BFM Hash #174 - Nettles, the Crash, and the Rest of the Solta$$

Posted on June 27, 2007

I ventured to this hash after a Savoy driven hiatus. It seems I had had enough of Music Theater and was going to settle down into more productive pursuits, running and drinking beer of course. I drove down from work and took another “shortcut” through NE Philly. I am convinced if I try hard enough, I can shorten my commute to Philly. (No such luck so far) 

The one fun thing about writing the trash is trying to decipher the scribbles that you wrote down days ago in a drunken stupor. It inevitably leads to fine journalism, but I digress… 

The early birds, who left the comfort of center city and came to the Manarox metro area for the run: Cause for Blindness, Rear Engineer, Little Red Riding Wood, Soft Core Analyst, Plastic Pud, Son of a Goat Fucker, Stacks, Hold the Sausage, Cunting Season, Europe’en on Me, Holy Fuck, Bumble Beaver, Pooper Trooper, Heave Ho, Cousin It, Big Tackle, Scooby Snatch, Up Her Ali, Two Clump Chump.

The trail:

The verdict was out if Two Clump could redeem himself at this particular run. He had many times during the past year, but rumor has it this was the famed “Two Clump” run. 

At some point, the pack gathered for chalk talk on the porch. Since our RA is off traveling in CA, Scooby took the reins. He made the marks in a bottle of carpenters chalk, went through the marks all in one breath, and we were off. (there were no visitors or virgins) 

The pack quickly was check hung at the corner of Walnut St. and Henry Ave. After a few minutes, we found trail going straight towards the golf course and the park.

We saw an arrow and the pack was headed to shiggy?? At a BFM hash?? I was confused.

As we entered the woods, those of us with shorts felt the tingle of nettles on their legs. It was like we were on a Dip Shit run or a PH3 run.  

http://www.wildmanstevebrill.com/Plants.Folder/Nettle.html

Right after the nettles, there was a hasher down on trail, Stacks. She hit something, took a hash crash, and had a mean cut in her knee. Scooby and Soft Core Analyst carried her out of the woods (back through the nettles) and a group mobilized to drive her to the nearest ER. It was impressive how calm Stacks stayed through the whole incident and how quickly we could mobilize to take care of a fellow hasher. 

The first aid team helped Stacks back to Walnut Lane to wait for the car. The rest of us went about 50 feet to the first beer check. Warm Miller Lite was served. (The first aid crew didn’t miss anything) It was so warm that I threatened to burp the alphabet. 

After the warm beer check, we went uphill back to Walnut Lane. Was this a circle jerk? We were back in time to witness Stacks and crew leaving for the ER. We all stared out of concern for Stacks, but we were clearly rubbernecking on trail. 

At this point, the trail snaked through some neighborhoods off of Henry Ave. We also noticed that a lot of the marks were marked…well…backwards. Was Two Clump up to last year’s chicanery? 

We crossed Henry Ave. and went past Ridge Ave. We went through the park we went through at the Halloween hash. You know, the one with the heckling kids. Oh wait, that isn’t that unusual in Philly. Down a few more streets in the Manarox metro area, we ended up back in a park for a shot check. Apparently, the shot was a super, double, secret probation kool aid and alcohol mix. At this point, I came to the conclusion; we need to have more beer checks near playgrounds. Bumble Beaver and I were drawn to the playground right before the shot check. 

The pack then headed out of the woods, back on the road, and it was on-in. 

The circle:

After the pack cooled off and changed, we all ventured downstairs, still missing our counterparts at the local ER. 

We imbibed some beer from the kegerator and waited for the circle to begin. Now missing our GM, our RA, our emergency backup RA, and our ex-RA; Cunting Season stepped in to be the emergency, emergency, backup RA.

Regular o’ Circle Stuff

Hare – Two Clump Chump

First In – Holy Fuck

Last In – drum roll please….Cause….(and she is still single)

Cums Lately – Up Her Ali, Bumble Beaver, Cousin It

Hash Crash – We had a social for Stacks.

Accusations

Plastic Pud accused Up Her Ali of setting him up with All Turd Boy and FOTC at the Savoy Show

Plastic Pud accused Up Her Ali for wearing a racing t-shirt and then the rest of the On-Secs were accused. (I guess I deserved this for accusing him at a PH3 hash a while back) 

FOTC made a random accusation and we made him drink. (He isn’t banned yet?)

Two Clump drank for bike on trail

Up Her Ali accused Heave Ho of loving the gore on trail.  She was excitedly describing how she saw some white thing in Stacks knee with a long winded, medical name. It was the nurse in her coming out. 

Heave Ho drank again for not having a first aid kit on trail.

Son of a Goat Fucker drank for being too quiet. (And since he is so quiet, we just figured this out) 

Then… the Auto-hashers came in… Elmo, Jingle Balzzz, Anal ProBoner, and Can You Hear Me Now? This group was imbibing at a local bar since Two Clump had locked the door while we are on trail… 

Back to accusations…

Someone accused Two Clump for having marks that went backwards.

Up Her Ali accused LRRW for having a nice dress in circle. We then learned it was her Soltass dress. (-: 

Anal Pro Boner was accused of being an Overachieving Ass Clown as she ran a marathon. Rumor has it she threw up at mile 17 and still finished, which was another down down. 

Elmo drank for Tech in the Circle

Jingle was accused of skipping out of the Savoy Show for the Prom and being a P I M P. Up Her Ali drank for a false accusation. 

We are all nice and lubed up, so we went right into…

Announcements:

PH3 & Cousin It’s Annual Phillies Tailgate Hash – August 11th – Save the Date

Reading July 4th Sunrise Hash – It’s an excuse to drink beer early in the morning. 

Gynocracy’s Great Adventure – This Thursday, June 28th – Cherry St Tavern – Bring a friend!! 

Full Moon Blue Moon – June 29th – Sugar Mom’s in Old City – See e-mail from Elmo 

2nd Annual Dartathalon – July 14th (on Hashtille Day) – Pour House Tavern in East Falls – Details are in an e-mail from Cunting Season

The rest of the night:

After the circle, the pack hung around the basement chatting and imbibing on more glorious light beer. Two Clump made us several plates of yummy munch food including; fries, taquitos, and jalapeno poppers. 

Two Clump and Rear Engineer attempted to get some Comcast Karaoke going, but the pack would have none of it. Instead, after cleaning up the plate of goodies, we began to filter outside to the porches. Holy Fuck led a contingent to Chubby’s to get some cheesesteak goodness. HF was on a mission, if you weren’t fast enough, you were left to your own devices. 

We milled out on the back porch, chatting and drinking. Many started recalling stories of their worst crashes, falls, and ER stories in honor of Stacks’ hash crash. It seems we all have had our share of tumbles and ER runs the in past. (And we have the scars to prove it.) We all started taking an informal pool on how many stitches Stacks would have as a result of her injury. During the evening, there was also spirited conversation on nettles, a special kind of shiggy. Some of our legs were still tingling from our friends, the nettles. 

At some point, the ER contingent returned to Chez Two Clump. We learned that Stacks’ knee wasn’t going to have permanent damage and she had 18 stitches. (For those who were in the pool.) The woman of the evening grabbed a chair and was quickly served a frosty beverage. She was in especially good spirits considering…

It seems that the ER crowd had some stories of their own. One story involved a blood pressure cuff. I don’t know exactly where this went, but I can use my imagination. The other story revolved around a woman who used saltines to masturbate. Hmm… fish anyone?

Overheard at the hash:

I am actually half a woman and it is hard to get it out of me? Most likely a resident of the Walnut Lane Hash Compound 

On, on, YFF

Up Her Ali

 

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BFM #173 - What about Prom?!

Posted on June 21, 2007

It was a magical evening as the Mob gathered at our favorite Bonner’s Irish Pub for our annual BFM Prom (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prom). I welcome the opportunity to redo my prom every year because I hated the first one. I found out recently that my prom date had been in jail for heroin possession and almost killing someone. In high school he was just a punk with a fast car and a dream.  I always knew then he would go far.  Ah, memories… 
 
Who attended:
Beagle and Hold the Sausage
Holy Fuck and Europee’n On Me
E=My Cock Squared and Strap On
Popeye’s Bitch and Fiber Opdick … always the cute couple
Just Brian and Just Kurt
Just Diane and New Kid on the Cock
Little Fuckin’ Winkie and Little Red Riding Wood
Cause for Blindness and Jingle Ballzzz
Over Easy and Plastic Pud
Nappy Headed Ho and Just Alice and Just Meg
Virgin Pimp and The Rash
Son of a Goat Fucker and 3 Balls
Soft Core Analyst and Just Kate
Death Wish and Wishboner
2 Clump Chump …  2 dates rolled into one
Mr Snuffleupamuff and Sloppy Ho
Scooby Snatch went stag
Rear Engineer went stag, but ended up taking Scooby home
 
As Europee’n and I walked to the hash from my apartment (I didn’t drive the 2 blocks today) we noticed that my white dress made me look more like ‘runaway bride’ than a prom date, and she could have easily been my bridesmaid in her complementary black and white dress. 
 
The Mob at Bonner’s looked as stunning as ever in evening wear, posing for photos and groping each other. Europee’n provided Deathwish with an extra dress she had brought.  A shimmery stretchy number, which had a mysterious stain right on the crotchetal region, Bill Clinton-style. Apparently the stain “came” with the dress, which made it a very good bargain.  Fruit of the Clue also could have used a dress. I’m not exactly sure what his outfit was supposed to be, but he looked like he fell in a dumpster and trash was still clinging to his clothing.  2 Clump Chump, in half tux/half dress, said he was his own date.  I guess he wanted to be sure he got laid after the prom.
 

Little Red Riding Wood, hare extraordinaire, gave the chalk talk informing us that there would also be “a beer check.”   And with that, the Mob was off like a cheap prom dress!!  Sorry… 2 Clump begged me to work that in somewhere. The Mob running through the streets of Philly is always a curious site for onlookers, but the dresses seemed to elicit greater curiosity and bigger insults than usual: 

“Go faggots!! What the hell is going on?” (Yuppie punk in center city) 

“They smokin’? They do drugs?” (Young child questioning mother on a stoop). 

“I see nipple!” (Some dude in Fairmount about Rear Engineer’s drooping dress).

LRRW laid a nice trail that went through most of center city, and over to Fairmount for a beer check at Skin Fiddle’s. Grolsch … not too shabby.   After Skin Fiddle’s beer check, the Mob split into 2 factions – those that hash and those that shortcut back to the bar because they believed the hare.   Too bad for the latter, because they missed a 2nd beer check at Fruit of the Clue’s just a few blocks away. The half-Mob settled in Fruit’s garage for some kick-ass 80’s prom music, including “Don’t Stop Believin’” and Madonna, shots of Aftershock (feels so soothing in the stomach after a run), and Lager. I took a picture of a spray painted heart with my initials on Fruit’s garage wall; the reason it is there has still not been adequately addressed for me.  Once we thought we tortured the other sorry-ass half -Mob long enough with our absence, we hit the trail again back to Bonners.

 
First In:
Sloppy Ho and Hold the Sausage… for leading the Mob astray and cutting the 2nd beer check
 
Last In:
Um… Cause for Blindness
 
Autohashers:
JingleBallzz and Virgin Pimp.   Words just cannot describe JingleBallzzz’s outfit. Or his chest hair. Please see the photos yourself.
 
Visitors:
Deathwish (told a racist joke), Wishboner (showed her ta-tas)
 
Hare:
Little Red Riding Wood
 
Cums Lately:
Beagle, Wishboner, Fruit of the Clue
 
Accusations:
-Sloppy Ho: The Rash for having a lint brush in the bathroom and picking lint off her dress
-Holy Fuck: All the fuckers who shortcut and missed the second beer check
-Plastic Pud and Wishboner for “new sneakers”
 
Little Red Riding Wood was then called up to do her birthday side-side, followed by the Prom’s best-dressed contest. If you win, you win a shot.
 
Best Dressed: 
Jingle Ballzzz and 2 Clump Chump
 
Most Likely to get laid: 
Jingle Ballzzz and Popeye’s Bitch.   I think 2 Clump should have won this by default because he was a self-contained unit.   After the contest, Popeye asked me what he had just won.
 
Since this was going to be Just Kate’s last evening with the hash while she travels to Australia for a few months (we loaded her up with a pack of Magnum’s for the trip because the men from the bush are supposedly huge), she needed to leave tonight with a name.   Just Kate is a Villanova grad, 4th grade school teacher. Her favorite farm animal is Jaguar and she’s into Brazilian Martial Arts. And her dad has smacked her on her ass.   There were 2 big contenders: “Fire Down Under” (Kate is apparently a natural red-head) and “Takes it up the ass like Stan” (for no reason other than it rhymes with a BFM favorite that someone will eventually end up with).    Sloppy and Sausage decided to go with “Fire Down Under”, much to the relief of Just Kate. The decision led to whining and booing from some disgruntled members of the Mob who liked the other name. This is a gynocracy, people, not a democracy.
 
Announcements:
-Savoy tickets for June 15 – See JingleBallzzz
-Philly Girl’s Roller Derby – June 16
-Hashtille Day is coming … there will be a web site and tee shirts…
-The Gynocracy’s Excellent Adventure is June 28. There will be a trail and a boat ride. Get your money in beforehand (10 per person) … and bring a friend!
-“Got Stan?” tees have been ordered, so get your money to Europee’n On Me
-2 Clump’s Summer SolstASS is Thursday the 21. There will be beer, shots, and nudity.
-Cause for Blindness is SINGLE.
 
After the circle was closed, the karaoke could begin!   The drunken Mob both entertained and annoyed the Bonner’s patrons with song after song after song. To list a few crowd-pleasers…
 
“My Ding-A-Ling” – 2 Clump Chump
“Big Balls” – Rear Engineer
“Add it Up” – Little Fuckin Winkie, Mr Snuffalupamuff, and Rear Engineer
“Sexual Healing” – Jingle Ballzzz and Cause for Blindness
“Rapture” – The Rash. No it wasn’t Blondie, it was a dance tune that no one had heard before.
“Everywhere” – Holy Fuck and Europee’n On Me
“Friends in Low Places” – All of the Mob that was left in the bar at that point
“Lola” – Fruit of the Clue
 
After our last number, Europee’n and I were in need of ’za. We headed to the only middle-eastern pizza place in the city (or anywhere) because it also happens to be the only place open.  Tower-Style!  We were soon joined by Rear and Scooby for a large heavily garlic-laden white pizza (only because we didn’t specify “red” pizza…in the middle east, white pizza must be more common).  I can tell you we all tasted that pizza for days afterwards.
 
On, on!
Holy Fuck
 

I will now leave you with one of my favorite scenes from the classic 80’s film, Pretty In Pink:

Blane: How are you doing?
Andie: Why haven’t you called me?
Blane: Oh, I got nailed for the stable thing. I guess the groom saw us. It’s against the rules.
Andie: I called you three times and i left messages.
Blane: Yeah? Well I didn’t get them. My family… they’re irresponsible about that stuff, you know?
Andie: I waited for you this morning.
Blane: Yeah? Where?
Andie: Parking lot. I saw you and I thought you saw me.
Blane: No.
Andie: What about prom, Blane?
Blane: Andie, I’m having a bad day. Can we talk later?
Andie: No. What about prom?
Blane: Why don’t we meet after school?
Andie: No! What about prom?!
Blane: Andie, come on.
Andie: Just say it.
Blane: What?
Andie: Just say it. I wanna hear you say it.
Blane: Andie, please, all right?
Andie: I wanna hear you say it.
Blane: A month ago, I asked somebody else and I forgot.
[Andie pushes him against a locker]
Andie: YOu’re a liar! You’re a filthy, fucking, no-good liar. You don’t have the guts to tell me the truth. Just say it!
Blane: I’m not lying.
Andie: Tell me!
Blane: What do you want to hear?
Andie: Tell me!
Blane: What?
Andie: You’re ashamed to be seen with me.
Blane: No, I am not!
Andie: You’re ashamed to go out with me. You’re terrified that you’re goddamn rich friends won’t approve.
[Andie hits Blane]
Andie: Just say it!
[Andie hits him again]
Andie: Just tell me the truth!
Blane: You don’t understand that it has nothing at all do with you.
[Andie runs away]
Blane: [wipes a tear] Andie!

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BFM # 172 - The Tortoise and the Hare

Posted on June 14, 2007

So I’m always running late for any hash in Olde City because YOU CANT FIND @&$X#  PARKING!!   I finally snagged the “perfect” spot on Front Street around the corner from Drinkers Tavern where the BFM 172 was being held.  It was 7:50 and the meter ended at 8. Cool,  I’ll just put in a quarter to cover 15 minutes.  For some reason it never ends up being that simple with the PPA.  I went to pay a ticket online yesterday from waaaay back in March (because they were threatening to boot my car for "late payment").   Ironically, and much to my delight, I discovered a new parking violation for last Thursday, June 7. On Front Street.  I love Philadelphia. 

After paying the meter, Stan and I ran at lightning speed to Drinker’s where we found a very sparse crowd there to welcome her home from her recent trip to Cannes. Stan now prefers wine over beer, and she no longer bathes or shaves her armpits….just like a true Euro (sorry, Euro).

Who Came: Anal Proboner, Attilla the Hung, Cause for Blindness, E=MyCockSquared, Europee’n on Me, Fiber Opdick,Heave Ho, Holy Fuck, Jingle Ballzzz, Lick Hymen, Little Fuckin’ Winkie, Little Red Riding Wood, Nappy Headed Ho, Nice Nuggets.. Fat Ass, Plastic Pud, Rear Engineer, Skin Fiddle, Cousin IT, Sly Fox, Son of Goat Fucker, Sloppy Ho, 2 Clump Chump, Virgin Pimp, Mr Snuffle Up a Muff, Just Kate, Just Travis, Just Dianne, Just Alice, Just Megan, Just Brian, Just Curt, Just Maria.

It was 8pm, and we seemed to be missing one Religious Advisor and one bag o’ flour. I passed out the straws, which only ended up being one straw because Plastic Pud drew first, and he drew the short one. Cunting Season immediately called foul and demanded he have a co-hare, based on Pud’s reputation for shitty trail.   I decided to volunteer, but quickly regretted that decision.   I passed baby Stan over to Cause for Blindness, who took her into her bosom (literally). Now for the next challenge: Flour.
 

I vaguely remembered where there might be a store, and ran out of the bar with Pud in tow. He got a bit too chatty jogging along, and I had to keep us focused, considering Gestapo Cunting Season was only giving us 10 minutes to find a market, buy flour, get back to the start and then somehow lay the trail ahead of the pack.  

We found the Mulberry Market many blocks away, and bought a bag of flour for each of us. As we were r*nning back to the bar, we saw the Mob already outside doing a chalk talk. FUCK!   I told Plastic Pud to “quickly” throw down a check at the corner and “quickly” get out of their site.  He was there for what seemed to be an eternity – and I’m sure the Mob could see him at this point — as I yelled for him to hurry up.

I told Pud I would lay the trail, and then I gave him ONE simple instruction: “Just mark the checks where I tell you to, and then catch up to me.” I then pointed to where he needed to mark his first check.

Like Da Vinci painting the Mona Lisa, Pud began delicately crafting his work of art on his sidewalk canvas.  This should have taken 2 seconds, but I had gone about a quarter mile before I realized he wasn’t following. I waited for about another 3 minutes that felt like an hour. Realizing that the pack soon would be catching up, and that Pud must have been too distracted by his masterpiece to realize which direction I went, I made the decision to abandon my co-hare tortoise and move on. 
 
I took the trail down some stairs to Columbus Blvd and made my way back up Olde City to Independence Hall area. This area is always a challenge because the park and all the federal buildings are off limits to flour.   Or anthrax.  And they are serious about it. So you either need to run a loooong way around it to keep the trail going, or you just do like I did and head on back to the bar.   I went across Market and down 4th Street to Chestnut, weaving back through the alleys towards Drinker’s Pub.
 
Thankfully beating the Mob back to the bar, I now looked like shake n’ bake covered in flour with my notepad, trying to recap what I just did for the trash as the bartender was making fun of me. The Mob came in about 15 minutes later, saying they’d caught my “co-hare” on trail, who was standing around looking confused. I can only imagine.   The trail would have been longer for them, but they apparently gave up at Market Street and shortcut back to the bar. I suppose that’s a lot easier than actually looking for marks – like the 2 glaring marks on the first 2 trees going down 4th street.  
 
As the Mob began to file down into the Drinker’s dungeon for circle, we noticed a large closed circuit television capturing the action in the basement for the upstairs bar. Smart for them to keep an eye on us. Some hashers began flashing the camera from downstairs.
 
First In … Last In:
Lick Hymen … Cause for Blindness
 
Hares:
Holy Fuck and Plastic Pud …he definitely takes his time haring and chugging
 
Accusations:

NNFA:   Cause for Blindness for breastfeeding Stan

NNFA:   Lick Hymen for thinking the spray painted words “One call” on the sidewalk were an actual mark on trail. “ ‘One call’?… what does that mean?!!”

Cunting Season:  Plastic Pud for losing his co-hare.

Plastic Pud (who introduced himself as “Plastic Pud, as in Plastic Penis”. Thanks for the clarification): Cunting Season “for calling me a retard.”   Waaaaaaah. 

NNFA:   Everyone for singing the songs tonight we are all at happy camp ‘winnipifuckoff’.

 
Autohashers:
Skin Fiddle, Just Diane… Note: there were many more upstairs avoiding the circle.
 
I saw Just Travis get down on his knees, which I guessed meant he was going to be named. But he does this a lot, so you never know.   Fun facts about Travis: He went to NC State. He was a math major. He’s been to a lesbian bar where he got down on all 4’s wearing a dog collar, while a ‘cop’ rode him and whipped his ass like a pony. And ladies, you may be interested to know he’s also pooped on trail. In his pants. Grrrrrrrr.  Just Travis was also the jackass who took Stan to Mexico but got “too wasted” and forgot to take pictures. 
 
Many lame-ass names were proposed in the circle, so we had to toss out the first round and start a-fresh. In the end, Pooper Trooper was pushed out as the clean winner.   ;-)
 
Announcements:
·        BFM Prom - June 14
·        Savoy at the Academy of Music – June 15 (see Jingle Ballzzz for tickets)
·        2 Clump’s Summer SolstASS – June 21
·        Gynocracy’s Excellent Adventure – June 28
·        Philly “Blue Moon” Hash – June 29
·        Hashtille Day (and Stan’s birthday) – July 14
·        Bruce-a-Palooza – July 28
·        Cousin IT’s Annual Phillies Tailgate – August 11
·        “Got Stan?” tee’s are being ordered – See Euro to pay
·        Cause is still divorced.
 
At this point, more autohashers appeared downstairs including Tickle My Elmo, Mayor Quimby and Rear Engineer.  The basement felt like it was about 40 degrees, so I went upstairs to warm up and found Strap On playing the crack box. She proudly noted that she still has the high score from when we hashed here in March. But can she beat this guy?   http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ymx8z_ydOeU 
 
And what exactly IS the secret “eye trick” ?  Must find out!

 Sloppy Ho and I watched the game upstairs at the bar for a while until more drunk hashers began coming upstairs and flooding me with information for the trash.  In case you didn’t know…

….Just Alice gets excited when she sees Virgin Pimp in the elevator. This statement raises lots of questions, but I’ll start with ‘what is Alice doing in the elevator with Pimp?’

 …Stan is going to Frankfurt, Germany this week with her father.
 
…2 Clump Chump told us that Drinker’s Pub was apparently not named after the act of imbibing. It was established in 1724 by a guy named Tom Drinker. Tickle My Elmo pointed out, “It’s like that guy Crapper who invented the toilet”
 
…Virgin Pimp has special tongue talents, which he proudly demonstrated for the crowd. He can flip it backwards, twist it, curl it, and stick it in Pooper Trooper’s ass. I made that last one up, but Im sure he can do it well.  
 

Mayor Quimby then ordered a round of shots … it was something that sounded like “Chewbaca.”  A wookie. I don’t know what it really was, but rocket fuel would be a more accurate name for it because it put everyone on the moon. 

The bartender leaned over to ask me what I wanted to do with my flour that I had left at the end of the bar. This question did not register at all with me after the shot I just had.   “I have a flower??” I asked curiously.    “No,” he said. “You have a bag of flour.”   I’m sure he would have liked to punctuate that with “you dummy!” Fred Sanford-style.   He was actually very nice and gave me a free beer for being a “good sport” with his earlier teasing about all the “flour” on me.

Hashers spotted a picture of Elvis behind the bar and began taking pictures of Stan going down on him… this eventually led to more “Stantics” with random strangers at the on-after at Lucy’s.  I wont describe the scene here, but you can see some pictures for yourself posted on the site.  I think they will be self-explanatory.  
 
On, On!
Holy Fuck
 
Overheard at the hash:
“I have an exceptional palate” – Mayor Quimby
“I lost my tonsils in ‘nam” – Virgin Pimp
“I drink any shit that’s cheap" – Lick Hymen
 
 

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4th Annual BFMH3 Prom Hash!!!

Posted on June 9, 2007

June 14th 2007
Bonner’s Irish Pub
120 S. 23rd St, Philadelphia, PA

Wear your tux or gown!

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BFM #171 – The Hills of Manyunk and Whine

Posted on June 5, 2007

Manayunk hashes always seem to bit hit or miss. We went from about 45 hashers the week before to about 10 on trail. Its unfortunate because our hare, Hold the Sausage, pulled off a great trail! There were lots of hills, lots of dirt trail and lots of stairs!
 
Who came:
Sloppy Ho, Europee’n on Me, 2 Clump Chump, Son of a Goat Fucker, E=My Cock ^2, Fiber Opdick, Little Fucking Winkie, Cause for Blindness, Plastic Pud, Skin Fiddle, Soft-core Analyst, Strap-on, The Rash, Virgin Pimp, Hold the Sausage, CYHMN?, Cousin It, Mr. Snuffle Up a Muff, Over Easy, Just Kate, Rear Engineer, Tickle My Elmo, Just Brian, Just Jillian, Just Derik, Just Keri, Papa Elmo
 
For those who turned out to hash, I must say, we were a pretty sedate group. We laughed and told our virgins that we weren’t sure what they had been told, but we promised them, we weren’t always so sedate.
 
After the initial circle, introduction of our virgins Just Brian, Just Jillian and Just Derik, and a few snatch air-outs, we were off.  We ran up hill and down another. As Sloppy and I started over the R6 Septa bridge we heard someone yell, “False!” and we turned back laughing and saying, that thankfully, we didn’t have to go down the stairs. We turned and headed up a pretty long hill and through a grove a trees. The mob was small and pretty quick so there wasn’t a whole lot of stopping until we reached Ridge Ave…I’m not sure if we were tired, hot or if we really lost trail but we seemed to walk in circles, around the ice cream joint, for quite a bit. Up in the distance, I saw Son of a Goat Fucker running back and forth, across the street, like a lost puppy. No trail where we all were so Fiber Opdick and Virgin Pimp headed in Son’s direction. We were on. We headed down by an elementary school and then took a left and headed down onto the trails along Lincoln Drive. Most of our little hash group must have been thirsty because I kept hearing the comment, “this would have been a great spot for a beer check.” However, there were no beer checks. At the bottom of the ever-darker growing trail, it occurred to someone, “do we have all our virgins?” We did a self-check and all virgins were present and accounted for. Then someone else said, “has anyone seen Cause?”
 
We arrived at the opening of the trail and took a right and r*n the newly paved path along the Wissahickon creek. Just about the time we all settled into our paces, trail took a right…up a set of stairs, comparable to only those I’ve climbed in Montmartre, and San Fran. Fiber Opdick and I would reach a landing and look up and there were a whole other set of stairs.
 
Thankfully, when we reached the top it was all-downhill from there, literally! As we r*n down a group of people were r*nning up the hill. In the growing darkness, I focused my eyes and the one woman looked like Just Kate. Just then E=My Cock ^2 ran past me. Their hockey game over, Just Kate, Rear Engineer, Strap-on, E, et al were r*nning trail in reverse to meet up with us.
 
Back at the bar, the hash seemed to have crawled out of T. Hogan’s woodwork because there were more hashers in the bar than regular patrons. Our barmaid didn’t seem accustomed to our large numbers because it took FOREVER to get beer. Trust me, I know this because I had to endure the whining.
 
With our hash having multiplied by 3 and beer flowing, Sloppy Ho opened the circle.
 
Hare: Hold the Sausage
 
First In: Son of a Goat Fucker
 
Last In: Cause for Blindness
 
Virgins:
Auto-hashers:
Seeing how we had more people in circle than at the on-out, Sloppy called for a social.
Cums Lately:
Visitor:  Papa Elmo
 
Accusations:
Announcements:
At that point, Sloppy Ho summoned Papa Elmo into the circle. Elmo began laughing but it was a nervous laugh. Sloppy suggested that since we don’t have any stories of Papa Elmo, she suggested that he tell us the worst thing Elmo ever did, to which Elmo replied, “bringing my dad to the hash!” Sloppy began calling out for name suggestions. The few were: St. Elmo’s Father, Stained Elmo’s Father and Virgin Pimp’s suggestion of Satan Elmo’s Father, for which he was banned from future namings. Papa Elmo was christened St. Elmo’s Father and when Elmo joined his dad in circle for the down-down, it was observed that St. Elmo downed his beer faster than Elmo.
 
With circle closed, the whining continued.  Whaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!   “I want more beer.”  “There isn’t any dark beer left and light beer doesn’t count.”  “I paid $7 and only got 2 beers.”  “Where’s the beer?”  “Since when did the BFM become so organized?” 
 
I poured myself a lager and continued my conversation with St. Elmo’s Father.
 
On, On!
Europee’n on Me

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BFM #170 - The Raven and Cops, Lick Hymen and Sangria

Posted on June 1, 2007

It’s an interesting cultural anthropologic study how our advances in technology cause us to become more and more individual isolationists. Discuss amongst yourselves.
 
As I rode to the Raven Lounge, in a yellow oven on wheels, bracing myself by locking my feet around the center hump in the backseat, trying not to get tossed around, I momentarily noticed how my cab driver never looked at me and I, him. While he talked and laughed with the person on the other end of his cell, speaking in a language unknown to me, I talked and laughed with Holy Fuck on the other end of my cell, even though I was going to see her in 10 minutes. I thought how unfortunate it is, as a society, that we’re losing our sense of community. There I was in a car with another human, our two worlds moving together down Walnut Street, separated only by dirty, scratched plexi-glass and we never even exchanged salutations.
 
With my brief study in human culture complete, it was time to hash- a whole other study in evolving human culture.
 
Who came:
Sloppy Ho, Europee’n on Me, STD, 2 Clump Chump, Barry Maniblow, Son of a Goat Fucker, Cause for Blindness, Attila the Hung, Nappy Headed Ho, Popeye’s Bitch, Plastic Pud, Soft-core Analyst, Virgin Pimp, Hold the Sausage, Mayor Quimby, Stan, CYHMN?, Cousin It, Over Easy, Fruit of the Clue, Bumble Beaver, Nice Nuggets…Fat Ass, Up Her Ali, Scooby Snatch, All-turd Boy, Holy Fuck, Heave Ho, Just Kate, Sly Fox, Cunting Season, Tastes Like Chicken, Just Curt, Just Brain, Just Alyssandra, Just Diane, Rear Engineer, Well Hung Jury, Slow Bumps Ahead, New Kid on the Cock, Just Alice, Just Francesca
 
Free from my mobile oven, “…Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter…” I bounded up the iron steps and into The Raven, where a bustling mob of hashers drinking cans of PBR and bottles of Miller light, mingled in the darkness.
 

Having just returned from the debauchery in San Francisco and the Bay to Breakers, I was happy to see friends. I stood at the window, feeling what little breeze was making it through, with Cunting Season, Heave Ho and Tastes Like Chicken. We chatted for a bit and then Plastic Pud came over and joined us. Having been away and seeing so many new faces, I walked around and introduced myself. Just Curt and Just Brian were our virgins this night. I welcomed them and ensured them a good time (I left out the caveat “depending on what one’s definition of a good time is”). I also met Just Ulla and Just Lauren who, were virgins the previous week and actually came back!  Although, after the stories I heard about the 169 run, who wouldn’t cum again?

 
After some mingling, I ponyed up to the bar to get myself one of those Miller Lights that I saw others eagerly wrapping their lips around.  As I turned around, golden nectar of the barley gods in hand, Soft-core Analyst approached.  We chatted briefly about our weekend and seeing him drool over my beer, I excused myself so he could get a beer, before he stole mine.
 
Beer gone, our RA, Sloppy Ho, called us to circle up. I looked around me; the mob is growing. The Stan family stood inside at the window, watching us like Emperor Vespasian’s court might have watched a gladiator fight at the Colosseum…or was it that they were keeping Stan safe from All-turd Boy since he stole her and never did take Stan to Mexico. What did he do with her for those two weeks then? Maybe he has a doll fetish? I digress. Up Her Ali was looking over my shoulder saying, “you want a piece of me?” I turned around and apparently she was challenging a car because no one was behind me except a taxi. Cunting Season questioned Tastes Like Chicken over Chickens r*nning shoes which looked rather white. Sloppy called up our virgins, we sang them a little song and off we went into the humid evening.
 
We ran up Samson and over onto Walnut Street. As we were running past the little sushi joint I ate at after Philly’s Halloween hash (#1504), I see a flash of yellow in my right peripheral vision. Just Alice, like the little bolt of lightning, appeared out of no-where.
 
We continue on and over to 15th and Spruce Streets. There was much commotion on this corner. Peco trucks, fencing erected, the police…the one police officer was waving us on, across the street, yelling, “go, go, go!” With that I invited him to r*n with us. He r*n around his car as if he was going to join our mob but then started laughing and simply waved.  Safely on the other side of 15th, we saw our first BN! Down the street we r*n and then turned down a tiny walkway between buildings to the “courtyard” behind Nappy’s apartment building.  We quenched our thirst with cans of PBR amidst a discarded futon and misc boxes.  Nappy informed me that he’s the neighbor who peers out his window at night trying to catch neighbors leaving items behind in the yard.
 
Apparently hearing all the commotion, one of Nappy’s neighbors comes outside.  I yelled up to him that if he jumped, we’d catch him, to which the mobsters around me said, “I’m not catching him.”  I then thought of a circus and a clown who jumps from a high-wire platform and when he reaches the bottom, instead of the red “net” with a big yellow star in the middle, being held by his clown posse, instead he lands on the ground…and bounces. Doh!
 
We head out and take a left onto 15th street and continue onward. My notes state we ran to 25th and Lombard at some point and then I have a big self-portrait that CYHMN?  Somehow I’m thinking that’s not what our route, from overhead, looked like.  Anyway, we reach 20th and Locust Streets and as we head down 20th, we came upon, not a “BN” but an “SN”.  We headed down the tree-lined street to Popeye’s Bitch’s place where he served us sangria.  When my wine was gone I began to munch on the apples left at the bottom of my cup. Others and myself remarked that the apples tasted as if they had been soaked in vodka. They certainly were tasty.  First “The Mist” and now sangria?  Is our hash evolving?
 
As we handed our cups over to Popeye, he informed us that there was no trail and we should head directly back to The Raven. Once there, a big fucking mess ensued. The bartender seemed more intent on spinning discs rather than serving us up beer.  Was he crazy?
 
Finally a beer in hand, Sloppy Ho opened the circle.
 
Hare(s):
First In:  Stan
 

Last In:  Virgin Pimp

 

Virgins:

Auto-hashers:
Cums Lately:
Accusations:
My notes got a bit interesting here…I wrote:
“some incident with Reese (Barry Maniblow) and Sloppy had to drink”  and
apparently someone “…tried to feel up Nice Nuggets (…Fat Ass)”
if anyone can provide details…
  • Cause for Blindness for graduating college
  • Nappy’s neighbor, Just Wasu, for being Osama Bin Laden, (despite the fact he clearly looks Indian) (all the virgins under the “when one virgin drinks” rule) 
Announcements:
  • Starting next week, everyone will be required to pay hash cash up front
  • Bruceapolooza – July 28 – details to follow on Stan’s Bitches yahoogroup
  • Blue Moon Hash – May 31
  • Tex Mex 5k – June 27
  • Phillies tailgate and ballgame – August 11 – details to follow
  • Full Moon Hash – June 1
  • 2nd Anal Hashteille Day and Full Moon’s 100th Run – July 14 
At that point, Sloppy Ho summoned Barry Maniblow into the circle. Apparently, after his naming at the BFM #167 run, many people thought that he prefers to boys to girls.  And so a lot of jokes were made.  Nice Nuggets…Fat Ass stated, "he’s not gay, he’s Jewish!"  With that our RA called for a renaming. Suggestions thrown out there were: Queerly, I’m Straight, Lick Hymen, Lick Behind Him, and I’m Not Gay, I’m Jewish.  In the end, Barry Maniblow was remaned, Lick Hymen.  Mazel tov!
 

With circle closed, some of the typical craziness ensued:  STD, Rear Engineer and Mayor Quimby danced for us, Cause for Blindness appeared to try for a hook up with Just Wasu, I attempted to kung-fu fight our midget ninja, Strap-On, Stan took a polar bear swim in the ice bucket and then lost a shoe.  When the mob dispersed and The Raven was once again at peace, the rest of us went off into the good night for some karoke at Bonner’s.

 
On, On!
Europee’n on Me

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