For discessio and Indicium call 202-PUD-JAM0/202-232-HASH

Warning: Bibo ergo sum, y'all.

It took me nearly half an hour to find a parking spot and dash to the National Sculpture Garden to help with sign-in. Blows My Mind joined me as I neared my destination; we elbowed our way through the crowd of tourists with few casualties. RA WhereDaFaKhawe was doing early duties signing in hashers and extorting their money, and by 3PM EDT we were entertaining a small group of virgins, visitors, and infrequent hashers.

Titanic soon arrived to assume her usual spot with registration, bragging about the great parking spot she scored. Shitty Shitty Bang Bang had a good spot right on Independence, but lepus Ivy Licker, driving the bag car, was not so lucky. She had to circle the block several times, each time pausing long enough for the swifter hashers to dart into the street, stow their bags, and rush the curb. Her co-lepus, Major "I told them it was too long" Gerbil Squeezer was giving brief Latin lessons designed to impart enough Latin to the pack that they could solve the checks, all written in Latin. Does that make him a cunning linguist? Nah. He's still trying to make us forget about the death march he led us on earlier in the month, and promises this trail will be much shorter.

By 3PM WH4T, there were enough hashers to circle up and go. Brew crew Barney's Bitch, Steers 'N Queers, and Virgin A/Mary migrated with SSBB to the beer stop, garbage bag still tied to the door handle.

The first check proved no challenge, but the second sent the entire pack running in all directions. There was a lot of flour in the area, but all eventually led to BTs. Well Drilled was seen heading south on 7th St., Respectable Testicle south on 6th St. We whistled them back when trail was found through the Smithsonian gardens. The nice guard at the garden gate put a quick end to the running and kicked Poodle F*cked and his dog out at least once. GBOF, Goomba and I took the long way around, but quickly were back on flour.

Somewhere on the mall the flour and chalk sorta mingled with the trash and other white stuff, so I followed Goofy, Tastes Like Chalk, and Missed Erections back to Constitution where we found meaningful white powder leading toward the White House. Near the ellipse we chanced upon a check; Tastes Like Chalk ended up on true trail but couldn't hear our RUs because of his walkman. Must have been the Packers.

Speedy Edy joined us for the remainder of our BT hunt around the high fences skirting Bubba's domus. Throngs of sluggish tourists blocked our path, but a few hearty "ON ON"s sent them for cover. We crossed Pennsylvania Ave. with the assistance of two policemen on bike patrol. At the next intersection, one of them stopped the shifty Goofy and was overheard pointing out areas where a beer stop decidedly would not be welcome. It started out something like this: "I don't know who you are, and I never know where you're going ... " I would like to be able to report the rest of that conversation but we abandoned Goofy when the light changed.

We ran down I St. and were crossing 12th St. when we spotted Shitty Shitty Bang Bang in an alley dispensing refreshment. As the normal FRBs sprinted in it became apparent that we had cut off a significant portion of the trail. We faced a serious consequence to shortcutting: did we miss the shooter stop or was it yet to come? It was yet to come, sometime in the future, definitely not this week because Big Dick No Brain forgot to bring them. Luckily for him Mitey Tite's in this hash, or he could have ended up with the hashit.

Word leaked out that the trail ended in the same location as the beer stop. WDKF offered two options: 1) continue on trail and return to the current location, and 2) stay and drink. Holey Tit and Cumbaya were the only takers for option 1.

After Beer Bitch Just Amber had had ample time to charge the pitchers and the vessels, circle was started by Biggus Birdiem Turdiest and WDFK. Hares Ivyus Lickum and Majorus Disappointus drank twice: once for today's trail, and once for the Marine Corpse trail that nearly killed 2/3 of the pack.

Then the virgos were introduced:

Virgos Qui adigit venint Cognomen

Jay Self Self-gratification

Ben Self Navy in the Bilge

Eric Milk Me 2 I'll Milk Her

Richard Milk Me 2 Any Available Hole

Our virgo and virginis counts appear to be down since the back-to-back death marches...

And the salutatio:

A harriette I whose name I missed, and Bitch-B-Gone from BVDH3 (FL). Did he vote in person or by absentee ballot? Either way, he earned an extra down-down, for which he was joined by Mitey Tite, Dean of the Electoral College. Wouldn't we all like to have a job that requires us to work one day every four years?

Mitey Tite is not the only photogenic hasher. Barney's Bitch was photographed by the DC traffic cameras taking SSBB on an illegal turn, for which he was ticketed. I guess since he doesn't live in the District and his handsome mug bears a striking resemblance to #2 (go figure), #2 got the ticket. So all Brew Crew drank. And all Media Sluts. And all Tits. And all GMs.

Anniversarius: For Sale Or Rent - 250

Other violations:

Bite Me Elmo - m*rathon; Big Bang - failing to provide the beer stop at BME's m*rathon; Bitch Be Gone - Florida Absentee voter; Short Bus Bitch and Snatch Shot - mud wrestling without mud; Tastes Like Chalk - wearing his walkman on trail so he wouldn't have to listen to the locals; Just Ben - wearing a Greek shirt on a Latin hash; Poodle F*cked and Had A Madam - paying in quarters; Albatross - taking the quarters in change; Holey Tit and Cream Me - finally showing up (Latecomer wannabees); Just Dawn - fashion statement; Just Richard - Cinderella.

All the Justs* came into the circle for their down-down, and Just Marty was singled out for a name. Too bad for JM - he had already changed into his dry clothes. Suggestions included: Needs Some, Any Cock 'l Do (Holey Tit, as if you couldn't guess), Slum Lord, Well Laid Carpet, Beef Jerky, and Rug Muncher. Henceforth and forevermore in the White House Hash House Harriers, and throughout the world of hashing, he will be known as Office Deep Ho (thanks, Duck Job).

*We have two Just Alans in WH4, which is our limit. Until we name one or both, we can't accept any more. Amazingly, both started hashing at the Beer Witch trail and still returned for more hashing.

Well Drilled announced the upcoming Full Moon (which is now history), and Raise My Titanic announced that the movie Titanic was being broadcast at 7PM, for which she had to drink.

Mitey Tite was renamed Mitey Tite and awarded the Hashit.

Swing Low was sung and the hash adjourned to John Harvard's where, depending on who's managing the place, hashers are either granted discounts or barely tolerated. There were no discounts.

Gratuitous mention: Grape Nuts

Receding Hare Line:

Dec. 10: KY Belly and Fag. How did this happen? Don't you remember the last time these two hared together, the Beer Witch Half M*rathon? When do we get a new hareraiser?

Dec. 17: Had A Madam and his elves: Toys4Tots. Bring an unwrapped toy.

White House Christmas Party: Saturday, January 27. There are a limited number of tickets, so register now, or at least as soon as the registrations are on the web site.