BFM #207 – Do Shots, Don’t Get Shot Deux

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By europeen February 12, 2008
Well, folks, the year of the Gynocracy is drawing to a close and for we Gynocrats, we’re getting excited. For some, it’s the idea of returning to just hashing, for others it’s the potential of performing other duties, in mismanagement, out on the horizon.
 
When I walked into Kelliann’s the mob was already taking over the bar. I was running late and feeling rushed so I focused my energies in getting every hasher documented. I was excited as well, since I knew, with each hasher I documented, it would be the last time I’d be required to do it. Don’t’ get me wrong, it’s bittersweet as well since it’s been a great year but this on-sec is looking forward to having only one hash responsibility on Thursday nights – drinking beer.
 
 
Who came:
Horse Whacker, Stacks, Stunt Dick Double, Hold the Sausage, Cause for Blindness, Up Her Ali, Damn it Damn it, Mother May I?, Sloppy Ho, Cunting Season, Tastes Like Chicken, Softcore Analyst, Just Vic, Lake Flacid, Just Liz, Just Archana, Cherry Poppin’s, Just Rich, Just Chad, Raid R, E= My Cock 2^, Heave Ho, Little Red Riding Wood, Rear Engineer, Anal Proboner, 2 Clump chump, Popeye’s Bitch, Scooby Snatch, Mayor Quimby, Just Craig, S&M Man, Fire Down Under, Well Hung Jury, Son of a Goat Fucker, Virgin Pimp, CYHMNow?
 
Sloppy circled up the mob, with her normal level of enthusiasm followed the “snatch air out” she’s become known for, while Hold the Sausage handed out slips of paper. We were informed that there would be no official trail this night. The slips of paper contained addresses where we would find each of the seven, count them 1-2-3-4-5-6-7 shot checks. How each hasher got there was up to them. We were on out.
 
The first shot check was a block and a half away and sponsored by our Grand Mistress, Hold the Sausage. She served up Snow Cones and Amaretto Sours. I passed on the Amaretto but happily indulged in a snow cone. I stated that the color reminded me of Scope mouthwash and Up Her Ali looked into her cup and said, “Thanks, I don’t know if I can drink this now.” However, never fear, she drank it and I do believe she went back for seconds.
 
The mob headed out and our next stop was the Casa de Skin Fiddle. On our way, Scooby Snatch told us how he took off on Friday due to the evening’s festivities and of the conversatio, he had with his boss about why he wouldn’t be in. Needless to say, Scooby and his boss now have a “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy when he requests a day off.
 
We arrived at Skin Fiddle’s and even though I decided to skip the second shot, I wandered in to see what was being served up. Skin Fiddle was serving a shot called “Night Train Express” It sounded kinda interesting so I asked what was in the shot. He picked up the bottle and said, “Nothing. It’s called, ‘Night Train Express’. It’s like Boone’s.” Oh damn, I should have known. Skin Fiddle isn’t known for supplying top shelf liquor, unless its beer. Glad I skipped that one. Boone’s, and anything like it, is on the bottom shelf at the liquor store for a reason – it’ll give you gut rot.
 
We headed off to our next shot check hosted by Stacks. Half the mob was already there when we arrived and so we lined up, ready to fill our paper cups with whatever alcoholic concoction Stacks had come up with. People must have assumed it was a tech check as well because both Rear Engineer and Just Archana were on the phone. Uh-huh. They’ll drink for that later. My nose caught a familiar scent, one I wasn’t particularly fond of so I questioned Stacks. “What kind of shot is are you serving?” “Red-headed slut”, she said. I lowered my Dixie cup. The smell was of Jagermeister. This Gynocrat isn’t down with Jagar so I passed. I was still feeling the effects of the snow cone anyway.
 
The fourth shot check was at Fruit of the Clue‘s who served us kamikazes and Manschevitz wine. For the love of Pete people, are you trying to give us all bleeding ulcers? I stayed briefly but headed out.
 
We headed down Green Street. Next up was Lake Flacid, who I might add was dressed like Fred Flintstone this night. When I asked him why he was dressed in costume, he said, “It’s the hash, why not?” Good point. Here at the corner of 19th and Green, Lake Flacid and Just Julie sponsored a shot check with tasty Pineapple Upside-down Cake shots. Lake informed us that he was similar to Scooby in that every ice cube, in the shot container, had been in his mouth.  A few hashers groaned but I drank my shot anyway. Why not? Saliva seems to work for the Peruvians and Bolivians when they make chicha so I’m sure it just added to the flavor of my shot.
 
About 25 feet down the block was our next shot check at Sloppy Ho’s. She served up oyster shooters, hot sauce and all! Yum! I grabbed myself a shot and down it went…not as easy as they normally do. Instead of raw oysters, Sloppy dropped a cooked oyster in each shot glass, which I wasn’t aware of and I almost choked trying to get it down. It had good flavor though. As I stood chatting, Just Archana came blasting through the group and walked right through the shots, sending most of them flying across the sidewalk. Scooby decided to have his oyster fly a different way…he decided that his oyster should swim upstream and he walked into the street and threw up his shot.
 
We didn’t need to go far for the last and seventh shot check. We walked four doors down to a waiting Rear Engineer who was serving Rocky Mountain Mother Fuckers. I have no idea what was in the shot but they certainly tasted good. I think by this point the alcohol was hitting most of the mob because no one r*n back to the bar. We crawled.
 
Sloppy opened circle with “Here’s to the Republican’s crashing and burning!”
 
Hare(s):
  • Hold The Sausage
  • Skin Fiddle
  • Stacks
  • Fruit of the Clue
  • Lake Flacid
  • Sloppy Ho
  • Rear Engineer / Scooby Snatch

Visitor:         Damn it! Damn it! from Motown / Ann Arbor H3

First In:        E = My Cock 2^

Last In:        Sloppy Ho
 
Virgin:          Just Craig (Internet made him cum) coined “Craigelicious” by Sloppy
 
Auto-hashers:
  • Well Hung Jury
  • CYHMNow?
  • Son of a Goat Fucker
 Cums Lately:
  • Mayor Quimby
 Accusations:
  • E = My Cock 2^ for wearing his wife’s sorority tee shirt to the hash
  • Scooby for having his oyster swim upstream
  • Rear Engineer for talking to his mom on trail “I’m ‘r*nning’ like I do every Thursday”
  • Just Archana for tech on trail and knocking over the oyster shooters
  • Cunting Season for dumping her shot (Hold the Sausage under the one when GM drinks rule)
  • Rear Engineer for being an overachieving ass clown and talking about a 12k on trail
  • Just Chad and Craigelicious for comparing race notes
  • Someone got accused for almost hitting another hasher with their car
  • Fruit of the Clue for violating his own dress code by not wearing sparkles to the hash
  • Lake Flacid for wearing a Halloween costume at “Do Shots don’t Get Shot”
  • Fruit of the Clue for looking like Rocky
  • Sloppy for talking trash (Hold The Sausage, Skin Fiddle, Stacks, Fruit of the Clue, Lake Flacid, Rear Engineer, Scooby Snatch, Cunting Season under the when one Hare and GM drinks rule)
 Announcements:
  • Green Dress Hash weekend begins March 13
  • BFM Elections begin
I walked our visitor back to the bar, poured myself a beer and began practicing for bfm #209.  My work here is done. 
 
 

On-on, bitches!

Europee’n on Me

 

categories Trash

BFM #205 – At 40, has the mob outgrown Callahan’s?

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By europeen January 28, 2008
I walked into an already bustling Callahan’s and made my way over to Sloppy Ho and Cunting Season. Sloppy and I went through what haberdashery we have (buy a tee shirt, people!) and then I began to make my rounds, taking note of the growing mob who was slowly taking over the bar. I made my way over to the door to introduce myself to an unfamiliar face. He introduced himself as Just Rich, however, I had fully expected him to say Just Fozzy because he was wearing a brown fuzzy jacket. Later, while I was chatting with Anal Proboner, Just Rich walked by. I pointed him out to Anal and she proceeded to her version of a Fozzy Bear impression, “Waka! Waka! Waka!” I wasn’t the only person who thought he was dressed like a Muppet.
 
Who came:
Just Liz, CYHMNow?, Fruit of ze Clue, Mother May I?, Lick Hymen, Just Dev, 2 Clump Chump, Just Mike, S&M Man, Son of a Goat Fucker, Rear Engineer, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, Atilla the Hung, Just Rich, Cherry Poppins, Holy Fuck, Lake Flaccid, Softcore Analyst, Just Julie, Hold The Sausage, Cunting Season, Mr. Snuffleupamuff, Death Wish, Yeast of Burdon, Scammin’ Ol’ Ladies, Fire Down Under, Just Brian, Just Archana, Bumble Beaver, Jingle Ballzzz, Just Joel, Horse Whacker, Sloppy Ho, Anal Proboner, Just Christina, He’s a Lesbian, Stacks, Up Her Ali, Just Vic, Just Mike, Virgin Pimp
 
Before we headed out to circle up, I was called over by the bartender. He thanked us for coming to Callahan’s but gave me warning: “See those food warmers in the corner? We’re putting food in them in a few minutes and your group is not to eat any of it. It’s for the dart throwers only.” I promised him I’d let the mob know but as soon as I walked away I forget his warning.
 
The mob headed out. We r*n up South ST and over the South Street bridge. Ahead of me, I heard someone yell, “Back check!” Then, someone r*n past us and said, “it’s a back check 11!”  11? As I turned around, Anal Proboner was behind me with a cute mischievous smile on her face, shrugging her shoulders. As I passed her I said, “Oh, you’re good!” Back we went across the South ST. By the time we counted 11 marks, we were back at Callahan’s. So it was either a really short trail or we were staring over.
 
The mob headed up South ST, and I kept Anal Pro in my sights while doing a little check hanging since I didn’t hear anyone call “on-on!” The mob r*n up to 24th ST and I heard “False!”” Anal Pro who was now in the middle of the pack, took a left onto 25th and everyone who was behind her, simply followed along, like lemmings over a cliff. Cunting Season, not seeing a check at the corner of 25TH, stopped. We turned around and headed back to South ST, towards the bar. The few of us that there were, checked around for trail and then we noticed, two blocks down, headed into the Markward Playground was the mob.  We headed off to play catch up and as we r*n, noticed that we were on. 

We r*n through Markward, down 25th and into the Schuylkill River Park, up the stairs and down Walnut ST, across a parking lot and onto 22nd ST. People started questioning if there was going to be a beer check at Holy Fuck’s. Nope. We headed up 22nd and found our first beer check at Cherry Street Tavern.

After warming up and finishing off a few pitchers, we headed out.  I noticed our virgin, Just Rich carrying a brown bag.  He informed me he didn’t have dinner and had stopped to get himself a sandwich, on trail.  We continued up 22nd, crossed over the Vine Street Expressway, towards the Parkway. We took a right down the Parkway and headed into Logan Circle, through the fountain and then over on 19th ST. As the mob waited to cross over JFK, some started laughing because they said our virgin, Just Rich, aka Fozzy Bear, thought that perhaps we’d be having another beer check at Monk’s Café (this guy is just begging to be named!). But Monk’s Café?  Wow, he doesn’t know the BFM!  With that, Sloppy quipped, “If we had a beer check at Monk’s we’d have to charge $20 hash cash.” I sighed…wouldn’t that be nice! In the mix, someone mentioned “Flannery’s” and so we crossed over Market and followed the rest of the mob, down Ludlow, to TJ Flannery’s. 

Back at Callahan’s the mob outnumbered the normal bar patrons by 4:1, easily. People seemed to be revved up and circle felt more like a hurricane, with Sloppy and Sausage standing in the eye. Sloppy feeling the energy, kicked off circle with, “I’m so excited to be here!” She then raised her beer and announced, “I think the mob has finally outgrown Callahan’s!”
 
Hare(s):
  • Anal Proboner
  • Rear Engineer 
Trail:
·         Not enough back checks
·         Not enough falses
·         Not enough turtle crap (apparently there are 3 turtle bronze statues in Markward Park and Rear Engineer drew turtle crap behind them with flour)
 
Visitor(s):
  • Death Wish
  • Yeast of Burdon 
First In:           casinos mirar sus oponentes hábitos. Mr. Snuffleupamuff
 
Last In:            Softcore Analyst
 
Virgins:
  • Just Rich
  • Just Vic
  • Just Liz 
Auto-hashers:
  • Just Brian
  • He’s a Lesbian
  • Just Christina
  • CYHMNow?
  • Fruit of ze Clue 
Cums Lately:
  • Mother May I?
  • Lake Flaccid
  • Just Julie
  • Cherry Poppin’s
  • Midnight Tranny to Georgia 
Accusations:
  • Rear Engineer – Being high maintenance and using a water bottle to dispense flour on trail
  • Scammin’ Ol’ Ladies – who apparently stated that it was so cold out that he’d rather suck a dick than r*n trail
  • Virgin Pimp – for wanting to actually see Scammin’ back his words up
  • Just MikeVariationen von internet poker. – for training on trail
  • Fruit of ze Clue – for submitting his own marathon photo to a magazine
  • 2 Clump Chump – for wanting to be like Lick Hymen and wearing his shirt unzipped down to his navel (under the when one Lick Hymen drinks rule – Lick Hymen)
  • Just Rich – for asking if we were having a beer check at Monk’s Café (under the when one virgin drinks rule – all virgins)
  • Lick Hymen – for having headgear on in circle
  • Just Joel – for being a chick and going in the chick’s bathroom at Flannery’s and then spending lots of time in there 
With that, Sloppy and Sausage called Horse Whacker into the circle. It wasn’t her birthday so I guess they were planning a renaming. Names thrown out: Takes It Up The Ass Like Stan, Stunt Dick Double, The Stain Lifter, Spin Cycle, Slippery When Drunk, A Horse With No Name, Poops, I Did It Again, Piss Cycle, Party Pooper. In the end, the laming resulted in the mob choosing: Piss Cycle.
 
Announcements:
  • BFM nominations are next week
  • 14 February – BFM AGM – Triangle Tavern
  • Roller Derby Saturday, 25 January.
  • BFM 206 – Do Shots, Don’t Get Shot
  • April – Boston Marathon Hash
  • May – Stinko de Mayo
  • 15 February – Full Moon S&M Valentine’s Hash
  • Cause could be on a date 
 
On-on, bitches!

Europee’n on Me

 

 

categories Trash

BFM #202 – The mob pops the cherry on 2008

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By europeen January 7, 2008
My plummer was supposed to install my new hot water heater tonight.  I was a bit disappointed that I might have to miss the hash but, then again, I’d actually get to take a hot shower for the first time in a month, and it was cold as the artic circle outside (I swear I saw a polar bear walking down 4th street on my way home from the bus).  However, my plummer cancelled, so I put on my five layers of gear and headed out into the 3-degree wind chill outside.
 
I walked into Cherry Street Tavern, apparently, looking like the little brother, Randy, from A Christmas Story because when Just Mike and Fiber Opdick greeted me in the back room, Fiber proceeded to mock me by standing with his arms out while quoting the film.  Point taken.  I was overdressed.
 
Who came:
3 Balls, CYHMN?, Dry Hump, Europee’n on Me, E = My Cock 2^, Fiber Opdick, Hold The Sausage, Holy Fuck, Horse Whacker, Jingle Ballzzz, Little Red Riding Wood, Nappy-Headed Ho, Mr. Snuffleupamuff, Rear Engineer, Scooby Snatch, Sloppy Ho, Strap On, The Albanian, Virgin Pimp, Well Hung Jury, Just Chad, Just Dev, Just Don, Just Mike
 
Trail was pre-laid by Sloppy Ho and Holy Fuck and it was laid as if they took out a tourist map and followed along - very scenic.  We r*n past the Franklin Institute, through Logan Circle and the empty fountain, for which several hashers commented, “Wouldn’t it suck if the water came on?”  We headed through Love Park and by the beautiful Christmas tree, past the Philadelphia Municipal offices where a giant Monopoly iron, red and yellow Sorry! game pieces and various dominos were scattered around the building.  We headed up Broad Street, down Callowhill to 15th and into Fairmount.
 
Trail this night seemed more like a group r*n rather than a hash since I heard little or no “On, On!” being yelled and since I was following the hares I was always on-hare and didn’t need to stop at any of the checks.
 
Our beer check was a familiar place, an alcohol oasis – Scooby Snatch, Rear Engineer and Just Don’s apartment.  We knew this place well.  Many of us spent quite a few nights getting our drink on, and for some, getting off, within these walls.  Our most recent, yet fuzzy, memory was New Year’s Eve.  We walked into the apartment and immediately began sharing stories and eating and drinking party leftovers.
 
Holy Fuck spotted an un-opened bag of Peanut M&M’s and happily indulged. Since they were unopened, she was guaranteed that Scooby Snatch hadn’t licked any and then put them back into the bag, which he is famously known for. She then said, as she grabbed another handful of the green and red crack bits, from of the bag, something to the effect of, “Ever since I joined Philly, I crave M&M’s and potato chips when I r*n.”  No kidding, sister!  Where else in the world, other than a camping trip, do you stop in the woods, by a swamp, along the road, in a storm pipe, or amongst nettles, and eat M&M’s?
 
Like answering a call from a siren when that yellow bag opened, Scooby Snatch walked through the door and seemed a bit surprised to see the mob hanging out.  I said to him, “We had so much fun on New Year’s Eve that we decided to come back for the sequel.”  The next thing I know CYHMN? is laying on the floor and E is laughing hysterically.  E pulled the chair out from under him as CYHMN? was sitting down.
 
A few feet away is Nappy-headed Ho holding a clementine and he announces to the group, “do you guys know the proper way to peel a clementine?” Curious, we all grew quiet and watched. He peeled the little orange fruit and placed the peel on the table and said, “just like that.” Then he smoothed out the peel. It looked like a penis and balls. The mob groaned. Scooby didn’t help matters since he pulled a carton of milk out of the refrigerator and “finished it off”. First the chair incident and now this. I stated that I felt like I was at a frat party to which CYHMN? replied, “I feel like I’m at circle jerk” as he pointed to the peel on the table. I took a few photos of Nappy’s work of “art” and CYHMN? pierced the orange member with a “Prince Edward”.
 
Holy Fuck started handing out the left over party favors, which included leis from the Gynocracy’s Excellent Adventure (see BFM #175) and handed Strap On a yellow lei for which Strappy asked, “Hey, do I get a yellow one because I’m Asian?”  We shared a group laugh and headed on out.
 
Our harriett’s took us over to the Art Museum where Sloppy Ho felt up the Rocky statue and we stood in Rocky’s shoes at the top of the museum steps. I use the word “we” but we consisted of myself, Holy Fuck, Horse Whacker, Sloppy Ho, Just Dev and Nappy-Headed Ho. The rest of mob short-cutted and didn’t even make the climb. Lazy bastards.
 
Back at Cherry Street Sloppy eventually circled us up since most people were excited to nosh on $1 off sandwiches while watching the Kansas game.  Where is Kansas Dan when you need him?  She asked us what we thought of the “Best trail of 2008”?  “Shitty!”
 
Trail:    Not enough blond hares
            Not enough 3-dgree wind chill
 
Hare(s):
  • Sloppy Ho
  • Holy Fuck 
Visitor(s):         Laa-Laa (Carolina TRASH)
 
First In:            Laa-Laa (who apparently short-cutted so he could come back
                        and catch the ESPN highlights at the bar)
 
Last In:            Nappy-headed Ho
 
Virgins:
  • Just Don (and Strap On stated that simply wearing white doesn’t make one a virgin) 
Auto-hashers:
  • Rear Engineer
  • Scooby Snatch
  • Dry Hump
  • Mr. Snuffleupamuff
  • The Albanian
  • Virgin Pimp
  • Just Don 
Cums Lately:
  • Dry Hump
  • Virgin Pimp 
Accusations:
  • Nappy-headed Ho for having the ability to create a penis out
    of a clementine skin
  • CYHMN? for giving the clementine penis a Prince Edward and
    not a Prince Albert piercing
  • Sloppy Ho for losing control of the circle due to the obnoxious
    visitor (and when one hare, one on-sec, one Ho, one GM
    (not sure how this got in there) drinks: Holy Fuck, Nappy-
    headed Ho    , Strap On, Hold The Sausage)
  • Horse Whacker for getting a severely warped ATM card
    stuck in the ATM machine and for Scooby Snatch being
    her hero and getting it out.
  • Laa-Laa for wearing a headlight on trail
  • E = My Cock 2^ for pulling the chair out from under
    CYHMN? at the beer check 
Announcements:
  • Philly Hash on Saturday at 3pm off of City Line Avenue. Be there!
  • BFM elections are coming up at the end of the month. Two additional Mismanagement positions were suggested and they are Hash Flash and Haberdasher. By unanimous “Yay!”, both positions will be a part of the upcoming nominations for future BFM Mismanagement.
  • Cousin It’s Phillies Tailgate Hash will be in August. 2008. Details to follow.
  • 8pm on Saturday January 5, Bumble Beaver’s Birthday Pub Crawl, to commence at The Raven.
 
On-on, bitches!
Europee’n on Me
 
 
Overheard at the hash:
“I ate lots of wieners at the party”
“My farty puckin rules!”

“While I did promise that I wouldn’t tell anyone, you promised that you wouldn’t piss in my washing machine and, I never expected that you’d actually piss in my washing machine.”

 

 

 

categories Trash

BFM #201 – Do Ravens have tryptophan?

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By europeen December 28, 2007
There’s a widely held belief that eating turkey will cause drowsiness due to tryptophan (cheddar cheese and milk actually have more tryptophan than turkey). Its actually not true, it’s the carbohydrate-rich foods that one has with turkey that causes the drowsiness due to an (indirect) mechanism*, increasing the production of sleep-promoting serotonin and melatonin in the brain.
 
A very laid-back mob slowly trickled into The Raven and as I was getting the straws together, Softcore Analyst said, “Don’t bother with that, I’ll hare. Son of a Goat Fucker then volunteered to co-hare. Sweet! I tucked the straws into my backpack and went back to my beer.
 
Who came:
2 Clump Chump, 3 Balls, Anal Pro-boner, Ass Sweat, Bumble Beaver, Europee’n on Me, E = My Cock2, Fiber Opdick, Horse Whacker, Midnight Tranny to GA, Nappy-Headed Ho, Just Kim, Tight Lips, Mr. Snuffleupamuff, Rear Engineer, Son of a Goat Fucker, Softcore Analyst, Strap-on, Just Chad, Just Dev
 
I followed the co-hares outside and said that we were going to give them a good 10-minute start since, despite the fact that it was 20:02, the mob was still trickling in. They informed me that they were planning a beer check at, what Softcore Analyst referred to as: “the bar with the lesbian on the wall.” I said, “Ok.” and walked back inside. It then occurred to me, “Wait, lesbians?  Where exactly are they going?” I must have been having serotonin / melatonin issues as well because I casually ran it by Anal Proboner and she said, “Lesbian is on the wall…the picture of He’s a Lesbian…Callahan’s.”  "Duh, right.  That place," I think to myself.  :: she rolls her eyes ::
 
Remember the old Faberge shampoo commercial where the female hair model tells a friend about her shampoo and the voice-over states “and she tells a friend and so on and so on and so on…” yea, well, instead of shampoo, it was about the beer check. By the time I circled people up, no more than 4 minutes later, everyone knew the beer check was at Callahan’s.
 
Let me just say this: I’m an on-sec, hash flash, and hash cash, but while I’ve got a big mouth, I’m certainly no RA. Thankfully, there were no virgins and so I was able to get us through circle super quick. Phew. On out!
 
I’m sure Softcore and Son did a great job of laying trail but given the fact the mob knew where the beer check was, most either totally ignored or partially ignored trail. Bumble Beaver and I followed part of the mob over on 19th street but when we realized they were short-cutting, we figured the hares would head through Rittenhouse Park and so we headed down Walnut and saw the rest of the mob on the other side of the park on 18th street.
 
We caught up to them at Spruce Street and then then they turned back around. Bumble and I figured we’d head up Spruce and meet up with the mob again. No luck. We attempted to find trail but were unable to until 24th and South Sts. By then we were two blocks from the beer check and headed in.
 
It was damn hot in Callahan’s and spent most of my time trying to cool down, while catching up with Heave Ho. After the pitchers were gone, we headed back out and down 26th street and up Lombard. We turned down 25th street and made a left into the Schukyll Park at the check. A freight train was coming down the tracks and most of us hesitated and then r*n across the tracks into the park. Heave Ho and I were too busy chatting that we r*n about 1/10 mile before we realized that we weren’t on trail and the entire mob was following us! Oops! We all headed up the stairs and headed down Walnut street. We r*n down 23rd street and I broke off from the mob and headed up Samson to find myself an ATM, all the while hearing “on-on!” parallel to me on Chestnut street. I found my money tree and ran into the mob at 18th and Samson and we headed on-in.
 
Again, I’m not an RA so I was happy to have E and Rear present so I wouldn’t be forced to run circle. E said he was feeling very mellow and that if Rear wanted to step up, he was cool with it. So a 2008 nomination for RA, Rear Engineer (learn those songs, buddy!), stepped up to the plate.
 
Trail:    Not enough:  falses, straight running, beer checks, bums, trains
 
Hare(s):
  • Softcore Analyst
  • Son of a Goat Fucker

Visitor(s):         Ass Sweat (from Diego Garcia)

First In:            Anal Proboner  (she totally short-cutted tho!)
 
Last In:            E = My Cock2
 
Virgins:            none
 
Auto-hashers:
  • Rear Engineer
  • Horse Whacker  
Cums Lately:
  • 2 Clump Chump
  • Nappy-Headed Ho
  • Fiber Opdick
  • Heave Ho
Accusations:
  • Mr. Snuffleupamuff for running into a Comcast van…and then bouncing off
  • Mr. Snuffleupamuff for his string of false accusations in circle
  • Just Chad – for calling False, continuing to r*n and then calling on-on
  • Rear Engineer – for not having announced first-in and last-in at the beginning of circle (does it really matter what the sequence is?)
Announcements:
  • The Philly/BFM/Hockessin New Year’s Day hash will be at 11am at Johnny Bears. There will be food and alcohol.
  • The Philly H3 hash will be on Saturday at 3pm (that’s 29 December). It’s their Annual Boxing Day Extravaganza. So bring a gift you don’t want and re-gift it for the Pollyanna
  • Pub Crawl – Saturday, 05 January at 8:00pm starting at The Raven in celebration of Bumble Beaver’s birthday. Be there!
 
The rest of the evening was laid back- everyone chatting about their holidays, plans for new year’s eve and generally catching up with one another. There certainly wasn’t a lot of beer consumption either but the mob seemed hungry so Rear Engineer ordered three HUGE pizzas which were inhaled within 10 minutes. Shortly after that, this on-sec called it a night.
 
 
On-on, bitches!
Europee’n on Me
 
 
 
 
* Carbohydrate rich meals will increase the amount of insulin in your blood which will then absorb other amino acids into the muscles but not the tryptophan. The tryptophan is then absorbed into the central nervous system and converted into serotonin and melatonin in the brain making you sleepy…in a nutshell.
 

categories Trash

BFM #200 – The official 200th hash and The Festival of Lights

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By europeen December 26, 2007
So I was supposed to go to my firm’s holiday party. As I sat at my desk, already feeling the holiday work slowdown, I thought, “Do I really want to go and make small talk with a bunch of people I don’t know, or do I want to head out with my hash friends for a night in which I’m guaranteed a good time?” Um, yea, that’s a no-brainer. I called our secretary and told her “something came up” and I wouldn’t be able to make the party. Game on.
 
Jingle Ballzzz and I approached Johnny Bears.  There, hanging on the exterior wall, was a huge banner announcing the “Dart champions 2005, 2006.”  Jingle and I looked at each other.  "Huh."  We walked inside, got ourselves settled, and were greeted by several linebacker-sized men who were a part of said dart team responsible for the banner.  Apparently, they had been talking to the bartender and were very curious about the “running club” that was coming in to share their bar.  I chatted with one of the men and gave him our motto, our mantra of sorts, and he replied in a rather confused manner, “So you drink beer and run?”  "Why else would we run?" I said.  I guess he was impressed because he turned to his friend and announced, “Hey, these guys drink and run!”  He and his dart friends then broke into song.  With that, Major Piece of Ass handed me a beer and said, “Happy Holidays!”  See, guaranteed good time.
 
Who came:
Company Cock, E = My Cock2, Europee’n on Me, Fruit of the Clue, Hold the Sausage, Holy Fuck, Horse Whacker, Mulva, Jingle Ballzzz, Likes the Hard One, Skin Fiddle, Sly Fox, Stacks, Cherry Poppins, Just Joel, Up Her Ali, Just Stephanie, Just Kim, Yack in the Box, Principle Fuck-up, Tight Lips, Big Tackle, Major Piece of Ass, Mr. Snuffleupamuff, Rear Engineer, Scooby Snatch, Sloppy Ho, Strap-on, Virgin Pimp, Just Jessica, Just Mike, Just Marcel, Just Roy
 
Jingle and I had dropped our gear in a corner next to a highly illuminated snack machine that seemed to be beckoning incoming hashers like moths to a porch light.  It was very Darwinian.  One “starving” hasher would insert their money for an over-priced, tasty snack and the crinkling of the snack bag seemed to represent Darvin’s bell because another hasher would then line up to pay out for a snack.
 
By this time it was 20:12 (8:12pm for those of you not down with international time) and the bar was now full of hashers and dart throwers alike, but no hare.  Mismanagement looked at one another.  Had our hare gotten lost in the land of holiday lights?  Was she drunk on holiday spirit, laying in a gutter somewhere, unable to crawl back?  :: Dramatic pause ::   No.  Hold the Sausage informed us that the hare was a block and a half away.  Guess LIttle Red Riding Wood was just having too much fun laying trail.
 
We ventured outside and our RA, Sloppy Ho, circled us up.  She announced our 200th trail would be the Festival of Lights and questioned, “What more could you want?” to which someone in the mob replied, “a blow job!”  Maybe it was that comment or maybe they had better things to do but when Sloppy called the virgins into circle, the virgin I met at the beginning, Just Jessica, was nowhere to be seen.  So, with formalities behind us, the mob was finally off…or were we?  I’m not quite sure what happened next.  It could have been snack food coma, lack of motivation or visions of blowjobs dancing through a few heads, but the check hanging and standing around lasted 8 minutes (yea, I timed it, bitches)!  Finally an On-on! was heard and we were, at last, off!
 
We r*n, saw holiday lights, r*n some more, I tripped and Fruit of the Clue broke my fall, we saw more holiday lights, Fruit of the Clue tripped and wiped out (I was behind him so i couldn’t break his fall, only watch him go down), and we r*n some more.
 
As we passed, what I can only make out in my sloppy notes as, the “Strichitizd” church, we came across a familiar face- Big Tackle, hands in his pockets, casually strolling along checking out the lights.  We shouted our hello’s and continued along, through a pedestrian tunnel, under 76 and into suburbia in the middle of Philly.  Seriously, crossing under the expressway was like crossing into the Twilight Zone.  As we r*n along, Mulva remarked that the reason she wanted to move back into the city was to get out of the suburbs and yet, here we were- in the middle of a housing development full of brick colonial townhouses, two car garages, cul-de-sacs and well-manicured yards with light-up reindeer.  If someone would have blindfolded me, tossed me in a car, drove me around and then dropped me off here, I would have swore I was in the middle of Bucks County.
 
At the back-end of this development was our beer check where the mob happily sipped Dinkle Acker and Prima Pils beers while I watched Horse Whacker tie Mr. Snuffleupamuff’s hoodie in double knots so only his eyes and nose were visible.  Huh, I guess he was cold; I know I was. We tossed our empty bottles into the construction dumpster and the mob was off.
 
We rounded a corner and a big boxer came bouncing across the street and began running with us.  Hearing someone calling for the dog, Horse Whacker and I stopped and tried to get the dog to come to us.  He wouldn’t.  We did notice that while he wouldn’t come up to us, he wouldn’t leave us either so we began walking towards the voice.  After a good 5 or so minutes of the dog’s owner calling and the dog ignoring him entirely, the puppy finally grew tired and ran into the house.
 
As we headed off, Virgin Pimp in tow, Horse Whacker remembered that she was supposed to untie Mr. Snuff’s hoodie. “Oh well” she said, “someone else will have to untie it for him.”  As we turned another corner, no holiday lights in sight, we were looking at the Wachovia center in front of us.  A quick turn down an alley and we were running along side Chickie and Pete’s.  We headed back under 76 and back into the real world of typical South Philly neighborhoods.  At some point, Horse Whacker and I managed to misplace Virgin Pimp and we r*n up and then over on Broad Street back to Shunk (who names a street Shunk anyway?). Hell, we figured we’d probably have to drink for being DFL.  Oh well, Jingle drove me so I wasn’t too concerned.
 
Back at Johnny’s the mob mingled outside.  I’m not sure why because it was damn cold out.  However, someone opened the door, and there in the doorway, was Mr. Snuffleupamuff dancing like he was on an audition to be a Solid Gold dancer.  I guess he was the reason everyone was outside?  But then I heard people say, “It’s too hot in there.” and “There are too many people in there.”  Standing there, I noticed Major Piece of Ass rejoin the mob.  Phew, we weren’t going to be DFL.  As we continued to mingle in temperatures that only Emperor Penguins prefer, the owner of Johnny Bear’s began to haul tables and chairs into the cold, night air.  One of those big linebackers stood behind me and remarked how accommodating Johnny was and that he’d allow for us to drink outside.  What?  Is he kidding?  Does he realize how cold it was?  With that a penguin walked by.
 
We stood around chatting, allowing Sloppy and Hold the Sausage to prepare for circle, and all at once we looked at each other and said, “Do you smell pot?”  Clearly, Johnny was VERY accommodating.
 
We circled up.
 
Sloppy addressed the mob, “Would someone please make out with Mr. Snuffleupamuff.  He was seen on-trail dry humping an inflatable animal in someone’s yard.”
 
Rear Engineer announced that his balls were inside his chest.
 

Trail:              Not enough Jesus, holiday lights, tripping and falling, urban shiggy,
                       inflatable stuffed animals.

Hare(s):        Little Red Riding Wood
 
Visitor(s):      Company Cock from Arizona who’s option was torturing us with the 
                        longest joke ever!
                       Just Roy from Philly who told us a joke about a bear while Major Piece of Ass
                       acted out the part of the bear
 
First In:          Company Cock
 
Last In:          Major Piece of Ass
                       Just Marcel, affectionately known as The Albanian
 
Virgins:
  • Just Katie (Little Red Riding Wood made her cum)
  • Just Christina (Little Red Riding Wood made her cum)
 
Auto-hashers:
  • Just Marcel
  • Jingle Ballzzz
  • Holy Fuck
  • Skin Fiddle
  • Principle Fuck-up
 
Long Time No-seers:
  • Sly Fox
  • Principle Fuck-up
  • Big Tackle
  • Just Kim
 
Accusations:
  • Sloppy Ho – Mr. Snuffleupamuff for humping a snowman (who seemed very proud since he entered the circle dancing)
  • Scooby Snatch – Sloppy Ho for conducting circle wearing a hat.
  • Scooby Snatch – Sly Fox and Principle Fuck-up for getting engaged (isn’t this an announcement tho?)
 
Announcements:
  • The Philly/BFM/Hockessin New Year’s Day hash will be at 11am at Johnny Bears
  • Scooby Snatch for Cousin It: The annual Phillies tailgate will be in August 2008.  Details to follow.
  • Rear Engineer announced that his balls are no longer inside his chest.
  • Random hasher announced that they are a card-carrying foreskin…???
 
We hung for a while in the cold, our fingers and toes going numb, while drinking beer, eating clementines and cheddar whale crackers, and getting a secondary high from the pot (those cheddar whales were coming in handy).  Finally, Little Red suggested heading to the Pub on Passyunk and so several of us went there, where The Albanian entertained us with bottle tricks and Mr. Snuff treated us to beer and tasty deep-fat-fried treats…into the wee hours.
 
 
On-on, bitches!
Europee’n on Me

categories Trash

BFM #188 – Irish Car Bombs Are Fun And How Many Shots Are Too Many?

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By europeen October 1, 2007
It’s been awhile since I played On-Sec.  I’m always prepared but as I walked to Kildare’s I couldn’t remember if I had an extra pen since I gave my notepad and favorite gel pan to Holy Fuck when she scribed two weeks back.  It didn’t matter; I’d find something to write on and with. I was excited. This night we were hashing out of Kildare’s.  Each time we met up at Kil’s we had a great time…sometimes too good a time, which I always gauged based on my level of exhaustion the following day.  Sloppy Ho is for Bonner’s as I am for Kildare’s.  Maybe its because its clean and there’s lots of space…or maybe its because they have $5 car bombs…discuss amongst yourselves.
 
Who came:
Big Tackle, Cause for Blindness, Cunting Season, Deep Flute, E = My Cock 2^, Europee’n on Me, Fiber Opdick, Fire Down Under, Fruit of the Clue, Heave Ho, Hold the Sausage, Holy Fuck, (The) Horse Whacker, Jingle Ballzzz, Likes the Hard One, Major Piece of Ass, Mayor Quimby, Mr. Snufleupamuff, Nice Nuggets…Fat Ass, Popeye’s Bitch, Rear Engineer, Scamming Ole Ladies, Scooby Snatch, Skin Fiddle, Sloppy Ho, Strap-on, Tastes Like Chicken, 2 Clump Chump, Virgin Pimp, Well Hung Jury, Where’s My Vagina?, Just Brian, Just Billy, Just Mike, Just Jean, Just Marcel, Just Kyle
 
As I approached, Mayor Quimby was hanging at an outside table, Guinness in hand.  After we greeted, he held up his pint and declared, “I’m having dinner.”  Nice choice.  As I got myself organized, we chatted and eavesdropped on two women at the table next to us.  The one woman was saying something, and when I write “saying”, it was more like declaring since she was loud enough that all of us around could hear, about falling down and everyone saw her panties (guess she was wearing a skirt?) and her extra socks and panties fell on the ground…??  Quimby and I looked at each other, me with a puzzled expression, him with a happy and content expression. As the women were getting up to leave Quimby stated, “Man, I gotta move to Philly.”
 
I left a Stan-less Quimby to finish his liquid dinner and take hash cash while I went inside to talk to the General Manager.  At the bar I found Big T(ackle), Fiber Opdick and Heave Ho happily talking and watching the Phillies game.
 
Our trail was pre-laid this night so everyone had time for a beer (some of us had water) before heading out.  And as the mob assembled in the upstairs bar I had time to catch up with Tastes Like Chicken, Cunting Season and Heave Ho, who went to the Inter-hash in Mexico and had a great time.
 
Well Hung Jury asked me for a time check and so we headed down to circle up.  As I walked outside, I noticed a small group of on-lookers gathering around our mob in curiosity.  A semi-inebriated man called me over. “Hey, what are you guys doing?” I replied, “We’re hashing.  We’re a drinking club with a running problem.” to which he replied, “That’s cool. I’m a runner with a drinking problem.”  Based on his slurred speech, I didn’t doubt his statement.
 
Sloppy called our virgins into the circle. Just Billy made himself cum and Skin Fiddle made Just Jean cum.  We were ready to head out but Sloppy stalled since our Back-up RA, Scooby Snatch was looking for parking.  Having nothing more to say, Sloppy wished aloud for the “the Albanian” Just Marcel, to be there to tell one of his jokes, while we waited.
 
We could wait no longer.  The mob was off!  Since Well Hung Jury had filled me in on the start of trail, I knew where to go.  So while the rest of the mob was checking at the corner of 2nd and Lombard, Where’s My Vagina? and I headed off through the Headhouse market and down 2nd Street.  At the corner of Pine Street we ran into Scooby Snatch, who was wearing a tee stating “nice melons”.  We hit another check at 2nd and Pine Sts but not having physically laid trail, I only had a general idea where it went.  With the mob assuming I knew where trail went, most seemed to hang back and wait for me.  Nothing like 20+ people check hanging, leaving Scooby Snatch, 2 Clump and Where’s My Vagina? to search for trail.  It was only after I declared that I didn’t know exactly where trail was, that the mob scattered to search.
 
We managed to quickly lose trail due to the fact that we were crossing trail from the week prior and were having difficulty determining old trail from new.  Rear Engineer ventured out and up at 3rd Street and after a few "Are you?" bellows from Scooby, we heard him yell “On-On!”
 
We ran up and through Old City and at 4th and Walnut, Where’s My Vagina? pointed at Scamming Ole’ Ladies and yelled, “Tech on trail!” and he turned, smiled and continued to chat on his cell phone.  With that, around the corner comes Fire Down Under who looked as if she was out shopping or sight-seeing and figured she’d jump into the mob.  She was wearing her glasses and had a bag slung across her shoulder.  We were still glad to see her.
 
At the corner of 11th and Spruce STs we headed in for our first check- a shot check.  We were greeted by Sloppy Ho and Well Hung Jury who were offering cherry and lime Jell-o shots.  We were informed that everyone must have a minimum of 4 shots.  I happily complied.
 
Shots gone, the mob was off and as we rounded the corner and headed back down Pine Street, Fire Down Under asked me, “Do you know how many shots are too many?” I replied, “No, how many?” She said, “I’m now drunk Kate, and I had 5 shots.  5 is too many!” 

I clearly stopped taking notes (Maybe i was drunk Jeanne? :) ~ ) because I have nothing that notes that we headed over into Queen Village to der Europee’nhaus and had a beer check there with lots of ice cold beer.

Back at Kildare’s the mob mingled, continued to watch the Phil’s game and ordered food while barkeeper, Megan, got the beer flowing. Sloppy then called the mob to circle up and I proceeded to get a second round of beer. As I walked into circle, Sloppy had just finished informing the mob about Pelvis Has Left The Building’s unfortunate incident.  We raised a glass in her honor with hopes she gets well soon.

 
Hare(s):        Sloppy Ho
                       Well Hung Jury
                       Europee’n on Me
 
First In:           Mayor Quimby
 
Last In:           Big Tackle
 
Virgins:
  • Just Billy (He made himself cum)
  • Just Jean (Skin Fiddle made her cum)
I heard someone state that Quimby had brought a virgin or his virgin showed up so people were calling for “Quimby’s virgin” to come into circle.  We saw her…she’s no virgin!
 
Cums Lately:
  • Tastes Like Chicken
  • Scooby Snatch
  • Heave Ho
  • 2 Clump Chump 
Auto-hashers:
  • Just Kyle
  • Just Marcel
  • Cause For Blindness
  • Skin Fiddle
  • Mr. Snuffleupamuff
  • Fiber Opdick
  • The Horse Whacker
  • Deep Flute 
Accusations:
  • Sloppy Ho – Well Hung Jury for ti-vo’ing Americas Top Model (and…when one hare, one GM, one on-sec, one European, one Sloppy drinks…)
  • Well Hung Jury – Just Billy for being a Mets fan (people shouted, “bullshit!”)
  • Sloppy Ho – Scamming Ole Ladies for having tech on trail
  • Cunting Season – Nice Nuggets…Fat Ass for having heart monitor chaffing
  • Sloppy Ho – Rear Engineer for standing in a room alone, rubbing his nipples
  • Scooby Snatch did a tri-athalon
  • Scooby Snatch – Fire Down Under…?? Did it have something to do with her bag she ran with?? 
Announcements:
  • The “Got Stan?” tee’s are still in production…still. There’s been continual issues with the image we sent the printer.  Stay tuned…
  • Cause’s left leg is healed
  • Sloppy Ho’s “24”th birthday is next Thursday at Bonner’s!  Are you ready??
 
As for the rest of the night, discuss amongst yourselves…if you remember…it was filled with a few of the harriett’s trying to massage Rear Engineer’s sore nipples, beer and more beer, ripping open Just Kyle’s “easy access” shirt, my tousling E‘s new do and causing him to drop his Guinness, the Phillie’s win, Irish car bombs and a late night/early morning trip to Mako’s, Retired Surfer’s Bar on 3rd and some random drunk woman trying to start a fight with Nuggets. Good times.
 
On, On!

Europee’n on Me :D

categories Trash

BFM #181 – Winkie’s Last Stand

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By europeen August 15, 2007
We had heard about it – the first time when he was accepted to grad school. Then, it came as random reminders as the summer progressed. This week, we heard about it every bloody day – Winkie’s last hash with the BFM. Maybe they came because they wanted to hash. Maybe they came because they were thirsty. Maybe they came because they wanted to hear Sloppy Ho sing Don’t Stop Believin’. Maybe they came to get out of the rain. Or maybe, just maybe, they came because they were sick of the emails. But they came…
 
Big Tackle, Cause for Blindness, Cousin It, Cunting Season, Dry Hump, E = My Cock 2^, Europee’n on Me, Fiber Opdick, Hold the Sausage, Holy Fuck, Insane in the Membrane, Jingle Ballzzz, Likes the Hard One, Little Fucking Winkie, Little Red Riding Wood, Lunar Digit, Mayor Quimby, Mr. Snuff Up a Muff, Mulva, Nappy-Headed Ho, Nice Nuggets…Fat Ass, Poop Weiner, Popeye’s Bitch, Rear Engineer, Skin Fiddle, Sly Fox, Softcore Analyst, Son of a Goat Fucker, Sloppy Ass Kisser, Sloppy Ho, Strap-On, Suck Yer Dad, Taint Me, Tastes Like Chicken, The Rash, Virgin Pimp, Well Hung Jury, Just Brian, Just Chad, Just Diane, Just Chris, Just Joe, Just Jenny, Just Kyle, Just Anastasia, Just Jeremiah, Just Tima
 
I walked into Bonner’s and the party was in full swing. It felt like everyone and their neighbor came out to see Little Fucking Winkie off into the land of the Beerly Departed.  As I weaved my way through the mob, he was standing there, smack dab in the middle, big smile on his face, taking the moment in.
 
I spotted Just Diane, actually dressed in hash gear. Could she be at 100%?  Nope, not quite but she was walking trail.  I greeted and hugged our man of the hour as he happily snapped photos.  As I walked to stash my gear, I ran into Mayor Quimby.  His gal, Stan, was with him and she had some very peculiar white goo around her mouth.  I think Quimby was pimpin’ Stan out again to pay for parking.  However, Holy Fuck did point out that, otherwise, Stan’s been well cared for.  With gear stashed, Rear Engineer asked, partly to himself, partly to me, “wonder if I have time for a beer before circle?”  Nope.  It was time to circle up.
 
As the mob reconvened outside Bonner’s the rain began to fall. Sloppy Ho, welcomed the mob with her typical “snatch air-out” and called the virgins into the circle. Everyone looked around. Huh. With the numbers that had turned out, surprisingly, we had no virgins…probably because Winkie slept with them all. Instead she called for a volunteer to tell a joke. Mayor Quimby and Stan stepped up.
 
            A father and his daughter were in the bathroom preparing for the day. The daughter asks her father, “Daddy, when will I get a penis of my own?” the father replied, “when your mother goes to work.”
 
That sick bastard.
 
The pack was off into the rainy night. We headed up Samson and then over on 22nd.  As we crossed 22nd on Chestnut, I watched Just Mike practically take out a dude with a big white umbrella. We continued up Chestnut to 19th Street and then headed over to Locust. We headed down to 17th and then ended ujp at 15th and Walnut where we found our hare, Winkie, covered in white flour goo. Hey, wait! Stan had the same white goo around her mouth…. Winkie informed us that E=My Cock 2^ had caught him.  By now the rain was really falling.  Knowing our destination, we made a bee-line for McGillian’s.
 
Like a pack of rats that had just jumped ship, the mob filed in one by one, into McGillians. As I walked in the door, two large bouncers were sizing Holy Fuck and I up. I momentarily held my breath and then I heard the bigger bouncer say, “let ‘em in.” I exhaled, wiped the sweaty rainwater from my forehead and headed upstairs.
 
As we stood around drinking $5 pitchers of Coors Light, watching pre-season football and chatting with the Texas Hold ’em participants, we realized that somehow we managed to lose half the mob. What was even more curious was that we were missing our hare, E. We found ourselves with a bit of a dilemma on our hands. We didn’t have flour. Where would we pick up trail? Where did E go? We finished off the remaining pitchers and with no hare in sight, headed downstairs and out into the rain. As we gathered among the puddles, Sloppy presented our dilemma to the mob. It took no time at all for the mob to come to a solution: On-bar!
 
Hare(s):
Little Fucking Winkie
E=My Cock 2^
 
I was busy taking care of mis-management duties, like collecting hash cash, taking photos, buying beer and helping with the cake so I missed parts of circle.
 

Virgins:

  •   Just Jenny (Jingle ballzzz made her come) eww, its his sister!
  •  Just Kyle (Jingle ballzzz made him come)
 

Auto-hashers:

  • Cause for Blindness
  • Nice Nuggets…Fat Ass
  • Skin Fiddle

 

At some point during circle, the other half of the missing mob showed up.

 

Accusations:

  • Winkie = NN…FA for asking if him and his twin sister were identical or fraternal twins
  • Poop Weiner = Dr Sloppy for having crib notes for running circle
  • The Rash = Big Tackle for having an impromptu beer check at Cherry Street Tavern
  • Sloppy Ho = Mr. snuffleupmymuff for sending her lyrics to a beyonce song
  • Skin Fiddle = Sloppy Ho for not noticing a fat guy in a white shirt and crashing into him on her bicycle
  • Just Diane = Sloppy Ho for getting changed on the street corner instead of in the bathroom
  • Son of a Goat Fucker – Jingle Ballzzz for not dressing like a pimp
  • Winkie = Son of a Goat Fucker for talking (after he spoke in the circle for possibly the first time ever)
  • Mayor Quimby = Cause for Blindness for breaking his deck during Bruceapolooza (for which she showed her ass bruise and subsequently burnt that image into a few of the mobs’ brains)
  • Sloppy Ho = Mayor Quimby for going to the wrong Kellians last week
 
Accusations opened the floor for stories about Winkie -
E gave a nice speech about how little work Winkie did as GM, and how he tells everyone that he started the BFM but others like Tastes Like Chicken, Cunting Season, and the beery departed Sarah, were all co-founders.
 
The Rash and Tastes Like Chicken threw in a few words…but I missed them!
 
Sloppy Ho then told the story about how Winkie was used by a virgin as a test drive for the dude she really wanted to sleep with.
 
Announcements:
  • 30 September – Skin Fiddle’s Pre-Labor Day Hash
  • Cause is still single
 
The last official BFM circle for Winkie was closed. The mob headed out to do what it does best- drink beer…
 
On, On!
Europee’n on Me

categories Trash

BFM #177 – Cavanaugh’s and The Return of Stan

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By europeen July 26, 2007
The smoking ban in Philly makes me laugh at times.  So patrons are not allowed to smoke inside and so what do they do?  They stand in front of the doors to an establishment, sometimes holding the doors open with a foot or by leaning against them and fill the air around the entrance/exit with their discarded carcinogenic smoke.  I guess they feel that by touching an establishment’s door, they somehow feel as if they’re still inside and as such, the smoking ban doesn’t really exist?  Who knows?  As Sloppy Ho and I approached Cavanaugh’s this night, we were greeted at the door, by three 20-something men, providing their own human smoke barricade.  We walked through the smoke curtain at the doors of Cavanaugh’s to find a growing mob happily partaking in liquid barley and hops refreshments.
 
Who came:
Bastard Child, Beagle, Cause for Blindness, E = My Cock 2^, Europee’n on Me, Fruit of the Clue, He’s a Lesbian, Hold the Sausage, Jingle Ballzzz, Likes the Hard One, Mayor Quimby, Nappy-Headed Ho, Over Easy, Plastic Pud, Popeye’s Bitch, Rear Engineer, Skin Fiddle, Softcore Analyst, Son of a Goat Fucker, Sloppy Ho, Stacks, Stan, Strap-on, Sternum and Rectum, The Rash, Tickle My Elmo, 2 Clump Chump, Up Her Ali, Virgin Pimp, Mr. Snuff Up a Muff, Just Ulana, Just Alice, Just Bridget, Just Diane, Just Christina, Just Chris, Just Joe, Just Mike
 
Before I could really see who all was in attendance, and before I could put my dry bag down, hands with money in them were being thrust in my direction. Geez, give a girl a moment to say hello and put her things down. I put my backpack down and begin taking care of business.
 
Before I realized it, and before I even had the opportunity to draw a straw, Hold the Sausage informed me that the hares were headed out. Another hasher asked who the hare was to which HTS replied, “Just Chris but (Son of a) Goat Fucker went with him.” I think I heard someone softly groan. Son of a Goat Fucker is typically an FRB so the hasher was probably thinking it was going to be a long trail. They had no idea.
 
Returning my attention to hash cash and the mob at large, Mayor Quimby approached with our once clap infested Stan. Quimby filled me in on Stan’s travels to Germany and France and her experience at his family reunion. Thanks to Quimby’s niece, Stan no longer sports the “Treasure Jones” tattoo on the back of her head/neck.
 
Sloppy called for the mob to circle up and so after a bit of scrambling to stow gear, we ventured outside. In the light of early evening, I noticed something that I had failed to see in the dim lighting of Cavanaugh’s: Quimby was sporting a black eye! I immediately thought, “wow, did he rough up a belligerent passenger?” No, it wasn’t anything exciting like that; he was apparently scraping with his niece at their family reunion.
 
The virgins were brought into the circle and it turns out that Just Alice brought a hat trick of male virgins! Go Alice!
 
We were off! The mob headed down 40th Street and took a right on Walnut. The corner of 41st and Walnut yielded our first False. We headed back around and down Walnut. We headed into Penn’s campus and hit another False over on Spruce Street. By this point, the mob was already beginning to break up into two groups…the FRB’s and the rest of us.
 
At one point, we ran along a pond surrounded by trees and park benches and a few ducks and I heard Quimby ask, “Is it me or is the hash getting faster?” He could be onto somethign. With that, I stopped to walk so I could momentarily enjoy the environment that I was in; people sat on the park benches enjoying the little oasis tucked into West Philly.
 
I came out of the trees and ran down onto University Ave. and then took a left onto Civic Center Blvd. The mob winded down and part of the mob took a left onto Osler St.  After several minutes, 2 Clump Chump ran back towards us, informing us it was another False.
 
We headed out to 33rd St. and took a right onto South St.and over the South St. Bridge.  By this point the mob had broken up into 3 distinct packs. As we headed over the bridge and then waited to cross onto 27th street, Softcore Analyst and myself watched an old maroon Oldsmobile proceed to perform a 3-point turn on the bridge. We just looked at one another, shrugged and proceeded on.
 
The thinning mob hashed through the Markward Playground and along the dog park and down to the Schuylkill Park. The Comcast IFC Film Festival was in high gear and the film playing this night was “Napoleon Dynamite.”  We stopped at the entrance to the park and hoped the trail led us in. Woo-hoo!  Break out the popcorn!  Yea, no such luck. The trail led around and up Locust St. We made a left onto 23rd St. and kept going.
 
As we closed in on Samson St., and like the gravitational pull of the Sun, I felt myself being pulled towards Bonner’s. “Like a siren she calls to me.” I crossed over Samson St. in pursuit of Softcore and heard behind me, Quimby and Just Alice state they were headed to Bonner’s for an impromptu beer check. I caught up with Softcore and informed him what was up. Impressed by their ingenious idea, we headed back around to Bonner’s. Those who dared: Over Easy, Just Uelena, Likes the Hard One, Rear Engineer, Just Alice, Mayor Quimby, Softcore Analyst and myself.
 
Just Alice treated the mob to a pitcher and we watched Earl on TV and listened to Quimby talk about his upcoming gig: “Bruceapolooza.”  When the pitcher was empty, we headed out. We laughed because when we went into Bonner’s it was still light but now it was dark.  We headed up to Walnut St. and made a direct line back to Cavanaugh’s.
 
As we reached 38th St. we saw Beagle putting gear in his car. He informed me that the Gynocrats were looking for me because mob was growing restless since I had the hash cash and they were thirsty.
 
I joined Sloppy at the bar to take care of business. We were joined by a few unnamed hashers who have apparently made it their mission this year to whine, each week, about hash cash and beer.  A big chunk of hash cash later, we were downstairs with lots of pitchers and circle commenced.
 
Hare(s):            Just Chris
                        Son of a Goat Fucker
 
First In:            He’s a Lesbian
 
Last In:            Just Diane
 
Virgins:
  • Just Bridget (Plastic Pud made her cum)
  • Just Joe (Just Alice made him cum)
  • Just Mike (Just Alice made him cum)
  • Just Chris (Just Alice made him cum)
 
Auto-hashers:
  • Just Christina
  • Skin Fiddle
  • Stacks
  • Sternum & Rectum
  • The Rash
  • Tickle My Elmo
 
Cums Lately:
  • Bastard Child
  • Stan
 
Accusations:
  • Hold The Sausage = Cause for Blindness for NOT being last in.
  • 2 Clump Chump = He’s a Lesbian for sprinting and then tackling the hare AFTER the hare had written ON-IN
  • E=My Cock 2^ = Beagle for racing
  • Plastic Pud = Jingle Ballzzz for wearing a swim suit
  • Someone accused E of being topless in circle??
  • Sloppy Ho = Mayor Quimby for getting beat up by his niece at a family reunion
 
Announcements:
  • Hashteille Day – Saturday 14 July – there are tees, jell-o shots, beer and food
  • 4th Annual Bruceapolooza – Saturday 28 July
  • Cause is still single
 
As for the rest of the night, discuss amongst yourselves. After circle was closed, I headed out. This night, I had places to go and non-hashers to see.
 
On, On!
Europee’n on Me

categories Trash

4th Annual Bruce-A-Palooza with the Inaugural CeeJay Liegel Beer-Pong Invitational

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By europeen July 25, 2007
4th Annual Bruce-A-Palooza with the Inaugural CeeJay Liegel Beer-Pong Invitational
 
When:    Saturday 28 July 2007
Time:      2:00pm
Where:   Mays Landing, NJ 08330
Questions/Directions:        Bruce Hornik – 732-644-8070
 
Hamburgers, Hot Dogs, and Beer
Live Music provided by Stage 3 ( The Best band on the Jersey Shore )
T-shirts for all Beer Pong players and an Award to the Best Team
 
**Bring a tent, sleeping bag, etc. **
 

categories Events

BFM #171 – The Hills of Manyunk and Whine

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By europeen 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:
  • Just Brian (Just Kate made him cum)
  • Just Jillian (Just Alyssandra and Just Franchesca made her cum)
  • Just Derik (Just Alyssandra and Just Franchesca made him cum)
  • Just Keri (Just Kate made her cum) 
Auto-hashers:
Seeing how we had more people in circle than at the on-out, Sloppy called for a social.
  • 2 Clump Chump
  • Little Fucking Winkie
  • The Rash
  • Skin Fiddle
  • Tickle My Elmo
  • Soft-core Analyst 
Cums Lately:
  • The Rash
  • Fiber Opdick 
Visitor:  Papa Elmo
 
Accusations:
  • Tickle My Elmo for creating a Visio diagram to explain to Sloppy Ho what he was doing over the weekend.
  • Rear Engineer’s hockey team for losing…again.
  • Over Easy and Little Fucking Winkie for tech in circle. 
Announcements:
  • Phillies tailgate and ballgame – August 11 – details to follow
  • Full Moon Hash – June 1
  • BFM Prom dress Hash – June 14
  • 2 Clump Chump’s Summer SolstASS hash – June 21 
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

categories Trash

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