30 November 2006 – PHILADELPHIA: Anyone who has traveled via airplane in the last few years knows that air travel is no longer glamorous. If you’re lucky enough to actually fit into your seat and have row-mates that aren’t spilling out of theirs, it’s likely the small child seated directly behind you will be practicing karate on your seatback for the entire flight. The lovely phenomenon of global warming has caused extreme weather, practically ensuring that your trip will feature some turbulence. Or you’ll be seated next to someone who is sneezing uncontrollably, is hacking up phlegm, and is quite possibly infected with Ebola. (Speaking of Ebola, does anyone remember when SARS was the communicable disease du jour? Good thing I realized it was just a passing trend and decided not the splurge on the Louis Vuitton SARS mask…) And let’s not forget the ever-dreaded perpetually crying baby. Unfortunately, it doesn’t get much better in first class. The last time I was upgraded to first, I wasn’t even offered alcohol because the prehistoric flight attendant assumed I was underage. Oh, the horror! How can one be expected to fly sober? All of this unpleasantness aside, nothing compares to this flight. I suddenly don’t feel so victimized by my experiences…. Read more »
I don’t know if police officers don’t visit as many bars as stereotypes suggest, or if they enjoy watching civilians scramble about the city searching for that elusive hole in the wall. Either way, my suggestion is to ask the wino on the corner instead of your local man in blue, or yellow as the case may be. Anyway, I’m too green at this to waste your time with senseless babble.
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Instead of being forced to catatonically sit in front of my television and endure crap-tastic programming, I was positively gleeful this evening when I discovered that Encore was offering back to back presentations of Wrong Turn. Now this is an excellent example of a really good bad horror movie. And if you know anything about me, you know I absolutely adore horror movies. This particular film has it all: explosions, cannibalism, inbreeding, deformities, West Virginia mountain men, severed limbs, and an unclever chick that ends up battling villains in a tight, white tank top. I mean seriously kids, one of the main characters is named Three Finger! What’s not to love about that? Actually, that description sort of makes the movie sound like a typical Thursday at the hash. Well, maybe that’s a minor exaggeration. And yes, I’m aware that my passion may earn me the label of severely unhinged. I actually came to that realization on my own last week as I found myself laughing uncontrollably at the super fake looking arterial spurt as I was watching Hostel. So, point being, if my writing seems a little distracted it’s because I’m watching Wrong Turn, again. Read more »
I recently discovered that in England they have these things called ASBOs, which stands for Anti-Social Behavior Orders, which is basically a ticket you get for being a dickwad.  How awesome is that? So now you all know what to get each other for Christmas. Or Hannukah. Or both. I don’t discriminate.
Speaking of dickwads, The Mob gathered this week at Westy’s, a bar we haven’t been to in a long time which I think is a shame because it’s located in a neighborhood where you can get a gun permit out of a van just about half a block away. But I digress. Lured to the bar this evening were Stacks, Just Manish, Nice Nuggets, Fat Ass, Sloppy Ho, Scooby Snatch, Tickle My Elmo, Sly Fox, Popeye’s Bitch, Two Clump Chump, Up Her Ali, Cunting Season, Tastes Like Chicken, Bastard Child, Europee’n On Me, Holy Fuck, Snowball, Can You Hear Me Now?, Egotestical, Queef, Little Red Riding Wood, He’s A Lesbian, Plastic Pud, Just Dave, Bumble Beaver, The Rash, and SheMan. Read more »
The other day I was listening to the radio, and I heard what is quite possibly the most inappropriate holiday song ever in the history of the whole entire world, even if you include White Rabbit by Jefferson Airplane as an Easter song or even the alternate lyrics to George Michael’s Last Christmas that my college roommate made up one night after vigorous game of quarters. That song is, ready for this?: Back Door Santa by Clarence Carter (the same artist who produced the tender love song Strokin’.) Let me tell you, I was appalled, and yet… I couldn’t turn away. Which was a lot like this week’s hash. Read more »
PHILADELPHIA: Alright, pop quiz time kids. I promise it’s an easy one. Here goes. What is a hasher’s favorite thing in the world? Ok, time’s up. I’m betting half of you answered beer and the other half answered sex. An abundance of beer is never an issue for the BFM, but I can only hypothesize that some hashers aren’t getting laid as much as they would prefer. Well, everyone can take comfort in the fact that the BFMers are probably getting more action than the Brits, although they may have us beat in the quality beer department. And while I’m on such a lascivious topic, I can’t help but be reminded that BFMers seem rather inclined to parade around in their underwear without much persuasion. Luckily for us Americans, we have the freedom to choose the style of underwear we sport. Not so for our Canadian brothers. This is human rights at its worst, people. Now I’ll conclude my monologue and let you get back to the trash… Read more »
PHILADELPHIA: First, a Public Safety Announcement:
OK, I’m going to start this trash out with my absolute last and final warning about running into traffic. Are you listening? Here, put your ear right up close to the screen. Ready? Here it is: QUIT RUNNING INTO TRAFFIC. NOW. TODAY. This is a city where the taxis are engaged in a perpetual Chevy Caprice land speed trial and I am tired of sounding like my mother every time I see one of you nearly lose a limb blithely wandering across a street. (Although my mother is far, far less likely to use the f-word.) STOP.. IT.
Good. Now, with that out of the way… This week, the Mob gathered at old favorite Cherry Street Tavern. Arriving at the bar were Stacks, Hold the Sausage, Tickle My Elmo, He’s A Lesbian, Scooby Snatch, The Rash, Two Clump Chump, She Man, Little Fuckin Winkie, virgin hasher and recent Bar-passer Just Manish, who was brought by Virgin Pimp who also just passed the Bar, and Can You Hear Me Now? who passed the Bar a while ago (go ahead and insert your favorite lawyer joke here. I’m partial to the shark one, myself), Just John, Festering Beanie Baby, previously of some other hash but who now resides in Philly, Plastic Pud, who brought out virgin Just Mike, and Dancing Fool, who brought out a piñata. Read more »
This is old, but I’m tired of having to drink for it. Surprisingly, my notes are still in good shape.
The night of October 5th, the pack met at a new hash establishment, Barristers on Sansom b/w 18th &19th….Yes, this trash is that old! Drawing the short straw were Dry Hump and Just Jer (don’t know if he’s named yet…can’t remember…sorry.)So the pack set out. According to notes, the hares ran out of flour around 16th St with a ½ mile to go. Read more »
PHILADELPHIA: So this is going to sound familiar. It’s Thursday and I still haven’t finished the trash. Television and having an actual life are partially to blame, but this afternoon I honestly just opted to disinfect my thrift store dress for the DC RDR. That’s an important task people. I think you can excuse a tardy trash by taking solace in the fact that I won’t be contracting herpes from a garment of dubious origin this weekend. And I can take solace in the fact that I now know why Philadelphia drivers are so incompetent. So here goes…. Read more »
PHILADELPHIA: I really wish I had a snappy intro this week, but I’ve been suffering through the most god awful allergies for the past two weeks, to the point that I want to peel my face off, not in a dramatic hey-I’m-REALLY-the-Tom-Cruise-Character-in-Mission-Impossible kind of way, but more in the horror movie kind of…well if I peeled my face off and I was really Tom Cruise that would be pretty horrific, too, so never mind. Did I mention I’ve been mixing my medications? Fabulous.
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