BFM #58 - Can You Catch Me Now?
Posted on March 29, 2005
29 March 2005: The Mob was back at Bonner’s as March marched out. Beer Sucks and Cheep Show were the first to show. I joined them, ordered a pitcher and waited for the hordes. Rash was next, making it seem like a pre-lewd to Strap On’s eagerly anticipated bacherlorette fest. Pound it In integrated the crowd, with Tinkerbell close at hand. The scent of beer brought the rest of the mob so Rash bit one off to proffer straws for the honor. Can You Hear Me Now? - back from oblivion - wasted no time in drawing the short one. Seven or so later the Mob fell out, some still wondering when the straws had been drawn.
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BFM #57 - Dancing with Bum’s Urine
Posted on March 22, 2005
22 March 2005: Y’all come down to South Philly and Ray’s Bar (Happy Birthday), in SheMan and Deep Flute’s old neighborhood. And we did. Well, a few of us did. Dances with Bum’s Urine, Pound it In and Mary F*cking Poppins were there, already into the lager when I arrived, along with Tinkerbell (fresh from the slopes), C*nting Season, and our Grand F*cking Matress, Rash. Nut Crucher found his way, as did E=MC^2 and the lovely bride -to-Strap On. Even Dancing Fool made his trail-only appearance. We schmoozed and boozed until straw-pulling time, when Bum’s Urine was first and last to draw. No chalk talk tonight, just a raggedy bunch o’ hashers fell out into South Philly in search of Bum’s Urine. Shouldn’t be much of a challenge there, eh?
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BFM #56 - Ides of St. Patricks or It Ain’t Easy Tog’ing Green
Posted on March 17, 2005
17 March 2005: Everyone was Irish at Kelliann’s Bar & Grill on Spring Garden - 1 mile from Center City, in case you were wondering; I was. Yes, there was lots of wearin’ of the green, but none so green as the BFM gathered in the back room (quarantined?) adorned in green togas, diaper togas (Skin Fiddle), it-was-a-bedsheet togas (Bum’s Urine), laurel wreath and little green horns (LFW), caftan toga, green shirt toga, I-don’t-wanna-run-in-a togas ( C*nting Season), and a Celtic kilt (Tour). A big f*cking mess o’ green. See Me, Hear Me, Touch/Shush Me *volunteered* to hare, toga-less, taking off with appropriately, ah, pink flour and Bastard Child, co-hare of choice for fair maidens reluctant to run wantonly through the city all alone. Five or two or seven minutes later the BGM oozed out the back door for a chalk talk and introduction of virgins, Just Brian (Flaccid made him come) and Just Heather (Just Michelle made her come, pictures pending).
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BFM #55 - a new standard for the Mob
Posted on March 10, 2005
March 10 2005: On this the first night of the 4th Philadelphia Area St. Patty’s Green Dress Hash multi-club events, the Mob’s role was to establish a new standard for a hosting pub, mindful that each following event should be run out of a better pub each night. We could not have done better. Tonight’s venue was the lovely and accommodating Bob & Barbara’s Lounge, an inflamed lesion in the appendix of the scenic South Street district. Upon entry, the pack was greeted with bouncers who had faces like fists, a bar padded with thick Naugahyde and decorated with slashes and duct tape, a bartender with more drilled skin than not, and (surprise!) NO PITCHER SERVICE. The slosh du jour was Pabst Blew Chunks (erm, "Blue Ribbon") in 12oz. cans and shots of Jim Beam for a very good package price, mind, so in the end it was well worth it for those who sought rapid and irredeemable inebriation.
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BFM #54 - There’s No Fool Like An Old Fool
Posted on March 3, 2005
3 March 2005: It was cool and so was the Mob, partying like we were in Vegas Baby ! ‘Cause that where we met on the first Thursday in March. Bum’s Urine had danced in, and so had Pound it In, C*nting Season, See Me Feel Me Touch Me, AKA See Me, Hear Me, Shush Me (I just call her Tommy) along with Wolfman, Tinkerbell, Virgin Pimp and Tongue Twister. Lunar Digit arrived fashionable late–by taxi? — followed by Strap On and our not too square MC, E. There was a semi-virgin, Just Gulze, the Turkish Jewel. It seems Lunar picked her up to replenish our supply of comely doctors. At the head of the table was Dancing Fool, who brought his own Birthday Balloon, Birthday Cake, and … The Short Straw. Ladies and Gentlemen, we have a hare. Thankfully, he wasn’t sporting his Birthday Suit. Wolfman’s parting words to him were "Don’t go Right", indicating Independence Hall and the dreaded venue of the Biohazards For Marks hash , and he took off with the red flour and some blue chalk and set out to set trail.
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