BFM #14
Posted on May 27, 2004
27 May 04: The BFM started like usual: just a bunch of sneaker wearing rubes milling in a bar, this week at the 700 Club in Philadelphia’s Northern Liberties Section. (Great bar for nice weather – it has giant open windows.) The earliest arrivals included Beer Sucks, just Jocelyn, Purrier, and the Cause. Next in was Cunting Season. It was looking nearly like an all-women hash, which would have meant no beer in the circle, only options, according to the rules.
No such luck. From the back of the bar came Scooby Snatch in a t-shirt that proclaimed, "Nobody Knows I’m A Lesbian." Bastard Child also appeared. (It turns out both of these reprobates had arrived earlier – they were changing out of their workaday floral dresses and into running togs).
Next in was Sarah Cunter, sweating like she had just run 20+ blocks to get there, which is what she did. This odd cast of characters grew as E=My Cock Squared showed up in all his FRBing glory. Then came just Chris, a.k.a. "the red headed dude." Next in was Sly Fox, who wheeled up on her urban assault bike. Lunar Digit walked past the bar at least two times like a duck in a shooting gallery before he heard people yelling, "Digit!"
Bastard Child, a man equipped for every drinking-related event, brought the flour and the straws. The short straw went to just Jocelyn. She asked for help in laying the trail, and E=MC2 stepped up immediately, winning adulation from all the ladies present, and likely a jealous beating later on from Strap On.
As the BFM’s first-ever co-hares, just Jocelyn and E=MC2 made super shitty use of their four legs. More than once they split up at a check, each carrying a flour bag, one laying true trail, the other laying long false trail. Just Jocelyn didn’t need so much help after all. It was like chasing two E=MC2s. The bastids.
Filed Under Trash | Leave a Comment
BFM #13
Posted on May 20, 2004
20 May 04: Winky’s harey streak came to an end last night as Bastard Child drew the short straw from the hands of Sarah Cunter. It didn’t look like a short straw, but it was deemed the short straw nonetheless. The reason became clear later.
Bastard Child cried ‘give me ten minutes’ as he hustled out the door. Perhaps he wanted extra time because he’s especially slow right now as he recovers from his Overachieving Ass Clown act of last weekend.
The mob stowed its bags with the bartender, and about ten minutes later exeunted the bar, McKenna’s, located at 24th & Brown. The mob was temporarily halted by a cell call from Lunar Digit who was running late. The Mob did it’s best to restrain itself from leaving, but it just couldn’t wait long enough for the Digit to arrive.
Your correspondent, being a saintly bastid, remained behind waiting for our lunatic co-hasher. Fortunately the wait was not lonely because up the street came walking Tastes Like Chicken, sporting scrubs and a chicken-eating grin. She was in a good mood because she just closed on a condo. Congrats, ye bastid. She ran inside to change into sneaks and finally the Digit arrived.
The three of us did our best to catch up to the mob. At one corner a crowd of Bermuda-shorts-and-black-socks-wearing geezers tried to point us in the wrong direction, but we knew better. Sarah Cunter, also a saintly bastid, had been kind enough to chalk arrows for us, and they faithfully showed the way. At another corner someone else asked if we were with ‘those runners’ who had passed earlier, and if we were all part of a ‘republican conspiracy.’ Say what? That neighborhood is filled with corner-dwelling freaks.
Filed Under Trash | Leave a Comment
BFM #12
Posted on May 13, 2004
13 May 04: If it’s Thursday, Winkie must hare. Yes, folks, the BFM met at Bon(n) er’s last night and Little F’ing Winkie managed to hare again.
According to the hare there was "everything you could want," up and down, train tracks, fountain, tunnel of urine, view of City Hall. So sorry I missed the actual r*n (right). Having left my visiting mother in the safety of Frasier’s final episodes, I got in my (2003 Mitsubishi Galant, 28k miles, thank you very much) car and headed to Bonner’s.
I was sure the pack would be getting back when I arrived, about 8:30, but the bartendress told me that I "missed them" by a few minutes. Within minutes, though, STD arrived and found Sticky Fingers (how I missed her at the bar when I arrived, I don’t know) enjoying some refreshing water.
Not long after Wolfman breezed sweatily in and ordered a pitcher of Black and Tan. E=MC^2 followed and I learned they’d misplaced the trail and wisely shortcutted back to the bar, much to the chagrin of our flour encrusted hare. Tastes Like Chicken train-hashed, arriving before Eventually the pack came in led by virgin "I don’t have a name" and Bastard Child with Sarah Cunter and virgin Elizabeth just behind. Beer Sucks, Lunar Digit, and Sly Fox completed the complement of sweaty swillers.
Filed Under Trash | Leave a Comment
BFM #11
Posted on May 6, 2004
6 May 04: Tonight it was Winky, not Sarah Cunter, who held the straws for others to draw, perhaps so he could avoid the mystical kung fu that has driven the short straw into his hand two times before. But it was not to be.
As Scooby Snatch drew one of the two final straws from Winky’s hand, the mob oooed as it saw the length of Scooby’s straw, and realized the short straw must be in Winky’s right hand. (I’m talking about straws here, Cause – sometimes a straw is just a straw). And in that way Winky became Thrice Hare for the Ben Franklin Mob.
But tonight Wolfman Jackoff was also there. This is the same Wolfman Jackoff who has appeared twice before (give or take one), and drew the short straw twice, making him this young hash’s only Twice Hare, despite his minimal attendance.
The odds against a low attender being Twice Hare in this newborn hash are as high as the odds against the GM being Thrice Hare. Something is amiss.
So what is it about Little Fucking Winky and Wolfman Jackoff that drives short straws into their hands? Some unseen entity of a very low order is at work here. And it is a mystery only for those who have obtained a higher level of intoxication to understand.
Practice makes perfect, and Winky’s practice let him lay a perfectly shitty trail tonight, beginning at McGillin’s, located on Drury Street, a dreary side street between Broad and Thirteenth and Chestnut and Sansom. The kind of street Jack the Ripper might like.
Filed Under Trash | Leave a Comment
