1090 - September 24, 2006

WH4 Trail #1090 -- September 24, 2006
Location: Dupont Circle
Hares: Test Tube Baby, Spinal Tap, Bad Ditch, Just Angela
OnOnOn: The Big Hunt
Ad-Hoc GM: Jackoff Lantern
Virgins: Just Jodi, Just Fritz, Just Chris, Just Margaret, Just Anna, Just Janet
Visitors: Too Loose to Screw (Chicago H3), Red Rabbit (Okinawa H3), Indiana Bones
and the Tampon of Doom (Colombo H3), Assfinder (Colombo H3)
Beer Bitch: Just Libby

Check? What’s a check? The hares apparently forgot that not everyone is training to run up K2, and gave us this lovely abomination of a trail. Who knew you could run uphill for so long and not leave the District (or find beer, for that matter)?

Jack Off Lantern, as the stand-in Wang, kicked things off and had his way with the virgins and visitors. The hares led us in a (mostly) spirited rendition of “Father Abraham”, and the pack was off, with the FRBs never to be seen again. The trail headed up 18th Street, and it was by far the straightest thing in Dupont Circle. For the first mile and a half, we changed direction exactly 1 time. WTF? When did I sign up for DC Roadrunners?

A brief shiggy encounter raised everyone’s spirits, albeit temporarily, when we realized an afternoon at the zoo—entirely uphill, zig-zagging through tourists, suburbanites, and screaming kids—was ahead. Hares, here’s a hint: if you have to mark a Water Check on your trail before we get to beer, your trail is too fricking long. Two Water Checks is God damned inexcusable. Are you all in the Temperance Society or something? The substitute scribe got a little dizzy at this point from lack of alcohol. Or he was just too busy checking out Mother May I’s backside, ‘cause all he remembers is going uphill, some pointless alleys, and no beer.

Just beyond the 3 mile mark, we encountered a turkey/eagle split. The overachievers went down under the bridge on the eagle trail, and got soaked for their efforts, while the rest of the lazy bastards were just dying to put their lips on a beer and traversed the bridge. Alas, we finally found beer at the Spanish Steps, but not before Purple Peter Eater’s dog expressed his opinion on the shittyness of the trail, emptying the contents of his stomach next to SSBB.

By this point (4 miles or so on the runners trail), Spinal Tap figured out how to get out of Dupont Circle, and led the walkers three blocks to the score.

After the BC, most everyone was ready to just get drunk. We ran the last uneventful mile eastward to the On-In and proceeded to drink heavily.




Analversaries—Cheese Whiz celebrated her 25th

Long-Time-No-See’ers—Anus Louganis, Indiana Bones, Monday Sticky Monday, Tie Me Down Metro Dancer, Assfinder, Butt Brown Ale, Chicken Fucker, Fruit of the Poon, KY Belly, Pro Boner, and Reach Around

Violations—Pond Scrum and Assfinder sported beautiful new running shoes, and kindly demonstrated how to drink out of them. REV decided to take a piss in Rock Creek—much to the dismay of Tie Me Down Metro Dancer and other harriettes downstream. Shame on you, Tie Me Down, for not appreciating a free golden shower. Purple Peter Eater’s dog defecated on trail, and then vomited next to SSBB at the beer check. You know what they say about a dog adopting his owner’s traits…. Just Al is completely raceist, having run a 5k to warm up for this shitty trail. Spinal Tap, as a walker’s hare, spent a considerable amount of time trying to find his way out of Dupont Circle. Never mind he had a map. And plenty of walkers who could have guided the pack, if only they knew where they were supposed to go. Next week, Spinal Tap will try to hash his way out of a paper bag.

Hashit—The nominees for the hashit this week were:

*Mudflap, who was sucking cock so fast, his face caught on fire
*Butt Brown Ale. The mere thought of lesbianism, or women having sex for that matter, made him vomit.
*Poodle Fucked, for taking Cheese Whiz off the market (you bastard).
*Cheese Whiz, for accepting Poodle Fucked’s proposal in a moment of weakness. That’ll teach you to compete in endurance sports.
*Indiana Bones and the Tampon of Doom for not being fast or funny. There’s a place for people like you, and it’s called Sri Lanka.

Mudflap should have won hands-down, but last time he was awarded the hashit, asshole didn’t show up for another six months. Thus, we had to award the hashit to someone else. And who can resist Butt Brown Ale, anyway?

Naming—Just Sara is in (very) public relations. She bears a red ribbon tramp stamp, to complement her perfect 34C tits. Her career-defining PR moment, though, came when she had sex with a rabbit on the toilet at Guapo’s. Thus, she was christened Peter Cock-in-Tail.

I have no confidence that you wankers will learn a damn thing from any of this.

Lack-of-self-respect-fully submitted,

Poop Weiner