BFM #10
Posted on April 29, 2004
29 April 04: Yes, there was a concantenation of recreational r*nning mavens on the pentultimate day of the month of showers, in an establishment of comestibles in a venerable portion of the city of brotherly love.
Translation:
The Ben Franklin Mob O’Hashers met on April 29th at Paddy’s in Old City. Scooby Snatch, Just Chris and Bastard Child were there when your proxy scribe arrived. Where’s Dildo? was spotted chatting up a local who turned out to be the Bartender’s girlfriend. That would explain the LARGE bandages now encasing WD?’s left arm. It doesn’t, but it would. Seems our young friend ‘went under the knife’ for his seemingly innocuous injury following the auto incident, so he was sticking to his safe soda to complement doses of Percoset.
After the usual suspects assembled Wolfman Jack(off) drew the first and therefore short straw so was awared the "Cause ain’t got no more class" bag of flour and green chalk and was (jack) Off.
3-12 minutes later the pack was after him down 2nd Street and ’round about the cobblestone alleys and such. E=MC^2 soon set his own marathon pace and, I think, his own trail, as I didn’t see him til much later.
Filed Under Trash | Leave a Comment
BFM #9
Posted on April 22, 2004
22 April 04: The mob piled tonight into Doobies, 22nd and Lombard, a venerable neighborhood dive in Philadelphia’s Fitler Square section. Upon entering one immediately saw Bastard Child, dutifully manning the bar (from the drinkers’ side).
To the bar’s misfortune, also present were Lunar Digit, fresh back from the slopes of Bamf, and Scooby Snatch, wearing a Snapple logo t-Shirt but which didn’t say Snapple – it said "Snatch," which recalls the Dunkin Donuts bumper sticker that says, "Fuckin’ Donuts," and the Burger King t-shirt that says, "Murder King."
Filed Under Trash | Leave a Comment
BFM #8
Posted on April 16, 2004
15 April 2004: Never mind that tonight the BFM saw it’s first repeat hare, Little Fucking Winky, who dragged the mob through a check-free trail from center city through university city, a run that Cause for Blindness, who actually ran tonight, called a Little Fucking Marathon. Tonight Winky gave the drinking club a real running problem. And tonight the BFM drank as much as it ran, which no one could say is a good thing.
The run began and ended at Roosevelt’s, 23rd and Walnut, a place, by the way, which does not serve pitchers. Hashers beware. But the no- pitcher policy did not quell the delight in the surprise cameo by Sticky Fingers and her man toy. (Name unknown, but seems real nice.)
Filed Under Trash | Leave a Comment
BFM #7
Posted on April 8, 2004
08 April 04: The mob gathered tonight in University City at The Blarney Stone and Urban Terrorist was the hare. As the BFM’s first female hare, Urban Terrorist found herself being chased by a horde of beer swilling, trash talking men – along with Tastes Like Chicken, who seemed to be surrounded by men at every check.
Urban Terrorist lived up to her (then current) name by laying a (nicely marked) marathon trail, which all but the most meat-headed managed to short circuit. It started in University City, spread into Center City, and wended back through a variety of unexpected obstacles. Obstacles such as a barbed wire fence, slick train tracks (at night this was), a climbing wall ("on over"), and some drunken fool stumbling on the tracks who kept shouting something sounding like "on on," which confused everyone in ear shot. No doubt he was some hasher way off some other trail.
Filed Under Trash | Leave a Comment
BFM #6
Posted on April 1, 2004
01 April 04: The hash this week started at Good Dog (formerly Frank Clement’s Tavern), but Good Dog was deemed too good for the likes of this mob. So the mob removed itself down the street to McGlinchey’s, home of testy waitresses, cheap beer, and hot dogs of questionable origin.
Urban Terrorist was kind enough to draw chalk arrows on the sidewalk from one bar to the other so auto hashers could find their way. She caught the attention of a very pierced graduate of the Edward Scissorshands school of fashion, who started chatting with her as she moved along. What he said was unclear. Probably for the best.
Just JP drew the short straw, making him the second virgin hare in as many weeks. Steeling himself for this unwelcome responsibility, Just JP grabbed the flour, which was supplied compliments of Bastard Child, and disappeared into the night. Self Service was kind enough to stay at the bar and watch everyone’s bags. The mob was feeling aggressive, and gave the hare a head start of only three minutes instead of the usual five. Still couldn’t catch him, though. The bastid.
Filed Under Trash | Leave a Comment
