BFM #226 - Happy Solst-ASS Everyone!
Posted on June 26, 2008
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BFM #225 PROM HASH 2008
Posted on June 17, 2008
Ahh, prom…
We all have memories of our high school proms. Whether we were outside the event, cursing the fact that we couldn’t get a date before we went home to pork our mattresses, or getting dressed in that powder blue tux, or gown with the frilly things on it, spending 39,665 hours in the bathroom, popping gigantic, mongo-sized zits into the mirror. Then it was downstairs to either meet or pick up our dates while our parents took terrible Polaroids of us (the cheaper parents that is, the rest had their 35mms, or instamatics) that still adorn their mantles to this day, much to our chagrin.
We try not to remember dancing to the Hooter’s “And We Danced,” like maniacal rock-em, sock-em robots, or puking into the backseat of the car at the after party. We weren’t picked to be prom king or queen, (or maybe some were), and we clapped politely when they won, while hoping their dog died. Oh, and lets not forget the pathetic attempts at losing our virginity on the beach in Wildwood, either crying afterwards, mumbling to our dates that it’s not supposed to happen that quickly, or just taking the duct tape off her mouth. I’ll let you figure out which future physicist and Verizon Wireless representative I’m talking about. Thanks for the corrections to last week’s trash, guys!
The memories of prom will be forever ingrained in our psyche. For the women, I’m sure the memories of NOT being asked out by that hot college guy so you could prove to your fellow high-schoolers that you were oh so mature were painful. Especially when you had to settle for that young republican who clumsily took your virginity and then had the gall not to call the next day after depositing you crying and “Sloppy” drunk with a “Rash” on your doorstep, and trying in vain to wash semen stains out of your dress. I’m not talking about anyone in the BFM, nope, not me!
Our Prom promised to be different. Well, sort of…
The BFM showed up for our third annual prom hash at Bonners, which for some strange reason has NOT thrown us out for good. I don’t know who should be more ashamed, the bar owners or us. But I digress. Hashers came from far and wide for our gala event, some from as far away as Hockessing. They showed up in a variety of tuxes, dresses, and in the case of Two Clump, both sewn together. He smiled and said, “I’m my own date.” OK, there’s another word for that and begins with the letter L.
2008 ATTENDEES AND WHO THEY WERE WEARING:
(Otherwise known as “When bad clothes happen to drunk people”)
Cunting Season (wearing a black dress from Dolce Cabana), Bent Peter (In a Nike outfit), Cousin It (T-shirt from Hanes, flowered shorts from 12&Spruce), Deathwish (Hockessing H3, Goodwill), Yeast of Burden (H4 Goodwill), Big Tackle (grey tux from his past), Short Distance Rimmer (HTS products), Mr. Snuffalupamuff (Miami Vice ‘r Us!), Just Jenny (Pierre Cardin), Sloppy Ho (Red Dresses for Blue Staters), Jingle Balls (Sloppy’s Wigs & Pimp Emporium), Strap-On (Tameeka’s Maternity Wear for Children), Hold the Sausage (Santa’s Helper and Bunny Shop), Likes The Hard One, Heave Ho (Her actual HS Gown!!!), Skin Fiddle (the Gap), 2 Clump Chump (Gown from Goodwill, Blazer from Buster Browns), Lick Hymen (wearing a dress he swore wasn’t his), Just Blythe (Versaich’s Knock-Offs for Women), Just Julie (wearing a turquoise wedding gown), SubCuntinent (HoldMeUp Wear), Virgin Pimp (Borrowed From Trinity Funeral Home), Just Wilmar (Chipendale’s Surplus), Holy Fuck (I Goldberg’s Parachute shoulder pads), Bumble Beaver (In a blue surplus Roller Queen Gown), Little Red Riding Wood (her actual HS Senior Prom gown), Just Andrew (Nike), Cherry Poppins (Cleavage from Vickey’s Secret, Flowered dress from her mom), Midnight Tranny to Georgia (Rash’s dress from 2 years ago! Go check the pics if you don’t believe me!), Rear Engineer (Tuxedo and matching Viking helmet with horns on his head by-HEAD? WHO SAID HEAD…), He’s A Lesbian (tux by Goodwill), S&M Man (Blue Velour Tux by Enrique’s Clothing Cabana), E=My Cock Squared (Crass Bros. Men’s Store: Store of the Stars), Rash (Joan Crawford Outfit from Danni’s Drag Queens), Europeen On Me (St Vincent D’Paul), Cause For Blindness (Red velour thing from Two Guys), Just Jessica (Goodwill), Just Crystal (Sex & The City Special), Popeye’s Bitch (plaid skirt courtesy of St Maria Garetti’s HS for Girls), Just Dave (Jessica Ingram), Tastes Like Chicken (Ross For Less), Just Rachel (Cherry hand me down), Just Rich (Stepfather’s Dress), Mayor Quimby (Batman Cape and dress from Davis’s Trading Post), Up Her Ali (Sparkly thing from Harry’s Hooker Emporium and Jackie O sunglasses), Fisted Sister (Five different outfits she changed into on the way to the hash before settling on Goodwill), Well Hung Jury (Baseball clothes by Dick’s), Working Girl (in a Yve St Laraunt Dress and HEELS!), Fire Down Under (with her ever-present boob painting), Flounder (Wearing the infamous Tux T shirt), Pink and Puffy Rides The Huffy(A Plis).
Since it was a pre laid trail, our Hares this evening were the multitalented Little Red Riding Wood and Jingle Balls. They gave a brief chalk talk and Wood decided to run clean up. Walkers and runners took off into the hot spring night.
THE TRAIL
The pack ran North up 23rd to then across the street, and West across the Chestnut Street Bridge into University City where everyone promptly stopped and looked around, quite confused until Wood started screaming “On-On!” and pointing to the pedestrian ramp down to the Schuylkill trail. Off we ran, north to the Art Museum, passing legitimate joggers who looked at the maniacs and wondered just what the hell was going on. Instead of our usual answer of “BEER!” to their “Why-are-you-running” questions, our reply this evening was “PROM!!!” Let them figure it out.
As we rounded the bottom of the Art Museum, we saw the blessed BN signaling a quick respite. Did I mention it was flippin HOT by the way? I mean I usually sweat like a meatloaf, but this evening I was really spritzing in my $10 tux. That and the fact that I could barely breathe the bowtie around my neck. Who am I kidding? I have no neck. We got there to find Skin Fiddle, wearing his Chaperone sticker and T-shirt and shorts, (I guess all you needed was a sticker? Nice) handing out beer. Some of us really wanted water, which tells you how hot it was. During this time, cries of “Oh my GOD!” filled the air as Just Jessica found out that not only was S&M man adorned in a blue velour tux, he had also died his pubic hair blue! OK, now quick, go back to your happy place. Don’t think about it, don’t reread that last sentence, just keep going…
Yes, they were blue.
The beer stop didn’t last long and before you knew it, we were off again, running around the other side of the art museum, hanging a brief left by the gold Joan of Arc statue and down Pennsylvania Avenue. SubCuntinent was having a problem with her panties falling down or something because she kept trying to hike her skirt up as she ran, with a few female hashers laughing at her in sympathy. Then I realized they were using Working Girl’s running in heels as a pace-setter, since his rhythmic clump clump clumping was reminding a few of them of the trauma of childhood piano lessons. Then, we passed alongside Von Colin Park (named for the Fairmount Park cop who was killed in a grenade and machinegun attack by the oh so peaceful Black Panthers in 1970).
Mayor Quimby then did something that endeared himself to some of our newer female members who really don’t know him yet. Now remember, Quimby was wearing a dress with a Batman cape on. As we ran by the park, he spied a 4 year-old kid in a superman outfit. “Hey Superman! Let’s go!” he yelled, prompting little Just K (Name withheld by parent’s request) to sprint after him. The little guy actually kept up for a bit, scaring the hell out of his father who chased after him, not just a little concerned that his son was chasing a grown man wearing a dress and a batman cape. Of course he was worried, kids have turned up on milk cartons for less. Don’t worry sir, we don’t kidnap children… um, er I think.
Behind the Rodin museum we ran and then across 20th East down another street past the Youth Studies Center, where 2 Clump informed me that he had almost been confused with a child and accidently imprisoned there, then, right down 20th St, before hanging a quick left behind the Free Library of Philadelphia. As we ran East, we wondered where the next beer stop would be, and saw the trail turn left up 16th, we began counting off the bars we knew, Would it be Kellian’s, the home of the giant cockroaches? As the trail turned east down Callohill, I inwardly cheered. Westy’s! They LOVE us there! I hadn’t been there since Halloween when I dressed as Captain Underpants. It would be grea- No suck luck.
Down we ran down 15th St, then right by Hahnemann Hospital (where the naked 300lb psycho had thrown me over a nurses station) then we hung a quick right, and into a 12 story parking garage, past people headed to a real prom, and up the stairs. All 12 flights of stairs. Some of lazy hashers used quick goat thinking and took the elevator to the top, but not all of us. Some of the more overachieving ass-clowns actually schlepped up the entire TWELVE flights of 39,665 stairs. At the top was a blessed beer check.
I thought about swilling a beer, but thought I might actually puke so I wanted to get some H2O in me first. Cunting Season handed me a bottle of hot water that for all I know may have been sitting up on the roof fermenting the whole time. She said that Skin Fiddle or Jingle Balls or someone had gotten it for her, but it was pretty hot. I wasn’t the only one to drink from it, so CS might have been nice to me. Incidentally, the hallucinations have died down and I no longer see Aztec temples in my living room, the walls no longer drip blood, and the dog no longer talks to me in Mandarin.
The rooftop venue was a great idea and we all took advantage of it to take a group picture. Our trusty Photographer, Mr. Snuffalupamuff got us all lined up and tried to set the timer, but had to redo it about ten times. I guess a group picture is more difficult to shoot than an upskirt pic. By the way, Mr. Snuff has a date with a girl he met online soon. For details, just keep watching “Dateline.”
Someone cried “On-On” and we ran for the elevators, too lazy to run down the damn stairs again. 2 Clump said, “Hey I got a great idea, we’ll beat em.” And we ran down a flight to catch the elevator, which took us UP, despite our smacking the hell out of the down button. Everyone piled in on us and we stopped back at the next floor. Then the one below it, and then the one below that. We were to find out later that Europeen On Me had ran down the stairs hitting the elevator button on every floor she reached. Now I know she denied it vigorously during her later down-down, but I want proof that it wasn’t Fire Down Under, or a one-armed man.
Out we ran, past more real prom-goers, to 15th St where a check awaited us. Someone remarked that the perfect place for a beer check would be at an actual prom, which is something to think about. I mean when was the last time one of us got locked up? I know Holy Fuck was for that bridge jumping incident, but really, when?
The trail continued down 15th, down Broad past the Union League and onto Walnut where we ran by all the dumbfounded yuppies, eating outside. I’m sorry, I know you want to have a romantic dinner, but how is the smell of stale urine in 90 degree heat and the sounds of sirens, car horns, and “It’s my parking spot, motherfucker!” romantic? Not to mention the 40 some-odd lunatics running by, screaming “On-ON!” Sorry, ADD moment there.
In we ran to Rittenhouse Square, where some people cheered us, and we found our 3rd Beer Stop. This time, the chaperones provided pizza and water, as well as beer. You could tell how hot it was by the fact that most of us grabbed the water first and barely touched the beer. What blasphemy! Seriously it was hot.
We followed the trail and left the pizza for the real homeless people there. I’m not talking about the bums who hang outside the Wawa’s in Center city who constantly ask you, “Hey can you help a brother out?” I’m talking about the people who sleep in the park at night and don’t bother anyone. Down we ran west down Walnut, where SubC asked, “Where are we? How do we get to the bar form here?” and then back to Bonners, where Well Hung Jury, pitchers of beer and water awaited us. We then adjourned to the Bonners’ Ballroom for…
THE CIRCLE
HARES Little Red Riding Wood and Jingle Balls
FIRST IN/LAST IN: Mayor Quimby / Mr. Snuffleupamuff
VIRGINS:
Just Wilmar (Holy Fuck made him come),
Just Stephanie (A drunk chick who decided to join in)
Just Julie (Lick Hymen made her come)
TRANSPLANTS: Bent Peter (from somewhere)
CUMS LATELYS: Sponge Bath No Pants, Bumble Beaver, Just Rich, Likes The Hard One, Europeen On Me, Midnight Tranny To Georgia
CHAPERONES: Rash, Up Her Ali, Mr. Snuffleupamuff, Jingle Balls, Rear Engineer, Little Red Riding Wood, Skin Fiddle,
AUTOHASHERS: Well Hung Jury, Pink & Puffy Likes The Huffy, Fisted Sister, Sponge Bath No Pants.
AWARDS:
BEST-DRESSED MALE: Working Girl
BEST-DRESSED FEMALE: Heave Ho for her original lacy prom gown
WORST DRESSED MALE 2 Clump Chump for his bisexual ensemble
WORST DRESSED FEMALE The Rash in her Joan Crawford outfit
MOST LIKELY TO GET LAID: Just Wilmar with his Chippendale outfit and washboard abs. I’m not gay, but Jesus, if this guy CAN’T get laid, we should all kill ourselves.
ACCUSATIONS
Europee’n On Me: For hitting the elevator button on every floor as she passed by.
Mayor Quimby: For constantly checking out his pecs in the mirror.
Working Girl: For running in heels.
Just Jessica: For not being able to hold both her boobs and the camera.
Jingle Balls: For NOT holding Just Jessica’s Boobs
Midnight Tranny To Georgia: For having a “baby bulge” in his dress.
Well Hung Jury: For not wearing prom attire. (Both Skin Fiddle and E=MC2 really did wear business shirts for theirs)
Just Stephanie: For crashing the hash
S&M Man: For overachieving and dying his pubic hair blue.
Just Jessica: For having a blue face.
S&M Man Tried to accuse everyone who took the elevator down a floor, and was going to keep doing it floor by floor, but nice try. Drink up.
ANNOUNCEMENTS:
Jun 27th Philly Fool Moon BASH (bring a bike)
Aug 9th Bruceapalooza, a web site is coming soon.
Sep 6th Philly H3 1600 run.
And with that, the 2008 Prom Hash came to a close. A few staggered into the main bar to get our karaoke fix, or hit on the Irish guys who happened to show up. Interesting side note, I recently attended my 20-year high school reunion. The former prom queen now weighs more than me, and the prom king couldn’t make it because he couldn’t get the night off from pumping gas. You can find him at Hoenes Texaco, Route 30 and Cologne Ave, NJ. Stop by, ask for Chris, point, and laugh your ass off. I win, frakkers!
OVERHEARD AT THE HASH
“No water? Why not?” –unk female hasher
“It’s because I have Miller Lite, it’s the same damn thing.”-Skin Fiddle
“My Dress is a classic. Dude, it has the same stains of 20 years ago in it.”-Heave Ho
“OH MY GOD YOU DO!”-Holy Fuck, looking down S&M Man’s shorts.
“I’m beginning to have issues with swallowing too much.” – Just Rachel
“OK, I’ll hold it for you for a second but you better hurry up.” – Holy Fuck
“Anyone else want a piece of tail?” Hold The Sausage
“Its either that or the orange sucky thing.” Short Distance Rimmer (responding)
“My chafing is like rug burn without the pleasure” Unk hasher.
“Oh and if you want to travel in Delaware-“ Hockessing hasher
“In what, the trunk of a fucking car?” Skin Fiddle
On On, YFF
He’s A Lesbian
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BFM #224 ANAL PRO BARRISTERS
Posted on June 10, 2008
39,673
When reading the passage about where this week’s hash was I noticed Up Her Ali’s passage about being thrown out of Barrister’s bar before, and actually having the balls to go back to the scene of the crime. I thought it would almost be like Barak Obama celebrating his primary victory in a Los Angeles hotel and walking out through the kitchen. Didn’t make much sense and it would really tempt the gods, all 12 of them.
Showing up I encountered a typically insanely grinning SubCuntinent who speculated that no one else would show, only to see a grinning Up Her Ali walk on in with a bag of flour. More and more hashers showed up including Sly Fox, who I hadn’t seen in a while, and who was also sporting a rock the size of a flippin marble. A few of us stood outside and had a quick beer or two, watching a parking authority Nazi patrolling up Samson, looking for Cousin It’s car, and introducing ourselves to visiting hasher Too Much Head, as well as the virgins, Just Blythe and Just Jenn. By the way, how many Just Jenns have we had? Maybe we should start numbering them. The new one coul be number six. I lost count on how many we have.
WHO SHOWED UP:
SubCuntinent, Up Her Ali, Short Distance Rimmer, Big Tackle, He’s A Lesbian, Rash, Raidr, S&M Man, Too Much Head (Chicago H3), Soft Core Analyst, Fruit of the Clue, Just Jessica, Just Dave, Sly Fox, Son of a Goat Fucker, Just Blythe, Just Dianna, Mr. Snuffleupamuff, Sloppy Ho, Anal Pro Boner, Rear Engineer, Working Girl, Just Jenn, Virgin Pimp, Tight Lips, Cousin It, Mother Bates, Hold The Sausage, Can You Hear Me Now, Popeye’s Bitch, Tickle My Elmo, Scooby Snatch, Skin Fiddle, Pisscycle.
Noticeably absent was E=MC2, who was out at a fellatio contest up in Canada, and helping to edit the trash. Rumor has it, he lost only to a former BFMer who moved up there. CYHMN was pissed because E beat his personal best of, 3,253. Sloppy was uncharacterically quiet and in a foul mood, perhaps owing to her hero losing the primary, so she was going to take it out on a 70+ year old man.
The straws were drawn and somehow got screwed up, go figure. Somehow, Anal Pro Boner became the hare and Ali went with her, making everyone wonder if it was fixed. A groan went up from the hashers who have run Anal’s trails before, and we noticed they kept insisting that we NOT leave before 15 minutes were up. So we stood outside and watched them run off, mentally noting where we could actually follow the trail. Finally, On-On was called and away we went.
THE TRAIL
I do confess I get a perverse thrill running through Rittenhouse, past couples dining outside and yuppies walking hand in hand sipping lattes and screaming “ON-ON!” as we ran by them. Tonight was no different, he he.
Away we went, West down Samson Street , to the first check at Samson and Van Pelt, and followed the trail down South to find an “F” awaiting me. Wow, I thought, Anal was learning! Usually her trails end in a dob of flower and people cursing as they check hanged. So back we ran to the “X” and followed it up North on Van Pelt, past a bunch of morons screaming “Run, Forest, Run!”
No, genius, we never heard that before.
East we turned into an alley, with another rocket scientist screaming, “Oh I know what they’re doing, it’s Critical Mass!” Wrong again, professor. Then the trail went North on 21st, West into another Alley and then North on 22nd, leading us thinking, “Oh yeah, nice a beer near at Cherry St, and then the trail veered West into an Alley underneath the railroad trestles, and into a parking lot with actual SHIGGY!!!!
The puddle was deep and I said slosh slosh as we splashed through. Nice! Then across and up the railroad tracks, paralleling the all purpose trail, full of runners, staring at us, wondering who the retards were running alongside railroad tracks that may or may not be still active.
The whole time I was following Short Distance Rimmer, who had shed his shirt and was running topless in the heat. Now I was sweating like a meatloaf and would have done the same but I had learned my lesson from a few years ago when I used to live on Brown St. I had taken off my shirt and while talking to a neighbor, a police wagon pulled up and the cop screamed at me on the PA, “HEY, IT’S ILLEGAL TO WEAR A SWEATER IN AUGUST, ASSHOLE!” I have lots of fond memories of my old neighborhood.
Then, East the trail went into the grass, and heading back towards 22nd St, to a check. South we ran down 22nd Street, to hear the blessed sound of “Beer Near!” We kept heading South and the dick tease at Cherry St Tavern turned out to be real, woohoo!
BEER CHECK
It was great and regretfully short. A few of us swilled both beer and water, after all it was flipping hot. While there, the Hares took off and someone yelled, “TWO MINUTES!” until someone else pointed out that the hares requested a ten minute headstart. I looked and someone STILL had a straw in her hair. Finally we shuffled outside and headed East on Cherry, South into a parking lot and East again on Arch before, you guessed it, we lost trail. Damn, you, Anal!
A few of us stood around looking forlorn, some discussing that S&M Man has been seen in Hashspace pics from all over the world, and that Lick Hymen seems to get a LOT of phone numbers, when we realized there was no hope of finding trail and that most of our fun meters had been pegged. “Fuck it!” Sloppy shouted, “On Bar!” and away we went back to Barristers.
We got there and there was a major discussion about the Ronco Food Dehydrator, and I found out that Rash has a copy of the Donner Party Cookbook. While this major discussion was going on, our hares finally came in, looking like we had molested their cats, “Hey, you missed a Beer Check, you Morons!” Anal yelled. Actually we didn’t miss it per se, we just didn’t bother trying to find it.
CIRCLE
HARES: Anal Pro Boner, Up Her Ali
VIRGINS:
Just Jenny – Lick Hymen made her come (Well, I guess that kills THAT theory!)
Just Bylthe – Sub Cuntinent made her come
VISITOR: Too Much Head from the Chicago Hash House Harriers, entertained us with the following joke:
Q Where does a girl with one leg eat?
A: Ihop.
FIRST IN / LAST IN: Big Tackle / The Hares
CUMS LATELYS: Can You Hear Me Now, Sly Fox, Working Girl, He’s A Lesbian
AUTO HASHERS: Tickle My Elmo, Hold the Sausage, Just Jessica, Can You Hear Me Now, Skin Fiddle, Popeye’s Bitch, Pisscycle, Son of a Goat Fucker, Scooby Snatch
VIOLATIONS
Cousin It – For spitting right at someone (and missing I think)
S&M Man : for wearing an an actual Indiana Jones Fedora
Fruit of the Clue, : For knowing where the second beer check would be and NOT telling anyone, Bastard.
Soft Core Analyst: For uttering this statement, “My favorite show from “Sex and The City was….”
Mr Snuffleupamuff: For saving himself for Sloppy
Fruit of the Clue : For trying to violate someone elese on a lame charge that isn’t even worthy of being mentioned.
SubCuntinent: For overdressing in the circle
Mother Bates: Carrying Tight Lips across the puddle.
Fruit of the Clue (again) for riding a bike on the, going “Ding Ding”
Rear Engineer: For frakking up the song.
Son of a Goat Fucker: for saying, “Philly better hide your daughters!”
The Hares: for General Principles. and we only had two cups of beer left. Do the math
ANNOUNCEMENTS:
Prom Hash: Bonners, wear your best outfits,
DC Red Dress Run: Register online at Active.com.
Cousin It. Philly Tail Gate on July 26th.
With that, the suggestion started to head to Bonners for karaoke where I got to see something that will give me nightmares for a long time: S&M Man singing “Love Shack” with a female backup of Just Jessica, Anal Pro Boner, Hold The Sausage and Too Much Head.
OVERHEARD AT THE HASH:
“All the women in the world wanna score with Virgin Pimp!”- Up Her Ali
“Can You take me home with you?”, “Hmm isn’t that what every guy would want to be asked? (unknown hasher)
“Obviously there’s a few women in this hash you haven’t met yet” Rash
“The bitch bed in the back of the van; its where you tenderly bone someone.” Rash
On-On, YFF
He’s A Lesbian
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BFM 223: Sugar Mom’s
Posted on June 4, 2008
The mob gathered at Sugar Mom’s in ye Olde City. I got there early, and it was just way too nice a day to go inside. Most of the pack seemed in agreement; we unofficially pre-circled up outside. Usually I don’t feel like dancing, but we were about 1 happy cigarette away from swaying arm in arm and singing kumbaya together. Sloppy Ass Kisser biked into circle with her little lavender huffy little girls bike (is it just me, or does anybody else think she totally beat down some eight year old innocently riding down the street for that thing? ) . Fruit of the Clue was close behind on his bike which had no fewer than 7 mechanical devices attached to handlebars. I’m still not sure why you need a 3 phase 440V cattle prod in downtown philly, but I guess some texas habits just die hard. Anyways…
Who Came:
Cause for Blindness, Flounder, Cousin It, Deep Flute, First Down, Fruit of the Clue, Hold the Sausage, Jingle Ballzzz, Just Duffy, Lick Hyman, Little Red Riding Wood, Mr Muff, Nappy headed Ho, Nice Nuggets, Phat Ass, Pink N Puffy Rides the Huffy, Piss Cycle, Popeye’s Bitch, Rear Engineer, Scooby Snatch, Skin Fiddle Sloppy Ass Kisser, Sloppy Ho, Son of a Goat Fucker, Subcuntinent, The Rash, Tight Lips, Two Clump Chump, Virgin Pimp, Just सन्दीप्, Just Jessica, Just Dave, Just Megan, Just Justin, Cocktail Frank (Ithaca), and Just Greg.
Our esteemed RA Rear Engineer distributed straws, and our yet again a virgin Just सन्दीप् drew the short one. Our virgin is a visitor from SF, and lives in the tenderloin. This is one of the few places in the US where you can find a underage transgender thai hooker (fyi if you happen to find yourself there, try to find laura, she’s my man), crystal meth, and a government protest at 10am any day of the week. Not quite knowing what he was getting into, 2 Clump Chump volunteered to help.
Eventually the circle assembled outside and chalk talk commenced.
Trail wandered around north of olde city, but south of northern liberties through tunnels and under underpasses. Sand castle manufacture has apparently gone professional, we saw a filthy gorgeous 10 foot tall phillies sand castle in Franklin Square.
Crossing over race street there were some grooves in the asphalt formed from decades of snowplows and ambivalent maintenance. They felt like they were about chest high, and I may have slightly bumped into one of them, and made an impromptu decision to do a judo roll down the middle of the street. Maybe I was trying to impress Piss Cycle and Just Megan, with my mad ninja skills, but it didn’t work out quite as well as planned.
We got to locust bar for our beer check. It was about 500 degrees inside, so I waited outside talking with Cousin It. Apparently he is looking for head. Then again, who isn’t? A trail was set back to bar, but most of the hash just ran/walked back whatever way was easiest. On our way in, Popeye’s Bitch was headed out. He had “Stuff to do”. I’ll leave speculation about what “stuff” is as an exercise to the reader. After arriving at Sugar Mom’s brick patio, Scooby serenaded us with a slow, some would say touching version of the S&M man. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house
Circle:
Hare: Just Sundeep, 2 Clump
Virgins: Just Sundeep and 2 Clump on the one hare drinks rule, and your humble scribe on the one on-sec drinks rule
Visitor: Cocktail Frank he told us a joke about the pussywillow plant. It wasn’t nearly as bad as the last few visitors jokes
First In – Subcuntinent
Last In – Cause
Comes-Latelies – Nice Nuggets Phat Ass, Just Justin
Auto Hashers – Skin Fiddle, Fruit of Ze Clue, Pink and Puffy, and Lick Hyman
Accusations
RE was accused of being a racist and proudly displaying his half marathon jacket. And when one RA drinks, LRRW had to drink as well. They sang one of my favorites “I stick my cock/clit out” wonder twins style.
Sloppy was accused of food in circle. And when one ho/sloppy drinks, Sloppy Ass Kisser and Nappy Headed Ho drank as well
Short Distance Rimmer was accused of … something
Sloppy Ass Kisser was accused of confusing 2 Clump and Goat Fucker and under the one yada yada Sloppy Ho and Nappy Headed Ho
Snuffleupamuff was accused of screaming like a little girl
Jingle Ballzzz was unjustly accused of hash crash. And under the one on-sec, 2 Clump, Hold the Sausage, and Scooby drank as well
Hold the Sausage was accused of being an overachieving ass-clown and closing on her house right before coming to hash.
Skinfiddle was accused of being even more than a dick than usual and purposely turning on the jukebox during circle
Announcements:
Haberdashery – Talk to the Rash. 10 commandments t-shirts have been ordered, and will be delivered at prom. Due to the high volume of orders, and our commitment to shoddy workmanship, they are only 1$/commandment. If you asked her for a shirt, try to actually show up and pay her this time.
June 3rd - Philly Hash - hared by Lil Bro Pete and Bunyip in Palmyra
June 5th - BFM # 224 – at Barristers -
June 7th - Philly Roller Girls - Philly Roller Derby Championship! Doors at 5, bout at 6. Bumble Beaver AKA Tara Newone will be there and promises to end the year with a bang. http://www.phillyrollergirls.com/
June 12th – PROM!!!!! – If you really can’t get a date, I’m sure you can take your momma out.
June 27th – BJH3 #3 - hares off at 7:30. Start location will be in Eatontown, NJ at the Home Depot on Rt 36. Hared by Tight Lips, Beer Boy: Dead man Walking
August – Phillies Tailgate – Cousin It. Be there!
Jingle Ballzzz
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