IN BEER WE TRUST
WHITE HOUSE HASH HOUSE HARRIERS

Run #636
Valentine's Day Hash

Location:13th & L Streets, NW, DC

A View from the Pack: The Front, the Middle, the Rear, and the Side!

Well folks. This week's trash is going to be very brief. Please stop your cheering. The only scribe who did not go to Mardi Gras, and that was I. [On- Sec note: Well, actually For Sale or Rent didn't go to Mardi Gras and was actually seen r*nning with the pack on the first half of the trail! More on that later...]

Of course, being that it was Sunday it was DAMN cold. The hares, in an effort to force us to celebrate Valentine's Day marked their trail with heart shaped checks (is that just so gosh darn warm and fuzzy?) and bad trail with broken hearts. Having been on numerous bad trail this day, I would have loved to have broken something. Not their hearts., those blackhearted bastards.

Spits It Out did a fine job as stand in Religious Advisor with a relatively enthusiastic version of Father Abe.

Off we went. Let me state here, for the record, the scribe can't recall specifics about the run, such as what street the went down, so let's hit the highlights as the scribe recalls them.

• Running!
• Look a Check!! In the shape of a heart (gag!)
• More running!
• The hare, Eats Me For Breakfast, headed down a side street the pack, like lemmings continue straight, make a left through a courtyard.
• The hare, come from behind the pack yelling- "Where are you going?? Obviously the wrong way.
• The pack backtracks, down the street the hare went down. Find nothing but bad trail, including a trail down the ramp into the parking garage.
• Milling about ensues, people take off higgidley-piggidely know one knows where to go. Folks take off and go where ever their hearts lead them.
• Phone Sachs and Pulls Out Early go straight. The original direction the pack had been heading. And low an behold!! We discover flour.
• Shouts to the rear and hashing ensues.
• We run. At some point the scribe is in front with Fag. Something is seriously wrong if Fag is out front (not to mention something is terribly wrong if the scribe is out front!)
• We're on trail, we're off trail. We run up Constitution Ave. (its up hill. Goomba, Pulls Out Early and the Scribe are now in the back of the pack).
• We go across the Mall. We hit 15^th street.
• The Scribe, tired of running with the hash-shit attempts to hand it off to a homeless fellow. Just because he's homeless, he's not stupid. He refuses the honor. The Scribe, cold, tired, hungry and sore watches the end of the pack run off into the sunset, and hightails it back to the beginning, which is also the end.

WAKE UP! I told you this was going to be short.

Somewhere in there was a Love Potion #69 Stop. But alas, the scribe along with 40 of her closest running companions was finding it difficult to FIND the trail, so therefore we missed it. It was reported to this scribe, by a really cute young man with blond hair that the Love Potion #69 was really really tasty.

[A note from your On-Sec about the walker's trail: Yes, the walkers had two (count 'em, 2!) hares on the walker's trail. And a damn good thing too, since it wasn't marked. Exhibit A&B left our group temporarily to make a quick detour into Capitol City Brewing Company but returned so quickly we suspect it wasn't for a beer. Then somewhere between a street musician playing an off-key version of "I'm In The Mood For Love" and the beer check, we spotted Hymen Dickover running alone through the streets of DC in his lovely red slip and feather hat, off-trail and going the wrong way. We whistled him back and he sure seemed to appreciate the attention.

Then after the beer check, For Sale Or Rent took a short cut with the walkers through the West Wing of the National Museum of Art - who would of thought hashing could be so cultural? While we all got in a group photo shot at the fountain inside, For Sale Or Rent was busy losing her sunglasses in the women's room. So we abandoned her to the runners' trail and headed for the Metro to the Love Potion #69 check. Metro hashing? You bet! Hey, even with all the short cuts we took, we were still on trail 1 hour and 40 minutes.]

The Circle

Again Spits It Out fills in for Mardi Grasing White House Mismanagers, as does Rude Boy, by running the circle.

The Virgins: The virgins were an independent lot this day. Many cumming on their own; and we all know what that means:

The Hashshit was awarded to Leaky Tampon for the lame-o reason of not paying attention.

Violators included:

• Dumb and Dumber, for peeing against the parking garage door and making the door go up.
• Stool Sample and The Body for getting engaged (just wait til the alcohol wears off).
• And possibly more, but hey, who was paying attention (certainly not Leaky Tampon).

We also named a virgin. Good Lord. See what happens when the regularly scheduled MisManagement leaves town?

Alex, who was brought to us by Stroke Me Gently, should find new friends. Apparently Stroke Me Gently told everyone how Alex was really drunk; took off his pants and let them play ringtoss with Mardi Gras beads and his manhood.

Some of the names we came up for him were Ring-around-the-Rosary, Beaded Staff, and Insufficient Assets, which actually was the name we all seemed to approve of. But when Alex took off his shirt, he was, well, how shall I say, endowed with a chest of sorts and it was cold... well you get the picture, so to the chants of "NiceTits" he was named thusly and will forever be called in the name of hashing,

We also made a virgin drink out of new shoes, which is just wrong.

And that's ‘bout it folks.

The scribe assures all those who live to read the trash, that next week's will be far more entertaining, creative and, again, based totally on her own hallucinations.

Wearing her heart on her sleeve... ONoN Bite Me Elmo

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