[unnecessary space]

 

paragraphs. The extra hour I spent after posting each trash trying to get it back to its original state was a fun little game we played and I will miss that.  And not sure why it only offers me the choice of 2 dumb emoticons:

  and    

That’s it.  I’m either feeling gay or angry.   What the hell is that thing on top of the yellow one’s head anyway?  All of you new On Secs will soon know my pain.

So who better than to spend Valentines Day with than several of your favorite hashers? 

 

I got lost in South Philly on the way to Triangle Tavern – thanks to the patient bartender who guided me halfway back across the city when I turned the wrong direction off of “Pass-yunk.”   I caught the Mob running off in the distance and threw my stuff to Up Her Ali as I took off to catch them. Luckily the pack was a bit slow tonight. 

 

I ran up behind Virgin Pimp as he yelled out something that sounded like “I’m Cold!” to the pack ahead. What a pussy, I thought. But he told me he was actually saying “On Called!” which is a British hash call when the pack finds marks and someone has yelled on-on.  I do not know why I didn’t violate him for this later.   We passed a guy in a wheelchair rolling down the middle of the street looking like he was racing us. I swear I heard him yell, “Yo. On One!” as I went by, which is the street hash call when the pack finds marks or drugs. But he was very incoherent so it was probably more like “Yahownonwan.”

 

After a long first leg, we had a beer check at Little Red’s.who conveniently lives right next door to The POPE!   Not the man, the bar.   We sat in her cute little kitchen as hashers began inspecting her Ovaltine and squash.   “That’s a penis – only smaller!” Scooby said. Yeah.

 

Circle began with a toast to the Gynocracy … brought to you by Hold the Sausage, Sloppy Ho, Up Her Ali, Europeen’ On Me, and Holy Fuck. You laughed, you cried, you bitched and moaned, but mainly you got drunk on cheap beer. And you liked it. 

Sloppy Ho for always carrying condoms for protection

Lick Hymen for inspecting a regular condom and remarking “That’s an awfully big condom!”

 

Anal Pro Boner for tech on trail

 

Rear Engineer for bragging about his 6-minute mile

 

 

Before closing circle, Sloppy told the crowd if they wished to sing the praises of the Gynocracy now was the time…

 

“Moving on …” – Skin Fiddle

“I love pussy!” – Scooby

“Did you say sing?” – Cause

 

 

 

The Gynocracy presented awards to those hashers who throughout the year have distinguished themselves from the rest of group by exhibiting model hash behavior. You make us proud.

 

The Plastic Pud Memorial “Shitastic Trail Award” — Some honorable mentions were Virgin Pimp’s and Where’s My Vagina’s trail in Fairmount for the Skin Fiddle Labor Day Party Hash. It was WMV’s first night running with the hash in Philly. VP lost her in 5 minutes. The trail eventually disappeared so the Mob gave up and found a random beer check to drink at so Skin Fiddle would more have time alone to cook his wings. Next there was S&M Man’s infamous Manayunk Trail — No one had ID for the beer check and the trail went straight through the middle of hockey game pissing off the players. But nothing takes the cake more than fake beer checks with O’Douls, searching for a mythical “house where the little man lives”, and the hare having to coax the pack a half mile back to an alleged beer check on pitch black train tracks.  That should have been so easy to find. Yes, the award went to Jingle Ballzzz and Anal ProBoner. You make Pud proud.

The “PBR Award” for biggest beer whiner. – There was fierce competition in this category throughout the year. Of note, beer snob Little Red Riding Wood who would much prefer we drink Pilsner Urquell, and Popeye’s Bitch who dreams of Magic Hat #9 down downs, and Fruit of the Clue who would probably be happier with a nice jug wine. But consistency is key, and for his ritual complaining week after week, Skin Fiddle emerged as the winner in this category. It appears his refusal to pay hash cash in favor of buying his own Miller Hi Life is more of a grudge against PBR than good taste in beer though.

The “Philadelphia Parking Authority Award” – This award goes to the hasher with the most parking violations during a single hash. I thought my luck was bad with 2 tickets in one night, but Piss Cycle managed to snag 4. And no one can beat Cousin IT’s getting the boot for all of his unpaid violations.  Incidentally, has everyone watched an episode yet of "Parking Wars" on A&E?   Theres a reason Philly has it’s on f-ing reality show on the subject!  See a meter maid boast that she loooves 4pm when all the meters expire so she can start ticketing. And the boot crew will show you how they easily get in and out in a few brief minutes before you have time to come out and maul them.  

The “Brokeback Mountain Award” for cutest hash couple – Sloppy Ass Kisser and Spongebath, No Pants were cute for sure. And Lick Hymen and Pink and Puffy had that one “fuzzy” night together. But this award really couldn’t go to any other couple than Popeye’s Bitch and Fiber Opdick. The stolen glances, the flirty touches…you thought we wouldn’t notice? Too bad only Popeye was there to pick up the award because I’m sure it would have been a celebration. And he appropriately had worn in his humping unicorns tee shirt with the big rainbow as if he knew he would win.  “Uck,” he said, as he accepted his certificate.

The “Cal Ripken Award”for who hared the most – This was a pretty easy one because most of the Mob is generally lazy. Congratulations to Soft Core Analyst… good effort! Also thanks to CYHMN, Jingle Ballzzz and Sloppy Ho for volunteering a lot, or maybe just being unlucky with straws.

The “Betty Ford Alcoholic Encouragement Award” – This one goes to the great men and women who motivate us to drink to our full potential. Honorable mention went to Nappy Headed Ho who was given the responsibility to “guard the beer stash” by the car for Circle and turned it into an impromptu beer check for everyone, causing the hares to have to go out and buy more. The winner was Well Hung Jury who ensured that each hasher take a minimum of 4 jello shots before they left her shot check. Cheers to you!

The “William Hung American Idol Award” for lousy karaoke –All of you are winners in this category, but it had to go to someone. Can You Hear Me Now took the prize for his tearful rendition of Lionel Ritchie’s “Hello”. 

The “We Lost Our Winkie Award” – We bestow this award on hashers who got really fucking lost on trail. Like Nappy Headed Ho who ran off into the darkness alone by Logan Circle in his bright orange pants, only to turn up a half hour late at the beer check. We didn’t ask questions. Then there was Where’s My Vagina’s first night in Philly haring with Virgin Pimp, which was mentioned before. The winner, of course, was our Albanian, Pink and Puffy Rides the Huffy who was 1.  Lost in the Manayunk Hills for over an hour and  2.  Albanian. Therefore we thought we’d never see him again. Three separate search parties finally brought him to the bar.

The “Joan Rivers Red Carpet Award” for best or worst dressed hasher. However you wanna look at it. – This vote was calculated by audience applause. The 3 nominees were Scooby Snatch for his dirty teeshirts, Fruit of the Clue for his retro 80’s running shorts, and Virgin Pimp for “just awful.”   Congrats to FOTC!

The “Britney Spears Award” for bad parenting –   The biggest scam of the year! In case you hadn’t heard yet, Mayor Quimby took Stan to Europe  and somehow misplaced her. He subsequently purchased a “reasonable facsimile” and attempted to pass her off as the real thing by markering her in all the right places and sand papering her … I have no clue why the sand paper. I was fooled too and Im her mother. Quimby claimed she was stolen by the Italian Mafia. 

The “Hashflash Award” – This goes to the person with the most contorted faces in photos. Hands down, it’s Rear.

The “Artist Formerly Known As” Award went to Piss Cycle, formerly Horse Whacker, formerly Rides the Chunk.   More lamings to come… 

Special Recognition Award #1 - Little Red Riding Wood for haring 2 rad hashes – the Prom and the Festival of Lights.   Wooo!

Special Recognition Award #2 - E=MyCockSquared and Strap On for paying our web site fees and keeping it clean of germs and STDs.

 

 

 

And if the evening couldn’t get any more exciting – THE 2008 ELECTION RESULTS were annonced! Raise your glass and throw it at the new Mismanagement:

 

Grand Mistress - Up Her Ali    You weren’t ready yet to let go of the gynocracy completely, were you?

 

Religious Advisors – Rear Engineer and Little Red Riding Wood

On Secs – 2 Clump Chump, Soft Core Analyst, He’s A Lesbian, and Jingle Ballzzz.    The trash now will have an all male voice.

Slopperazzi – Stunt Dick Double, Sloppy Ho, Mr Snuffleupamuff, Holy Fuck, Just Archana.  Wow, with 5 cameras pointed at you, you’d better watch yourself.

The circle was dissolved and the hash headed straight for the chow… 8 pizzas and several hoagies were demolished in minutes. There was also a lovely cake in celebration of the AGM that read: “Happy Birthday BSM!”    Yaaaay BSM!   Whoever orders our next birthday cake may want to clarify “F as in Frank.”   But the BS Mob does have a nice ring to it.  

Since we had no power tools or utensils with which to cut a delicious cake, Europee’n on Me improvised and used the stem of a chocolate rose someone had brought in for Vday. It worked amazingly well. I later saw Popeye’s Bitch eating his cake with chopsticks. Hmm. Since I knew the evening would only get weirder, I decided to pack it in for the night.

 

 

On, on beeotches! 

 

 

“I don’t want to have to keep track of my sex toys at the hash” – Virgin Pimp

“I figured this was going to happen today.” – Popeye’s Bitch in reference to his award.

“We should have a Dictaphone – emphasis on dick” – 2 Clump Chump, on how he wants to record the trash.

 

 

 

 

Yay, it’s the BFM 200!!   And thanks to our Philadelphia Parking Authority I’m now in a FOUL MOOD after just finding a $41 ticket on my windshield after I came out of the liquor store with a bottle for the shot check.  Only gone for 6 minutes! With flashers on!  I drive off in a rage, dodging pedestrians and running red lights to make it to the New Deck in West Philly on time. Just TRY and ticket me again right now. I’m paranoid now that every parking spot is a trap, so I spend 15 minutes driving around West Philly trying to find “legitimate” parking.

 

It’s impossible to walk around in the New Deck with  all the people there.  I reeeally could use a beer but can’t get even close to the bar.  I’m not gonna name all the hashers who showed up because there were a lot.  And okay, so maybe I didn’t write them down.   But chances are if you did something stupid you will see your name in the trash or accusations.  If not, maybe you should try a little harder.  

 

 

Everyone put their bags in Fruit of the Clue’s bag car since this was an A to B trail. “Hope you have your ID with you!” Sloppy Ho announced.    “Aw FUCK,"  I heard FOTC whine. “It would have been good to say that before all the bags were packed in the car.”

 

We had 3 visitors and 3 virgins for this celebratory hash.   The visitors where given “the option” = Tell a joke/show a body part.    Not sure what part Frank Lloyd Thong showed, and I don’t remember hearing a joke. Flounder told a joke about one-legged women who eat at IHOP.  Indana Jones and the Temple of Poon sang a song that she wasn’t a house wife, she’s a wannabe whore. Who isn’t.

 

The trail had 3 legs…3 very uneven, sometimes wobbly, legs.

 

 

We noticed off the bat that checks were marked with a ton of flour, like someone had taken the extra time to give each one a second or third coating. "Wow, you can’t miss that!”  Fire Down Under yelled.   “The hare is captain of the obvious”  someone replied. This would probably be the reason for the lack of marks during the latter part of the trail. 

 

“The trail went across Market and under the street through a subway tunnel.  Mmm….bum’s urine.   The rest of this leg took about 40 minutes of straight r*nning.   We crossed over the river twice with no reward.  We went down the XPN stairs under Walnut and came back up another set of stairs. 

 

“Where’s my fucking beer!”  Waaahh.  “I want food!”  Hashers began to whine.  I could hear the Wizard of Odds’ Christmas tie playing Silent Night over and over and over again as he ran next to me.  After what seemed to be an eternity, we came upon a shot oasis in a secret “nook” by a building on Penn campus. Was this a university sponsored event?

 

Up Her Ali waved us in for shots of brandied cider. “Sweet Jesus, that’s good!,” I heard someone remark. Yeah it cost fifteen bucks. Nothing but the best for you guys. The check gave the 3 breaks in the pack a chance to catch up to one another.

 

 

The few of us bringing up the rear (she said rear) packed up the shot check and headed back on trail through campus. We ran under a bunch of trees with non-denominational holiday balls hanging from all the branches.  Pretty.  I just love Christmahanakwanzika time.   We soon lost trail because the hares probably had expended their flour supply earlier. Oddly enough, we found Europeen On Me, who was just joining the hash. I’m still not sure how she found us at this exact spot near nowhere. 

 

We picked up trail again and arrived last at Strikes Bowling Lounge to find to rows of running sneakers lined up on top of the rental counter. The Mob had already taken over lane numbers 8-12 and would soon claim 6 and 7. Pitchers were flowing. I wondered how many hashers could actually bowl. I found out soon that hashers not = bowlers.

 

Popeye’s Bitch claimed he’d never done it in his life. And apparently he’d never bowled either. Sloppy Ho practiced her roll-thru-the-legs little kid method, which surprisingly worked about 50% of the time. We had many gutter balls. And many french fries. I looked at scores across the other lanes and they mostly ranged from the 40s to the low 100s.  I am the ball tonight.  I score a whopping 105. Up Her Ali rules our lane with a 116.  I can’t figure out how you can get a spare on a split.  It defies the rules of physics and logic.

 

As we are leaving the bowling alley,  S&M Man wants me to check out Lick Hymen playing foosball near the bar with a bunch of dudes. He suspects there may be something gay going on. We walk by nonchalantly and try to observe.  We do see that LH has now unbuttoned his shirt down to his naval, but that’s nothing new.  I’ll make a note of it anyway.  Heading over to Cavanaugh’s for the apres, I notice Target is staggering carrying a see-through cup of beer he had taken out with him.  And he is walking right past the cops.  BADASS.

 

 

Small, but its all ours. And it’s decorated for the holidays. For some strange reason there’s a big massage recliner chair sitting by the bathrooms.   And of course it serves as a nice alternative for girls that don’t want Horny Hands putting his paws all over them. Sure why not? I sit down, but notice it takes dollar bills. Much to my surprise, Lick Hymen steps in and pops a dollar in for me.  He then proceeds to watch me get rubbed.  I am not fooled.

 

I brought the rest of the bottle of brandied cider into the girls’ room to see who wanted to polish it off.   Indiana Jones is more than happy to help; so is Bumble Beaver.   And when we walked out of the bathroom with the bottle, CYHMN snatched it out of my hand and sucked the rest of the shit down hard like, well….

 

The circle began…

 

HARES: 

 

Sloppy Ho, Up Her Ali, and Mayor Quimby (E=MyCockSquared stood in for him)

 

Mike – Made himself cum

Chad – Holy Fuck made him cum. 

Eric – Yak in the box made him come.

 

VISITORS:

Indiana Bones and the Temple of Poon (Colombo Hash House Harriettes)

Flounder (Harrisburg/Hershey)

Assfinder (Colombo HHH)

 

 

Scammin Ol Ladies accused Rear Engineer of having his testicle sucked up into his body. 

 

E=MyCockSquared accused Virgin Pimp of betting someone about another hasher’s circumcision status. He’s apparently done this once before, and yes, Lesbian confirms he is, ladies.

 

A hush came over the crowd as Son of A Goat Fucker entered the circle. “Shhhh… Goat Fucker speaks!”  they yelled. On this rare occasion he not only had one violation, he had 3:

 

1. Scooby for eating a “deliciouss smelling calzone” in the circle. Fair enough.

2. Fruit of the Clue for having a 26.2 sticker on his car. 

3. The best one was saved for last… A clueless Virgin Pimp apparently just asked Goat Fucker’s wife, Just Liz, out on a date. They’ve only been married a few months, Pimp, she may be more willing in a year or so.

 

Just Liz tried to violate “her” (pointing to Cause) for something, but Im not sure what. The violation was shot down.

 

He’s a Lesbian accused Fire Down Under of not knowing what 26.2 was. 

 

JingleBallzzz said he was very intimidated by Wizard of Odds holiday tie. “I can’t keep up – I shake my ass.”  

 

There was a toast to everyone who bowled over 100… and then to the many more who bowled under 50.

 

 

Sloppy then called Just Brian into the circle for his official laming.

 

Well, he looks like Kramer. He hangs out with a bunch of girls, rolling donkey (yeah, I have no clue – is that like rolling a joint?). He went to GA Tech where he cross-dressed on occasion.
Ugga ugga would ya?

Midnite Tranny to Georgia!   May need to abbreviate that one for your necklace.

 

 

 

“Where’s The Rash? There’s a birthday in the house!”   Sloppy yelled.

 

“That was last week,” The Rash replied.

 

So whose is it?  Sloppy asked the crowd.  

 

Finally, Fire Down Under was pushed forth amidst the confusion and given her birthday side-side.   

 

The founders of the BFM were called up to chug for creating one BIG FUCKING MESS:

Self Service (now Baltimore/Annapolis), E=MyCockSquared, Strap On, Can You Hear Me Now, and Cunting Season (“She doesn’t count! E yelled)

 

 

 

E=MyCockSquared- There will be a hash in city on New Years Day around the parade in South Philly

The Rash – December 21, Philly Full Moon Ice Skating Hash

Rear Engineer – My second ball just dropped out of my body

Strap On – Philly Hash in Chesterbrook Saturday 3pm (this has since passed so don’t show up this weekend)

CYHMN – "I bowled three strikes in a row and got a 132. Beat that!"

Sloppy Ho – Next week’s hash is the South Philly Holiday Lights run. Be there or bah humbug.

Cause for Blindness is still single.

 

 

The night continued with loads of pitchers and Cause groping men.  Several of us then headed over to the “on-after” at an all-night diner across the street for a full 10-course breakfast.  After we absorbed the booze, I made it back to my car to find a familiar site on my windshield.  Wow, this one’s only 26 bucks…bargain!

 

What’s up with the BFM starting on time these past few weeks?  Are we a responsible organization or something?  I got to Sugar Mom’s around 8, thinking I’d have a minute to settle in, but noooo, the Mob was already outside gathered around Hold the Sausage who was giving the chalk talk. 

 

I ran inside and threw my bag down in front of Lick Hymen, who appeared to be extra coiffed this evening. He was just gonna hang out with our bags, drinking alone.  By the time I came back out, the Mob had taken off. 

After volunteering to hare for his 3^rd week in a row, we figured Soft Core Analyst must be campaigning for "hare of the year."   No one tell him we don’t have an actual award for this – that way no one will have to hare until at least February.  SCA took along Jingle Ballzzz for the ride tonight.

-The trail went over Market, crossed over Columbus Blvd to the Seaport Museum and back. The Seaport is where we almost had another “anthrax scare” last year.  

-Eventually we crossed South Street and kept going… we figured there was definitely going to be a beer check somewhere around here.

-Finally saw a BN near Nice Nuggets Fat Ass’s place. Inside we found the hares (but only Jingle Ballzzz was covered in flour).   Someone yelled, “Hey lets look for the vegan shit!” referencing NNFA’s diet.  A few people rifled through the fridge for to see what weird stuff they could find. HEY WAIT this isn’t her house anymore! Jingle Ballzzz took over the lease.   So we decided to look for kosher shit instead.

-After the beer check, we found  E & Strap On waiting outside for us.   They always find us.

-We pretty much headed straight back to the bar after that, where we found a shitload of autohashers and some lazy asses who just stayed at the bar while we ran:

 

 

PBRs were a flowing … “These are a buck fifty… I love America!!!!”  Sloppy exclaimed as she set down an armful of tallboys.

 

Hashers soon began inquiring about the status of Nice Nuggets, Fat Ass.   The Mob had been receiving threatening emails from Sloppy Ho all week telling us to get our no-show asses out for her big send off to Germany.   But she wasn’t here and hashers were sad.   NNFA finally arrived unfashionably late, and Sloppy called the Mob to order.   

 

Circle:

Hares: Jingle Ballzzz and of course, Soft Core Analyst

 

Vistors/Transplants: Just John and Just Mike from EWH3 whose protests fell on deaf ears: “Hey! We were here last week!”   Yeah, yeah.

 

Just Megan … Just Jim made her cum. Twice.

Just Liz… “I fucked a Goatfucker and he made me cum!”

Just Dez… no clue who made him cum.

Just Justin. That’s so repetitive.  Umm.. Atilla the Hung made him cum.

 

Sloppy then pulled Justs John and Mike back in the circle to tell a joke or show us a body part.   Lick Hymen loudly chanted: “Body part!!!” Body part!!!”   Umm…   “This does NOT help your gay reputation,” Tickle My Elmo responded trying to save LH another gay trashing.   Neither transplant opted to show a thing, by the way, and maybe for this reason.

 

Autohashers: Some of the ones I mentioned before … but not the whole list.

 

Violations:

-Elmo accused Sloppy Ho of “not knowing your songs”

-Sloppy Ho accused NNFA of not having a job and not getting here by 9:30… “But  had family to say goodbye to!”  Some excuse.

-Jingle Ballzzz accused Fruit of the Clue of whining that 30 degrees is “too cold to run”. 

-Can You Hear Me Now? accused Sloppy Ho of not showing up to hash after her many threatening emails to the mob.

-Mr. Snuffleupamuff accused Europee’n on Me of getting our tee-shirts out 6 months late.

-Fruit of the Clue had some unintelligible accusation.

 

Birthday Side Side: 

Atilla the Hung, when asked how old he was, responded “Old enough to fuck.”  And the women of the hash rejoiced.

 

Sloppy called NNFA into the circle, and CYHMN proposed a toast, saying the level of karaoke would be going down “10 decimals… decibals?"   I guess both could apply, when I think about it.  The crowd (the men) began chanting “Tits out for the boys!” followed by the flat-chested song.

 

Sloppy Ho polled the crowd to find out if anyone has any good dirt on Just Brian so we can name him something other than Buttsicle.   Nope.  Ok, she’ll check back with you all in 2 weeks.

 

Announcements:

12/30 – Philly Full Moon Hash

12/6 – Festivus

12/13 – BFM 200 … more fun than a boatload of hashers!

 

Sloppy guessed that Cause must be on a date cause she’s not here.

 

After the PBR ran out, someone handed me a Jager shot.  So much for a taking-it-easy hash night. The Mob was moving on to Drinkers now. Well, some were.  The rest of us made a pit stop for pizza at SoHo.  And for some reason after pizza, I madea pit stop for a Tang Martini at The Continental.  

 

When we finally got to Drinkers, there were 2 drunk blondes,  Nuggets and Sloppy, hanging at the bar and snapping pictures of themselves with everyone and everything.  The bartender, who was obviously trying hard  to impress the pair, lit a bottle of alcohol on fire and blew a foot of shooting flames from it with his mouth.  Ooooooooo.  The S&M Man bought me a drink because he felt bad that he’s thought my name was Anal ProBoner since he started hashing.   Afterwards, things get a bit fuzzy, but I’m sure Nuggets got some good photos of everything else that happened.  

 

Walking to the Black Sheep Pub for the BFM #1somethingorother,  I remember I need to pick up the flour.  $2.99 is a complete rip at the "Morning Deli", but there’s no time to comparison shop at this point.    Tonight could be a little tricky, since I will attempt to play GM, RA, On-Sec, Hash Cash and Hash Flash until relief arrives.

 

At the Sheep, there’s some networking happy hour taking up the main floor, and the hash is congregating in the dungeon.  I grab a bunch of straws from the bar and, using Sausage’s GM authority, delegate Fruit of the Clue the very important task of breaking the short one. The assignment proves to be difficult as he’s still holding his gnarled, unbroken straw after several failed attempts. 

 

The S&M man, who had been watching this whole scene took another straw from the pile and handed it back to me a second later with a clean break.   I didn’t ask him how, but obviously an S&M man would keep a variety of slicing instruments at his disposal.  Hoping I dont have to add hare to my list of tasks, I was excited when Little Red Riding Wood and Soft Core Analyst volunteered.  

 

As the Mob headed upstairs for chalk talk, the once lively happy hour room was now dead silent. Someone from the networking group was giving a speech as the whole room now turned toward the ruckus coming up from the basement.  That’s us by the way… the "ruckus."   I turned around to “Shhhhhh” the hashers coming up the stairs behind me, who didnt know this.  In turn, they began“Shhhhhh” -ing louder back at me.  I couldn’t tell if this amused or annoyed the speaker, who asked, “Are you guys trying to be quiet?”

 

I "gracefully" wove through the sea of bodies to get outside and out of their way.  Later, hash witnesses would inform me that I had plowed so hard into some woman’s boob that it swung back and forth in her blouse from the sheer force.  God, I wish I could have seen that.   On the sidewalk, we saw a “BN” along with a laundry list of marks the hares had left.   As RA, I attempted the standard Sloppy Ho welcome and air-out, then introduced our virgin Just Jason to the secret chalk language in front of us. 

 

Who Hashed:

 

 

-We found every false trail the hares had laid. And there were plenty of ‘em.

-We lost Cause somewhere along trail.

-We had a fun beer check at the always-cheap, always-smoky Locust bar. 

-At the Locust, there was a lesbian couple in a booth playing an intense game of Boggle.   My favorite 5 letter word is TEAMS.  If the letters fall the right way, you can get TEA, ATE, EAT, TEAM, TEAMS, STEAM, MAST, MATE, MEAT, MEATS, TAME, TAMES.  Boggle master.

-Fiber Opdick made me pretend we were conversing so he could stare at some girl’s ass in the coffee shop window behind me.

- Just Brian kept up the whole time, though confused.

 

We got back to the Sheep, where we found a smattering of auto-hashers downstairs, including RA Sloppy Ho relieving me of duty. 

 

 

First In: Cause For Blindness  

Last In: Holy Fuck

Virgin: Just Jason … Tastes Like Chicken made him cum, but she didn’t cum herself.

Hares: LRRW & Soft Core Analyst

Cums Lately?   Nope. SOCIAL!!

Autohashers: Sloppy Ho, Scooby Snatch, Rear Engineer, Horsewhacker, Fire Down Under, Heave Ho, Tickle My Elmo, Stan, Skin Fiddle, Popeye’s Bitch

Sloppy Ho… for missing the hash to educate America’s “youts” and being and Over Achieving Ass Clown on Sunday

Fruit of the Clue … for flapping his arms like a birdie when he scouts out trail

Scammin Ol Ladies … for making some incestuous joke about about brothers.

Heave Ho … for wearing scrubs. Halloween was yesterday!

 

Announcements:

- EWH3 Ski Trip Feb 8-10 … Sign up now.

- December 6 is the Festivus Pub Crawl, bitches.

- December 13 is the BFM 200, which will be more fun than a boatload of hashers on the Schuykill.

- The Lehigh Valley 69^th is coming up. As Cause explained, it’s the 69^th run on the 69^th year. But not continuously. Ok.

-And by the way… Cause is still single.

At some point after the circle closed, cum-lately hasher "Stan" was tossed over the crowd to me by her Uncle Elmo. She looks pretty good after doing God-knows what for the past few months.  But she’s wearing denim clamdiggers. So out of season.  Lesbian quickly claimed her for his trip to Paris next week because those overseas trips can get lonely.

 

Since the Sheep was a bit pricey, the  hash stash ran out early, leaving us with nothing to do.  Things were getting pretty lame and people were complaining about being tired or sick, having to work early tomorrow, or just being bored with the Black Sheep.  Waaaaah!!!  Lack of alcohol makes people so whiney.  My friend Just Brian, had a brilliant idea that proved to be the turning point of  the evening: “Let’s go to drag night at Bob and Barbara’s!”

 

It took convincing of some, but in the end we amassed a respectable crowd (so to speak) of 14 and headed to South Street for what proceeded to be the best on-after ever.   The bargain price of 6 bucks at the door gets you one “Special” (a can of PBR + a shot of Beam) and all the drag you can view.   

 

The crowd was a mix of gays, bi’s, straights, and all ethnicities here for the same cause: To ogle trannies lip-synching to tunes in see-thru evening wear. I’ve posted a few pictures, but unfortunately my camera died before they brought Sloppy Ho on stage to dirty dance with a random female (also pulled from the crowd). They were later seen exchanging digits. Sloppy proudly earned an additional “Special” for her performance. 

 

We also got to see Stan shoving dollar bills between “Miss Liza Liza’s” big fake cans.   Stan subsequently disappeared from Lesbian’s backpack … coincidence? Popeye was picked (after we pointed him out) to go dance with a drag queen on stage. I swear I never saw anyone fight so hard to get away. I thought he and the tranny were going to blows. Luckily, Tickle My Elmo volunteered to go up instead.

 

After downing two more specials, Sloppy and I were starting to sing louder than the music the trannies were lip-synching to (Fergie’s Big Girls Dont Cry was the last thing I remember).  It was time to go.  Lesbian ushered us out of B&B’s to Little Petes diner, and baby-sat while we ate our grilled cheeses and Texas Tommys.  A fuzzy end to a memorable evening!

 

 

“I got finger banged twice in one year” – Fiber Opdick

“Dude, you could drive a MAC truck in my ass and I wouldn’t feel anything” - He’s A Lesbian

“Does your guy put both hands on your shoulders?” – He’s a Lesbian

 

 

Also overheard at the Hash:

“Stop chasing pussy!” Lesbian to Holy Fuck

“Who likes head?” – Hasher …  “I do!!”– The S&M Man

“Look at these guys… They’re hashers” – Knowledgeable person on the street

“You’re probably wondering what I use to hide it all… Lots of duct tape. – Drag queen at B&B’s

 

 

 

Apparently the bartender from the previous Friday’s Full Moon Hash bar brawl was told that the Mob would be “better behaved” tonight.  She responded that it would be a big disappointment if we were.  As we waited for everyone to get there, He’s A Lesbian was telling Fiber Opdick and me how he’d hashed in Vegas the week before and that they have a "really cool "song to the tune of I Wanna Be Sedated.  It goes something like: “20, 20, 20, 4 hours agoooo…I was masturbating.”  Fiber felt the need to tell us he "just did that 8 hours ago,"  though I’m sure it was much more recent.

After breaking free of the vicious cycle, we headed through the dog park and up over the Walnut Street bridge toward XPN.  The trail went underneath 30th Street, past the post office loading dock, where I saw a mucho grande cucaracha munching on one of our marks.  We ended up on Market Street and were heading towards 30th Street Station.   Of course we knew we were going through it.   The Mob walked briskly and smiled as we passed the nice officers and German Shepards, then headed out the opposite side of the building.  At the crossing from 29th Street onto JFK Blvd, we found a sweet note from our hares:  “Be Careful.”   Awww.  

Perhaps they should have put that note before the part of the trail that took us onto a two-foot wide cement wall bordering the Septa tracks ten feet below.  Balancing on a dangerous crumbling wall and trying to stay away from the live wires hanging a few feet above our heads, we were blasted away by the loud horn of the R5 passing next to us, which was scolding us for being there.   I looked through the trees to our right and saw that half of the pack running parallel to us on JFK. “I guess they’re the smart ones!”  I said.  Strap On disagreed: “No, they’re pussies!!!”

 Karaoke:

The circle was closed and the Mob went off to do what it does best. Sloppy Ho kicked it off with Don’t Stop Believin’.  Will we ever tire of this song?  I say no. Other hashers that rocked the mike:

NNFA -What’s Going On

Mayor Quimby – Little Pink Houses

S&M Man – Discovery Channel

Just Marcel (our Albanian needed a little help) – Dancing Queen

Scooby Snatch – You Can Call Me

CYHMN – Flagpole Sitta’

NNFA, Sloppy Ho – Total Eclipse of the Heart

Just Dan, Sloppy Ho, Allison Ho– Angels of Harlem, Just Like Heaven

Rear Engineer – Big Balls

He’s A Lesbian, Mayor Quimby – Born to Run

Son Of A Goatfucker – Give It Away. He doesn’t talk but the mofo sure can rap.

Holy Fuck, Sloppy Ho – Get This Party Started.  My friend Just Brian had ditched out of Bonner’s by the time we got called, so I want to thank Sloppy for picking up the slack! 

The Mob – Time Warp. You really have to sing like a complete freak to carry this one off and half the group didn’t know the song.

On, on!

Holy Fuck   

 

Who Came: Hold the Sausage, Holy Fuck, Europee’n On Me, Sloppy Ho, Just Megan, Anal ProBoner, Popeye’s Bitch, Skin Fiddle, Up Her Ali, The Rash, S&M Man, Little Red Riding Wood, Yack in the Box, Just Mike, Big Tackle, Just Chad, Just Marcel, Cause for Blindness, Nappy Headed Ho, Sloppy Ass Kisser, Can You Hear Me Now?, Just Brian, Virgin Pimp, The Rash, Scooby Snatch, Jingle Ballzzz, Rear Engineer, Cunting Season, Fiber Opdick, Fire Down Under, Soft Core Anal-ist, The Rash.

 

Sloppy Ho told the Mob at our chalk talk that there would be 1 Beer Check and 2 “Possible Surprises”.  Hooray!  To give the hare CYHMN some more time, she solicited jokes from the crowd. This may have been the most painful 7 minutes of my life.

 

-What do you call cheese that doesn’t belong to you?

 

-What’s the difference between a truck full of dead babies and a truck full of bowling balls?
You can’t pick up bowling balls with a pitchfork!

 

-What’s red, shiny and bangs it head into walls?

 

There were many more gems, but I was banging my head against the wall by then and couldn’t hear them. 

 

We headed off in some direction … I’ll call it “East.” There was a lot of check-hanging and general dawdling.   At 4^th and Bainbridge we encountered a skater pack. Their fearless leader told us “The guy said to say he went this way but he actually went back that way” [points in opposite direction].   Would we believe skater punk? Maybe it’s a Jedi reverse mind game … CYHMN wants us to think we’re being tipped off, but he actually went the first direction. Nah. Waaaaay too complex for him.   We’re now back to deciding whether or not we believe skater punk.   “I believe him! Let’s go!” Nappy Headed Ho voiced his vote of confidence as he led the Mob in the tip-off direction … which proved to be right on.   CYHMN should have known better than to trust a skater to cover his ass. 

 

We r*n through a bunch of dark little alleys that circled us in a holding pattern within the same 3 blocks for a while, until we could finally let it out on South Street.  Literally. There was no room for us with the sidewalk crowds, so we ran on South Street, inches from the cars.   “On, On!!” yelled the BFM. “Hola!!” was the response from onlookers.  We may need to work on our e-n-u-n-c-i-a-t-i-o-n.

 

We turned on 3^rd Street and the trail went dead, which we later found out was because the hare ran out of flour. The Mob kept going straight and ended back at The New Wave before we had reached any beer checks or "surprises". Ooops. 

 

Luckily, some knew the “beer” check was at Europee’n’s and we led the Mob there.  Steamy wine coolers awaited thirsty hashers in Euro’s garage.  Refrigeration is soooo overrated.  We had our choice of delicious Wild Berries, Strawberry, Cherry or Fuzzy Navel, which turned our tongues various shades of red.    3.2% alcohol by volume. Contains sufites.  And as we were continuing reading the labels aloud,  Just Marcel turned to inform me “If you’re pregnant, you should not drink dis one.”   Thank you.

 

The beverage was warm and sickeningly sweet, much like the 80’s. Most of us had a hard time getting it down, but Virgin Pimp bragged that he had chugged two.  Animal.  Half the pack then took off for some other rumored “beer check” while the other half of us stood around looking confused. With no directions or flour marks we finally left the check and prayed for the best in finding the next one.

 

This proved to be easier than we anticipated.  We found the pack just around the corner drinking beer by a random car. Why have a beer check so close, you ask?  Well, let’s just say this one was unscheduled.  Apparently someone had brilliantly put  Nappy Headed Ho in charge of the beer stash for circle, giving him direction to “stay here watch this til we get back.”  Here is when the plan went awry.   Perhaps they should have been more explicit in direction not to give it out to hashers while he was watching it. 

 

Hold the Sausage and Sloppy Ho found the Mob at the car and ushered us across the street to some condo construction site for the circle.  Meanwhile, someone was sent off on yet another beer run to replace what we had just consumed.  

 

Once we managed to make it through the broken glass and debris and up the hill to the “spot”, the Mob was treated to jello shots left over from Saturday’s Philly hash.  The crowd was less rowdy than usual tonight…perhaps the after-effects of the wine coolers.   Everyone decided to sit down on the hill facing forward for some reason, like we were going to be watching an outdoor movie or concert.  So, uh you guys wanna circle up? Sloppy Ho asked the unenthusiastic group.   They reluctantly stood up and Sloppy made a toast to “wine coolers and jello.”  

 

 

 

The beer arrived and Nappy helpfully passed it out.

 

 

Accusations:

Sloppy Ho presented 2 “write-in” accusations for Hold the Sausage from Jews for having the 80’s party on Rosh Hashana so they couldn’t play.

 

CYHMN accused Fiber Opdick of catching him but not taking the bag

 

CYHMN accused Anal ProBoner of being the only one who saw him on South Street.   “And I would’ve gotten away with it if it weren’t for you crazy kid.”

 

Sloppy Ho accused Nappy Headed Ho of setting up his own beer check. But when ONE Ho drinks, ALL Ho’s drink.

 

Anal ProBoner accused Sloppy Ho of pretending to drink and sticking her half full bottle in the trash. Sloppy then tried to “prove” her wrong by taking out the bottle to show it to everyone … as beer splashed out everywhere.

 

Just Brian accused the Hash of not dressing up. Thank you!

 

The autohashers soon emerged from the darkness and began up the hill … including Cause for Blindness… crutches and all. I could see from her side ponytail that she at least had dressed up.

 

CYHMN accused Cause for Blindness for saying “I have your pants Nettie” when she arrived in Circle.

 

Autohashers:

Up Her Ali … “She looks just like Ali Sheedy!” someone yelled.

 

It was now time for yet another Laming. But I like how this one turned out.   Just Megan is from Houston and goes to USP to one day become a physician assistant.   She likes potatoes and cucumbers. In college she broke a lot of windows.    Some suggestions from the Mob:

Position Assistant

Sponge Bath Square Pants

Cooter Tooter

Queen LaQueefa

Cactus… No one could figure out where Marcel’s suggestion came from, but someone guessed that the Albanian could be describing his penis

Takes it Up the Taco Like Stan

 

One of the initial names was reworked to something I think we can ALL be proud of: Sponge Bath No Pants.  

 

No time to celebrate, we were soon alerted by Fiber Opdick to drop our bottles, as our cozy little soire was about to be spoiled by the Fuzz. The Popo. Flashlights beaming, we were like deer in headlights, but the front line managed to evade their investigative tactics, while the rest of us scrambled to clean up… not so quietly.  

 

 

After our run-in with the heat, we decided to head back to the safety of indoor drinking at New Wave. More autohashers showed up, including a very shaven Jingle Balllzzz in short-shorts, headband and a Quicksilver tee shirt… with a diamond stud earring? I’m guessing a gay 80’s surfer-runner? 

 

 

 

“I like it dark and smelly” – Rear Engineer

 

“R U?”… “Hang– ing!” – Hashers check-hanging at yet another corner

 

“He IS so gay.” –  CYHMN re: Jingle Ballzzz’s outfit. Particularly his shaved legs.

 

“I blew my load when I was walkin’” – Fiber Opdick, referring to his loss of “flour”

 

“We lied to the fuzz” –Yack in the Box

 

1. “I really, really, reeeaaallly, like pussy!”

2. “I got stroked by a guy [at a Carolina Trash camping hash] … and I didn’t pop wood!”   

–Fiber Opdick trying to convince Popeye’s Bitch that he’s really not gay.   Dude, you let a guy stroke you – that’s totally gay.

 

“It’s happening tonight. I’ll keep you drinking and then I’ll make my move. They don’t call him ‘Quicksilver’ for nuthin.”  – CYHMN to Jingle Ballzzz

 

 

 

It was erroneously reported in the BFM 182 Hash Trash that “Santorum” was a “frothy mix of semen, lube and a bit of fecal matter that oozes out of the asshole after sex”.   Our source, Virgin Pimp, wanted to set the record straight that there actually is no semen in Santorum because of the advent of condoms. “You need to be careful butt-fucking gay men” according to VP.   Of course, there’s another option. “I prefer butt-fucking straight men without a condom,” reports The S&M Man.   

 

 

 

I’m sitting at work realizing it’s Thursday already [crap. didn’t do the trash.], and despite “real work” deadlines [my boss is out today], I wouldn’t want to disappoint you fine hashers [whiney bitches] by not having the trash. Thinking ONLY of your best interests [don’t wanna drink for it later], I’ve pushed everything else aside [checking MySpace and lunch at the sushi bar], locked my door [doesn’t actually have a lock], held all my calls [no one's called so far. I am important. Really.].   The problem is my memory [drunk] and my handwriting [again, DRUNK] on this tiny notepad I borrowed last week from Europee’n [also drunk], along with the fact that Lick Hymen [gay] was not there and I can’t pepper the trash with random observations and innuendoes about him [sure can]. Bear with me.

 

The Mob flocked to Skin Fiddle’s for his annual pre-Labor Day hash last week…mostly for the famous chicken wings and fine beer selection. Why is there a holiday to celebrate Labor anyway?     

 

Who came earlier: Skin Fiddle, Hold The Sausage, Sloppy Ho, Europee’n on Me, Holy Fuck, Likes the Hard One, Sly Fox, Popeye’s Bitch, Just Alison, Well Hung Jury, Fire Down Under, 2 Clump Chump, Teen Beat, Rear Engineer, Scamming Old Ladies, Lunar Digit, Mulva, Fiber Opdick, Soft Core Anaylyst, Virgin Pimp, Where’s My Vagina?, The S&M Man, Jingle Ballzzz, Allturd Boy Just Jon, Major Piece of Ass, Festering Beanie Baby, Just Dan, Just Kyle, Just Brian, Just Marcel, Allturd Boy, Anal Proboner, Cause for Blindness, E=My Cock Squared, Strap On, The Horse Whacker, Son of a Goat Fucker.

 

Who came later: Scooby Snatch, Nice Nuggets…Fat Ass, Nappy Headed Ho, Sloppy Ass Kisser, Just Meg, Up Her Ali, Tickle My Elmo, She Man, Deep Flute, Beagle, Fruit of the Clue, Bastard Child, The Rash, Pelvis has Left the Building, Mr Snuffleupamuff.

 

It seemed like we had as many guests and virgins as our regulars. There was limited space in Fiddle’s courtyard, so many hashers waited on the sidewalk for the chalk talk as a giant can of “OFF” was being passed around to help ward off “alleged” bugs.   As people were slathering the shit on, I couldn’t help but notice how great this bug spray smelled, like a fine French parfum. Or Loves Baby Soft, as Anal Proboner suggested.   Teen Beat agreed: “Smells like a teenage girl perfume.” To which 2 Clump questioned the visitor: “Whoa…did you just say it smells like a teenage girl?”   I waved the can away, but Friday morning, with bites down my legs, I wished I’d stunk like a teenage girl that night too.

 

The Mob volunteered Virgin Pimp as the hare and then told newcomer Where’s My Vagina? to go with him. We felt a little badly about it afterwards, sending her off alone with Pimp, plus the fact she’s from San Francisco and probably had no clue where she was.    There was no inclination that this would become the latest hash match. “I’m guessing they are not hooking up,” someone said.

 

Sloppy Ho commenced the “chalk talk” and some of our visitors and virgins were brought into the circle, including Just Dan who Likes the Hard One (aww…), Just Marcel from the Albania HHH, Scamming Old Ladies from Tokyo and St Louis … apparently he was involved in several pyramid schemes, and Teen Beat from Reading HHH.   We could see a limping figure in the distance heading for our circle, who we soon recognized as Cause for Blindness. She excitedly announced that her purple cast had been removed (from her drunk dock jumping/flipping incident at Mayor Quimby’s party, in case you’ve been in a coma or dark hole the past month). She now has a black moon boot.

 

We gave the hares another 5 minutes after chalk talk, and then the pack was off, wafting of eau de teenage girl.    We came to our first check a block away, which looked more like a “Y.”   Could be a San Francisco thing. The Mob ran toward Spring Garden and made it across with the stealthiness of Frogger.  But the trail immediately disappeared and we had to backtrack across this street finding trail headed toward the right .  I should note that this is one of the many times the trail changed direction with no check or arrow.  “This is terrible – no one puts checks anymore!” Popeye’s Bitch wailed.   A block later we lost trail again… a pattern that would keep repeating.  

 

We ran around the block and saw a lovely little bar that would be perfect for an impromptu beer check called the Green Room, but no one was willing to give it up just yet.   Some drunk guy stumbled out of the bar and noticed us standing there looking all athlete-like and stuff.  “All you marathon people… assalamalegum!”    That’s how he pronounced it. I’m not even going to bother spell-checking.   We soon picked up trail going toward Spring Garden again… wait… this is the exact same block we just ran down a minute ago!   Even so, we continued over Spring Garden AGAIN, looking like fools, with no trail in site. 

 

The Mob then found something even better than flour or anthrax… a live hare!   Yes, Virgin Pimp had indeed lost his Vagina on trail, and looked completely flabbergasted when the Mob caught up to him.   The question was… Where is My Vagina? “Has anyone seen My Vagina?”  We stood on the street corner for a while yelling these and other variations…with no reply.  Our words disappeared into the gaping dark hole of the night.  Obviously Virgin Pimp was inexperienced at finding Vagina, so he was of no use to us.

 

Standing on the corner, we made the executive decision to head back to the Green Room for a beer check, but as soon as we took off, we were immediately averted by Rear Engineer. “On left!” he yelled as he cut across our path.   We followed him for exactly a block until the trail dead-ended once again. Ok, now can we go?  

 

On the way to the bar, 2 Clump Chump speculated that the dead ended trail could have been from last week.   Rear Engineer disagreed: “I swear that was a fresh clump.”   “He knows his Clumps,”  2 Clump said, confirming what I believe we already knew.  

 

When you lose your Vagina, you go drink beer. There were lots of drunks in The Green Room tonight…our initial assessment that they would have “cheap pitchers” due to the blue collar appearance of the place and the patrons, turned out to be waaaay off!   Thankfully, Virgin Pimp (reluctantly), Jingle Ballzzz and Teen Beat fronted the 100 bucks we needed to cover it.   We stayed at the bar for a pretty long while to give Skin Fiddle more time alone with Cause for Blindness back at the house. And to cook chicken wings.

 

Eventually E=MyCockSquared strolled in the bar. Of course he’d actually found the trail when 30 of us couldn’t.   Of course he’d already run the entire thing. And naturally, he managed to find us at this random unscheduled beer check, in a bar that had no marks in front of it indicating we’d be inside.   It’s a little creepy how he does this.   Also creepy = Virgin Pimp apparently getting his “game on” with some chick at the bar.   According to 2 Clump, “It’s like watching turtles having sex on the nature channel. It’s disgusting, but you just can’t look away.” 

 

Even creepier … Fiber Opdick and Popeye getting cozy in a bench, supposedly talking about “chicks,” as Fiber playfully kisses Popeye’s cheek.   When we finally left the bar, Popeye expressed his growing concern over being the object of Fiber Opdick’s affection: “There’s funny… and then there’s you’ve-done-it-so-many-times-I’m-beginning-to-wonder.”  At that moment Fiber ran up behind him and pinched his butt. “Guys don’t feel each other up. It’s not normal!” Popeye scolded him.

 

We were happy to find our Vagina unscathed back at Skin Fiddle’s house. There were also a ton of late-comers, lazy-asses, and autohashers, who didn’t go on trail and just came for the food and beer. I was starving and grabbed a hot dog from Skin Fiddle’s grill before I had to record this latest list of people.   Hmm… where do you hold your hot dog when you are writing the trash? “In my butt,” Tickle My Elmo responded to my rhetorical question. Wrong answer. 

 

Some of the crowd spilled in from the courtyard into Skin Fiddle’s living area/bedroom to watch TV.  2 Clump wanted it noted in the trash that he thinks Skin Fiddle stole his modular chairs from a dorm room. Not nice to comment on the host’s décor! But I will make a note of the very suspicious yellow stain on the ceiling above the bed.   “I call that ‘Nice shot!’” said 2 Clump.  Skin Fiddle agreed it was a very good night for him and himself. 

 

Hares: 

Virgin Pimp, Where’s My Vagina?   The first block was great!

 

 

Just Marcel from Albania … told a joke but needed a translator for us to understand it

Scamming Old Ladies from Tokyo (Domo Arigato!)… told a joke about parsley and pussy

Teen Beat from Reading told a joke about a virgin and something that looks like “baker” in my notes.

 

Autohashers:

She Man, Deep Flute, Just Meg, Sloppy Ass Kisser, Nappy Headed Ho, Beagle, Cause for Blindness, Just Kyle, Bastard Child, Tickle My Elmo, The Rash, Fruit of the Clue … more walked in after circle was closed

 

Cums Lately:

 

Anal Proboner accused Just Jon of threatening someone with a golden shower

 

Sloppy Ho accused Skin Fiddle of hosting a BBQ with “not enough gas”

 

2 Clump Chump accused Skin Fiddle of furnishing his apartment with dorm room furniture.   “He didn’t go to college!” The Rash countered.

 

Sloppy Ho accused 2 Clump Chump of “calling the kettle black”.  

 

Soft Core Anal-ist accused Europee’n On Me of “running squarely into a parking meter.”

 

Europee’n on Me accused Soft Core Anal-ist of wearing new sneakers. 

 

Holy Fuck accused Fiber Opdick of molesting Popeye.   At some point it IS gay.

 

Teen Beat accused latecomer Nice Nuggets…Fat Ass of “forcing a little boy not to come tonight”.   Nuggets had to then explain the The best part was E=MC2 yelling “Do it in Scooby’s voice… It’s funnier!”  Scooby showed up later for the record. Sans beard and goatee.

 

Tickle My Elmo accused Anal Proboner of being a lawyer for IKEA,which is apparently (but not in reality according to Just Jon) suing the hashers that laid flour in their parking lot in New Haven….

 

…and when one IKEA employee drinks… Just Jon drank.

 

 

Philly Full Moon Hash is September 21st… check out the web site.  

 

Happy Hour at TenStone last Friday … sorry if you missed it or Bob and Barbara’s afterwards!

 

Circle was closed and the keg was being violently pumped indicating festivities may soon be coming to an end. Concerned for the safety of my car on a nearby block (yes, it’s still a “transitional” area), and my hangover in the morning, I headed out after 2 more wings, and a handful of chips.  

 

The trash is complete hours before the hash. I did it all for you.

 

 

 

A couple of  things about Callahan’s… The beers on tap are generally flat and have a suspiciously sweet taste. They always have a sign up that says, “Crabs are Back!” on the little chalkboard behind the bar.  Where did they go?  And do we really trust seafood from this place? I’ve seen their kitchen, and I’m only ordering fries. Then there’s the infamous picture on the wall of a dead bald cop that everyone claims looks “just like Lesbian” (In reality, the only similarities here are they both  A. are bald and B. were cops). But the most important thing I can say about Callahans, and the reason I actually like this place, is they pretty much let you do whatever the fuck you want.

 

When I walked into the bar, Lick Hymen told me he already had a really good quote for the trash: “Sloppy Ho said she wants crabs tonight!”   2 Clump Chump quickly reminded me that everyone makes that joke.  So it wasn’t really that original or very funny.  Rumors were swirling that Sloppy wanted to yet again rename Lick Hymen (formerly Barry Maniblow) to “Queerly I’m Straight.”   Now THAT was funny.  Talking to Hold the Sausage about my failed park job with bar patrons watching, she recalled how the whole bar had once cheered her for changing her shirt in the car before the hash.

 

Who Came:

 3 Balls, Lick Hymen, Tight Lips, 2 Clump Chump, Mayor Quimby, Where’s My Vagina, Europee’n On Me, Sloppy Ho, Holy Fuck, Hold the Sausage, Up Her Ali, Mr. Snuffleupamuff (he wanted me to confirm for you all that is the correct spelling of his name), He’s a Lesbian, Scooby Snatch, Popeye’s Bitch, Son of A Goat Fucker,  Cousin IT, Well Hung Jury, Can You Hear Me Now?, Virgin Pimp, Just Kevin.

The hares soon arrived, including Anal Proboner and Jingle Ballzzz, hare helper Soft Core Anal-ist, and APB’s friend, affectionately known as “Dick Head.” Apparently he got punched helping to lay the trail, but I didn’t get the whole story on that.   With all this manpower laying “trail” one would think it would have gone a bit smoother for the pack that evening. 

Sloppy did the chalk talk and the Mob was informed by the hares that there were to be “0 to 4 beer checks.” .. but most likely there would be 4.  We excitedly headed down South Street with instructions from APB to “turn right on 24^th” because apparently the trail crossed itself … a foreshadowing of things to come. 

 

Making the right turn as instructed, the Mob found trail going left a block later on 23^rd, which put us right back on South Street where we just were.  It didn’t make any sense, but no one cared. At this point I noticed Scooby Snatch running behind me, bending down to sniff my butt.  Peculiar?  “You’re right – voted best smelling hasher!” he yelled out to everyone.   2 Clump ran up and explained, “I just told him when I get lost on trail, I smell for you. He then decided to sniff your butt for some reason.” 

 

Despite the hare’s initial instructions to steer us to the On-On, it appeared that the Mob had found its way back to the No-No, hitting the 4^th beer check first.  I was the last person getting to the check since I had to stop and write all this down.   Hearing clapping and “ooooohh”-ing from the Mob inside APB’s living room, I walked in to see them all crowded around the TV set looking at what appeared to be porn.  Much to everyone’s chagrin, it turned out to be a very misleading Levi’s ad.   You didn’t think APB would leave her porn channel on, did you?   Since we were helpless to find the real trail again, APB gave us exact directions to the next beer check.   All we had to do was take the Schuykill path and look for the “little house”.  Got it.

 

So there were like 3 or 4 “little houses” we came across on the path.  The house we wanted happened to be the furthest away. Something resembling an arrow (no need for a silly “BN”) was drawn about 30 yards from the “little house”, which directed the Mob through a gate onto the train tracks. I should mention it was pitch black out a this point, something the hares may not have thought about when they laid trail, and now we were heading into a spooky dark tunnel. The cruel joke waiting for us there was a 6 pack of O’Doul’s.  The Mob did not find the humor in this and decided to get the hell out of there.

 

We soon ran into Jingle Ballzz who was waving at us to stop, yelling “You missed the beer!”  He shooed us back toward the path and spooky tunnel.  Most people were reluctant at first, asking if he would just bring the beer back to us.  But we followed him eventually and he dug real beer out of the black hole, as the Mob impatiently waited.  Apparently the hare-brained scheme was to have rootbeer and O’Douls at 2 of the 4 checks.  Again, not funny.  But this plan had gone awry, much like the trail, and they decided to end it here with real beer. 

 

Once the beer had been broughten, the Mob reconvened on the dark tracks. Lick Hymen spotlighted the beer stash for everyone with his cell phone/GPS/radio/flashlight he generally has strapped to his ass..  Showing their gynocratic class and spirit, Hold the Sausage and Up her Ali decided to shot gun their beers. Others soon followed suit. “I need someone to do it with!” yelled Mr Snuffleupamuff.  Just Kevin, new and eager to please, did it with him.  JingleBallzz offered me his secret stash of Dogfish Head, which he oddly had poured into a ba-ba.  I don’t know why, but I took that nipple in my mouth and sucked out its hoppy goodness. 

 

Because it had been such an effort getting here and getting real beer, the Mob stayed at the check longer than usual.  When a random a capella sing-along of Don’t Stop Believin’ started up, things got wild.  Including more shotgunning of beers and drinking through nipples.   I had an epiphany to create a BFM beer bong for moments such as this.   Lick Hymen’s cell phone/GPS/radio/flashlight/microwave/DVD started playing a tune. “Why is your ass singing?” Lesbian asked him.  With this, 2 Clump Chump, knowing I was taking notes, perfected his retort/trash quote (he seriously said 3 versions, but I only captured the last one):  “The question is…why are you singing back?”   Good one, Clump.

 

Some of the “serious” r*nners decided it was now time to head on bar.  I met up with Virgin Pimp somewhere on the long journey back, who told me a marathon story about a marathon. The story took almost the whole run back, so I’ll bottom line it for you… He told all the nay-sayers he could run it in 4 hours … and he ended up coming in at 3:59:59. Truly a story of courage and triumph.  A man with a dream.  Much like the tale of E=My Cock Squared who had a goal to beat Lance Armstrong and … oh wait, that didn’t happen.  

 

We were joined by CYHMN on our last leg of the trip, at which point we were walking. The conversation naturally turned to aliens and how can we be sure that people CANT actually read our brain waves.  CYHMN argued why not, when there are people out there with 3 vaginas? Good point. Virgin Pimp said that he’d read about people with 2 vaginas in Dan Savage’s column “SAVAGE LOVE”.  According to Pimp, Dan Savage is a flaming homosexual who gives advice on eating pussy.  And he has coined the term “Santorum”: A frothy mix of semen, lube and a little fecal matter that oozes out of the asshole after sex. Funny, Pimp quoted that word for word off the top of his head…it was like Santorum just rolled freely off his tongue, as he spoke.  Frothy.

 

FIRST IN

Cousin IT???  Something’s up.

 

LAST IN

Mayor Quimby and Lick Hymen who fought over this honor

 

HARES

Anal Proboner… who apparently may be renamed (respelled) to “Anal Probe-Oh No!”

 

VISITORS/VIRGINS

Just Kevin – Ran once with Philly Hash this week.  Showed his nipple.  Grrrrrrrr.

Where’s My Vagina? – From San Francisco .. told a joke a about a Teepee and Wigwam (two tents)

 

AUTOHASHER

 

ACCUSATIONS

2 Clump – for introducing himself to the new girl as “2 Pump Chump”

Sloppy Ho – for our RA still having a cheat sheet. 

2 Clump – for his overly competitive “Tri-Athlete” teeshirt

Scooby – for actually being an overly competitive tri-athlete

Anal Pro-Boner – for having her friend “Dick Head” punched in the face laying the trail

Scooby – for not molesting Mayor Quimby’s sister this year at his party

Hares – For planning 2 beer checks with rootbeer and O’Doul’s

 

 Sloppy Ho thenopened the floor for everyone to provide reasons how they know Lick Hymen is Gay. I didn’t hear them all, but there are sooo many.  You know how I know Lick Hymen is gay?

- He went to dinner with Jingle Ballzzz last Tuesday

- At said dinner, the other “couple” were remarking that they thought he was gay

- He has too much ‘product’ in his hair for a hasher

- He actually drank the O’Douls tonight

- He wears a fanny pack on his butt

 

Next, Just Diane was brought to her knees by Sloppy Ho to receive her hash moniker.  Some fun facts about Diane:  She’s a chemical engineer who wants to be a vet.  She owns a horse named Chunk.  She plays the tuba. 

 

After several tries with Luba My Tuba, Rides the Chunk, Likes It Bareback, Butt Plug in her Ear (why???), the Mob brilliantly tied the facts together and came up with  Save a Horse, Ride a Tuba.

 

Now it was time to do what we do best at Callahans… Flippy Cup!!  I don’t know why this is the only bar I’ve ever been in that allows this blatant display of drinking debauchery.  I’ve had chase quarters games shut down at other bars.  Tame in comparison to beer being splashed all over people, tables, and floors with cups flying in the air.

 

There was a table of chicks next to our group who eventually joined our ongoing tourney. Lesbian recognized one of them as the daughter of his old barber.  “Obviously I haven’t seen him in a while,” he said.   Obviously.   After 2 rounds and finally losing because Lick Hymen cannot flip (tho’ he IS a master of kickball and foosball), I decided to retire from the game and head out to Grays Ferry for a McDonalds run with Popeye’s Bitch.  Chicken Selects and fries … supersized. 

 

 

“Whats wrong with butt sex?”  – Virgin Pimp

“It’s TOO big” – Two Clump Chump

“I come … and I go” – Mr Snuffleupamuff

 

 

 

Well my notes from last week are minimal because I was busy doing some other stuff.  Plus I have a pretty wicked hangover right now, so I’ll make it short (for me).

 

The Gynocracy’s 1^st Annual (maybe semi-annual?) Adventure Boat ride brought in record attendance of hashers, visitors, and guests!  Most people showed up because they were promised short to no trail. And  also that everyone would get laid. Unfortunately, that last part was a typo on the original flyer, which was corrected in later communications, but some still came for that reason.  

 

Who Came (I probably should just list who didn’t cum): 

Anal Proboner, Beagle, Bumble Beaver, Cause for Blindness, Big Tackle and Just Ma Tackle, Can You Hear Me Now?, E=MyCockSquared, Europee’n On Me, Fruit of the Clue, Heave Ho, Hold The Sausage, Holy Fuck, Jingle Ballzzz, Little Fuckin’ Winkie, Little Red Riding Wood, Nappy Headed Ho, New Kid on the Cock, Nice Nuggets…Fat Ass, Plastic Pud, Popeye’s Bitch, Rear Engineer, Scooby Snatch, She Man, Skin Fiddle, Stacks, Sloppy Ho, Strap-On, The Rash, Tickle My Elmo, 2 Clump Chump, Up Her Ali, Virgin Pimp, Just Diane, Thunder Things (Thighs!), Bitchard, Jubal, Target, Cousin IT, Meat Tenderized, Wild Bill, Hand Job, Himalaya, Sternum in Rectum, Indiana Bones and the Temple of Poon, Just Joe, Just Chris, Just Steve, Just Jennifer, Just Danielle, Just Sandy. One of the Just’s is actually Preparation H from EWH3, but I don’t remember because you gave me your nerd name when I asked you. If I missed anybody, it you probably got off without paying, so lucky you!

 

The Mob gathered outside of Cherry Street Tavern for Sloppy Ho’s chalk talk. Sloppy and co-hare Indiana Bones led the Mob on the r*nners’ trail while I led everyone else through "shiggy" and train tracks on the walkers’ trail. This may be the only time reported in the trash that Target was the FRB. We arrived at the boat at the same time as the r*nners, as the dark storm clouds moved in threatening to break open at any second. The problem was that there was no boat at the dock, so we had to wait 15 minutes until it returned from its earlier tour. While we waited, Europee’n leid everyone, while the Gynocracy passed out PBRs to impatient hashers.  

 

The Mob made it on board the boat just as the rain becan with our 7 cases of PBR. And we were off on our great adventure!   No … wait!   Turn the boat around. There are 3 hashers standing on the dock waving for us to go back. Ok, Heave Ho and co. were late getting ice for the beer, so we felt like we owed them.   

 

After we’d set sail on our one hour tour, we quickly learned the unspoken “rules” of the boat because the boat owner would frequently come over and yell at us if we broke one of them. Like he had eyes in the back of his head or something.  

 

After the Mob was informed of the basic rules and where everything was on the boat Winkie wanted to know what happens if he has diarrhea. After we were clear on that, the circle was opened by Sloppy Ho.

 

First In … Last In:

Meat Tenderized … Heave Ho, obviously

 

 

Visitors:

Indiana Bones from Sri Lanka showed her tits

Preparation H from LA and EWH3 showed a tattoo

 

Virgin:

For some reason I think this was also Preparation H, but I don’t know why he’d drink for being a virgin too.

 

Cums Lately:

 

Autohashers:

Up Her Ali  who brought her car to the dock.  “I was loading the beer!”

Sloppy opened up the circle for “General Grievances” at this point, which I’m not sure everyone (including myself) understood the difference between those and “Accusations”. So here are the “Grievances/Accusations”:

 

-Can You Hear Me Now? accused Holy Fuck for whining about my one nettle at last weeks’ hash.

 

-Meat Tenderized accused CYHMN of running BEFORE the hash and changing.

 

-E=MC2 accused Stacks of attention grabbing with her injury from last week

 

-Fruit of the Clue accused Heave Ho and her virgin for making us turn around and go back for them.

 

-NNFA accused Sloppy Ho of running a triathalon… and when one hare drank all hares drank!

-Someone accused Jingle Ballzzz of getting ‘dissed by a midget’ and not wearing his prom shirt.

 

-CYHMN accused Hold the Sausage of drinking out of an open container inside the boat. I believe the rules were you cannot POUR in the boat.   And when one GM drank, Scooby Snatch and Tickle My Elmo drank. He later accused her of “not learning her lesson” and continuing to drink out of her BFM glass.

 

Announcements:

-Philly Blue Moon Hash on Friday the 29^th

 

-South Asian Interhash September 27-29^th

 

-4^th of July Party hosted by Fruit of the Clue, CYHMN, and Holy Fuck at FOTC’s 2pm

 

-Hashtille Day July 14^th

 

- Cause is still single. But getting action.

 

 

We had a longer-than-we-had-paid-for boat ride up and down the Schuykill, which doesn’t look half as dirty at night. After about an hour-twenty, we arrived back at the dock. Half of the hashers went to Cherry Street and the other half to Bonners for karaoke. Once the hash cash was all spent at Cherry Street, this half of the Mob either headed over to Bonners or headed home. I was in the headed home group. I’ve heard the stories, and seen the pictures, but since I wasn’t there to personally witness the subsequent events that took place, you are all off the hook. 

 

 

"If anyone wants my nuts, they’ll be outside" – 2 Clump Chump