Who came: Groundhog Lay, Shop 'n Fuck, Gay Matthews Lamb, Menage à None, Cause for Blindness, Flounder, Just John, Pablow Picauschwitz, Sideshow Bobjob, 2 in the Sink None in the Pink, Chorizo Curtains, White Cliffs, Just Edgar, Gag Reflex, Cock Master & Commander, Hugh Heifer, Vaginacologist, Just Joe, Hole Patrol, Punani Purri, Donald Dick, Urine Luck, Tits of Steel, Manual Fiesta, Barbara Bush, Penetration is Elementary, Just Janelle, Just Andrew, Just Catherine, Just Dave, Can You Hear Me Now, CMen++, Fannypacker plus several other half-minds that really need to make it a point to be more memorable.
Trail: One of these days I'm going to have to start paying attention to things like which directions the streets run in this town and what the streets are actually named. Today is not that day. After chalk talk the Mob, all clad in their finest white duds, headed away from Coco's in an indeterminate direction along the road which I'm certain is named Something St.
Several exceptionally well and/or poorly placed checks, backchecks, and falses later saw the pack run northsouth along Westeast Avenue before rounding the corner onto Broad Street (I know that one) and right into the Díner en Blanc. Instead of following the trail our hares intended which would've had us zig-zagging through the maze of tables, performers, police officers, wasted ponchos and cheese plates the pack came to a halt in front of the event and just sort of milled about for an uncomfortable period of time. Eventually some person with exceptional leadership qualities called, "On-on!" and took the Mob straight through the center of the event to cheers and applause from the multitude of fancy people. The mummers did not look pleased with us.
Reaching the far end of the dinner had the pack, again, in a semi-state of confusion partially as a result of listening to that unknown hasher who clearly has a serious lack of leadership qualities. The Mob then took off down Road Street Dr. while I hung out waiting to hear if anyone actually saw trail and totally not just using the excuse to catch my breath. After losing most of the pack I ended up meandering awkwardly back around the periphery of Díner en Blanc with Cause, Flounder, Auschblow Picholewitz and Chorizo Curtains. Gone were the raucous applause, replaced with sideways glances and quizzical looks that asked, "are these people supposed to be here at our special party?" We eventually got back on track after it was suggested that the pack might've been heading for Mob favorite McGillin's and some rando said, "They went that way." One last cut through the whitest party ever and we were off down Another Rd. NE
We arrived at McGillin's to find the rest of the Mob already upstairs enjoying some frosty beers and bothering people who were way too into a preseason Eagles game. After an always exciting round of "Find All the Pictures of Cause that adorn the walls of the Olde Ale House" and a sweet group photo we headed out into the alley so that the hares could tell us wait wait not yet damnit give us a few minutes. After giving them a few minutes damnit and Donald Dick lecturing me on the history of indoor tennnis the pack headed down an alley which I am positive doesn't actually have a name and came out on to Mapleoakspruce Way.
Trail was followed up a block, over a block, then straight ahead for a bit until the pack realized that nobody had seen marks for some time. At this point, as people started to backtrack to find trail, a half dozen or so poor souls decided to throw in the towel and head on-in. Those who forged onward (backward?) and found trail were treated to a very very nearby beer check #2 at Brü which just so happens to share its back alley with McGillin's. More beer was enjoyed while Punani got way too into children being bad at baseball. Empty cans were stacked high as the pack eventually filed out of Brü for a short on-in back to Coco's for circle.
Hares: Gay Matthews Lamb + Shop'n'Fuck
Virgins: Just Joe by way of Urine Luck and Just Andrew who was made to come by Hugh Heifer.
First in / Last in: Dude who's name I didn't catch because I wasn't paying attention and Cause.
Visitors: Hugh Heifer from D.C. EWH3 on the longest visit ever and poor homeless Just Edgar.
Autohashers: Can You Hear Me Now, Sideshow Bobjob, Fannypacker, and Cmen++
Accusations: What follows is confused and inaccurate.
2 in the Sink None in the Pink managed to trick the entire Mob to dress like him for a day, Donald Dick roused the ire of security, someone noticed Gag Reflex's brand spankin' new shoes for which he'd pay dearly later, and Can You Hear Me Now cheated on the Mob. Groundhog Lay was sporting a set of tits to rival Tits of Steel's, Cause For Blindness complained that there was far too much beer as if there could ever be such a thing, Menage a None did some shit, and Chorizo Curtains got called out for being too good to be seen with the rest of us in Circle. Just Catherine..drank too much of something I can only decipher as "cholletas" from my terrible notes, Barbara Bush rocked some black shorts, Penetration is Elementary dreamed of overseas hashing and Hugh Heifer attempted suicide by SEPTA.
2 in the Sink knits? Just Catherine had a wardrobe change on trail. Urine Luck brought a 14 year old to the hash so naturally he and his boy companion had to drink which dragged in the other virgins. Sideshow commissioned gag for some custom undies then shot him down. Urine Luck looked like a gay Chippendale and 2 in the Sink down-downs like a drinking bird. Just Morgan could've gone to DEB, Punani was still too into Little League baseball, and Hole Patrol critiqued another hasher's running form. Shop failed in his duty to share spank stories. Donald Dick thinks we want to watch squash while Chorizo Curtains actually watched squash. Cause has Alzheimers, something about Urine Luck's shitty bow-tie, and I apparently looked thirsty.
After accusations were over it was time for Flounder to get his well deserved 124th side-side from our lovely harriettes. Someone was kind enough to hold a pitcher under Flounder's head to catch any precious beer that slid down his face as he was bounced along on his side-side. Following the side-side it was time for Gag Reflex to shoot the boot from his snazzy new shoes that were noticed earlier. The nearest beer was grabbed which, unknown to him, just so happened to be the pitcher containing Flounder's face-beer. Some people might say that I'm a bad person for not warning Gag that he was about to down-down a mixture of warm face-beer and Flounder-sweat. Those people would be absolutely correct.
Taco? I Barely Know Her