Ladies and gentlemen of the BFM, I have good news and bad news. The good news: This will be your last trash from this foursome of phallocentric, tyrannical on-secs. The bad news: I’m writing it.

I know you’re confused right now. I’m sure you’re thinking to yourself, Self, I like GDO’s writing so much; how could this ever be a bad thing? I’ll tell you how. I didn’t take any notes, and not because I was too drunk–though I WAS too drunk. I didn’t write anything because I couldn’t hold a pen (insert Holding-A-Penis joke here), so I made mental notes instead. Then, to make sure I got everything completely accurate, I waited a week to come up with the trash. So keep in mind as you read that this is all absolutely factual, and without a doubt the way things went down.

Let me set the scene for you. We started our night off at Drinker’s West because our phallus-obsessed leader decided we should go to the most sausage-filled bar in town. Good news for the ladies—just ask Hold My Handlebars—but bad news for the boys.

To escape all the hot, college-aged men, 2 Clump and Rear Engineer offered to lay trail. I wasn’t there when this happened, but I imagine they left holding hands, skipping out the door, reminiscing about their younger years. Apparently they also managed to throw some flour, because about half an hour later the pack came back, without losing anyone to the lure of Sternum and Rectum’s lair. (That’s always a danger when you’re in West Philly.)

Here’s who probably showed up: Big Tackle, Hold the Sausage, Short Distance Rimmer, Rear Engineer, the Rash, Snap Off, Scooby Snatch, Two Clump Chump, Swollen Cockpit, Fire Down Under, Slutty When Wet, Just Joanna, Just Shannon, Dancing Fool, One Night Only, Whiskey Dick, One Inch In, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, Sleeps Around the Cock, Just Jose, Grab My Handlebars, Goes Down Often, Big Tackle, Cunting Season, Where’s My Vagina, One Inch In, Deep Discunt, Tickle My Elmo, Mr, Snuffleupamuff, Tube C*ck, Twat of Darkness, and lots and lots of virgins! Just Chris, Just Adam, Just Christian, Just Carrie, and Just Heather.

(Yes, I copied that from an old trash.)

At this point the decree went out that the tribe should move across the land to Cavanaugh’s. Disappointed to leave 50-cent Miller High Lifes, there was much grumbling, but the promise of Sausage’s last circle was hard to deny. So we went down, down, down, down, down, down, down, down to the basement where we had circle:

Hares: 2 Clump, Rear Engineer
Virgins: There was one, but we popped it good
Visitors: Porn to Fail—he tried to whip out his fun horn, but instead of offending the ever-young Bonsai Bush, he sang a song. Or told a joke. I forget. I just know I didn’t see any peen.
FRB/DFL: Uh…I’m guessing it was Snap Off and Cause for Blindness, cuz it’s always those two
Comes Lately: Wizard of Ass, Stan, Fefe, Little Fucking Winkie and Cousin It.
Autohashers: Handlebars, Sleeps Around the Cock, Mr. Snuffleupamuff, Elmo, Goes Down Often

Accusations:
For breaking the sound barrier: Cleavage to Beaver
For having a devil’s threesome: 2 Clump and Mr. Muff
For trying to turn on the hash by pouring beer on her chest decorations: Bonsai Bush
For trying to get Bonsai’s chest decorations wet: 2 Clump
For making up excuses that he can’t run: One Inch In
For making us come to West Philly: Rear Engineer

Yes, I just made most of that up.

Afterward we drank a ridiculous amount of beer, word went out that we had a naming. That’s right, Just Karen finally earned her wings. After months of hearing about her banging and not banging with people with broken ribs, we decided it was time to give this girl something to hold on to—and no, it wasn’t One Inch’s broken shoulder. We put her on her knees, told her to cup the balls and hold on tight. There were stories about farm animals (she likes sheep), her work (fish researcher?), and her favorite sexual position (on a bar). We took all that, threw it in a blender, hit frappe and came up with Shefelta Fish.

At this point, people were getting sober, so we flitted back and forth between Drinkers and the bar upstairs, and finished voting. If you want to know who will be taking over for mismanagement in 2010, you’ll have to show up tonight at Wooly Mammoth’s. Remember, it’s the AGM, so you’ll need some cash, and a sense of humor. Chances are you’re getting an award and you probably won’t like it. Such is life. And if you have a problem with it, earn yourself a spot on mismanagement next time and give out the awards your own damn self.

On on!

Goes Down Often

While the turkey was roasting and you were nursing your hangover, a few overachievers were out stumbling around Philly, and I don’t just mean the people in the Thanksgiving Day Parade. Last week’s hash was the fifth or sixth or something-th annual Thanksgiving hash–an event marked with daylight, mostly clean songs and light beer drinking. I know what you’re thinking–Sunlight, censorship and sobriety? Why show up?–But apparently people had a nice run, or something like that. All I know is that I came across Holy F*ck near Rittenhouse Park, and I followed her home, just like any one of you would have done.

Who crawled out of bed: 
2 Clump, Rear Engineer, Virgin Pimp, Just Rachel, S&M Man, Cleavage to Beaver, 1 Night Only, Bumble Beaver, Just Charlie, Grab My Handlebars, Tube Cock, Bonsai Bush, Holy Fuck, Lickstick, Stumpy Starter Wood, Can’t Beat Sh*t

After the mob worked its way through half a case of warm Yuengling (wrapped coyly in newspaper coozies), we made our way back to Mace’s Crossing. Right around the time we got to the corner of 18th and Manning I came to a big life lesson. You always hear people talking about how tryptophan is to blame for the Thanksgiving lull. They’re frickin’ liars. It’s the hangover that makes you want to sleep All Day. Proof? It was a bunch of marathoners and general racists who showed up. But of those, only two ran back to Mace’s. I was one of them. I don’t know what you Mother Humpers were doing, but I’m pretty darn sure it wasn’t running. Hell, it wasn’t even jogging (with a soft J). Word on the street is that Handlebars got a cab back. Sinner.

More proof of your slackerdom: We had no RA to lead circle. Instead, the selfless (or self serving, or at least self servicing) S&M Man stepped in to lead us as we mumbled through dirty lines, and tried to keep circle clean. For the record, it was a futile attempt. See below.

Circle:
Hares: 2 Clump, S&M
Visitors: Lickstick, Stumpy Starter Wood, Can’t Beat Sh!t, Just Rachel
FRB/DFL: Me, Rear, Bumble Beaver, Clump Clump

Accusations:
Clumpy McClumperson for pouring beer on Just Charlie
Cleavage to Beaver for wearing new shoes*
Me for "something dumb"… No clue what that was.
C2B for having lost her virginity the night before
And according to my notes "CBS" (C2B?) for having high expectations. Silly virgin…

Around this time someone screamed out that Billy Penn has a giant boner. As it turns out, he does. The next time you’re coming down the Parkway, look up to catch an eyefull of whiskydick. Or, you could just go over to Tube Cock‘s for the real thing. (Bah dum dum!)

Announcements:
BFM #302 – Fairmount hash.
BFM #303 – Festivus Bar Crawl
BFM #304 – Little Red Riding Wood’s Festival of Lights – South Philly, Bar TBD
BFM #305 – Christmas Eve/Hanukkah Hash
BFM #306 – New Years Eve Hash.  Approx start time of 1pm

Now might also be a good time to point out that 2 Clump has taken over the hash on Christmas Eve, and renamed it the Hanukkah hash. This would make sense, if it was on any one of the eight crazy nights like last year. But it’s not. Apparently he’s decided that since it’s on Christmas Eve, the only people who are going to show up are Jews. Sucks for you Buddhists, Wiccans and atheists. We don’t like your kind ’round here.

—-

*This is the face a kid on the street made as he watched C2B drink out of her shoe. Way to go, Cleav. You just paid for some future therapist’s salary with that one.

I know you’re drowning in your sorrows after last night’s game. Tragedy. But think about it like this: The baseball season might be over, but now you get to have your life back, you lucky dog, you. (Suspend reality for a second and pretend like it’s a reward.)  Let the first act of that be reading this lovely trash, which I now have the time to write.

You may or may not remember this night (I don’t really care either way), but let me refresh your recollection. It was hash number 293, and we were at Drinker’s, everyone’s favorite Old City establishment. The crowd had assembled with a furor we hadn’t seen in weeks. There were hashers who hadn’t shown up in months, and others we hope won’t turn up for many moons to come. Regardless, it was a huge group. Don’t believe me? Here’s who I remember being there:

Up Her Ally, Just Hugh, Softcore Analyist, Cause for Blindness, Son of a Goatfucker, Fire Down Under, Tube Cock, Short Distance Rimmer, Rear Engineer, Hold the Sausage, Big Tackle, Just Anne, Lick Hymen, Snap Off, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, Mediocre and Stupid, Dumpster, Scooby Snatch, Twat of Darkness, Just Travis, Mayor Quimby, Flounder, Bonsai Bush, Working Girl, Just Bill, Sleeps Around the Cock, Clevage to Beaver, Skin Fiddle, Cunting Season, Raginal Discharge, Mr. Snuffupamuff, Just Ari, Goes Down Often, I69, Sternum & Rectum, Hold my Handlebars

Somehow Clevage to Beaver pulled the short straw yet again, which either makes her the luckiest or unluckiest hasher of all time, depending on your point of view. Seriously, I think this might make the 30th time she’s hared in the past three weeks, which means that the next time you need a winning lottery ticket or an especially effective wing man, I’d turn to Cleavage. (Words to live by, methinks.)

Anyway, our lovely hare decided to make things interesting and headed through the treacherous historic section of Old City–you know, the one place in the whole city we’re forbidden from throwing flour in. As she laid trail and the pack got closer to the monuments, things got confusing. The pack refused to follow, and a whole lot of check hanging ensued. About 10 minutes into the crew’s indecision someone decided they were willing to risk drinking for tech on trail, and put in a call to figure out where the beer check was. Armed with insider information, we ran straight to McGillins, where C2B was just beginning to pour pitchers. The group spent the next 15 minutes or so fighting off over-eager potential suitors (Ha! Like that’d ever happen!) and downing Bud Light. Then it was a straight shot back to Drinkers, where we had

Circle:
Hares: Clevage to Beaver, Sleeps Around the Cock, Son of a Goat Fucker, Scooby Snatch
Virgins: Just Travis
Visitors: Dumpster (Pittsburgh)
FRB/DFL: Snapoff/Cause for Blindness
Comes Latelys: Cleavage to Beaver, GDO, Muff, Reginal Discharge, Cunting Season, Sternum & Rectum
Autohashers: I-69, Reginal Discharge, Hold my Handlebars, Muff, Sternum & Rectum, Skin Fiddle, Rear Engineer, Rash, Cunting Season
Accusations:
For being a racist, Snap Off
Sausage for coordinating her shoes to her over-the-shoulder-boulder-holder (I assume it was her bra…)
Quimby for noticing that Sausage‘s shoes matched her outfit
Just Karen for not having sex because of a broken rib (where’s the dedication?!)
Twat of Darkness for turning Just Karen down for sweet, sweet broken-rib-lurvin
Scooby Snatch and Fire Down Under for being racists
For new shoes, Just Anne
I-69 for loving baby cows (huh? I don’t know either…)

Then we had some birthdays:
Scooby and Rimmer both did side-sides, and Rimmer had to drink yet again for getting his butt dropped

Announcements:
None of it’s relevent anymore. Oops.
Trail tonight is at T.A. Flannery’s
Trail next week is probably going to be near Center City–perfect considering the Students Run Philly Style fundraiser is that night at Fox and Hound.

Overheard:
As I type my coworker just apologized to someone for having a "package that’s too big." Hehe, she said package.

It was a dark and stormy night, and the mob gathered at Cherry Street Tavern.  Add in a Phillies game, and the pack dwindled to only the motivated hashers willing to give 110% to the kennel. After a desperate search for motivation Hold the Sausage actually assembled the pack and sent them in the general direction of outside the bar so she could get back to the phillies game.

Who Came:

Rear Engineer, Hold the Sausage, Big Tackle, Short Distance Rimmer, Cause, Flounder, 2 Clump Chump, Jingle Ballzzz, Fruit of the Clue, Cleavage to Beaver,  Twat of Darkness, Just Karen, One Night Only, Snap Off

An iconic trail was set through the river trail area, under several overpasses, over and through the bedrolls of a host of bums on an extended philly staycation, fjording streams, finishing with a 100 yard dash across a muddy football field until we got to the art museum.  Of course with the pack being all bimbo, we had no choice but go through the “rape-tastic” tunnel under spring garden.  The pack then got completely lost when we looped back to the rocky statue, and missed the beer check at gallagers.  I sat all alone at gallaghers crying into my pitchers of beer before heading back to the bar.

In other news

Circle:
Hare: Jingle Ballzzz
And that was about it, we had only a 30 sec commercial break available between innings, making this perhaps the fastest BFM circle in recorded history

Circle completed, attention was again focused on the Phillies, and not distracting the rest of the bar.  Around 10 we realized we had a team of lovely, fantastic on secs–people so delightfully witty and wonderful that we can’t help but adore them. Clearly, I wanted to return to place among them.*  As a result I became your faithful scribe, and lets face it, nobody wants that.

Announcements:
Haberdashery – Reginal Discharge has Phallic Tyranny T-Shirts – one week left
Oct 29th – BFM # 297 – Halloween! 730PM somewhere!
Philly Hash # 1655  – somewhere in media
May 3 – Philly Roller Girls  – WFT Nationals.  Watch ostensibly sober women skate around and beat each other up for cheap.  Bumble Beaver AKA Tara Newone will be there http://www.phillyrollergirls.com/
Nov 19 – BFM 300!! – back to Bonners
August  – Phillies Tailgate – Cousin It.  Be there!

Quotes of the Night
All this talk about turkey clubs and ejaculation is making me hungry! – Cleavage to Beaver
In college we were the cuntintental soldiers, and our cheer was “Cunts!” With a C! – Just Karen
That’s my kind of cunt! – Cleavage to Beaver
Jingle Ballzzz

*This may or may not be what the trash originally said. There is a chance that it could have included the following: "…we realized no trash had been written, with our crack team of on-sec’s having evolved from writing notes, and promising trash for weeks on end  has moved on to just not even showing up.  Back when I was an On Sec, this sh*t would not stand man."

I haven’t been a hasher all that long, but I’ve learned a few things in my tenure: Journey is best sung karaoke style, PBR at Bonner’s always tastes like bananas, and everyone loves a Ho. But more than anything, I’ve learned that the BFM is like cheesesteaks and sex—once you’ve had it the way we do it in Philly, you don’t want it any other way.

Why else would we have hashers from Boston, D.C. and mother F’ing Japan all in one week?

If you missed it, and you should be shunned if you did, here’s who came:

Fruit of the Clue, Fire Down Under, Where’s My Vagina? Sloppy Headed Ho, Scammin Ol’ Ladies, Very Merry Cunt So Hairy, Randy Dykes, Just Victoria, Just Karen, Just Jessica, Just Bill, One Night Only, Raidr, Two Clump Chump, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, Just Rebecca, Son of a Goat Fucker, STD (the Bostonian), Just Luke, Just Mark, Mr. Snuffumpamuff, Just Liz, Lick Hymen, Target, Dr. Squealgood, AssVentura, Beefcake Stroke It Off, One Night Only, Nappy Headed Ho, Big Tackle, Snap Off, Hold the Sausage, Short Distance Rimmer, One Inch In, Deep Discunt, Raginal Discharge, Cleavage to Beaver, S&M Man, Virgin Pimp, Post Anal Drip, Just Craig, Grab My Handlebars, Holy Fuck, Rear Engineer, The Rash, Scooby Snatch and the BFM flag

For those of you with sharp eyes, you’ll notice a few interesting things. First, we let Sloppy, Scammin and STD all come back for an evening. You’d think we’d know better. We don’t.

You’ll also note that we had the triumphant return of the BFM flag. Didn’t know we had one? That’s because you’re new, just like the rest of the hash. In fact, I think the only people who knew we had a flag were European—who made it (and should probably be renamed Betsy Toss’d)—and STD, who dragged it back from a two-year hiatus on the Left Coast. I assume it went missing because of something He’s a Lesbian did, but I’m pretty sure no one actually knows.

Now that we have both Stan 3.0 and our flag back—and we’ve agreed to never let HAL touch any mascot ever again–we can get back to what we were born to do: toss flour all over the city, freak out the locals, and drink ridiculous amounts of PBR. 

The person most excited to do that: Snap Off. In fact, she was so freaking happy about going out and running that she managed to snare the hares, but forgot to de-pants either one of them. Don’t worry, she drank for that. So did the hares. In fact, a lot of people drank for a lot of stupid stuff. Here are the highlights:

Hares—Midnight Tranny, Just Rebecca, Snap Off
Virgins—Just Mark, Just Luke, Just Jessica
Visitors—
Very Merry Cunt So Hairy She showed her boobs. Fruit of the Clue almost passed out.
STD Sang a song
Randy Dykes I don’t know what he did, but my notes say “Come on a ga” and then it gets jumbled. Use your imagination.
FRB/DFL—AssVentura, One Night Only
Cums Lately—Scammin, Sloppy
Autohashers—Cleavage to Beaver, S&M Man, Virgin Pimp, Grab My Handlebars
Accusations:

Rear Engineer for being an idiot
Target for not molesting teenagers
Rear Engineer for having a boyfriend in Seattle who gives him clothes (?)
Post Anal Drip for cheating on us
Reginal Discharge for bitching about having too much beer (let her stay in Japan with an attitude like that…)
Muff for not motorboating Discharge in the circle
One Inch In and Scooby for being racists
Holy Fuck for tech in circle
Just Craig for asking for an elevator on trail
Second Coming for going to the desert without getting dessert
Lick Hymen for being orange like a Reese’s Cup
Me for thinking circle had gone on to flippin long
Holy Fuck for menstruating
Nappy Headed Ho for being the wettest auto hasher since S&M Man learned to turn on Cleavage’s remote vibrator

Announcements:
Snap Off wants you to buy her like a dirty, mail-order Russian bride. Or maybe she just wants you to buy her registration for PDR. I can’t remember which.
Big Tackle wants you to dive in to 3 Balls’ barn on Sept. 26
Two Clump wants to show you what happens to bad little hashers when the Full Moon comes out.

Overheard:
“I can’t hear you with your shirt on.” Someone to the now-dressed Very Merry Cunt So Hairy
“You can’t ride a nipple Reverse Cowgirl.” Sloppy Ho
“Do I have to sit on the wet spot here, too?” Cleavage to Beaver
 

There are some good advantages to waiting, or so I hear; I don’t know what they are per se, but I’m sure you can ask Bristol Palin or Ashlee Simpson… And since all of you wankers waited so kindly for two weeks, I’m here to reward you. Your prize? This amazing trash. (I never said it was a worthwhile reward.)

But before I start, let me say a word to the legions who complained about my tardiness: I’ll have regularly posted trashes once the antibiotics kick in and I beat this horrible case of Shut The Hell Up.

Ok, let’s begin.

It’s was a dark and stormy night, and our ever-loveable, though not very wise, leader coaxed us into the no-man’s-land between Northern Liberties and Fishtown. If you aren’t familiar with the area, it’s rumored to be the place that’s haunted by Danny Glover’s ghost (never you mind whether he’s living or dead), and at least on Nappy Headed Ho. In other words, stay the hell outta there… Alas, at least a few of us are suckers for cheap beer and an upstairs space, so these tools came out, ghetto and Zeus-bolts be damned: STD, Mediocre and Stupid, Just Ari,  Jingle Ballzzz, Nappy Headed Ho, Just Dan, Cleavage to Beaver, Just Charlie, Just Ryan, Just Jon, Just Martin, Scooby Snatch, Hold the Sausage, Short Distance Rimmer, We’re Not Voting, Bonsai Bush, Big Tackle, 2500 CC of Semen, Rear Engineer, Can You Hear Me Now, Working Girl, Snap Off, Sleeps Around the Clock, Second Comming, Grab My Handlebars

Where they went: I have no idea; I had the common sense to stay inside until the end-of-days-like storm passed. Yes, I autohashed. Yes, I somehow I got stuck writing trash. The mysteries of life continue. All of that said, the word on the street is that the trail was mighty damn fine, not so much because it went through lots of shiggy or had plenty of booze, but more because everyone got laid by Snap Off. Yep, even Sex Tonight Denied. (Seriously, this is how he got his name.) And if that guy can get laid, you know it’s a good evening.

Anyway, after the brave souls got back from their epic trail, we sat around and drank beer. And we drank more beer. Then, we drank even more beer. This went on for a while until the prettiest girl in the room got bored and called for circle. This is when things got interesting. Someone decided to give our delightful religious advisors their own pulpit, complete with flashing disco lights. If you told me there was a rogue leprachaun running amok with this guy, I would have believed it. I don’t think David Lynch himself could have come up with a better place for Sausage and Scooby. 

As we all tried not to get sucked into the trance S&S were casting, we had a little thing called Circle. Here’s who drank:
Snap Off, for being hare-y
Just Charlie, Just Jenn, Just Bryan, for popping their cherries
Big Tackle and Fruit of the Clue for beating everyone back to the bar, including Jingle Ballzzz who actually does melt in the rain (he’s made of sugar, don’t cha know?)
Working Girl, Second Coming and Grab My Handlebars for being slow, yo
250 CCs of Semen, for being a stranger in a strange land
STD and Can You Hear Me Now for being to busy to regularly love the BFM, even though they regularly love themselves
Me for getting the party started
Sausage, probably because she don’t eat meat, but she sure likes to bone.
A shit ton of people for being racists
Softcore Analyst for actually using his phone in circle. Sinner.

Announcements:
Last week’s hash was in South Philly. You missed it.
There’s a tri in New Jersey. Do it.
The Full Moon hash is August 21, and there will be boobs.

After that, we drank more, and then Snap Off and Sausage ate General Tso’s chicken off of The Rash‘s cleavage. It was weird, but don’t ask any questions–it was all part of Rimmer’s personal fantasy.

Ah, Two Clump’s basement–the land of cheap beer, cheap thrills and cheap women. (Insert obvious joke here.) When you find yourself there, you either know you’ve been drugged and raped, or it’s the Solst-ass. Either way, it’s an annual occurrence.

Who came: Two Clump, Rear Engineer, The Rash, Mr. Snuffupamuff, Reginal Discharge, Flounder, Cause for Blindness, Horny Hands, E=MyCock², Hold the Sausage, Short Distance Rimmer, Mediocre and Stupid, Target, Cousin It, Fire Down Under, Scooby Snatch, Just Joel, Son of A Goat Fucker, Just Starbuck, Just Shane, Mayor Quimby, Up Her Ali, Just Clifford, Snap Off
 
Trail left Clump Clump’s basement and headed directly toward the ‘Hickon. The pack got a little lost just at the mouth of the path, but quickly righted itself. Of course that didn’t happen without a few casualities—notably myself and Sausage. I would entertain you with stories of a glorious, muddy trail that snaked through lovely woods, and included two shot checks. (One of them by a hole on the golf course. Hehe, I said “hole.”) I would, if I hadn’t gotten lost. Instead, I’ll entertain you with what happened when Sausage lured me away from the pack with false promises of candy and extensive knowledge of the park, and provided me with neither. (I still want that lollipop…) I did instead enjoy a beer-fueled wet T-shirt contest, talk of Jello wrestling and things that would have made even Virgin Pimp blush.

Wait, no… that’s what happened later, in Clump Clump’s basement…

Anyway, back at Circle there were lots of accusations because frankly we had lots of beer. Here’s what I was able to record:

Hares: Two Clump

Cums latelies: Flounder, Cause, Mayor

Autohashers: Flounder, Cause, Target, UHA

Accusations:

GDO and Sausage for wild lesbian sex getting lost on trail

Flounder for showing off his thigh

GDO for no class

Horny Hands for stealing Rear’s accusation

Just Starbuck and Just Joel for being confused

Snap Off, probably for racing

Scooby for getting lost on trail (in a tri… that racist)

Fire Down Under definitely for being a racist

The whole mob because there was too much beer

Announcements:

June 25, Rear didn’t know where trail was going to be. We’ve since figured that out

June 27, Bruce-a-palooza

August somethingish, Phillies tailgate

On, On,

Goes Down Often

After a very long day of penning brilliant puns and entertaining the masses, I was looking forward to a night of mindless running and beer with a few good friends. I was NOT counting on doing more work. So imagine my surprise when Rear Engineer (who still doesn’t realize he’s not an RA anymore… poor boy) called chalk talk and I discovered that The Rash, the only other On Sec in attendance, had plans to leave to lose terribly at hockey. This was especially troubling since I was pen and paperless and was already two beers deep (enough to render my lightweight ass more than tipsy).

Keep all of this in mind as you read on. It’s my excuse for not having any freaking clue as to what actually happened at Druid’s Keep.

Heres what I do know:

I’m pretty sure these guys showed up: Softcore Analyst, Rear Engineer, Fire Down Under, Mediocre and Stupid, One Inch In, Deep Discunt, Cause for Flounder, Some Virgin, S&M Man, Mother Bates, Snap Off, Just Meg, Nappy Headed Ho, Virgin Pimp, Sloppy Ass Kisser, Working Girl, Just Rachel, Beefcake Stroke It Off, The Rash, Pedalphile, Second Coming, Just Julie, H2Ho, Just Keith, Just Holly, Just Jill, Target, Skin Fiddle, We’re Not Voting, Cleavage to Beaver, Piss Cycle, Just Molly, Just Tom, SubCuntinent, Fruit of the Clue, Comes Anally, Just Kelly, Just Jasmine, Son of a Goat Fucker, Ass Venture, Mediocre and Stupid, Dr. Squealgood, Cherry Poppins

After I scrambled to grab a pen and napkins, I caught up with the pack, which wasn’t hard because no one was running yet. Something about it being too hot, or not being able to find trail. I don’t know. But about five blocks into the run we lost a few groupies, most notably Pedalphile. Why is this notable, you ask. Because Piss Cycle suddenly sprouted emotions including concern and guilt for leaving his sorry butt. She even asked if we should go back for him. Either love has changed her cynical ways, or she was abducted by aliens and her cold dead heart was replaced with one from a Care Bear. Either option is possible at this point.

Anyway, we ran. We ran so far away. We ran all night and day, or at least it felt like it. Things we passed:
           
           A homeless man who wanted hard boiled eggs in exchange for running for 72 hours. Nappy Headed Ho wanted to take him up on it.

           Flour by the U.S. Mint. Oops.

           A possible Buddakan booze check

           One Inch In losing his diginity near a trash truck and a locked gate

           S&M Man‘s virginity. Just kidding. That never existed.

Those of us who stuck out the trail found our way to the new, lovely home of SubCuntinent. Let’s admit it now: This is the classiest beer check the mob will ever have. We had a roof top patio, views of the city, and the cutest puppy a hasher could ask for. Bonner’s just doesn’t compare. After drinking a beer with our pinkies in the air, the few mobsters that had made it this far headed back to the Keep, where at about midnight we finally had

The Circle:

Hare: Son of a Goat Fucker

Virgins: Just Jasmine, Just Kelly and someone else

First In, Last In: Piss Cycle and someone not immortalized thanks to my illegible handwriting

Comes Latelies: Fruit of the Clue, Sloppy Ass Kisser, Piss  Cycle, We’re Not Voting, Cause, Pedalphile

Autohashers: Post Anal Drip, Dr. Squealgood, The Rash, Rear Engineer, Cherry Poppins, Comes Anally, Mediocre and Stupid

Accusations

For doing something dirty in a chair: One Inch In
For that damned pearl necklace. Again. For the 50th time:Mediocre and Stupid
For being a racist of the worst kind: The Rash
For dressing like a racist: Pedalphile
For what might have been tackling someone: Nappy Headed Ho
For tech in circle: Fruit of the Clue
For losing future haring rights byrunning past the Philly Brewing Company and NOT STOPPING for a beer check: Son of a Goat Fucker
For having lovely boobs, which you’ll never see: Goes Down Often (hey, I’m writing it, I can tell the story my way…)
For doing something with a couch? Cleavage to Beaver
For making it through another year: Mediocre and Stupid, Snap Off

Announcements:

Pittsburgh Analversary Hash, weekend after Memorial Day.  Snap Off is cumming, and she wants you right next to her when she does.

BFM PROM: June 11th, TA Flannery’s. Now’s the chance for you to get laid on prom night, cuz we all know you didn’t the first time around.

Birthday parties galore, but you missed ‘em.

After the circle, we were entertained by our favorite perfomer, Cleavage to Beaver. It seems that the hash marked C2B and S&M Man’s one year Fucking Anniversary. That’s right. It’s been an entire year since they’ve been bumpin’ uglies. If you weren’t there to hear the crooning, imagine the sweet words of Shakespeare, the musical genius of Beethoven and the googly eyes of a porn star. It was touching–in places you never want touched again.

Overheard at the Hash:

"I’m a slave to Cher."

"You can never have too much herpes."

"Whose uncle is that?"

On, on,

Goes Down Often

After showing Kansas  Dan (who supposedly also goes by Wizard of Ass) and Where’s My Vag how to operate the subway system ("First you put $2.90 in the machine…") I rolled into the Starboard Side in Fishtown. Why we were in Fishtown, I have not a clue. Some things will always be a mystery. Fortunately, we weren’t alone. I like to roll with a crowd about 40 deep, and this week that included: Midnight Tranny, Kansas Dan, Just Bill, Second Cumming, Mother Bates, Snap Off, Sextra Credit, Just Mom, Just Dad, Cause for Flounder, Rash of the Rear, Just Derek, Deep Discunt, Swollen Cockpit, STD, Short Distance Rimmer, Son of a Goat F*cker, SubCuntinent, Where’s My Vag, Post Anal Drip, Two Clump Chump, Just Laura, Big Tackle, One Inch In, Just Tom (or Fake Pat), Orangubang, Just Holly, Mr. Snuffupamuff, Three Balls, Raginal Discharge, Mediocre and Stupid, H2Ho, Dr. Squealgood, Just Kabul, Wild Bill, Skin Fiddle, Jingle Ballzzz and Under Snatch.

I don’t think anyone had a clue what we were getting into when we agreed to show up this far from Center City. I’m guessing most  expected a quick tour of the block and a drive by of The Rash‘s before heading on in. We got neither–though I did hear that there may have been a drive by. The police report is still pending. Instead, we got what may have been the fastest-paced hash of the year in what was definitely the hottest weather. People::ahemRimmerahem::even went topless. In anticipation of the nudity and an effort to keep us from looking like street walkers, the hare kept check hanging a minimum by replacing our favorite mark with true trail. Let’s just say that if Holy Fuck wanted to do speed work, she could have.

After a few miles of sprinting–no one wanted to get left behind in the wilds of Port Fishington–we ended up under 95 with the promise of beer near, where we were rewarded for our bravery. There was plenty of warm Bud Light outnumbered only by meth addicts and falling hunks of highway. After we had our fill of strange looks from drug dealers and undercover cops, the mob headed the couple of blocks back for…

Circle:

Before we dive into the chaos that was the circle, let’s take a second and thank our now fully dressed temporary RA, Rimmer. He stepped in when his much prettier half and Scooby couldn’t be bothered. Bastards. If it hadn’t been for him, we would have had to endure a Cause circle, and no one wants that–not even Flounder.

The Hare: The Rash

The Virgins: Just Holly (Just Derek), Just Mom (Sextra Credit), Just Dad (Sextra Credit) In case there’s any confusion, yes, Sextra made her parents come.

The Visitor: Orangubang from H5

The FRB: GDO (and Rash and Rimmer for when one On Sec. Apparently Rimmer does it all. Who knew?)

The DFLs: Rear Engineer (and Big Tackle for when one GM)

Cums Latelys: STD, Three Balls, Snap Off, Wild Bill

Autohashers: Raginal Discharge, Big Tackle, One Inch, Skin Fiddle, Jingle Ballzzz

Accusations:

For being ridiculous over-achieving ass clowns: Rear Engineer and Snap Off

For being not as ridiculous, but still racists: The entire friggin Mob (darn that Broad Street…)

For getting a job: Skin Fiddle

For being a woman AND a land owner (She must be a witch! Burn her!): Sextra Credit

Side-side-a-polooza: One Inch In, Deep Discunt and Just Laura (I believe there was talk of a birthday three way. I’m waiting for pictures.)

And with that, we were out of hash beer and cups. Have no fear; we moved on and used pitchers as drinking vessels. Nothing like a wide mouth for drinkability.

Announcements: 

May 22^nd – Mediocre and Stupid continues to live up to her name, but she’s now also old, too. (Renaming?) Celebrate her reaching the quarter-century mark with a bar crawl. The drunkeness starts at XIX at 9.

June 11^th – BFM 5^th Annual Prom. Start shopping for a date now.

If you haven’t paid Discharge for your shorts, stop being a cheapskate. You owe that woman some coin!

Overheard:

"That’s why I drink… because of the two of them." Anonymous female hasher

"Whose tits do you want to see? Mine or his?" Cause

"You’re still sticky, and I want more!" Swollen Cockpit

"The best ones are always kind of stupid." Just Kabul

On, On,

Goes Down Often

It’s funny how all winter long, we have an absurdly active hash; people won’t quit cumming. But as soon as spring hits, everyone decides now is a good time to autohash. Pansies. The whole lot of ya, pansies…

Here’s why:

The only ones with the balls to show up: Fruit of the Clue, Fire Down Under, Where’s My VaJayJay, The Rash, Cause For Flounder, Daddy’s Dick, Lizzardo, Clump Clump Chump, Sextra Credit, Target, Softcore Analyst, Scooby Snatch, Post Anal Drip, Dr. Squeal Good, He’s a Lesbian, Midnight Tranny, Elmo, Mayor Quimby, Rear Engineer

Some visitor pulled the short straw, and The Rash saw it as her opportunity to run with someone moderately quick, unlike the rest of YOU PANSIES. So, out the door they went. Where they headed next is anyone’s guess. The pack went out in pursuit, but since it was rainy and cold, we gave up three blocks south of Washington. Please note: We started three blocks north of Washington. An impromptu pit stop later at Shamrock Pub–funded by Scooby, henceforth known as moneybags–and the group was more done than your mom. After that, we headed back to the bar and called it a night. Unforch for The Rash and Lizzardo, no one bothered to let the hares know. When they finally finished throwing flour around South Philly, they came back and we had…

Circle:
Hares: The Rash, Lizzardo
Virgins: I don’t see no stinkin’ virgins
Visitors: Lizzardo, Daddy’s Dick
Comes Latelies: Target, He’s a Lesbian
Autohashers, ahemPANSIESahem: Lesbian, Squeal Good, Target, Cause for Flounder, Tranny, Elmo, Quimby and a crap load of others
First In, Last In: Clue, Cause

Accusations:

I apparently I like women, a crime for which I had to drink, as well as Fire and Lesbian.
I run too much, so I drank; so did Lesbian for when one lesbian…
For some reason that I didn’t write down, I had to drink again, and so did Lesbian, The Rash and Lizzardo. (On a side note, thanks for getting me drunk for $7.)

Announcements:
There was a party at Sextra Credit’s. If you were there, you probably saw Post Anal’s anal; if not, too bad!

Philly Runners have challenged us to a beer mile. We lost last year. I cannot accept a repeat performance. It’s April 25. Start running, cuz we all know it’s not the beer chugging that’s gonna be a problem. There is also trash talking to be had. Do it here.

Bruce-a-palooza is coming up. I’d tell you when to mark your calendars, but I can’t read my handwriting. Oops. I think it’s in June, but it might also be July… or January.

After that, people stole my notes, and the rest turned into penis drawings and quotes from me. For the record, I will never have enough hash beer to quote myself. Never.

Here’s what other drunk people said:

“You don’t have to go to prison to know if you like fucking in the ass.” Unk hasher

“I got the hot blonde bitch… How am I human or cylon?” Unk hasher number two

“You’ll always be my poopy anal beads girl.” I have no idea who said this, but it wasn’t copied down in my handwriting.

“Wow, I can clear a room like a bad fart.” He’s a Lesbian

P.S. Only three more hashes until BFM #2SixtyNine! Woot, woot!