BFM #53 - Winter Blunderland
Posted on February 24, 2005
February 24 2005: I had a feeling this would be a rough night. Not only were our GM Rash and Trashmistress Cause for Blindness unable to attend tonight, thus depriving us all of the leadership this Mob desperately needs (but nonetheless resists), but Tastes Like Chicken’s directions to our A were less than helpful:
Hear ye! Hear ye! The year of RASH has begun! Let us run
with our new GM this Thursday night at T.A. FLANNERY’S on
21st street and Sansom street. Standard hash time 7:30.
When Tinkerbell and I arrived at the intersection of 21st and Sansom at 7:30 (7:08 Hash Standard Time), we found nothing resembling a pub. We wandered the neighborhood until we came upon our starting point at the corner of 21st and Ludlow, two blocks away from Sansom. Lunar Digit happened to stroll up and in we went. I elected to jog back to Sansom street and lay ‘true trail’ HHH–> marks to Ludlow street, lest we be the evening’s only attendees. Not much later we were joined at the pub by RA E=MyCock Squared and his bunny hat, former RA Wolfman Jackoff, See Me Feel Me Touch Me, Organ Grinder (Sarah C–ter’s roommate, on the way to a visit friends in Ann Arbor), the rarely seen Mary F–king Poppins, and first Trashmaster Can You Hear Me Now.
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BFM #52 - Inaugural balls-up
Posted on February 17, 2005
February 17 2005: The Mob assembled at McGillin’s this evening to mark the end of Little F–king Winkie’s founding year of leadership * and to announce the election results from the week prior. There was a good turn-out tonight, with most of our (ir)regulars and a few visitors, including two new boots and the inimitable Dancing Fool and just Tim, Cheap Show’s husband. On this blustery winter evening, the heat lamp over the door at McG’s shone brightly, giving those who passed beneath the brief impression of being a box of french fries at a fast-food joint.
As our Mob tuned up with stretches and pints, RA Wolfman Jackoff prepared the straws for tonight’s draw, and the lottery was offered. As luck would have it, Winkie drew the short straw YET AGAIN. How fitting, that his last act as GM would be to lay the last trail for his reign. The Mob groaned appreciatively as he held aloft the straw, for we knew that tonight’s trail would be indeed s–tty, as his usually are. Winkie left the pub with a bag of green flour and two sticks of chalk, and the time was well watched, nobody wanting to give our hare a second more than the three minutes alloted.
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BFM #51
Posted on February 10, 2005
10 FeBruary 2005: Thursday the Mob went to Drinker’s Tavern, 2nd and Market Streets, site of a recent and especially debauched Full Moon hash. After that night with the Full Moon, the tavern sent the pool table to the cleaners. If anyone regrets what they did that night, just pretend it was a nightmare.
But every day is a new day. And on Thursday Drinker’s got Mobbed. Inside were Pound It In, Hold the Sausage, Cheap Show, PornBrokeHer, Tastes Like Chicken, Strap On, Sticky Fingers, Bastard Child, Dances with Bums’ Urine, Tinkerbell, Bitchard, E=My Cock Squared, Rash, Cause for Blindness, Skin Fiddle, Dyke Queen (a visiting Briton), and two virgins, Just Nate and Just Steve, the last two not necessarily in that order.
The bartender was happy to take your dry bag, though he asked you whether your bag contained drugs or firearms. If you said “yes” it was unclear whether he would refuse your bag or take it for pilfering. Nobody found out.
Rash gnawed a straw, indicating the time for straws was soon. Pound It In tapped her shoulder and gestured toward the bar, where lined up were several straws, all the same height save one. Her time and teeth saved, Rash took the straws and presented them to the sorry lot milling about. The short one went to the rarely seen Sticky Fingers.
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BFM #50
Posted on February 3, 2005
3 February 2005: Readers of last week’s trash may recall, “conditional probability,” a crazed, magical phenomenon which governs who gets the short straw when we all draw ‘em. As each one of us draws a straw, the chance that the person who’s presenting them will get the short one increases.
Conditional probability took me for a ride last week, just to show me the view. I presented the straws, and I was left with the short one. So in last week’s trash I said that “conditional probability is a bitch.” And so this week I avoided the straws – Wolfman Jackoff presented them. Didn’t matter, I drew the short one. Conditional probability is an over-sensitive, vengeful bastid.
This night Pound It In brought a giant dose of red flour, which is what the weather outside demanded. Old snow was still everywhere.
So I took the flour Pound It In kindly offered and ran away from the Green Room, 20th & Green, which contained, among other things, Wolfman Jackoff, Pound It In, Oral Offender, Skin Fiddle, Sly Fox, Tinkerbell, Cause for Blindness, Cunting Season, and Tastes Like Chicken, who was wearing a t-shirt that said, “Taste Like Chicken.”
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