were Just John, Just Kathryn, Just Keith, Just Amy, Just Minnie, Just Brandi, Just Gita, Just Christine,  Just Andrew, Just Kerri, Just Leslie, Just Jennifer, Just Janine, Just Jim, Just Marshall, Just Jamie, Just Him (that’s actually his name, not just something I made up because I forgot), Just Her and Just Whats-his-face (okay, I made up those last two).  Now that y’all’ve lost your virginity, you should cum again and cum often.

Our VISITORS this week were Bottom Feeder (San Francisco), Mr. Bob Dovalino (I don’t know where he came from, but wherever it is, they sure have creative hash names), Cat Snatch Fever (Ohio), and Sticky Throttle (Ohio).  The Long Time No Seers were Cun Troll, Telecum, and Goolush.  They had been gone so long they thought Tits Ahoy was still Raise my Titanic and Oh!FeelYaButts was still Dangerously Close.  Other LTNS’ers were Breathless, Heat Seeking Moisture Missile, Das Beaver, and Watch Her Blow.  Great to see you!

Short Bus Bitch and Semen on the Pew were presented with their MUG CLUB mugs for having run 25 runs with WH4.  Awww, it seems like just yesterday when they lost their virginity!  Other Analversaries were: Latin Analyst—50, Celtic Climax—50, Holy Tit-75, Kiel Bastard--100 for the second week in a row.  Last weeks was just a practice run, and this time we had his mug for him.  And when one hare drinks, all hares drink (twist my arm!) Mellow Foreskin Cheese is the leader of the get a life club with 250 runs with WH4.  Jesus H. Christ, that’s like 5 years of non stop hashing.

There were NO SOLEMN OCCASIONS, but we tried to name Just Gemma, but the hash was extremely lame and could not come up with anything, (some of us liked World Sperm Bank) so WDFK sent her back to the crowd.

Finally, the Hash-it was given to Missing Rubber for wearing brand spanking new shoes, although for some reason he did not have to drink out of them.  I think he had hidden them or something, and even though this was the shortest Monday hash of the year, it was still pitch black so we sang Swing Low and headed to the ON-ON-ON at Buffalo Billiards.