It was the night before what some geeks would call the GREATEST release in the West. Nothing seen before would equal the magnificence of this opening. No, I am not talking about The Avengers, I am referring to the home made porno that someone would make on an iphone with a certain bad touching uncle out in Harrisburg. Sadly, since it was near Harrisburg, it became labeled on YouTube as “Three Minute Island”. Yes, it was the Stinko Prelube. I won’t go into the history of the holiday, if you really care to know why it is not Mexican Independence day, feel free to read my year-old post: BFM 376: Stinko

I found myself stuck trying once again to find a parking spot and had to use the dam multistory one across from Jose Pistolas. Chef had picked a nice little bar that we hadn’t been to before and within a few minutes, we found out why. Oh, there was a nice crowd, but, it was too cramped for us, demonstrated by some innocent bystander knocking my full pint of Yards right to the floor, showering me with broken glass. He was a gentleman at least and bought me a replacement beer, so that was cool. But alas, there was no place to secure bags, so several of those hashers there actually took their lives in their hands and accompanied me to the black and white beast to secure their gear, no doubt hoping I wouldn’t ask, “Say, are you a size 14?” Included in this group was visiting Liquor Box who was in Philly because she was too stupid to figure out how to get out of jury duty.

WHO PRESTINKO’ED
Just Julie, Just Maria, Short Distance Rimmer, Hold The Sausage, Uncle Bad Touch, He’s A Lesbian, Urine Luck, Just Aaron, Manual Fiesta, Penis In My Ear, 3 Balls, Son of Goatfucker, Just Lisa, Just Mike, Gag Reflex, Liquor Box (LVH3), Flipper Over, One Inch In, Taco I Barely Know Her, Chef Boy Or Horse, Just Katie, Just Matt, Just Val, Scoobie Snatch, Shop & Fuck, Tits Of Steel, Cube Cock, Where’s My Vagina, S&M Man, Do Daddy Too, and our wannabee hash flash, Splash Back.

Uncle Bad Touch and Shop & Fuck volunteered, nay BEGGED to hair, saying they had something special for us, which made us all check our wallets, and gird our loins (and in some cases, buy condoms, penicillin and bleach and steel wool), and prepare for an interesting….

TRAIL

http://www.everytrail.com/view_trip.php?trip_id=1558961

OK, off we started down an alley behind the bar, and off towards Broad Street, where we re-enacted out beer crawl the previous week, I am guessing that Uncle was in rerun mode for a second, but then off we ran, West on Pine, once again, scaring the hell out of a few yuppies walking around thinking that we were occupiers, or a confused flash mob. We hung a quick left down 17th and then saw a street (Waverly) that had more Christmas lights (in May, no less) than the entire Festival of Darkness hash. Uncle and Urine step laddered the trail South and West, having us guess a bit as to where the beer check would be, until we hit South Street, realizing that we were headed to Callahan’s where that picture of my doppelganger hangs. Trust me, it is NOT me, wow, if I hear THAT one more time…. Anyway, I digress, we found a lovely beer near and were able to swill some of that tasty nectar. Our hares vanished and we went off after them, looking for trail. The trail went North on Taney, into Schuylkill River Park where we found a marking that said “FCP” or something like that. No one knew what it meant, and us FRBs (only by virtue of Scoobie and I saying screw it and leaving) found the trail headed North. Sadly, we also found Locust street and said to ourselves, time to make it an On-In, and headed back to the bar. Apparently, according to the rest of our intrepid Harriers, the trail actually kept heading North and into Fairmount, which seemed retarded to them, so they too, headed in. Instead, our hares were waiting for us in McGillans at 1310 Drury St. with two Pitchers and no one. They sat for a while, drinking while wondering where the hell we had gone off to.

Meanwhile back at Jose Pistolas, the hash was doing it’s impression of Congress and disagreeing with our GM, who was by now wondering why the hell he allowed himself to be roped into this job. For some reason, one hasher decided that we should go up to Tops, a bar located next door and upstairs, which looked suspiciously like that scene in “Goodfellas” where Robert Deniro tries to have Lorraine Braco wacked. “Just keep going upstairs” I seriously thought I was going to get rolled up in a carpet and stuffed in a dumpster.

Other hashers must have had the same idea, so even after hash cash was collected, we relocated to yet ANOTHER bar, this time the Good Dog, for a very abbreviated….

CIRCLE:
HARES: Uncle Bad Touch, Shop & Fuck
There was a huge pause while we all started singing “Jesus Saves” until we got more beer
FIRST IN/ LAST IN: He’s A Lesbian / Taco I Barely Know Her
VIRGINS: Just Amy, Just Mike et al (WMV kept on signaling “wrap it up” so…)
VISITORS: Liquor Box from Lehigh Valley H3
AUTOHASHERS: Penis In My Ear, Gag Reflex, Where’s My Vagina, S&M Man, Do Daddy Too
CUMS LATELIES: Tube Cock, Penis In My Ear, Gag Reflex, Urine Luck, Do Daddy Too.

ACCUSATIONS:
Chef Boy Or Horse: For exceeding his brief and trying to run the circle
Taco for screwing us all and telling the visitor to sing us a song rather then give the option.
Do Daddy Too For going halfway gay with his outfit
Half the hash for being Raceist bastards and running the Broad Street Run

At this point, we had a premature ending of the circle for whatever reason.

ANNOUNCEMENTS:
May 31st COMIC CON HASH: Dress as your favorite super hero!!!!!

OVERHEARD AT THE HASH:
“Let me grab manual fiesta because we both wanted to put our pants someplace” – Uncle Bad Touch

“Is That One Inch In?” – He’s A Lesbian
“YYEEEEEESSSSSS!!!!!” – Everyone at the bar (actually the Flyers had just scored)

“I’d rather have a boner pressed up against my cup than a boner that everyone can see.” – Urine Luck

“I like watching Game of thrones because I keep hoping for some midget incest gay shit” – Liquor Box

“It’s right by my hotel.”- Liquor Box
“Nice. I’m engaged, but I like the way you think.” – Scoobie Snatch

Some weeks it really is better to just skip the hash. The warning signs had been there all week during which poor First Down had heard nothing but whining from your humble scribe. “My knee doesn’t feel right”, “my tummy hurts”, “it’s no use I’ve had too much to drink again”, etc, etc. Most of my woes could be traced to a weekend trip to Goat Fucker’s during which I fell out of a tree and was exposed to New Haven, CT’s full arsenal of infectious agents via my dear sister’s baby (who was fresh off week two of the infectious disease experiment otherwise known as day care). It had not been a good week. Still what could cheer a young man up quicker than a night out with the ol’ BFM…

So I dragged myself out to Druid’s Keep with the rest of you wankers, including:

2 Clump Chump, 3 Balls, 69^th Amendment, Can You Hear Me Know?, Cause for Blindness, Dr. Squealgood, Flounder, Gay Matthew’s Lamb, Hold the Sausage, I Scream For Eye Cream, Just Al, Just Becky, Just Dana, Just Nancy, Just Simon, Just Val, One Inch In, Quart, Rear Engineer, Semen on the Poop Deck, S & M Man, Short Distance Rimmer, Sly Fox, Soft Core Analist, Son of Goat Fucker, Splashback, Taco? I Barely Know Her, Tits of Steel, Uncle Bad Touch, Where’s My Vagina?

Our GM was missing in action, and there was much grumbling from former GM Hold the Sausage regarding being dragooned into some organizational duties. Only partially daunted, HtS managed to keep it together long enough to pass out some straws and Just Al drew the short one. This precipitated the second dragooning of the night as Rear Engineer was sent along with our haring virgin.

After some hemming and hawing over the location of the beer check to be, Just Al and Rear were off and Uncle Bad Touch called Chalk Talk to order (or at least a semblance thereof). Just Simon was introduced as a transplant from Boston and then the wheels came off, leading to a mob chorus of “You’ve lost control of the chalk talk.”

Eventually we were off, and headed east towards the Delaware. I immediately realized that while most of my complaining this week had been sheer histrionics, my knee in fact did not feel right and I would spend the next hour or so dragging my left leg around like late 90s Dan Marino*. This left the FRBing to 2 Clump and poor I Scream For Eye Cream, who seemed nonplussed as the check-hanging mob heckled him with cries of “more running” while he dashed to and fro. Eventually, it was left your gimpy scribe to find trail running north under 95 and the mob headed this way for several blocks before getting stalled on the north side of the Piazza. Eventually we circled back south on the other side of the Piazza to Liberty Lands Park. Here there was much mob grumbling about a check from which true trail headed approximately 181 degrees from the direction we had just come.

*Dear BFM 20-somethings. Dan Marino is perhaps most famous for making Isotoner gloves the go to Christmas gift of 1987 or for his star turn as ‘Dan Marino’ in Ace Ventura Pet Detective; however, in his down time he was also a half decent quarterback for the Dolphins of Miami. While never considered agile, late 90s Marino moved about as quickly as Cause for Blindness (that is if CfB was waist deep in sand and carrying Flounder on her shoulders).

Finding ourselves on the southwest corner of the park, we headed further southwest towards the relative comfort and safety of center city. Once again the mob got hung up at a check, this time in the Spring Garden median at 6^th street. From here we headed east, eventually coming to the base of the Ben Franklin Bridge where I came upon the mob in a state of panic. A ‘back check ten’ had been spotted several blocks down 5^th street from the bridge; however, only seven marks had brought the mob right back to the check at the bridge. What ever was a mob to do? Finally, a few of us went to see this ‘back check 10’ for ourselves. As promised, there it was, right next to the old Christ Church cemetery, only this was no ordinary BC-10, rather it was (dramatic pause) not a fucking back check at all; rather it was a Ben Franklin Check (BF-X). Having sorted that out and paid our respects to dear old Ben, we were quickly on to the beer check at Lucy’s Hat Shop, home to the cheapest Champagnes of Beers this side of Market St.

At this point, your humble scribe’s knee really did not feel right and I limped back to Druid’s Keep trading stories of bodily woe with Flounder. At some point about 2 blocks from the bar, I spied He’s a Lesbian on true trail in an alley off to our right. For reasons still unbeknownst to me and against every base instinct, I followed him down the alley and quickly managed to pull off a most spectacular hash crash when the sidewalk dipped for a driveway curb cut-out. Pen and notepad went flying and I somehow ended up landing on my back. HAL cackled away at my misfortune as two concerned passers-by helped me up and, bruised and bleeding, I dragged myself back to Druid’s Keep.

Circle:

Hares: Just Al and Rear Engineer

Visitor/Transplant: Just Simon who sang us a verse of Father Abraham

First In/Last In: 3 Balls/Cause for Blindness

Auto-Hashers: Quart, One Inch In

Long-Time-No-Seers: Semen on the Poop Deck, Dr. Squealgood

Accusations:

Two Clump Chump accused CYHMN? of confusing the BFX for a BC10

Short Distance Rimmer accused 2 Clump Chump of running back to a check, telling people they were going the wrong way, and promptly running off a different wrong way himself

3 Balls accused himself of being dumb enough to believe all that balderdash about the BC10

He’s a Lesbian accused Son of Goat Fucker of hash crash

Sausage accused 3 Balls of wearing multiple race shirts. This prompted 3 Balls to embark upon a 10 minute soliloquy during which he announced it was his birthday, we should all admire him for being his age and still being out hashing, and then took the unprecedented step of accusing himself of wearing new shoes (from which he dutifully imbibed).

2 Clump Chump accused One Inch In of race-ist behavior (Boston M*rathon) and Just Simon drank too under the one Boston, all Boston corollary.

Hold the Sausage whined about the RAs (Rimmer/Bad Touch) organizational ineptitude in the absence of the GM and a few 5 finger assholes were lumped in too.

CYHMN? tried to accuse Splashback of something, but called her Backsplash and was ziggy zaggied.

Tits of Steel accused Uncle Bad Touch of something that I’m sure was justified.

Rear Engineer accused He’s a Lesbian of something involving pillow people and facebook and all onsecs joined the festivities.

Rear Engineer accused Cause for Blindness of taking 10 minutes to explain why she hadn’t gotten carded at Lucy’s Hat Shop

The mob accused Just Nancy of showing up in the middle of circle

CYHMN? accused Uncle Bad Touch of losing control of the chalk talk

Just Al was ziggy zaggied when he tried to accuse the already-in-circle Uncle Bad Touch of something and Rear Engineer drank under when one hare drinks…and Where’s My Vagina drank under when one person wearing orange drinks…

Tits of Steel accused Splashback of looking thirsty

2 Clump Chump accused Just Nancy of autohasing in running attire in an attempt to masquerade as a real hasher

Hold the Sausage accused Son of Goatfucker of not looking thirsty

Someone accused I Scream for Eye Cream of something that I missed. Quart helpfully suggested that it was because he had broken up with his boyfriend.

Birthday Side Sides: 3 Balls and Hold the Sausage

Announcements:

May 12 Philly Hash1650 Redux possibly involving the infamous 3 Balls barn

June 8 Beer Mile

September Philly Hash1800

Overheard at the Hash:

“I didn’t know what was banging my butt…”

“Oh hi. We were just talking about how hard it is to get a dick in an Indian chick’s ass.”

“I’m not a Jew, I just play one on TV. Don’t write that down.”

“You’re the only one here who doesn’t have my saliva on them….yet”

Well, we had been running for so long, and Chef had been autohashing for so long that he decided, it’s high time we all autohashed. So, once again, it was time for a semi annual pub-crawl. What Chef Euphemistically called, “The Spring Libation Station Hash-ion. Aren’t these GMs cute when they first start out? Remember when Up Her Ali tried being cute, only to end up screaming, “Godamnit, we’re not fucking voting!!!!” And poor Just Craigalicious ended up as an inadvertent casualty.

But hey, I’m as lazy as the next guy, as my 3rd Trimester girlish figure will attest, so a pub-crawl sounded ok to me. Little was I to know…

WHO ENDED UP CRAWLING:
S&M Man, 69th Amendment, Just Katie, Just Joanne, He’s A Lesbian, Manual Fiesta, Son Of Goatfucker, Uncle Bad Touch, Taco I Barely Know Her, Just Dayna, Semen On The Poopdeck, Soft Core Analist, Just Val, Gay Matthews Lamb, Just Keith, Where’s My Vagina, Splash Back, Quart, Two Clump Chump, One Inch In, and of course, Chef Boy Or Horse.

Of course, there was no straw drawn, no chalk talk, and pretty much nothing that would lead a casual observer to even THINK we were hashers. This way, in case they were following us, we fooled them. Uncle Bad Touch claimed he was the hare once we started on the….

TRAIL:
Of course there was no chalk talk, or even chalk for that matter, so off we wandered, to the Raven lounge, which was it’s usual great self, although we never ventured up to the stripper pole room, but it was likely occupied by college students, or something. A cutthroat game of Strip Xenga ensued and just as Splash Back was about to lose it was time for us to wander off to another bar. This time we wandered off back down Sampson to Broad and ended up in this ginormous lower bar, where we took turns laughing at high school kids kept trying to get in the bar and the conversations took strange turns and we started telling horrible jokes to each other. From there we wandered off to the fourth of our little stops, the site of the ginormous pitchers and drink some lovely beer. While there, for some reason Splash Back began taking ass and crotch shots, the results of which can be viewed here;

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=oa.10150769538444099&type=1

CIRCLE:
HARE: Uncle Bad Touch
VIRGIN: At the BFM? Are you flippin kidding me?
CUMS LATELIES: Just Keith and Just Joanne

ACCUSATIONS:
Gay Matthews Lamb for singing at a urinal
Where’s My Vagina for starting a beer debate
Just Dayna for being gifted
One Inch In for meat gazing
Chef Boy Or Horse for skipping regular bars for gay ones
Two Clump Chump and Taco for having a potato sack race
Manual Fiesta for texting in circle
Quart for bringing up the best night of girl’s night and for sounding like a parrot
Uncle Bad Touch for ignoring 69th Amendment’s tits
Semen on the Poopdeck for hanging onto a pole like it was a stripper pole
The hash for bringing it down a level
Uncle Bad Touch for doing a stupid jig during the face down ass up song
Two Clump for using Robert’s Rules
He’s A Lesbian and 69th Amendment for some silly shit that I forget

ANNOUNCEMENTS:
Hold the Rimmer will be doing a Philly hash on Lemon Hill soon.
Stinko De Mayo; May 5th near Harrisburg

BIRTHDAY: Just Katie got her side side

OVERHEARD AT THE HASH
“She keeps giving me a drink.” –Just Dayna
“That’s cause she keeps giving you one.” – unk hasher who had a grasp of the obvious

“I tend to watch where I walk cause I almost stepped on an alligator.” – 69th Amendment

“Have you ever had sex with an alligator?” – 69th Amendment
“Do cougars count?”- unk hasher

“See what happens when I make eye contact with you? I missed it.” 69th Amendment
“That happens a lot” – He’s A Lesbian

“…or have a ball gag put in.” Uncle Bad touch

“I would totally go straight for Heinrich Lundquist” – 69th Amendment

“Make sure you save that hash for cash um er hash. FUCK!” Where’s My Vagina (starting early)

“I like to pull balls from the ceiling.”- Just Dayna

“It’s not like I’m getting magic money from nowhere.” – 69th Amendment

“I can’t wait to count the number of dicks I’ll see that weekend.” – Uncle Bad Touch

“What kind of file do you need to turn a 15mm hole into a 40mm hole? A pedophile!” – Taco I Barely Know Her

“I couldn’t sleep for like two days, it was like so painful.” – Just Dayna

“Then he’s telling me to look at this guy’s ass..” Semen

“He’s built like a 12 year old gymnast” – Unk bar patron pointing at Two Clump

“I am traumatized” – Just Dayna
“Someone try to scissor you?” – Uncle Bad Touch
“Yarrr, scissor me timbers!” -S&M Man

“I’m going to a party and I’m gonna make sure it looks like a giant cock.” – Uncle Bad Touch

“That’s what I’m imagining your corn on the cob is gonna taste like.” – Just Joanne

“It’s bigger than it looks” – One Inch In, walking into the bathroom

“Wack off? You saw me wack off? You and the rest of the internet.” – Uncle Bad Touch

I always get nervous in North Philly hashes. Chef tried to coerce us a bit, saying that technically this was a Spring Garden hash, even though The Institute lies about a block or so North of Spring Garden. Technically, this is called North Philly. Especially since it lies about a block South of the same projects that produced a cop killer named Wesley Cook. Anyway, I strolled in to find Sternum and Chef nursing a beer and reminiscing with people they didn’t know (granted it takes longer). I regaled them with my stories about how cool the Holyland Hash in Tel Aviv was and how they drove me to Masada in an embassy car, but I don’t think they cared. The rest of the crowd started shuffling in and the manager gave me a smile, cause he knew that it was me they were coming to see to forget about life for a while, na na ni ni nahh, nah nah nah nah…

WHO CHEF COOKED:
Sternum & Rectum, Chef Boy Or Horse, Just Kyle, Just Courtney, Splash Bck, He’s A Lesbian, Just Shannon, Manual Fiesta, Just Lance, Mr. Snuffleuphermuff, Skin Fiddle, Uncle Bad Touch, Taco I Barely Know Her, Rear Engineer, Shop & Fuck, Where’s My Vagina, Flipper Over, Just Katie, Short Distance Rimmer, Hold The Sausage, Tits Of Steel, Gay Matthews Lamb, Scoobie Snatch, Just Amber, Just Eliot, Can You Hear Me Now, Soft Core Analyst. One Inch In, and bringing up the rear…Quart.

Chef started handing out straws and somehow couldn’t force the short and stubby one on anybody, so he had to hare. During this time, Where’s My Vagina took pity on him and decided to help him out and off they went to lay the…

TRAIL
http://www.everytrail.com/view_trip.php?trip_id=1527252
At first we were a little nervous, because it looked like Chef left 90 % of the flower on the ground for the chalk talk and that made us wonder where this would lead. For some reason, some evil bastard decided to adorn the virgins in reflective vests, and Mr Suffleuphermuff decided he would be a nice guy and wore them. Another virgin brought by Splash Back (who has brought more virgins to the hash than almost anyone I know. I say almost, because we all remember who brought 28 virgins at once, don’t we?) decided that she had someplace better to be and raptured herself out of there. So after the chalk talk, we headed off.

The trail went North for about half a block before Chef no doubt realized where he was heading and veered into an alley West, and then we took off, running through a parking lot or two, finding a check at almost every block, as we ran across Broad at Spring Garden. Down we ran towards Westy’s, and the speculation started as to where the beer stop would be. Westy’s? Krupas? Green Room? A parking lot? Then we got discombobulated around 18th & Callowhill, scaring the hell out of a bunch of yuppie-foodies coming out of a trendy restaurant, before we ran South on 18th, past St Peter & Paul’s, then down the Parkway into Love Park. I was shocked to see actual WATER in the fountain there and debated on whether or not to actually run through it, ala the beerly departed Dances With Bum’s Urine. We managed to avoid getting clipped by the skateboard kids.,( I imagine the city just gave up on trying to get rid of them ) and then across JFK and through City Hall, right down the center of South Broad to find a check at Broad and Chestnut. The cry of On On was heard and we headed off East on Chestnut where I heard someone yell, “BEER NEAR!!!” Chef, that bastard, had hidden the BN for McGillans around the corner. We staggered into McGillans and enjoyed a swill or two. GML and Two Clump thought they were playing a trick on Flipper by stealing a beer from her and drinking it, not realizing it was mine. When I told GML it was mine, he blanched. Really? Nice.

This was all very good, but I noticed that the hares were gone, and it was time to get on with this, so I could get home early ( I KNOW!!!!). I headed straight up 12th to get back to the bar, not not noticing that Chef had a SECOND beer stop at the Prohibition Tap Room. I wasn’t the first to be fooled, since Hold The Rimmer had beaten me back to the Institute. On the way, I heard Scoobie making fun of my fat ass running (really, that’s like making fun of a retarded kid for bad spelling, but this IS the guy who’s favorite song is “Donny the Retard”.

Apparently I missed a great conversation that Uncle Bad touch led about how his back skin is thicker than his foreskin, which Tits Of Steel breathlessly reported to me upon arriving for the ….

CIRCLE
HARES: Chef Boy Or Horse / Where’s My Vagina
VIRGINS: Just Kyle and Just Courtney courtesy of Mr. Snuffleuphermuff
Just Lance, courtesy of Manual Fiesta
FIRST IN/ LAST IN: Hold The Sausage / Mr Snuff and his virgins
AUTOHASHERS: Skin Fiddle, Quart, One Inch In
CUMS LATELYS: Skin Fiddle, Sternum & Rectum

ACCUSATIONS:
Just Randy for eating in circle
Two Clump Chump and He’s A Lesbian for GPS watches
Two Clump Chump for changing a clump of flour to an F
Snuff for being a raceist
Shop and Fuck for Shop and fucking
Snuff for trying to knock us all through the floor with his stomping
Flipper Over for forgetting what a Beer Near is
Snuff for his phone
Rimmer “for that”
Soft Core Analist for looking like One Inch In
Scoobie for his blue terry cloth hat
Manual Fiesta for making something
Gay Matthew’s Lamb for stealing Lesbian’s beer
Flipper Over for something, probably squeaking
Snuff for taking the orange vests away from his virgins,
Just Kyle for eating in circle
Shop and Fuck for looking like a Greek Jersey Shore cast member
Just Courtney for eating in circle
Uncle Bad Touch for not fucking up the circle and Just Katie for the “when one asshole with five fingers shoes drinks…” rule

ANNOUNCEMENTS
Apr 14th, Philly Hash in Narbtreth
Apr 17th Philly Phair Weather Hash tax day
Apr 21st Philly hash hosted by Tits
Jun 8th Philly Full Moon Beer Mile
Cousin It’s Tailgate sometime in August, or maybe July, or not at all.
Sad news that Mother Snatcher in San Fran went to that big beer check in the sky.

With that, I actually left the hash before almost anyone else, which shocked the shit out of everyone. I am sure I missed something really cool happening later, but that always happens, “Dude, right after you left, the Eagles cheerleaders came in and blew everyone, even the kid in the Babylon 5 t shirt!”

OVERHEARD AT THE HASH:
“If I gave you a really big hug where I pressed my chest against yours, would you buy me a beer?” Splash Back

“Let me take my pants off. Time to get sexy.” – Uncle Bad Touch.
“Oh, it’s THAT kind of party.” – Two Clump Chump

“Now I’m an inch long” – Two Clump (holding a piece of chalk to his crotch)

“You look like you’re gonna say something inappropriate.” Short Distance Rimmer
“He always does that.” – Hold the Suasage

(and off of notes from Tits of Steel)

…They went to Bettson’s. At least that’s what the hapless guy found out in all those commercials from the 80s. I had gotten a last minute message from Chef that in essence said that he, Uncle Bad Touch and Rimmer would all be absent, and it would be my job to RA, as well as everything else. I won’t speculate where all three would be since it wasn’t kickball or street-hockey season, but let’s just say that Uncle STILL can’t sit down without a donut, and REFUSES to watch “The Human Centipede”, or even talk about it.

I headed out to University City and walked into the Mill Creek Tavern and saw a couple suspiciously matching the description of the people who beat up a parking lot attendant in Olde City last week. Wonderful. I turned on my blinders and the rest of the crew showed up. What follows is yet another Compilation of Tit’s Of Steel’s notes and mine.
(From Tit’s)
Even though it’s technically Spring now, this cold weather spell we’re having (50 degrees instead of 70) scared off some of the newer BFM’ers who forgot what winter is. So the pack was relatively small, but Splashback brought another virgin. Just Katie – our new transplant from Pittsburgh also came out, as well as a visitor from DC, Daddy’s Dick.

WHO DIDN’T GO TO BETTSON’S:
Daddy’s Dick (WHH3), He’s A Lesbian, Attila the Hung, Brave Cock, Just Kristie, Cause For Blindness, Flounder, 3 Balls, Son Of Goatfucker, First Down, Tight Lips, Shop & Fuck, Just Elliot, Major Piece Of Ass, Just Val, Gay Matthews Lamb, Splash Back, Quart, Two Clump Chump, Just Chris, Just Rod, Just Deana, Tits Of Steel, Urine Luck.

TRAIL:

http://www.everytrail.com/view_trip.php?trip_id=1516841

We took off from the dirty old man section of the bar and started off going east on Chester. A bunch of checks kept the pack together pretty well til we got to Woodland and the usual check by the trolley tracks, and the standard left check through the trolley station over to Baltimore. We went north to 40th St up to about Spruce… the FRB’s got hung on a check there until the non typical FRBs figured the hares would take us through the middle of Penn campus to spy on the coeds. And through UPenn we went to 38th St. And through more Penn we went, and back around … under an underpass through the dark underbelly of UPenn truck parking lots, past the class of 1923 rink lower level. A little circle jerking and through a building on the Drexel U. campus where a bunch of Indian women were dancing traditional dances and looking at us like we were crazy… back through Drexel campus down 34th St. to Samson where we saw a BN and the beer near was at the New Deck.

Finally… Beer, sweet beer.

3 Balls remarked, “This bar is too upper class for us”
Atilla said, “They have salty nuts here. You should probably write that down!”
HAL started talking about chicks talking about going for a one night stand for Troy Aiken and a gift basket. (from Lesbian: Wow, talk about not hearing a quote right. How does Tits remember things for her job?) He said he would give them a one night stand and herpes, at which point he said they started looking around nervously, wondering how fast she could get to the nearest cop or law enforcement officer… Umm, faster than you know, honey, he’s right in front of you.

After the beer check we were pretty much on-in. And to be honest, nothing really interesting happened during that long run back to 43rd and Chester. No drug deals. No car chases. No run-ins with anarchists or students. No homeless guys asking us for money. No hookers. No interesting conversation as we were all preoccupied on drinking more beer.

Back at the bar, Son of Goatfucker collected hash cash since nobody knows where Vagina is. We got beers in different varieties and He’s A Lesbian led circle as acting RA for the night. While we were waiting for beers, some folks were stealing sips of beers off other hashers until a conversation about germs came up.

“We’re all friends, if you’re gonna catch something – you probably have it already” – probably our visiting hasher, aptly named Daddy’s Dick

A discussion also centered around the missing Penis in My Ear – who might have torn his ACL doing some “weird sex shit”

Around this time, HAL also asked Quart, “Who’s Fucking this Cat?” to which she didn’t know the answer. He said, “how could you not know that expression?” So a quick survey of the hash turned out that about 85% of us never heard that before, including Cause, and the other 15% had only heard HAL use it and pretended they knew what it meant.

Just Katie admitted she studied anthropology aka “plays with bones”

Finally everyone had a beer and circle could begin.

CIRCLE
Hares: Attila the Hung and Shop N Fuck
1st in: 2 Clump, Last in: Cause
Virgin: Just Deanna, ala Splashback
Cums Latelys: Just Rod, Hot Lips, Attila
HAT: Just Rod
Visitors: Daddy’s Dick – White House/DC

Accusations:
HAL for thinking we knew who fucked the cat
Cause – for changing her hairdo so we would let her make accusations
HAL – for letting Cause make an accusation
3 Balls and Goatfucker – Looking thirsty
1st Down: Looking lonely and thirsty
Shop N Fuck – Food in Circle, and Attila for When One Hare Drinks…
Just Katie – being a transplant
2 Clump – Refusing a free beer
We weren’t that creative and that was the end of accusations

Announcements - you missed the Full Moon. Nobody knew about the Philly hash. Cousin It’s Tailgate Hash. Etc.

It was tall guy night with a competition on who was taller – 3 Balls, Daddy’s Dick or Goatfucker

Overheard at the Hash:

“Once you see a hole in a guy’s crotch, you can’t unsee it. Because it’s eye level for me.” – 2Clump

NOTE: Apparently Tits Of Steel hasn’t quite figured out how to get a log on and password, so she has decided to send me her notes, giving me the opportunity to rebuff some of her comments. So before you go blaming me for this trash, bear in mind that these are her notes.

Who Came –
3 Balls, Bonsai Bush, Cause, Brave Cock, Chernoblow, Cleavage to Beaver, Do Daddy Too, Flipper Over, Fire Down Under, Flounder, Gay Matthews Lamb, He’s A Lesbian, Manual Fiesta, Midnight Tranny (Hare), Mr. Snuffaluffamuff, Miss Piss, Queen of the Sharts, Mama Flea, Just Elliott, Just Amber, Just Amanda, Just Val, Just Dana, Just Becky, Just Kevin, Just Matt, Just Nancy, Just John, Just Allison, Seizure Tits, Scooby Snatch, Homeless Lumberjack, Urine Luck, S&M Man, One Inch In, Two Clump chump, Tits of Steel, Uncle Bad Touch, Tube Cock, Taco? I Hardly Know Her, Splashback, Son of Goatfucker, Short Distance Rimmer, Semen on the Poopdeck, Hold the Sausage, Quart, Chef Boy Or Horse, anyone we’re forgetting?

It was Midnight Tranny’s birthday and a breezy spring night at the Irish pub on 12th and Walnut, so all the freaks came out to hash through the gayborhood. Mama Flea made one of his occasional appearances with a bunch of virgin overachievers in tow. In addition to his virgins, a few others showed up. We stashed our stuff upstairs and headed out for chalk talk, then the pack took off. Once I start running, my small brain starts rattling around from side to side with each footstep and it’s hard for me to remember specific directions so here’s what I remember or managed to deciper from my chickenscratch notes.

TRAIL
After some confusion on which direction to check out, we found trail running down a wide alley, which led into a smaller alley, which led into a skinnier alley and then into an even smaller alley. Kind of like a cartoon chase through a bottleneck. Along the way, Do Daddy Too kept clapping this necklace thingy which made us wanna rename him Clapper Snapper, but since that didn’t even work for Quart, it didn’t fly for him either. We eventually made our way to Washington Square park following the dripping/er clapping noises of FRB Do Daddy Too and annoying the shit out of the very serious, obviously semi-professional Leap Frog players in the park. After the obligatory circle jerk around to a check, we ran north for a while through center city up to around 8th and Market. Then we made our way towards Arch street, sadly no washy-washy checks but a modified Boob Check made the FRB men wait for the lady hashers to continue checking the trail. Running through Chinatown and into the creepy Eraserhood we found a glorious BN mark right by the Trestle Inn. Unlike the last time we tried to have a beer check there and half the pack freaked out and left, this time we actually parked and had a beer. Now let me say that at the beer checks, hashers generally talk about funny stuff, say things they’ll regret, try and fail at flirting miserably, relay ridiculous stories and make fun of other bar patrons. Usually. But this was a really uneventful beer check until one of Mama Flea’s virgins asked me what I was doing. I told her, I was writing notes of how boring the conversation at the beer check was. She then told us about her racist plans to run the Ragnar Relay with her fellow virgins, and how they were using the hash as a training ground. You can’t make this stuff up, folks!

Before leaving to continue setting trail, Tranny said multiple times, STAY ON TRAIL!!! fearing he would end up at a bar on his birthday alone drinking beer in a corner by himself when the whole pack had gone on in. So we actually took off and followed marks for once. Is this the first time the BFM has ever followed directions?

We reluctantly took back off – on trail – through the Eraserhood where David Lynch got much inspiration for his art and films, past the eerie noises of the trainyards and generators, industrial wasteland, etc. and went north to Spring Garden. People speculated we were going to the Institute and they speculated WRONG. Someone, name forgotten shouted out that they got chafing on trail. Overheard:
“Major Chub”
“You can’t be too stiff or you can’t bend it”
“You need to get a Minor Chub”
– Why is this not a hash name? Because we drank more beer and forgot who said it.
“You are insanely receptive”

During this part of the run, while looking for the 2nd beer check, we found out that Brave Cock wasn’t wearing his kilt because it was getting dry cleaned. I guess that’s what happens when you run commando?

We ran by Westy’s and someone even looked inside the door despite an obvious lack of BN sign anywhere nearby. DENIED, we continued to act counterintuitively and follow actual trail until we found it going into a parking garage. And it went up. Tranny had planned a stairmaster workout for us since he was tired at looking at our flabby asses and thighs on trail. And it went up more. Another floor. And another. I swear I can run these steps. On-on. Run-run. Was that just the fucking 8th floor? Are you fucking kidding us? How many more floors? Oh here’s 11. 12. 34. 52. 101. Finally we reached the end…. BN. Fuck, it’s cold up here. And so we earned this beer, 12 floors for a cold brewski on the top of a parking garage, kicking classic beer check style for Tranny’s birthday. We huddled down near the warm car since it was pretty windy up there.

A discussion took place over what is the correct terminology for tight underwear that are like tighty whiteys – nuthuggers or scroat coat. The men determined that “nuthuggers” was the incorrect word and “scroat coat” was much preferable.

Quart then re-enacted the scene from Seinfeld where George Costanza has shrinkage. “It’s Cold!” “I Was In the Pool!”
Gay Matthews Lamb admitted he is confused about what is a question and what’s an answer. Except he’s a lawyer so that might be a problem. Flipper’s ass dented the car. We saw some fine man-on-man action, and then Just Becky summoned us with a vagina.

Just before we finished up our beers and left the parking lot, Muff and Seizure showed up back from their quickie, or feeding the meter, whatever you kids are calling it these days. Luckily there were some beers Tranny was gonna make us drink for them.
And then it was time to walk down 121 or 12 flights of stairs and go back on in. Since I was so focused on my next beer I don’t remember anything that happened in this part of the run.

So we made it back to the Irish Pub, and went up another flight of stairs to reactivate those glutes. Son of Goatfucker took the job of collecting hash cash for the night since we haven’t seen our Vagina lately. After paying up we discussed the creepy picture on the wall and conversation got weird.

HAL asked Just Amanda if she had new shoes. “No Sir” she replied.
HAL said, “Did you just call me sir? I prefer asshole”
“No, asshole, sir” – Just Amanda
Then we started a conversation about how all the women of the hash need to start watching Invictus because apparently hot shirtless men from New Zealand in tight shorts come out and dance (Note to self) and HAL said all the women of the hash would have orgasms just from watching the show. HAL, I hate to break it to you, but if you think those are orgasms, she’s lying to you. (FROM HAL: OK, genius, first of all, I was talking about the Haka, and I said that women would star OVULATING when they saw the dance, not orgasming, I can understand how Tits would not know the difference)

Uncle Bad Touch started circle by saying, “It was on vibrate but I needed to take it out.”

Then it was time for Circle.
Hare: Midnight Tranny to Georgia. Also the Birthday Boy.
Just Becky: food in circle
Virgins: Just Amber, Just Elliott, Just Allison, Just Matt, ???
Visitors: Miss Piss, Just Tara, Queen of Sharts, Just John – Harrisburg Hershey
1st in: Urine Luck aka “Urinetown” … Cause drank for DFL
Autohashers: S&M, 2 Clump, Uncle Bad Touch, Cleavage to Beaver, Semen on the Poopdeack, He’s a Lesbian, Chef
Cums Latelys: Do Daddy Too, Semen on the Poopdeck, Seizer Tits, Kevin (Tranny’s brother), Cleavage

Accusations:
S&M and Cause – something about a snail trail
A bunch of incoherent slurred accusations
Mama Flea for making a joke about running 26 miles to work every day – misinterpreted racism
Just Nancy – getting engaged
S&M for not helping Tube Cock take off Cleavage’s dress?
Do Daddy Too for thinking it was Mardi Gras/Show N Tell for his clapper necklace
Gay Matthews Lamb – worst bike taxi driver ever
Bravecock for admitting his kilt was at the dry cleaners and not wearing it
Chernoblow – tech on trail / rejected since Muff asked her the time
Taco for checking in at every beer check
Just Amanda forgot her name
Lost Control of Circle song, ziggy zaggys
S&M and CLeavage for looking at ass under a microscope
Queen of Sharts for chafing nipples on trail
Goatfucker for looking thirsty
Cause for not knowing what a shart is, after being around a bit
Quart for pointing
S&M – not being able to compete with Justin Bieber now that he’s turned 18/legal
Bonsai – more pointing
Uncle Bad Touch – losing his phone and waking up people
Do Daddy Too – for singing we could be conjugating
Just Amber – looking thirsty
Flipper Over for drinking gin & tonic
Semen on the Poopdeck for wearing a turtleneck
And that was it for accusations

And then it was time for the Midnight Tranny Side-Side.
Unlike 2 Clump, no one dropped him.
Announcements: You missed them all.

OVERHEARD AT THE HASH:
“They’re talking about science!” – unk hasher 1
“No, we’re talking about testacles” – unk hasher 2
“Penis is a vagina” – unk hasher 3
“No that’s Venus” – unk hasher 4
“No, that’s jupiter” – unk hasher 1

“Yo, check your male privilege before you wreck your male privilege” – Just Becky?
“Don’t tase me bro!” – Cause
“I’m not done yet – there’s a hole right here, I gotta fill it in” – Do Daddy Too

“Get out of my fucking vagina!” – Quart

How has a week passed already? Last time writing this up was kind of entertaining; this week it’s just another fucking deadline.

The destination for the first pantaloon* of 2012 was T. Hogan’s, a pantaloon favorite involving the climbing of only the first quarter or so of the dreaded Ridge Avenue hill. Despite the pantaloon’s typical late start, we arrived in plenty of time thanks to a breakneck pace set by the intrepid Can You Hear Me Now? and the fact that trail didn’t start until nine o’clock (approximately).

*A BFMism for a collection of hashers on bikes that travels almost exclusively between Center City and Manarox and was coined by onetime BFMer Nice Nuggets Fat Ass when trying to say ‘peloton’

After what seemed like an eternity, Short Distance Rimmer called the mob to order for chalk talk. Hares this fine evening were Two Clump Chump and Midnight Tranny to Georgia, who promised shiggy and glow-in-the-dark chalk. This prompted several hashers to mutter various things under their breath that could best be summed up as ‘We’re Fucked.’

Those Who Came: 3 Balls, Bonsai Bush, Can You Hear Me Now?, Chef Boy Or Horse, Dancing Fool, Gay Matthew’s Lamb, Hold the Sausage, I Scream For Eye Cream, Just Al, Just Kat, Just Kelly, Manual Fiesta, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, Mr. Snuffleupamuff, Quart, Rear Engineer, S&M Man, Shop & Fuck, Short Distance Rimmer, Soft Core Analist, Son of Goat Fucker, Stacks, Sternum and Rectum, Taco? I Barely Know Her, Tube Cock, Two Clump Chump, Where Is My Vagina?

Trail headed left out the bar and, skipping the standard false through the train station, headed up the hill then right back down the 100 steps to the Wissahickon Trail. In turn, every last hasher went left at the check at the bottom of the stairs before making our way back out to Ridge Ave. Confused by this turn of events, the mob, with some trepidation, headed towards East Falls on Ridge before a back check led us off Ridge and up into the woods on the other side of Lincoln Drive from the Wissahickon Trail.

Once in the woods it was pretty much FRB-friendly clear sailing. However, it was a little dark and while they had been forewarned, several hashers were without flashlight/headlamp. Included among their number was I Scream For Eye Cream, who, in spite of his love of all things Green Lantern, required the warm glow of Where’s My Vagina’s headlight to make it through the woods unscathed. This later prompted ISFEC make the unfortunately worded claim that he was up Where’s My Vagina’s ass the whole time. Trail continued northish through the woods past two Philadelphia University students who were out sampling the local fauna and alternatively encouraged and heckled the mob on its way through.

Trail eventually made its way to Henry Avenue near the Philadelphia University campus. The climb up to Henry from the trail required a scramble over some loose rock that caused at least one hasher to make the hyperbolic claim that he’d had to channel his inner Cliffhanger (for the BFM 20-somethings, it’s a movie with Sly Stallone and that guy who was the villain in that one season of Dexter and quite possibly the best movie about a washed up mountain ranger who makes good in the end ever). Once up on Henry, the FRBs dickered about straight and right before finally taking the obvious left towards Two Clump’s house, the on-in, and everything else good in this world. However, the standard beer check at Two Clump’s was not to be as the pack was plunged back into the woods off to the left of Henry Ave. The return to the woods (combined with some ambiguous marks after a not-very-glow-in-the-dark arrow) caused a few hashers to give up and head on-in, but a short bushwack and a few checks later the mob found the hares, a case of beer, and our first sighting of the long-promised glow in the dark chalk. Post-beer check we were on in to T Hogan’s past the infamous spot where one time hare Semen on the Poop Deck hash crashed into a parked car while attempting to evade the pursuing mob barely two blocks away from the start.

Circle:

Hares: Two Clump Chump, Midnight Tranny to Georgia

Virgins: Just Kelly (made cum by Just Kat), who declined the offer of circle beer and attempted to down-down what looked like a Cosmopolitan by sipping it through a couple of stirring-straws before being gong-ed off stage

First In: Stacks

Last In: Taco? I Barely Know Her (in an encore performance of this past weekend’s last-in exploits)

Auto Hashers: Bonsai Bush, Hold the Sausage, S&M Man, Short Distance Rimmer, and Tube Cock, who were joined by Chef Boy or Horse via ‘When one GM drinks’

Long-Time-No-Seers: 3 Balls, Just Kat, Stacks, and Stan (with special guest appearance by Mr. Snuffleupamuff as doll stunt liver)

Muff then attempted to tell the story of Stan, but this piece of hash lore would need to wait for another time as an impatient Short Distance Rimmer chided the mob with a dismissive “story time later, kids” as it was time for…

Accusations:

Quart accused Shop & Fuck of wearing more cologne than a French maid

Two Clump Chum promptly accused Quart of being able to recognize the scent of a French maid, but the mob (enthused by even the slightest hint of hypothetical girl on girl lascivity) shouted this down as acceptable hash behavior. This brought Midnight Tranny to Georgia into the proceedings under ‘When one hare drinks…’

Where’s My Vagina? accused I Scream for Eye Cream of following her around in the woods like a lost lightless puppy

Muff accused Just Kat of running over a cat with her car earlier in the day

Two Clump Chump accused Stacks of shortcutting the trail before she had a chance to hash crash, which harks back to a piece of hash lore from BFM #174 involving a Manarox trail, a Stacks hash crash, multiple stitches, and a triumphant Stacks return to the on-after.

Son of Goat Fucker accused Soft Core Analist of prefacing a statement with ‘I don’t want to sound like one of those barefoot assholes…,’ which in fact means he is one of those barefoot assholes.

The mob accused Shop&Fuck of food in circle

Rear Engineer brought to the mob’s attention that Just Kat’s vehicular catslaughter required liberal application of a shovel to remove said cat from unsaid road; however, despite her delighting in this vile act, she and Just Kelly were unwilling to go back into the woods for the off Henry Avenue bushwack to the beer check. You’ll have to believe me when I say that this accusation seemed much less convoluted at the time and prompted S&M Man to claim ‘There’s nothing wrong with pussy by the shovelful!’

Two Clump Chump accused Muff of running past the beer check

Tube Cock accused Son of Goat Fucker of being thirsty

Two Clump Chump accused Rear Engineer of forgetting to bring a flashlight

3 Balls accused race-ists Hold the Rimmer of skipping the night’s r*n because they had run 50+ miles over the weekend, but Short Distance Sausage protested their innocence and 3 Balls drank.

Taco? IBKH accused Quart of mistaking automobile headlights on the highway for the flashlights of hashers

Muff accused Taco? IBKH of getting blue balled by Uncle Bad Touch over the weekend

A Naming:

At this point Just Kat was called into the circle for a naming that was a foregone conclusion. GM Chef Boy or Horse began to administer the rights before Gay Matthews Lamb got all Roberts rules of order, rabble-rabbling about the need for a vote. After a moment’s hesitation, Chef Boy or Horse reasserted his authority and bestowed upon Just Kat the name ‘Pussy by the Shovelful’

Announcements:

Post-GDR weekend there were no announcements, but I’ll throw a plug for Philly Hash #1776, which is Saturday, March 31. Details are in that e-mail that Up Her Ali keeps sending, but that you keep ignoring.

Overheard at the Hash:

‘Stan loves the donkey punch’ – Tube Cock

‘Never ask Uncle Bad Touch how it’s hanging’ – unidentified (but wise) hasher

& Tits Of Steel

(AUTHORS NOTE: I noticed that Tits was meticulously scribbling down notes, and we both decided to have a compilation trash. So don’t blame me if this becomes a coherent trash.)

It was that time again, when Philly hashers from all over the Delaware Valley begin descending on our fair city to don green feminine attire. Goodwill stores all over the area began reporting men coming in and trying on green muumuus, (I’m a size 16 if anyone cares), dresses, and in some cases, skirts. NOTE: I would advise getting a dress, because you need some shoulder support when your fat ass’s running-induced gyrations causes gravity to accelerate. Trust me, I ran the GDR in 06 constantly holding my skirt up.

Sadly, I wouldn’t be joining the GDR this year (at least on time) due to work constraints, and the fear of showing up on Sternum & Rectum’s latest YouTube fiasco; “Two Hashers One Beer”. I pulled up in a good mood (Due to seeing S&M man post THIS on his FB) to Bonners to discover that the bar had blocked off all the good parking spots with a ginormous beer trailer, so I was forced to find a parking spot in that lot where Uncle Bad Touch banged that fat chick during prom, and then realized he was related to her. I walked in find that both Mediocre & Stupid, as well as Grab My Handlebars had beaten me inside (A full hour early). Maybe they were used to a different time zone. Anyway, they then both told me that Sternum was at the end of the bar, and dumbass me, I believed them. I should use the excuse that I wasn’t wearing my glasses, but I was too in-shock that they were both nice to me to notice until I got to the guy and realized it was not Sternum. Awkward moment ensued. I like to reminisce with people I don’t know, granted it takes longer…

WHO GOT PRELUBED (In order of appearance): Mediocre & Stupid, Grab My Handlebars, Not In My Hair, Just Matt, He’s A Lesbian, Uncle Bad Touch, Sex Tonight Denied, Short Distance Rimmer, Hold The Sausage, Sly Fox, Brave Cock, Taco I Barely Know Her, Son Of Goatfucker, First Down, Flounder, Cause For Blindness, Just Kneel, Urine Luck, Midnight Tranny To Georgia, Flipper Over, Rear Engineer, Splash Back, Heave Ho, Just Amy, Dirty White Goth Whore (LVH3), Pleasure Slab (LVH3), Skin Fiddle, Tits Of Steel, Just Lisa, Gay Matthews Lamb, Two Clump Chump, Pisscycle, Shave My Pussy, Whiskey Dick, Tube Cock, Bonsai Bush, Punani Pouri, Virgin Pimp, Broke Back baby, and Soft Core Analyst.

Apparently Two Clump Chump decided that, since he did it last year, that it was now tradition that he hare this night’s event. He was apparently late and busy setting up his meandering….

TRAIL:

http://www.everytrail.com/view_trip.php?trip_id=1487152

OK, it shall be said that Two Clump tried to find a scenic trail as well as TO GET US FLIPPIN KILLED! I took one step into the street and damn near got clocked by Soft Core Analyst on a bicycle, (At least that’s what he told me later). We ran into the school yard on Sampson past two inner city men who were doing Thai Chi in the middle of the playground (at night), and back up 22nd St, then back down Market past that lovely X-rated theatre, then down that ramp onto the Schuylkill River running trail.

While heading down, we saw that someone had hash-crashed into a female who was down for the count. I have a wonderful picture of Heave Ho (who took time off from constantly talking with Just Amy) standing over her with that jaded-nurse look that says, “Eh, she’s not shot, she’ll live. Otherwise, she better have insurance”. No one could give me a straight answer but I could have sworn that I overheard this convo:
WOMAN: “Help me, I got raped and mugged!”
UNK HASHER IN WHITE TOP (Possibly Gay Matthews Lamb): “Gee that’s too bad. Hey, we’ll be at Bonners later if you want to stop by for a beer.” (For the record, I was wearing a green top.)

On we ran, back up the stairs to the South Street Bridge, where we did our best to avoid colliding with pedestrians and up over a brightly-lit soccer field (Yes, Goatfucker, I know it’s called football), where Two Clump waived at us furiously, while one of the visitors SPRINTED away. In the parking lot there, Two Clump had pulled his echo-friendly car up and served us shots from a jug, which tasted suspiciously like something he had been using to fuel his car. Some poor Univ of Penn cop rode by on his bike, saw us, and just rode away shaking his head sadly.

Off the trail led, around Franklin Field where one hasher thought he saw marks (only to realize they were markings on a baseball field), across a really cool lit bridge, and then around and over the Grays Ferry Bridge and into Grays Ferry. The pucker factor went up on all of us when we stopped at a vacant lot (where there have been three homicides in the past couple years) for a beer stop. Now, I know we have our version of Urban Shiggy, but could someone explain the logic of having a bunch of people stop in the middle of the most racially divisive neighborhood in the city to drink beer out of the back of a car? Even Chef Boy Or Horse looked at me and said, “We are gonna die.”

We slammed beers and Rear led the pack off saying, “Fuck this, I’m outta here.” We then ran for our lives, down Grays Ferry Ave, past an Escalade with chromed out rims and spinners and a driver who yelled to Splashback, “Yo, baby, you should work for me! I treats you REAL good!” I huffed and puffed behind Rear et al down Washington and up 24th St. Upon seeing a harried yuppie walking her three yappy dogs, I felt safer and we staggered in to Bonners and in the tiniest room we had our…

CIRCLE:
HARE: Two Clump Chump
VIRGIN: Just Matt, Not In My Hare made him come
VISITORS: Dirty White Goth Whore and Pleasure Slab from Lehigh Valley H3 who regaled us with this joke
Q: “Why wasn’t the pirate allowed in the movie?”
A: “It was rated Aaaarrrgggh”
(Although the Sandusky joke they told about boys’ pants being half-off was better)
and Broke Back Baby from Boston H3’s bit of humor:
“A white guy, a black guy, and a priest walked into a bar which was unusual since they should have seen it”
CUMS LATELYS: Grab My Handlebars, Mediocre & Stupid, Not In My Hair, Urine Luck, Heave Ho, Just Amy and He’s A Lesbian
AUTOHASHERS: Mediocre & Stupid, Tube Cock, Virgin Pimp, Punani Pouri, Bonsai Bush
FIRST IN/ LAST IN: Someone / Cause For Blindness

ACCUSATIONS:
Sly Fox for Hash crash before trail started
Flipper Over for not understanding Doggie Style
Not In My Hair for not preparing his virgin and Uncle Bad Touch under the “when one asshole wearing five fingers drinks…” rule
Not In My Hair for Racist behavior
Splash Back for not understanding what we mean by “racist”
He’s A Lesbian for fucking up Splash Back’s name and Tits of Steel under the “when one On-Sec drinks…” rule
Grab My Handlebars for requiring Cause to help her sing
Uncle Bad Touch for fucking up the circle
Urine Luck for best Jersey Shore Impression
Bonsai Bush for being at Bonners and not—

With that, some of us had to head in to work early, and some just headed in…

OVERHEARD AT THE HASH
“I’ve got a serious question for you…” -Grab My Handlebars
“It’s two inches long” – He’s A Lesbian

“My one weakness is pickles” – Uncle Bad Touch

“Living in Portland is like living in Manayunk but not quite” – Grab My Handlebars
“I totally know” – Mediocre & Stupid

“It’s the wrong hard bicep, there’s nothing to it”- Sausage

“Wow, it’s basketball, who the fuck cares?” – Uncle Bad Touch

“I’m gonna jerk off into my shampoo, it just adds to the shampoo”- nerd hasher 1
“You need the amino peptide complex” – nerd hasher 2

“I just sat in gum!” – Poonany Pouri
“Did you just take your sac out?!?!?!” – Bravecock
“I wasn’t on trail so I had to make up for it” – Poonany Pouri

“Is it just me or does my dick look big?” – unk hasher

“It’s not a party til someone’s balls are on the table”- Poonanny Pouri (On a roll, sadly he was, and no one touched it later)

“If you’re gonna try the “naked man” move, don’t lead with anal” – unk hasher

“These are my cat strangling shoes, you can tell from all the holes” – unk hasher.

I would like to use the obligatory trash prologue to speak about some various traditions at the hash. Yes, there may not be rules, but there are some traditions. First, I would like to clarify about beer checks. Yes, it is traditional that we have beer checks, however,  beer checks are a luxury bestowed upon the pack by the sheer generosity of the hare(s), whether there are one, two, or six, you should be happy and thankful to have any and all of them. Secondly, ‘Why do we kick up our legs at chalk talk?’ Well young little hashers, it is obviously it is the tradition of airing of the snatch before trail started oh so many years ago by one famous harriette. Third, (gripe more than a tradition) at the end of the hash when the RA declares ‘May the hash go in peace.’ The pack traditionally responds with ‘May the hash GET A PIECE!’ Not ‘go in peace’ If I hear anyone say ‘go in peace again’ I will proceed to crane kick you karate kid style during your next down-down. Fourth, the tradition of meowing during down-downs. MEOW! Fifth and final, this new tradition of on-in after the beer check is bull-ish. If this was a rural hash you would be left out in the woods for the wolves to eat your genitals. You gotta think. You got a trail. You got a responsibility. If your pack gets lost you don’t look for an hour then call it quits. You get your ass out there and you find that fucking dog…

Rant done. Who did I find in the bar that night…

HASHERS!… H*ld the Sausage, Rear Eng*neer, One *nch In, Tube C*ck, Uncle B*d Touch, Short D*stance Rimmer, Son of Goat F*cker, Where’s My Vag*na, Chef Boy or Horse, Pen*s in My Ear,  Taco? I barely know her, Bonzai Bush,Brave Cock, Gay Matthew’s Lamb, I Scream For Eye Cream (AKA ChickenF*cker), Punany Puri, Shop & Fuck, Two Clump Chump, S&M Man, Flounder, James Bondage, Post Anal Drip, Can You Hear Me Now?, Cause for Blindness, Softcore Analyst, Just Val, Just Al, Just Amy,Just Colleen, Just Tony, Just Amanda, Just Dave, Mama Fleea, and Just Sue.

Trail:

I wasn’t there for trail but when I rolled up to the bar the entire pack had already arrived, the hares were still laying trail, and Goat F*cker & G*y Matthews Lamb had disappeared into the night in search of the long lost hares. Soon enough the hares gleefully trotted into the bar from the second beer check, which apparently was a quant intimate rendezvous between two consenting adult aged hashers because the rest of the pack just assumes the trail ends after the first beer check. In my day you followed trail until it was finished, because you always hoped another beer check, shot check, playground check, shiggy, or random bar with strippers (especially in Penns Port). Regardless, upon what I gathered from second hand accounts, trail was long, there were circle jerks, crazy back checks and the pack turned lazy halfway through.

The Circle

Hares: Rear Eng*neer & Uncle B*d Touch

VIRGINS!… Just Colleen and Just Tony, who were lured in by T*ts of Steel. Just Amanda and Just Dave, who were brought by our visitor Mama Fleea. Finally, Just Sue was brought by Punany Puri. (I know, I was surprised too)

VISITORS!… Mama Fleea, who sung us a wonderful rendition of ‘My name is Jack!’

First In/Last In: I Scream For Eye Cream, the Hares (Rear Eng*neer & Uncle B*d Touch)

Comes Latelies: Post Anal Drip

Autohashers: Bonzai Bush and One Inch In

Accusations:

Short Distance Rimmer for MEOWing as RA (note: he was jumping around all nimbly bimbly and drinking milk from a saucer with Chickenf*cker)

T*ts of Steel for pointing out Uncle Bad Touch’s back nipples instead of playing with them.

Uncle Bad Touch for having nipples on his back.

Son of a Goat F*cker & Gay Matthews Lamb for agreeing to go on a fool’s errand and search for the hares.

CYHMN / Chef Boy or Horse for bringing the hash to a false irish bar. (They had beer & scotch, I still do not completely understand this accusation).

I Scream for Eye Cream for being a whiny little chickenf*cker.

Son of a Goat F*cker inevitably was thirsty.

Announcements:

GREEN DRESS THIS WEEKEND!

If you didn’t register for Stinko, you missed it.

Overheard at the Hash:

‘Oh yeah, well go f*ck yourself’ – SOGF

Meow-On

One *nch In

 Despite not hosting the mob for some time, Cavanaugh’s Rittenhouse has a lot going for it: hash-friendly back room, hash-friendly Just Waitress Sara, bizarre split-level layout, and the potential for your favorite hasher/harriette to read the weekly announcement too quickly and end up at regular-BFM-destination Cavanaugh’s West Philly. I picture said hasher/harriette alone in the Cavanaugh’s West Philly basement sobbing and wondering aloud “What did I do wrong?” and “Why doesn’t the hash love me anymore?” before making a series of really poor decisions involving tequila and a Penn undergrad.

(Ugh, writing that first paragraph was painful [and contrived]. How does He’s a Lesbian crank out three paragraphs of this preamble drivel every trash? Let’s move on before I resort to making jokes about the shortcomings of my penis.)

Hashers who managed to make it to the Rittenhouse Cavanaugh’s included:

69th Amendment, Attila the Hung, Brave Cock, Chef Boy or Horse, Flipper Over (AKA Just Flipper), Gag Reflex, Gay Matthew’s Lamb, Hold the Sausage, Just Dana (who strangely offered the suggestion that she be named Just Dickhead), I Scream For Eye Cream (AKA Cumjunctivitis), Just Kneel, Just Nancy, Just Randy, Just Ron, Just Val, Just ?, Manual Fiesta, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, One Inch In, Penis In My Ear, Punany Puri, Quart, Rear Engineer, Shop & Fuck, Short Distance Rimmer, Son of Goat Fucker, Taco? I Hardly Know Her, Tits of Steel, Two Clump Chump, Uncle Bad Touch, and virgins Just Ali and Just Elizabeth.

Trail:

Hares this fine evening were salty veterans Attila the Hung and Rear Engineer, who found time between tickle fights to lay a right shitty trail. Trail headed south through “the-parking-garage-ramp-directly-opposite-of-Cavanaugh’s-that-the-trail-always-goes-down-when-we-run-out-of-Cavanaugh’s-but-nobody-ever-goes-down-at-first” then right on Walnut. This was promptly followed by a back check that circled the mob back, through, and around Rittenhouse Square, during which time Uncle Bad Touch annexed to the mob a couple out for their evening run. They initially seemed intrigued (presumably by the hash), but managed to escape (pleading exhaustion, but strangely no aversion to the advances of UBT). One more circle jerk brought us back westwards on Manning/Pine all the way to Broad Street. Trail then skipped north along the Broad Street median before dumping us into Dilworth Plaza and the stale stench of Occupy urine.

Exiting the north side of city hall, trail meandered northwesterly before cutting through JFK Plaza and leading to the customary check hang at the Comcast Building. Thankfully short-lived this time, the mob proceeded to JFK Boulevard before getting utterly bamboozled at a check north of the Trader Joe’s thanks to some marks from a previous trail and some well hidden marks by a panicked hare, who was hearing mob footsteps. Once the mob found its way to Market St, multiple hashers attempted to woo an innocent young lovely in front of The Forum (Philadelphia’s classiest porno theater and a great place to meet women), but any chance of that interest being reciprocated was put to rest when Punany Puri pronounced his lustful intentions, shouting “Damn girl, you shit with that ass?”

This momentary distraction precipitated a ‘last-mark?’ mob get together on Market that eventually led to the beer check at hash-favorite Bonner’s. Here, Gay Matthews Lamb regaled the mob with tales of the fabled Richmond Spider drinking game “slap the bag,” which involves a box of Franzia stripped down to its inner plastic baggy. Upon receiving the wine baggy, each “slap the bag” participant drinks, slaps the bag (for no reason other than this is the name of the game), and throws the bag at the head of the nearest bystander (rinse, repeat). It’s apparently as much fun as you can have if you’re 19, drunk, and stuck in Richmond, VA. Post-beer check, the trail was pretty much on-in, and in no short order a circle was had.

Circle:

Circle opened with Uncle Bad Touch getting off to a fine start in his yearlong campaign to be the most ziggy-zaggied RA in BFM history by freezing up on word one. Thankfully, he was rescued by co-RA Short Distance Rimmer and the dynamic RA duo proceeded relatively more smoothly thereafter.

Hares: Attila the Hung and Rear Engineer

First-in: Punany Puri via full trail, Just Dana (maybe?) via mid-trail abortion

Last-in: Gay Matthew’s Lamb

Autohashers: 69th Amendment, Flipper Over, Gag Reflex, One Inch In, Penis In My Ear

Cums Latelies: Attila the Hung, Just Randy

Accusations:

-Uncle Bad Touch for pretending to be happy to see us by having something phallic in his pocket;

-Gay Matthew’s Lamb for stopping to talk to his bosses from work on trail and taking pains to explain his apparent 12-minute-mile pace;

-All manner of hashers for food in circle (Shop & Fuck, Punany Puri, I Scream for Eye Cream, Attila the Hung, etc, etc);

-Flipper Over for blanking on her name and referring to herself as Just Flipper;

-Two Clump Chump attempted to accuse Attila the Hung of bribing the hash with food, which was rightly shouted down as acceptable hash behavior;

-Punany Puri for sending out entreaties for a “ride” to Stinko de Mayo;

-Suddenly there were virgins! Just Ali and Just Elizabeth, who were made cum by an unidentified group of hashers hidden from your humble scribe’s view, but most likely involving (the appropriately named) Just ?;

-Just Dana for making Just Nancy “late” and for getting lost driving to and/or from both the West Philly and Rittenhouse versions of Cavanaugh’s;

-Brave Cock for r*ce-ist behavior unbecoming a hasher;

-Gag Reflex attempted to accuse virgins Just Ali and Just Elizabeth of missing the virgin-appropriate portion of the circle, but was roundly shouted down;

-Chef Boy or Horse was justly accused of something, but I missed it because I was too busy being thirsty and getting accused of said thirst;

-Attila the Hung attempted to accuse Hold the Sausage of racist behavior for turning her nose up at Malt liquor, but it came out as “Malt Beer” and AtH ended up in circle;

-Penis In My Ear for making the outrageous claim that Just Randy might be skinnier and/or whiter than Son of Goatfucker, which is plainly ridiculous;

-Flipper Over for managing to lock herself in the back room at Cavanaugh’s;

-Shop & Fuck attempted to make an accusation involving Son of Goatfucker and tech on trail, but was ziggy zaggied and I got off scot-free (weee!) and beerless (oh…);

-Just Rod for missing the beer check (this purportedly being the first time he had ever turned down a drink);

-I Scream for Eye Cream for having some sort of fancy GPS device;

-Punany Puri for his infamous pickup line involving callipygian defecation.

Intermission: Gay Matthew’s Lamb called out all the motherfuckers who keep doing this “meow, meow” bullshit during down down songs, self-righteously exclaiming “This isn’t a Meow Mix commercial, assholes!” To which One Inch In objected, whining “There are no rules in hashing!” Which, if you think about it, is a rule itself, and brings us back to the main point: that the meow-meowers are a bunch of motherfuckers.
As an aside (but paradoxically, also the main point), several of the meow-meowers bear a striking resemblance to the motherfuckers who tried to popularize singing down down songs as rounds in the style of ‘Frere Jacques’ in the late aughties. Just saying.

-Our RAs, Short Distance Rimmer and Uncle Bad Touch, for being new to the dark arts of circle management; whereupon Attila the Hung attempted to play the ‘when one RA drinks gambit,’ but was foiled when it was soon apparent to all present that both RAs were already drinking, leading to Attila (and Rear Engineer via ‘when one hare drinks’) joining the RAs.

With that, circle was mercifully closed.

Announcements:

-Next week, March 8th, BFM #420! Contact Chef Boy or Horse if you want to hare or can score him some sweet sensimilla.

-Green Dress Weekend, March 15th through 18th: Thursday-BFM at Bonner’s; Friday-Full Moon at wherever the hell Rear Engineer says it is and you’ll like it; Saturday-Philly Hash Green Dress Run at the Ukrainian Club in Fairmont; Sunday-Liberty Bell Fat Boy starting at Dirty Franks; Monday-Sick Day at Your Couch.

-Last weekend, March 3rd, Philly Hash in Chesterbrook!

-Stinko de Mayo – Sold Out as of Midnight March 1st  (or was it March 2nd?)

Denouement:

Post-circle shenanigans consisted mainly of the mob gorging itself on Attila the Hung’s delicious chicken wing bribery. However, the carnage was momentarily interrupted for an impromptu rendition of ‘Face Down, Ass Up’ in honor of Just Waitress Sara bringing the mob a free round of the cutest little shots you’ve ever seen. That effectively ended your humble scribe’s involvement, as he is old, and lame, and married, and old. May the hash go in peace…

SoGF

Overheard at the Hash:

“Trail has a lot of straightaways tonight.” – Chef Boy or Horse (This is the kind of shit I have to work with. Come on people this is only as amusing as the things you do/say are dumb).

“If you wake up with bruises on your thighs and coupons on your nightstand, you were probably at Raven Lounge last night” – Two Clump Chump (who apparently needs a second point of reference to distinguish among the bars he attends that generally lead to morning-after thigh bruising)