Date: November 16, 1997
Hares: Leisure Suit Larry, Yellow Pants, and Late Cummer
Location: Vienna Metro Overflow, aptly named
As some younger folk say, WAY COOL! And so it was. The hares had selected a gathering point rather like the Siberian steppes, but covered with wind-whipped asphalt. Certainly was a lot colder than it looked from my living room, or from the comfort of the car. Ungloved, libation-fogged, substitute scribe begs indulgence.
Note date! Morning after the Wagner Brothers' party. Unsurprising that the assembled pack looked peaked. Many stalwarts missing.
Spinal Tap observed Breathless performing strange warmup gyrations with a local lamp pole, so summoned him to lead in Father Abraham. The breathless one "led" about fifty hashers in jumping jacks, later variously described as "bad" to "worst ever" FA performance by those afflicted.
A strange foreboding settled over those about to hash, as hares announced that 32 lbs. of flour had been largely blown away. In a ragged start, the pack split into hapless tendrils seeking sustenance to come only later. The many false trails promised by the hares soon materialized, with scribe and others meandering through a leaf-covered rivulet formerly an asphalted path. Back on trail, the pack wound through an apartment complex and the maze of northern Virginia suburbia.
Ragin' Cajun was to be seen towed by Untrained, an advantage in the non-competitive world of hashing. Stool Sample continued to hit ineffectively (or was our attention wandering) on various virgins. An unnamed person was leashed to a canine POT by Merlin. Writing of which, Motel Sex performed a highly visible, and risible, POT on a tree.
Athletic feats followed, with Missed Erections executing a light-speed bridge crossing followed by a graceful pratfall on a beauteous behind. Best equipped was Champagne Charlie, sporting at least three Nordic bottle openers. Best dressed was Cyclops, whose wondrous jacket had something to do either with beauty or with shoes, according to the logo on the back. Drink stop soon followed, with Russian water featuring slices of lime.
Onwards into the wild. Those hashers complaining about lack of nature soon experienced trees, rocks, and barbed wire -- which left Just Dave with two colorful knees. A culvert splash through endless continuous cold water seemed excessive, until the end when Leisure Suit Larry cackled maniacally that he'd only too late found one so low that we'd have been forced to crawl through. (Perhaps LS's two smaller companions had induced him to have mercy; they were the object of much appreciative attention later ...)
Sustained by cold beer from a chirping beer van (just what was needed after the cold and wet, cold and wet ...), devoted drinkers faced Road Kill's Revenge: RK himself, seemingly under attack by a magnificently furry creature on his head. A hat? Think of that.
And so, as the sun set all too rapidly in the west, the bedraggled but defiant band raced, walked, and straggled up a series of suburban hills toward the beer-near. Ever thoughtful Spits It Out made his usual, helpful chalk marks (without which I and others sometimes would never have made an on-on-on). Somewhat confused by the suburban maze, Ich Liebe Dick asked passers-by how to find the on-on-on, near "Hooters." "Looking for a job?" they asked, and added to her already extensive English vocabulary. AS IF!
Circle and down-downs were shortened by weather and weariness. Hares and whining about the cold got down-downs. Quickest and most elegant change into dry clothes goes to Trojan. Cyclops, as Religious Advisor, bore a down-down with meteorological stoicism. Announcements were brief and wind-borne. All soon adjourned to the Patriot Cafe, where one hasher said wonderingly: "the sports fans are wilder than we are!"
Virgins:
| Name | Who Made Them Come | Temporary Hash Name |
|---|---|---|
| Jennifer | Stroke Straddle Hurl & Armadildo |
Experienced Virgin |
| Lisa | "My husband made me" | All in the Family |
| Ben | "Came on my own" | Doesn't Get Any |
| Mark | "My girl made Me" | Shrivel Dick |
On On, Breathless
We Need You The White House Hash is looking for new members of mis-managment. If you have good or bad ideas or would like to lend a hand see anyone in the present mis-management (check out the header on the first page). The next mis-managment take-over will occur at the X-Mas party.
| Run # | Date | Hares / Details |
|---|---|---|
| 565 | Nov 30 | Ragin' Cajun and Oval Orifice |
| 566 | Dec 7 | Pearl Harbor Day Hash; Roxy Moron, Hawaiian Puke, and Hidden Assets |
| 567 | Dec 14 | Cums On A Wimp and Bundling Board |
| 568 | Dec 21 | Had A Madam; National Christmas Tree, the Ellipse (like, in front of Bill and Hillary's house) |
| 570 | Dec 28 | Cyclops and ?? |
January hashes - looking for hares; see Great Balls Of Fire droidwh4@aol.com
White House Hash X-Mas Party and 569th - Saturday and Sunday, January 17 & 18, 1998. Forest Glenn Ball Room, Walter Reed Annex. There is a limit of 200 wankers (military regs) so get your $$ in early. Details and registration to follow shortly (White House time)