A thick, dank moistness was suspended just above the sinewy, mostly- shirtless mass that huddled closer and closer in the dusk.  

Humidity rose laterally, bumping up against the rapidly descending darkness. With efficient motions, the group completed their task. Many of them handled the job without so much as a drop wasted. Some, preferring to savor the tangy chill, pressed the cold vessel from lips to cheek, and onward…

…OK, so the above wasn’t the prologue to a creepy Cormac McCarthy sequel. It was instead describing the beer check in the middle of the wild and wonderful Wissahickon wilderness at the annual BFM solst-ass, hared by Roxborough’s finest wanker, Two Clump Chump.

Who came:

Cousin It, Two Clump Chump, Grab My Handlebars, Twat of Darkness, Snap Off, Hold the Sausage, Short Distance Rimmer, Swollen Cockpit, Rash, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, Wingnuts, Lick Hymen, Piss Cycle, Sloppy Ho, Rear Engineer, Soft Core Analyist, Dumpster, Seiz er’ tits, Son of a Goat Fucker, Mr. Snuffamupamuff, Post Anal Drip, Mediocre and Stupid, Cause for Blindness, Flounder

Trail:

The trail wound us up, down and allllllll around the wild and wonderful Wissahickon, past uprooted trees, shrubs and flowers, thanks to the likes of a Rainmaggedon storm that hit the city a few hours prior.

When the trail did take a pavement-pounded break from it’s shiggified origins, it zigged and zagged up and down a neighborhood of Roxborough just quick enough to jump back into the wild right before coming upon a giant chainsaw hacking up a fallen stump. (Well, either a tree base or Cousin It, since he did arrive back at the après missing the back half of his shirt. )

The pack succeeded for the most part in staying together, had the beer check described above and THEN grabbed onto a rope held down by Two Clump Chumpand assorted garden gnomes.

After we lost a few hashers to the two-story drop that was at the top of said rope climb, the chosen few made it back and there was a circle:

Hare: Two Clump Chump

Virgins: Nope!

Visitors: No sir!

First in: Snap Off

Last in: Wingnuts

Autohashers: Mr. Snuffleupamuff, Seizer Tits, Piss Cycle

Cums Lately’s: Wingnuts, Twat of Darkness, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, Swollen Cockpit, Dumpter

Accusations: Snap Off had racist socks on

–Rear Engineer had even more racist garb

–Two Clump Chump for leaving his back door open. To the disappointment of many, the opening was only big enough for one beer can to fit through at once.

–Two Clump Chump for taking the pack through Roxborough’s version of the Chain Saw Massacure

–Lick Hymen for swallowing when he should have spit.

–Cause for Blindness for being the only person during this hash to keep her shirt on.

–Short Distance Rimmer apparently took too long to take his shirt off

–Lick Hymen for running the seven miles to the hash

–Swollen Cockpit for getting engaged

Annoucements:

Cousin It Tailgate! Oh wait…JULY/AUGUST 2011.

Go spend 4^th of July with the Lehigh Valley Hash! Oh crap…

Get ready for 333…oops….coming soon to a trash near you.

 Overheard at the Hash:

 ”Whatever you do, don’t drink from the hoes.” Errr… hose.

On-on,

Mediocre and Stupid

 So there we were: Twat of Darkness, Two Clump Chump, Where’s My Vagina, Slutty When Wet, Just Jose, Cleavage to Beaver, Scooby Snatch, He’s a Lesbian, Porn to Fail, Tube Cock, Bonsai Bush, Shefelta Fish, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, Grab My Handelbars, the S & M Man and myself; standing as close as we could to the door of the notoriously smoky Triangle Tavern in South Philly a week after the big wet Green Dress Run, and a mere day after St. Patty’s.

 And there they went: after a yank of the short stubby one, Cleavage to Beaver and the S & M Man went out to lay trail.

 After they disappeared, we didn’t have a choice but to look at Mr. Snuffleupamuff (him, him, f*ck him!) standing there, a silly look on his face as he shushed the pack and very conspicuously walked in with the green satin BFM cape balled up and partly hidden behind his back. 

 And that’s when we all pepped up, eager to recount the chugging contest from Green Dress, that had left Mr. Snuffleupamuff in possession (or maybe he just stole it back from the person who originally had won it?) of the newest BFM “ohh shiny” symbol. 

 Trail beckoned, and out into the night we went, keeping all together around the South Philly/South Street/Bella Vista-ish areas entertaining all of the outdoor yuppie diners as we took turns blowing on the horn.

 Two Clump caught the hares (or was it one of the hares) and proceeded to assist with the laying.  After polishing off a few dozen pitchers at Manny Brown’s and accosting innocent patrons with overheard comments in the tone of “Aren’t they THAT running club? Remember that incident?” the pack proceeded back to Triangle for a circle:

 Hares: Cleavage to Beaver, S &M Man, Two Clump and Midnight Tranny to Georgia

 Auto Hashers: Up Her Ali, Big Tackle, Just Jason, Just Kelly, Broken Rod

 First in, Last in: He’s a Lesbian, MediStu

 Cums Latelies: Broken Rod, Twat of Darkness

 Accusations:

 Midnight Tranny and Two Clump Chump for not pansing/and or demanding an article of clothing upon catching the hares.

 Up Her Ali accused Big Tackle for looking dapper, or maybe it was for not wearing any Dapper Dan? I really need to write more timely trash.

 Announcements: Irrelevant now! 

 Overheard:

 C2B:

(Talking about her recent trip to the Georgia zoo)

‘I may have told people how I swam with the sharks…but the sharks are telling one another how they swam with me.”

On-on,

Mediocre and Stupid

And now some dirty golf trivia:

When is it considered acceptable hash behavior to double fist to make up for botching a hole?

 At the Inaugural Ben Franklin Mob Invitational Golf Tournament!

 Clad in their plaid and argyle finery, the mob set out from McGillins on a recent Thursday night with a goal to keep their pars low and their standards lower in the name of a golf-themed bar crawl.

 Who came: Two Clump Chump, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, Grab My Handlebars, Just Jose, Slutty When Wet, Just Shannon, Bumble Beaver, Just Morgan, Just Danielle, Heave Ho, Little Fucking Winkie, Porn to Fail, Flounder, Cause for Blindness, Cleavage to Beaver, the S & M Man, Just the Brown Tip, Piss Cycle, Kevin’s Virgin, Just Mike, Where’s My Vagina, Just Tara, Just Jason

 Players were greeted with a very official-looking score card (thanks to the logistical geniuses of Grab My Handlebars and Midnight Tranny) which featured scores on the left hand side of the card and challenges on the right. I think I can speak for more than a handful of half minds when I say that since I never played a game of golf in my life, let alone know what a bogey is (hehe, looks like boogey!), I was pretty impressed. So were many a hasher when they crawled into the second bar (Oscars) and caught wind of the special: a “big beer” and a shot of tequila for under eight bucks. As Scooby Snatch would say, Yatzee!

 Things took a colorful turn when the pack crawled onward to Tavern on Carmac, set in the heart of the gayborhood. Since they weren’t serving food, grabbing a nosh was a no-go (required here to stay on par), so the pack dispersed, checking out the bar’s various nooks. Upstairs was a bumping club, downstairs a chill bar. Sandwiched in the middle is what can be best described as something of a mirrored cabaret, complete with Just Shannon belting out a Les Miserables song with the piano player. 

 Onward and upward the pack went to Good Dog, where there was a circle:

 Hare: Midnight Tranny to Georgia

 Virgins: Just Shannon, Just Jason, Just Tara, Just Morgan, Just Danielle

 Cums Latelies: Cleavage to Beaver, Little Fucking Winkie, Tickle My Elmo, Lick Hymen, Bumble Beaver

 Accusations: Porn to Fail accused Midnight Tranny for apparently knowing specifically where we were going next. As if we didn’t have a cheat sheet in our little hands!

 Speaking of hands, Two Clump Chump was accused of being mistaken for Michael Jackson on trail with his solo left-handed white glove. (But is he left-hand dominate all the time?)

 Two Clump accused Lick Hymen for being known by name by several patrons at the gay bar.

 Handlebars bestowed the Tiger Woods award to Bumble Beaver for brining the most bitches on trail with her.

 S &M Man accused Cause for Blindness for sticking her chesticles in the piano players face at the gay bar. I’m pretty sure afterward the whole bar accused the piano player of liking it.

 Best Dressed:

 Despite Where’s my Vagina’s AWESOMELY bad plaid pants (only in San Fran could you find trousers like that), and Cleavage to Beaver’s cleavage almost successful in marching free, it was the S &M Man took home the coveted strawberry-flavored Boone’s Farm for best dressed. His award-winning came complete with a kilt, a pom-pom  hat and not much else.

 Announcements: There’s stuff happening somewhere at sometime with some people. BFM Prom is June 10.

 PA Interhash is Sept. 17, 18, and 19 in PHILADELPHIA! 

 Overheard at the Hash:

Rando from Tavern on the Camac: “Can we officially call them bawdy and ridiculous?”

 “Well, OK.”

 Fun and Random Golf Trivia from the side of your scorecard, courtesy of Grab My Handlebars:

 –A “bump and run” describes when a ball is hit into the air towards a target and then “bumps” into the ground and “rolls” the rest of the way towards its target.

 –A”Foursome” is a form of stroke play. There is typically a competition where two competitors play as partners with one ball.

 –An “Out-to-in-blow” is another way of saying “Coming over the top” which describes the movement of the club as it travels through the downswing and into a right-to-left pathway across the ball. (For those of you who are right hand dominate.)

 –A “hosel” is the part of the clubhead which attaches to the shaft of the club. 

On-on,

Mediocre and Stupid

On a recent blustery evening the mob gathered at Gallagher’s to indulge in general hash debauchery, and hopefully some after- hours fun once they got word from the SnOMG’s that they didn’t have to report to work on Friday.

Who came: Just the Brown Tip, Slutty When Wet, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, Grab My Handlebars, Scooby Snatch, Fire Down Under, Seiz‘er TITs, Mr. Snuffupamuff, Porn to Fail, One Inch In, Bonzai Bush, Cleavage To Beaver, S&M Man, Deep Discunt, Mayor Quimby, Shefelta fish, Where’s My Vagina, Just Emily, One Night Only, Hold the Sausage, Short Distance Rimmer, Nappy Headed Ho, Sleeps Around the C*ck, Mediocre and Stupid, Cause for Blindness, Flounder, Rear Engineer, Just Snap Off, Tube C*ck, Two Clump Chump, and Soft Core Analyist 

Upon rolling into the bar that is at the base of this giant apartment building I found myself pondering many a hash relevant thought: How does this place afford to stay open when there aren’t four dozen thirsty hashers here?  Aside from the draw of beer pong (or beirut for those of you pushing 32) I highly doubt that I would this place to be a happening place on any other night. And considering it within stumbling distance of my apartment, it’s now officially on my Philly bucket list.

Anyway, back to the task in my hand: after a quick draw of the straw, Just the Brown Tip and I set out to attempt to lay trail — attempt being the operative word here, because suddenly, the wind had decided to wage an all-out sideways assault on anyone and anything who decided it would be necessary to remain vertical. 

Not deterred by the bluster, JTBT enthusiastically declared that it was her virgin lay after nine years of hashing with assorted kennels. Hot dog! Excited to be the only co-hare to pop her trail-laying cherry we sprang off towards the Art Museum.  From there, trail wound upward to a false at the fourth landing of the steps, and split down around the rear, crossed Pennsylvania to meet up with Green Street. Once on Green, we separated; I continue south to Trash Garden Street to set the beer check, and JTBT headed north to her nearby casa to set another false. 

What happens next will likely make BFM history, or at the very least be a mainstay in every chalk talk from now until Cause for Blindness stops demanding that we arrow the checks for walkers:

 JTBT, in all of her fabulous virgin-laying glory, got caught up in the heat of the moment and laid an “FBC.” This evidently incited such uproarious pandemonium, you would have thought someone had threatened to julienne Stan 3.0 into 834 pieces and bake her into this cake.

“Fucking back check?”

 ”False back check?”

“Follow boy checking…?”

 These were some of the very uneducated guesses made as the pack fumbled and second-guessed themselves whilst tiny pieces of acid rain turned snow continued to make it’s way up their exposed orifices.  I mean, come on people! When a slightly confusing trail mark diverges on a yellow piss-covered Philly street, don’t be the lone hasher and long stand. Go to the last mark. And remember, such trail misadventures is how some our best and brightest have gotten named (ahem Two Clump Chump and Short Distance Rimmer.)

 Finally, someone with half a half-mind realized that Midnight Tranny to Georgia knew where the beer check followed him in, which was soon followed by the on-in, at which point there was circle:

Hares:

Mediocre and Stupid and Just the Brown Tip

 First In/Last In:

 Snap Off, Cause for Blindness

 Virgin:

 Just Emily, compliments of Where’s My Vagina

Cums Latelies:

Sleeps Around the Cock, Short Distance Rimmer, Hold the Sausage, Nappy Headed Ho

 Auto Hashers:

One Inch In, Deep Discunt, Hold the Sausage, Short Distance Rimmer, Grab My Handlebars, and Grab My Handlebar’s mom, Seiz ‘er TITs, Mr. Muff

 Accusations:

 Tube C*ck for being Canadian and not curling

 Mayor Quimby for having a love child who may or may not be a whore (re: Stan!)

 Mr. Snuffleupamuff for not knowing the difference between a hole and an asshole?

 Snap Off, for saying something indecipherable in Russian

 Just Emily for being a racist

 Did we mention Tube C*ck drank for being Canadian?

 Mediorcre and Stupid for various acts of stupidity 

 Seiz ‘er TITS for not giving Facebook it’s normal nightly dose of loving

Then, several strapping young men where summoned into circle to assist Where’s My Vagina for her birthday side-side.

Announcements: 

Thursday, March 11, Green Dress Pre-lube at Bonners. Be there or commit social suicide. 

Friday, March 12 there’s a full moon in West Philly. Check your email because I’m too lazy to reference it here. 

 The Green Dress Run on Saturday, March 13, at Vesuvio’s at 8^th and Fitzwater. Bring $35, your drinking faces and your best green dress get-up! Check out the link… http://www.phillyhash.com/greendress/greendress.html.

On-on,

Mediocre and Stupid