#1222 Carter Barron Tennis Center December 7, 2008. The “My Balls are Frozen” Hash

Hares: Tit-ly Winks, Mount My Rear, Obeastiologist
Brew Crew: And Hows Her BushBeer Bitch: Tony Panda
Virgins: None
Visitors: Avalanche (Dewey Beach H3), Mommy’s Little Scrotum (Orange County H3)

December 7, 2008. A date which will live in relative ignominy. OK, it was cold, but it definitely wasn’t the coldest hash White House has ever seen. And though there will be colder hashes later this winter, it’s still worth pointing out that it was the first hash of this winter season in which ice chips were observed floating in the down-down mugs. As Cock-a-doodle-do-me pointed out, if Miller Lite wasn’t so damn watery, we wouldn’t have had that problem. Actually, freezing some of the water out may have helped with the taste. And the alcohol percentage. The bitter cold may also have had a visible effect on hashers: besides packages shrinking to half their size, brain activity seemed to be even slower than normal, as evidenced by the shenanigans recorded.

Violations:
F=MA: Joining the Polar Bear Club a mere five minutes into trail by falling into an icy Rock Creek. Then to add insult to injury, his shoelaces froze together.
Your friendly stunt scribe: For stupidly calling F=MA the wrong name (George Stuft an Octopus). Twice!
Hares: Thanks for using plenty of flour to mark trail, but why go through all that effort and then not bother to mark a damned “X” on false trails. Also, flagged for unnecessary and gratuitous use of gravity by getting one-third of the runners’ pack to fall down during the first descent. Ten-yard penalty. Repeat Down-down.
Extra Meat Hold the Vagina: Marking your hash mug to avoid confusion is good. Using a business card from your place of employment and featuring your nerd name is a down-down.
EZ Pass: Ignored weather forecasts and common sense by wearing Capri pants to the hash. Then she made Electric Slide give up her oh-so-warm wool knee-high socks so she wouldn’t be so cold. What are friends (and sexual favors) for?
Wooly Mammaries: Good: showing a nice little video of a play to some kids in the hospital. Bad: Recording over part of a perfectly good porno to make the aforementioned video. Down-down: Not pressing stop in time when actually showing it at the hospital.
Toby: Picking on someone much larger than him at the beer check. Thankfully, no one got hurt. Well, no one except Obeastiologist. (Seriously, all the dogs were OK afterwards)
Misty: Rolling in dog feces (hopefully not her own) just before the hash.
Queerly I’m Straight: Unwittingly petting Misty 17 seconds later.
Bob Boblaw and Knee Deep Pussy High: Showing up to the hash two hours late, just in time to change clothes in the parking lot before circle.
Tony Panda: What good is a beer bitch if he can’t figure out how to pour frozen beer?
Army dudes: Guilt by association for Army suffering a 34-0 ass whipping in the Army-Navy game.

With no Hash-it present, circle was wrapped up with the fastest rendition of Swing Low, ever. Then it was on-on-on to the Camino Real on Georgia Avenue for some much needed warmth, muchas cervezas, really tasty Salvadoran food, and Latina waitresses in impossibly short miniskirts.

On On,
Jefe Lengua