Traditional Wrestling Credo
By Limerick Her Butthole
Apparently this hash was themed RAW
But no one gave a fuck at all.
Despite our best guessing,
No one knew what to dress in,
‘Guess wrestling was below our bourgeois.
The Bike Lanes Not Taken
By Robert Frosty Nipples
A trail toward Camden the hasher rode,
Hoping to pass without ordeal
Biked quickly, and yet there slowed
Arrested by his scro’d
-tal sack lodged in his posterior wheel.
So cum with us,
(Preferably Not in our Hair)
No bikes here, only feet to carry thus,
Perhaps through parks and to a railroad truss,
Practice for a journey continuing on elsewhere*.
*Visit tourdehashes.com to follow his progress.
One RA, One RA, Red RA, Red RA
By Doc His Seuss
Who is this RA?
Calls himself Dix,
Speaks to the wall
Like a Garblenastrix.
Oh! A Goose! He speaks to a Goose!
Odd we can’t see him, this RA deuce.
But where is this Goose?
On the loose?
A kind of recluse?
Busy with some sort of substance abuse?
Absent today, entirely gone!
And the invisibility joke’s funniness not going strong.
Good thing Dix couldn’t keep it up very long...
By E.E. Cummings Too Soon
rail where piss-tint liquid resides--
quaff the ethyl
whistles far and we
climb k9dixdpoundedgoats up
ladder aloft with lights and
wobbles and its
when the world is puddle-wonderful
from sex toys’ frothy shit
as trainman whistles
far and we
flash-flash and not-flash because
Haiku for Simian-cest
By Matsuo Bash-a-Hoe
Like enraptured monkey mounts
His name [Redacted].
Ode to the [Natty] Light of My Life
By Pa-Blow-Me Neruda
among the hashers’ mouths,
tipped to lips
my own ocean,
yellow turmoil crashed against
prompting hash crashes
to the sticky floor.
The BFM Review would like to kindly thank the following contributers for their submissions which were not accepted at this time:
Edgar Allen Hoe
Maya Ain’t Ya Goo
S’ill via Pilsners
Where? Half Time Good Times
Ass Ass 'Nation AKA A Ninja Turtle
A bunch of Just's previously brought by Beef Jerkless
Bah Ram Him AKA Chucky
Bitch $hots AKA Eliza Thronberry
Egg Fucker AKA Bender
Fort Dixalot AKA Doug
Judge Doody AKA Racist Doug
Just Elvis- A N64
Just Andrew AKA A Ninja Turtle(Virgin brought by Just Sean)
MacGyver Muff Diver
Post-Traumatic Goose Disorder AKA Skeeter
Pounded in the Can Aka Mickey Mouse
Senior Balls AKA A Ninja Turtle
Sex Toys for Tots AKA T.J. Detweiler
Silence of the Goats AKA Daria
Taintless Love AKA Wolverine/ Pickachu
Where's my D? AKA a baby because i'm fucking 23!
3 Way Stop AKA Spinelli
60K9 AKA Quailman
It all started on a cool evening as I walked up the street to Half Time Good Times for Thursday's hash, one of Phillie's finest bars, admittedly though the drinks tend to be pricey. As I approached the bar a strange car pulled up alongside me. It was a flat gray and boxy and I thought it was about to turn into a transformer when the doors pulled up instead of out! A crazy old man in a white suit told me to get in. I typically don't talk to strange men but he offered me candy so I didn't see the harm. He said his name was Doctor Brown and we were going to go to the future- 1999! I looked at him puzzled and explained it was 2017 so that would be the past? Maybe I shouldn't have gotten into this strange vehicle... He looked at me strangely and explained he was from 1985 and that he must have messed up his calculations because he was looking to visit 1999, not 2017! Now I definitively knew I should jump out, but I was frozen with fear. He pushed a few buttons on this remote control and we started to move. We sped up as I was pushed back against my seat from the exertion. I closed my eyes and in a jolt we had stopped. "1999!" Exclaimed Doctor Brown. I looked around and at first nothing looked much different. Then I saw it- it was the cars, they were boxy too, not as boxy as Dr. Brown's car though. And for Half Time Good Times? It wasn't a upscale bar anymore, it looked like a hole in the wall kind of joint. Dr. Brown then abruptly pushed me out and sped off as I lay sprawled in the street.
(Disclaimer: I have never watched "Back to the Future" and may or may not have gone on IMBD to get some of these references) Sorry i'm only 23 guys...
I pushed myself up and brushed my legs off. I didn't know what to do?! I looked again at Half Time Good Times and noticed a circle forming outside. No...this couldn't be. I knew the BFM was old, but was it this old? Two men stood in front speaking. They looked strangely like Fort Dixalot and Goose, the BFM's RA's. Except this Fort Dixalot was wearing a green sweater vest and this Goose was blue? They introduced themselves to me as Doug and Skeeter. They weren't the only strange doppelgangers I saw there. Each hasher looked like a former hasher I knew but introduced themselves as either a 90's cartoon, character, or gaming system? Yes, one was even a N64. Weird would be an understatement, but it got stranger. Everyone started to grow until I realized it was really I who was shrinking! My arms and legs became chubby and as I went to stand up my legs wobbled and I fell down and began to cry. Somebody looked down. It was Sex Toys or should I say T.J. Detweiler as he introduced himself to me. "Uh guys who brought a baby?" he asked. No one knew and a girl who looked much like Bitch Shots approached me and crouched down. "Aww she's adorable! Guys I speak to animals, maybe I can speak baby too?" "Why not give it a shot" said T.J.. "Goo ga ga goo?" She cooed at me. I cooed back and we made eye contact, she knew what I was saying!
Bitch Shots or should I say, Eliza Thornberry explained we were about to go for a run. I pushed myself up and wobbled after everyone as they took off. We finally got to the beer near after what seemed forever; babies don't run very fast i'm sorry to say. Luckily one of the Ninja Turtles hid me in their shell so know one would notice me. We enjoyed some refreshing beers and then were back off! Soon we would be back at Half Time Good Times. If I thought it was bad on the outside, the inside looked like a mix between a brothel and a black market for "donated" livers. To make it worse a much younger looking Donald Dick was raving about the supposed heroine epidemic and how he had forgotten to bring his rape whistle. We grouped up for circle outside after munching down on some free meatball and roast beef sandwich's. 1999 Half Time Good Time's wasn't so bad actually! (Too bad for gentrification, if only they knew what they were doing by letting all these yuppie hashers in... ) Accusations flew faster than I could understand... I mean I do have the brain of a 8 month old at this point. It started to rain but luckily we had a fire pit and stood under table umbrellas to keep dry. There was much to be said about Bah, er I mean Chuckies "thirstiness". 90's circle even had meatball shooters! The best part of the night undoubtedly had to be Just Lisa's/ Spinelli's naming. After many sexual questions it was decided she would now be known as 3 Way Stop! If only 2017 J. Lisa had been there. The name came about as our lucky Lisa not only had an opportunity just once, but twice for a threesum or you could say "Eiffle Tower" as I imagined it would have gone down ;). However our saintly Lisa snuck out before the dirty deed could be committed! This didn't stop her from having sex in the parking lot of the Sugar House Casino though.
*edit: There apparently has been 3 "3 way stop" moments*
After circle and a few too many shots and some hookah I started to feel sleepy and pulled a Bah Ram Him and passed out. When I came to I was in bed. I jumped up to find I was back to my normal self and in my 2017 bedroom. It had been all a dream....
Where's My D?
BFM #680 Philly Green Dress Pre-Lube!
Where: Bonne...nope...Cherry St. Tavern, Logan Square
When: Thursday, March 9, 2017, 7:30p HST
Who hared? Slothy Seconds and Silence of the Goats
A Ryan Seacrest Type: "Good evening, Hollywoo! Welcome to Excess Hollywoo! I'm A Ryan Seacrest Type and boy, do we have a story for you. You've heard about the characters outside Grauman's Chinese Theater? Well, we've got a scoop all the way from Philadelphia on a group of degenerates that would put them to shame. We go live now to Some Lady with that story. Some Lady, how's the weather in Philly tonight?"
Some Lady: *sighs* "I wouldn't know, Ryan, that question's not in my script. *clears throat* I'm standing outside Cherry Street Tavern on a cool, clear evening having just spent the last few hours with a group known as the Ben Franklin Mob Hash House Harriers. One member, or hasher, known as Post Traumatic Goose Disorder earlier described the night ahead to me as full of "debauchery, drunkenness, and dresses." Let's see how it went.
*cue pre-taped segment and Some Lady's voiceover*
It's 7:30p on a Thursday night in Philadelphia and, as you can see, the back room of the Cherry Street Tavern is packed with people known as hashers, all of them drinking beer and wearing all types of green regalia: shirts, funny hats, tutus, and, as promised, even a few dresses. I spoke with one such hasher, Baaa!Jack Horseman, who explained:
Baaa!Jack Horseman: "What do you want? Can you move that light back a bit, it's making me look blotchy. Yeah, we're a drinking club with a running problem and tonight is our kick-off for Philly Green Dress Weekend. So we'll r*n a little trail, sing a lot of songs, drink A LOT of drinks, and generally have a good time. That's what we call . . . Hashin' Around!"
This group isn't without controversy though as I discovered a shocking truth. According to a source known as Fort DixALot and another known as SlothyGoats, who is VERY OBVIOUSLY TWO HASHERS STACKED ON TOP OF EACH OTHER UNDERNEATH A TRENCH COAT, tonight's theme was, in fact, NOT "green" but rather "cake," though they could not provide details on exactly what the fuck "cake themed" meant.
"On-out for chalk talk, wankers!" That’s Sex Toys for Tots, the Grand Master of this group. Sure enough, there is white powder all over the ground outside the bar but, unlike Hollywoo, it is most likely not cocaine. The Religious Advisors, Fort DixALot and Post Traumatic Goose Disorder, orient the group to tonight's trail by first introducing the (a)lone virgin, Just Elvis, to hashing, welcoming travel hashers like Egg Fucker and Wreath Around before explaining the symbols. *camera focus on an ‘F’ symbol* Fort DixALot: “Here’s our favorite mark! It means you’re FUCKED!” Some laughs but mostly groans emanate from the crowd as the BN or Beer Near symbol is clearly the crowd favorite.
And after a few last words, the pack disburses. Not all are running, though, as a Donald Dick is seen amongst the Walkers carrying a sixer of road sodas. But all are in search of “hash marks” of white powder (again, not cocaine) to catch SlothyGoats, who is tonight’s “hare.” But that’s not all the group does. Right away, a grown man known as Pantyphile runs into a random non-hasher girl, or Muggle, who just happens to be running, and immediately starts trying to recruit her into the group. This is no small feat as he is dressed like what can only be described as a leprechaun stripper….
*static* A Ryan Seacrest Type: “...or a MICK-endale’s dancer, eh, Some Lady?”
Some Lady: “I swear to God, Ryan, if you interrupt my feed again for your lame puns, I will release those photos to TMZ.” *static*
...and, unsurprisingly, this poor girl is shaken and soon alters her route. Good timing, too, as trail continues through a parking garage, up 20 flights of stairs, or what Baaa!Jack Horseman deemed “a vertical Walkers’ trail” to a lovely rooftop park and, as Urine Luck described it, “the easiest Shot Quest ever.” These are no ordinary shots, though. SlothyGoats did a business by preparing what appears to be cups filled with jizz and yet this group is gobbling them down so fast, it would make Rod Stewart blush. Next, a quick group “hashflash” on account of the lovely view...wait, do-over. Where’s Mi D? ruined the shot after getting distracted by a puppy.
As you viewers can probably tell, this group runs the gamut in age, to include a four-year-old named Squishy. Clearly, not every hasher is used to this age range, as International Dicklomat reports, “Squishy attempted to befriend Tinklebell with a leg hug causing Tinklebell to immediately freak out and run away.” More on this Squishy situation as it develops. The pack heads out to the ground floor, Floor G, or as Fort DixALot cleverly offered, “the G-Spot.”
Shenanigans ensues on trail as Gay Matthews Lamb obsesses over a blue Porta-Johns’ resemblance to the T.A.R.D.I.S. of “Doctor Who” fame (which was then immediately coined as “the T.U.R.D.I.S.” by Baaa!Jack Horseman), Tinklebell and Orgie Porgie Puddin’ N’ Pie traverse a vast water hazard (i.e. a tiny puddle), and 60k9 works on his power walk or, as International Dicklomat observes, “he’s practicing for his next dog show.” As the pack searches for their next On-On! at a check (which, again, I must reiterate is NOT cocaine), Orgie Porgie Puddin’ N’ Pie ponders out loud “Are we in University City?” while being bathed in the glow of the Drexel University sign.
Clearly, this confusion was spreading as many hashers questioned Baaa!Jack Horseman’s wearing of pajama pants while they themselves were in tutus and spandex. As Just Lisa pointed out though, Baaa!’s choice of wardrobe was perfect for when he inevitably falls asleep later at the bar. Speaking of odd clothing choices, Just Sean could be seen wearing two ball caps “like a retarded Gilligan” and Beef Jerkless HAD to point out that he was wearing breakaway pants but experiencing “the humiliation of putting on a pair of breakaway pants and never having a reason to break 'em away.”
In another shocking twist, earlier reports had indicated that Weird Al Spankabitch could lead a song check “for well over twenty minutes” but this reporter captured exclusive footage of him being unable to complete even one verse of “El Camino.” Meanwhile, at the next song check, Pantyphile exploited the presence of our cameras to begin an impromptu audition for “MTV’s Cribs” using a random Muggle’s parked Cadillac Escalade, clearly unaware that this show ended six years ago.
Next, we found ourselves at another hashflash check. Let's take a live look at the result.
Ah, yes, a beautiful photo under the rare Bitch Better Have My $hots moon.
Then came “everyone’s favorite part of trail,” the beer check! Handed out were fresh cans of Hamm’s beer (NOT Jon Hamm’s Jon Ham as Baaa!Jack Horseman had hoped) and delicious, boozy cupcakes. "As the light of Weird Al Spankabitch’s ass shined over us all,” Just Thaddeus regaled us with shitty, amorphous shadow puppets under the Walnut St. Bridge. Inside sources claim the puppets were meant to distract from Urine Luck ONCE AGAIN pissing way too closely to the pack (this time into a drainage grate) or perhaps from Just Sahar’s insatiable thirst for more and more shots in any shape or form. This reporter however believes it was to conceal Slothy Seconds while she proceeded to give her “mug” a good “power washing.”
Elsewhere inside, the pack met up again with SlothyGoats (who, again, IS VERY CLEARLY TWO HASHERS STACKED ON TOP OF EACH OTHER) for Circle. As Post Traumatic Goose Disorder and Fort DixALot welcomed all back, this reporter witnessed El Poopa Cabra sneak some bites of key lime pie in direct opposition to the cake theme that we’re still attempting to define. The virgin Just Elvis became a virgin no more, there were multiple sightings of Sideshow Bobjob (some with green hair), and, in an exclusive exposé, travel hashers Maybe It’s Gaybelline and Weird Al Spankabitch scarred Squishy for life to get out of Circle.
*cut back to live feed of Some Lady*
Some Lady: So, Ryan, all-in-all it was a great night of drinking, exposed body parts, and tons of white powder.”
A Ryan Seacrest Type: Sounds like my place every Saturday! Thanks, Some Lady. That’s all the time we have tonight on Excess Hollywoo. Goodnight!
And may the hash go in peace!
-Baaa! Ram Him
BFM #679 Barking in the Bayou
Where: The Bayou Bar & Grill, Manayunk
When: Thursday, March 2nd, 7:30p HST
Who hared? 60k9 and Disasterbator (formerly Just Micah)
Hey, kids! Wow! There sure are a lot of you today! I’m SO GLAD you all could join me. Blue(balls) and I are on a very special mission to find our friends, 60k9 and Just Micah! Can you help us? *stares vacantly at you all* You can?! Great, let’s go!
Whoa, what are these strange symbols on the ground? I think we need our Religious Advisor, Fort Dixalot, to help us out. Does anyone know where he is?...HAS ANYONE FUCKING SEEN FORT DIXALOT?! Oh, here he is. He was late! Can you all say “late”? Great job! That’s right, Dixalot, you are the “RA for currently” and we will “sing a little dandy.” Oh right, we’ve seen most of these symbols before but there is a new one:
What could it mean? Oh yeah, it’s a paw print that will lead us to our clues! *sings* We gotta find another pawprint, that’s the second clue! On-Sec puts it in his notebook because they’re whose clues? Blue(balls) clues!” Okay, you fucking degenerates, On-Out!
Goddammit, guys, there sure are a lot of hills. We need some help mounting them. *cue Drake’s “Started From the Bottom”* Wait, what’s that sound? It’s Silence of the Goats and her trusty bumpin’ jams emanating from her backside! Boy, those beats sure do get me sprung to keep going and even make Just Thaddeus attempt parkour...poorly. Speaking of jams, why has everyone stopped? Oh, it’s a song check. Sing along with me, kids: “Asshole, asshole, a soldier I will be…” Down the stairs we contin...oh no, there’s a true trail right arrow here but half our pack has gone straight. Help me call them back. Nice work!
Guys, I think we found our second paw print! The clue says, “<--- Hint: 2 cups.” What could it mean? Hmm, could it mean “2 girls, 1 cup”? Mercifully, no. What's that? Right! We have to find 2 cups. Oh shit, they’re fucking sippy cups filled with flat beer? How are we supposed to drink this swill quickly? Take the lid off, you say? Good idea, that’s so much easier! Oh fuck, hide! Ass Ass In Nation thinks she saw a siren! Phew, it was just her being silly with her headlamp. Let’s all shame the silly hasher as we search for more clues. There goes another silly hasher, Pantyphile, ducking in and out of random alleyways between houses. What could he be up to? *cue the sound of urination* You know what? Better that we not find out.
Hooray! Another song check. “I fucked a dead whore by the roadside…” “FUCKING F**GOTS!” Why, that was our good friend, Random Belligerent Asshole! Say hi, everyone!
And who’s this over here? It’s Just Shane. Let’s help him with his favorite hobby, Grand Theft Landscaping. Can you point to the fence, garden gnomes, and misshapen rocks that he’d like to steal from innocent, unsuspecting Muggles? Nicely done!
Hey, it’s our second favorite thing, a Shot Near! Into the woods we go. Drink up the delicious(?) flat soda and rum, kids. What’s that, Just Sahar, you want more? And more again? Well, sure! Anything to distract from Judge Doody pleasuring Just Sukey. All done? Then let’s find more clues. I hear Pounded in the Can shouting “On Three!” For shame, Pounded, but let’s follow her anyway for “it is a truth universally acknowledged that hashers are always yelling.” “Big Vagina Carrots!” screams Ass Ass by way of warning us all to Be Very Careful crossing these streets of Yunk-adelphia and now she’s leading us in another song check. (Dose of) clap along, gang! Hmm, I think we’re almost back to our Bayou home and, yep, there goes Pantyphile bearing a red flag likely stolen from a construction site to “lead” us On-In! But we haven’t found our last clue or our friends. Where could they be?
Look! There’s 60k9 and Just Micah, they’ve been waiting for us this whole time at our home! It’s so good to see them that we should Circle up around them and thank them for their S-H-I-T-T-Y trail. That is, once Fort Dixalot stops having a coughing fit and gets this Circle started. Oh no, I’m also having a fit during “El Camino” and can’t sing the song right! Can you all help me? No? Well, piss off then! Next, let’s play a game: can Just Sahar tell Señor Ballz and me apart? No! But what’s that? Did Slothy Seconds just say “proclivity”? That’s the Secret Word!! Everyone scream real loud! It also looks like it’s someone’s special day: it’s Bitch Better Have My $hots’ near-birthday! Hashy birthday, Bitch $hots, fuck you!
What’s happening here? Just Micah is down on his knees but it’s not Tuesday. Ah, he’s about to transform into a named hasher. What will he emerge as? Sofa King Wet? Critical Piss? No! Let’s say hi to our new friend, Disasterbator, as he down-downs from Blue(balls)’ doggie bowl! He’s a hasher through and through and we wish him well in the faraway land of Chicago.
Well, that was another great adventure, half-minds! Say goodbye, Blue(balls)! Goodbye forever until next week! And may the hash go in peace!
Baaa! Ram Him
From the Case Files of Detective Inspector Sichs D. Kaynine (Force Identification # 60K9)
File Under: Missing Persons
It was an unnatural February day in Philadelphia. First, because the temperature reached 60 degrees. Second, because the remains of [Redacted] [Redacted] Ryan lay shattered on the grungy floor of a tacky tiki tavern.
I was sent to the scene of a suspected Missing Persons early in evening. Witnesses were surprisingly pliant--natural garrulousness paired with fermented liquid loosed their tongues. Also, apparently, their clothing. Many were down to leis and shells alone by my arrival.
The following is an account of the night of 2/23/17, from approximately 8PM EST to 8PM PST, as pieced together through their slurred testimonies and my own observations.
The evening started with vaguely erotic alleyway striptease, performed by a stripper under the pseudonym “Goose.” Reports indicate one “Dix” dropping his/her panties immediately. Presumably, these were then collected by the group’s resident “Pantyphile,” but reports vary.
As willing as they were to talk, interviewing these people proved complicated by their constant use of assumed names, as well as their seeming inability to interact like humans.
“Ma’am, Just where is Ryan at this point?”
“One of the virgins was so fancy! Suit shirt and tie! What a virgin move!!!”
“That was not the questi--wait, sorry, do you label people based on their sexual experiences?”
“OMG, caaaaaaaar! Don’t get dead!”
There was something strange going on here, I was sure of it.
They ran. Not fast. Not far. Not in any particular direction.
But they ran. In this business, we call that suspicious. Suspicious enough that a fellow lawman took the cue to stop, fittingly, one “Stop & Fuck.” The officer was shaken by his encounter. I didn’t have the heart to ask whether the suspect lived up to his alias.
Meanwhile, I attempted to speak with more of them.
“Sir, could you recount what you know about about Ryan, Just the facts, if you please.”
“Can I get a note please?”
“IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII FUCKED A DEAD WHORE BY THE ROADSIDE”
“I knew very well she was dead,”
“The skin was all gone from her body,
The hair was all gone from her head!”
“Uhm. Right, but…”
“And after the fucking was over,
To atone for my terrible sin,”
“Oh no. Please stop.”
“I anchored my lips to her asshole,
And sucked out the wad I shot INNNNNNNNNN!”
“...I think I’ll leave that case to a different detective.”
There’s something wrong with these people.
It was shortly after this that their verbal oddities began manifesting physically.
“Virgins” were shamed for pointing, instead instructed to gesture only with elbows [Note: google “dabbing,” see if relevant?]. One member was accused of “causing blindness” after an unsuccessful striptease. Upon reaching a glyph scribbled by those that came before [Reminder: look into whether “Hares” are a deity of some sort?], the group formed a circle--jostling each other by their crotches--and squated into a groaning and shouting “human centipede.”
I’ve been at this job for many a year, but… but I could neither look away, nor bring myself to truly see the horror in front of me.
Alcohol was consumed, again. The location marked, again, by scrawled messages on the pavement. The consumption ritualistic, again.
They set out. I follow, still under the illusion that speaking to them would be useful.
“Ma’am, I’m really Just interested in the whereabouts of Ryan.”
A whistle blared. Shouting. Runners shifting directions.
“Just tell me what you know about Ryan.”
A man Jumped wildly in front of us.
“JUST what happened to RYAN, ma’am?!”
Her response was meaningless.
I began to despair.
Tiki Bar again. The kitsch was an assault on the eyes. The darkness I sensed in their group began to overwhelm me. Shouts. Code words. Chanting. Some hidden object centered in the hoard. Forced revelations. A suspicious affinity for llamas. Leaders provoking further frenzy. Even I felt myself being carried away with a spirit [Question: benevolent, or malevolent?] as the evening careened forward. The energy frenetic, the shouting coalescing into sects. A veneration of beardedness, or a celebration of contusions? The raucous camps worked themselves into a frenzy until silence was called.
The leader rose, and for a brief moment I could finally see the center of the tumult--the man I was searching for, Just… Ryan.
With the power invested from this unholy group, the leader pronounced a new name:
And just like that, Ryan was gone.
This case still gnaws at me. Was it his choice? Was he provoked? How did he find himself hurled into this pit, this cult, this unnatural hoard?
Was he pushed into this downward spiral, or did Ryan Just Jump?
I’ll never know.
Where? The Institute
Hares? Pounded in the Can and Fort Dixalot
Ass Ass 'Nation
Bah Ram Him
Just Adam (Virgin brought by MacGyver)
Just Christian (Virgin brought by Emo Kid)
Just Lisa 2.0
Just Sam (Virgin brought by Bah Ram Him)
Orgy Pordgey Pudding
Post-Traumatic Goose Disorder
Pounded in the Can
Seamen on the Poop Deck
Sex Toys for Tots
Silence of the Goats
Socks to Be You
What What in the Butt
(I apologize if I missed anyone or any names are misspelled!)
The night began at the coolest bar ever! It had a orange cat who spent his/her time sleeping and scratching the shit out of me. I loved every second of the sadism. However what was almost just as cool was that this would be Pounded in the Cans first ever hared trail for the BFM! She now truly is ours, Pittsburgh! Her co-hare happened to be our new RA and past GM, Fort Dixalot. Together they laid one epic trail filled with butt slaps and paintings of vegetables.
The group gathered outside for circle, where Egg Fucker introduced us to the one and only CONE OF SHAME/ SILENCE. Unfortunately Egg Fucker and the CONE OF SHAME/SILENCE did not make it on trail so instead Emo Kid found us a new CONE OF SHAME/SILENCE that was just a tad dirtier and may or may not have been covering a manhole or something. The Cone was not the only thing forgotten on trail that night either. We all made sure to shame Ass Ass 'Nation for forgetting our horn. Too bad we didn't have the CONE OF SHAME/SILENCE to perch upon her head. Slothy Seconds showed up late too but we forgave her because she's a sloth and all. At circle besides the usual marks, we had marks for shot quests and butt checks. I'm still confused to why the butt check mark is a 'W'.
Once we headed off into the abyss of Poplar we hit our first song check only to butcher the lovely "Jack the Necrophiliac". I teared up as symphony of voices screeched out loud at various intervals. I may have also teared up because it was cold as my non-existent balls and dick outside too. Luckily we hashers are some smart people and began to jump to keep warm because penguin huddles are over rated now. I'm happy to say "El Camino", started by Silence of the Goats and Sex Toys for Tots was a bit more successful. On our way to the shot quest I passed a lovely muggle who wished me a happy birthday and inquired to why a bunch of people were running in 20 degree weather. I believe this statement was meant for 60k9, but I understand the mix up.
Our shot quest wasn't much of a quest, as it was more of a shot near. Was it the best shot quest ever though! We downed jello shots and half frozen gummy bears soaked in god knows what. During this time we learned that Silence of the Goats is indeed a tooth doctor, know matter what she or the medical board of Pennsylvania says. Some were skeptical most likely due to goats confirming she does not indeed Vajazzle*.
Back on trail Emo Kid showed all of us off as he sprinted past while smoking what I assumed were Camel Crushes. At this time Judge Doody and I were debating a Just's name. Judge Doody insisted it was Eugene. It was not Eugene. However this reminded me of the Hey Arnold! character, Eugene*. You know who's the Eugene of hash I realized in that moment? Goats. Goats is Eugene! It all made sense now. We still don't know that Just's name to this day. While she may be klutzy, this didn't stop Goats and Bitch $hots from giving me a double ass slap. It was the highlight of my year so far, along with teaching Goats what Goating* was as well. I told her she was going to make up half of my trash. I also danced by myself to some lovely music coming out of a random building.
As we trekked on to our Beer Near, Orgy almost killed her dog Suki, in which she declared is why she does not have children. Suki is one tough pup though and made it by the hair of the dog! As we arrived to our Beer Near we soon discovered it was a green house in which a homeless person had been squatting in, according to Pounded in the Can. While I never like intruding rudely into someones home, I was very cold and wet. I had somehow spilled water all over myself and my notes while running. Perhaps I'm the Eugene of the group... I chuggwed half a beer with my fellow hashers as we explored our new abode. There were not just dead vegetables, which What What assumed were spinach but had too much common sense to eat, as suggested by myself. Stacked in the back of the green house, we discovered paintings of every vegetable and fruit possible. I pretended to deep throat a cucumber while holding a peach painting in front of my vaj hasher style. What What and I tried to figure out what a parsippany was too. After further google research, i'm still not sure.
After leaving the green house we came across a fabulous playground with equipment that looked like it belonged in a torture dungeon. The medieval contraption even put a splinter in Bah Ram Him's ass. Then we were back in the Institution to warm up and begin circle! Accusations were thrown around like Donald Trumps tiny hands. Taintless Love was called out for what I personally thought was a very classy cut off t-shirt. With his nipples hard, it was hard to redirect my attention enough to see there was a jug labeled PCP on it. I was also feeling hot and heavy around Egg Fucker when I realized after staring at his crotch, that his zipper was undone. Accusation called. Along with these Ass Ass 'Nation was called out for digging up Silence of the Goats butt, Seamen on the Poop Deck for not wearing his usual turtle neck, and Bah Ram Him for not only puking on trail but losing his ID as well to Sex Toys for Tots. Hah! Who's the Where's my D now? What What (or should i say Runner Girl) took this time to also announce her Fat Boy trail on March 12th and Taco Tuesday March 7th. We did a side-side with 60k9 for his birthday and circle was closed with Jumping Ryan ceremoniously turning into a chicken.
If you have gotten this far than bless your little heart! See you half-minds soon!
Where's my D?
*Vajazzle- Vajazzle is a verb that means to put bright and shiny stickers on your vagina. It can sometimes hurt. ("Vajazzle". Urban Dictionary. N.p., n.d. Wed. 22 Feb. 2017.)
*Eugene- Eugene is the class Jinx despite his name meaning "born lucky"...He is prone to several forms of misfortune.("Eugene Horowitz." Hey Arnold Wiki. N.p., n.d. Wed. 22 Feb. 2017.)
*Goating- Putting your balls under you ass when you moon someone screeming "GOAT!!!!" ("Goating". Urban Dictionary. N.p., n.d. Wed 22 Feb. 2017.)
A triumphant start for the new mismanagment under Sex Toys for Tots. A crew some are already calling "Legendary":
February ninth marks a new day in hash history as the highly anticipated 2017 Mismanagement mismanaged their first hash. It is only fitting the that the Chinese calendar would fall on the year of the cock for this crew. What a glorious test of the unwavering resolve of our new mismanagement as they were struck with every kind of disaster one could think of.
The sky opened up that morning as the gods decided to start their test of worthiness. White stuff you try to catch in your mouth descended from the sky in dumpster loads. Although the first test was cumbersome and claimed a few of our mismanagement and some of our disciples, our more faithful zealots braved the wintery weather and made the 3598 km hike to the designated rendezvous. Amongst those lost, Fort Dixalot and Slothy Seconds (our current and former religious advisors), were the hardest felt losses. A few Hashers entered the rendezvous point, The Field House, early and raised mugs and danced in the honor of those who have sacrificed their hash for us. After Goose, Goats, 60k9, Taintless love, Sex toys and just Micah had completed the honor ceremony they quickly devised a war plan for the upcoming test and awaited the arrival of fellow hashers.
The wind howled outside with a piercing scream as the gods reminded us what was in store beyond those rattling gates. Hashers started to pile into the field house as more and more worried looks began to be tossed around. Those looks of course were from patron strangers who understood that once we left we may not return. As the time approached and morale was starting to waiver, we were corralled outside where our surviving RA,Post traumatic goose disorder, met us with a warm hearty monster truck “ WELCOME WELCOME WELCOME”. Immediately spirits began to lift up as he described the Trail that our advanced party , Pantyfile and Sox to Be You, had laid out for us. Hope soared as we gave faith that they had found the safest and shortest route to our rewarded destination of more alcohol…...back at the Field House……..but we didn’t overthink it.
As we we set out on trail, Mismanagement struggled to keep the crew Whole. Short handed as they were they nearly lost one of their foundation members to a vicious hash crash. Turning the corner, Taintless love, hit a patch of magic invisible ice where he came crashing with all his might down to the earth. Due to his quick reflexes and all around awesomeness, he was able to recover swiftly without damage. This was fortuitous, for losing Taintless Love would surely spell the BFMs demise. The crew then realized the dangers and toils they may face ahead. After many false trails ending confusingly with a tennis ball, Taintless was able to deduce that the Hares had marked false trails by simply throwing tennis balls covered in flour. They really dropped the ball. Their slight of hand revealed we were able to move along quicker. Our journeys lead us to a dangerous land where creatures only existed with half heads. Thinking quickly, Goose covered half of his head and hid amongst them distracting and confusing the creatures allowing us the ability to sneak by. We moved so quickly compared to them it was almost as if they were mannequins. Goose couldn’t have reacted at a more crucial time as Goats and Taintless were all mixed up.
Emotions ran high as lives were changing that fateful night. Our brave and humble leader alleviated his guilt upon Taintless shoulders. He confessed he had all the pictures of the shirtless guys at our hash in a personal folder named
“Not my masturbation folder. Seriously.” and that Taintless was 56% of it. Taintless then in turn admit that he had an extra warm face mask the whole time that Sex Toys could’ve borrowed. After 4 gruelling Miles to the first meet up with hares, We refueled our muscle engines with dependable bud light and berated the hares for being absolutely terrible. This was quite the shitty trail. As morale dipped dangerously low the again quick reflexes of Taintless roared a warning to a group of hashers who were almost pulverized by a motorized vehicle. His warning allowed the hashers, specifically Pounded in the can, enough time to react.
Another confusing terrible mile passed us by before we realized we probably know the way back to the Field house better then the hares.
Our fearless GM sex toys, let out a bellowing cry “ COME WITH ME IF YOU WANT TO LIVE”. With no feeling left in our fingers we dug deep and followed him on the path to victory, and more beer! Seeing as how the hares had done bad and should feel bad, Goats beat them back to the rendezvous and pantsed Pantyfile who smiled and took it like expected.
Thanks to the tireless efforts of our new mismanagement, we suffered no further losses and the group finished whole. Celebrations immediately commenced as our Ra, with notes written on his hand like a teleprompter, Goose lead a vigorous circle with many accusations being directed towards the hares. It was not all finger pointing, Macguyver muff diver was whisked into a side side for the annual reminder of his birth. After circle was closed we brought a travel hasher into our fold and bestowed upon him our own BFM name. Much deliberation ensued but after a well organized democratic process conducted by the new mismanagement, a name was offered and voted on. From this day forth Upper Cunt shall forever at BFM be known as EL Poopa Cabra!
When: 26 JAN 2017
Where: Drinker's Tavern
Hares: Tinkle Bell, The Angry 1"
26 JAN 2016, 5:20AM
Would that I had never awoken today! I just had the most fantastic dream! I was stranded north of the Wall and a thousand wildlings were closing in on me, nearly as fast as the once-in-a-generation blizzard that had eradicated my entire scouting party. Just as I was preparing to draw my last breath, Jon Snow, shirtless and stunning, emerged amidst the white-out to rescue me! However, he looked and sounded just like Fort Dixalot! (but it was really Jon Snow.) I mean, Jon Snow was rescuing me, but it was Fort Dixalot too… but it also wasn’t weird at all! When he offered me his direwolf pelt and a freshly slain deer shank – I melted! Just as we were settling in to bivouac, I was stirred awake by a fire engine outside my window! Oh Diary, I can only imagine what dark desires could have been fulfilled had I only remained asleep a few moments longer!
26 JAN 2016, 7:00AM
I was so agitated this morning that I could hardly eat breakfast. Such a shame too, because mom made her famous Cap ‘n Crunch crusted, blueberry and almond french toast! She looked at me cross eyed when I told her that I wasn’t hungry. But I just couldn’t eat!! I mean, how could I, when my stomach was still churning from my northern adventures with Fort Dixalot!!? Oh, I hope he sees me at hash tonight… I’m going to wear my most impressive onesie! I wonder, does he even know that I’m alive!??
26 JAN 2016, 8:55AM
Oh Diary, I’m so mad right now I could JUST DIE!! The whole bus ride to school I was mustering the courage to FINALLY tell Fort Dixalot how I feel! Right before homeroom, I swear we made eyes, and I knew that he had noticed my Charizard onesie! I was just about to make my move when LITTLE MISS PERFECTS SILENCE OF THE GOATS AND SLOTHY SECONDS SWOOPED IN TO STEAL HIS ATTENTION! Oh, I hate those two, with their perfect bodies and non-existent tan lines!! And their calves!! Ummm, hello? Venus de Milo called and SHE WANTS HER FUCKING LEGS BACK! UUUGH they are the worst!! I wish I could just clunk their heads together tonight in the most satisfying hash crash ever! LOL! Oh diary, I should not think such thoughts!!
26 JAN 2016, 12:15PM
Lunchtime. Of course Slothy and Goats sat with Fort Dixalot; they even carried his tray for him! Gag me – they are so pathetic!! Today I had lunch with Gay Matthews Lamb, Gellatio, Goose and Commando Christ. Most of us went with the standard fare: pizza rolls or cheese fries. Goose, to my amazement, brought in a bag-lunch consisting of $40 worth of leftover Chinese food!! Man, he is so cool! I wish he didn't live so far away in Manayunk, otherwise we'd be besties!
A few “Justs” asked if they could join us, and we were happy to accept them. There was Just Mego – she had really cool hair, and a pair of Just Lisas – who were a blast! I have a good feeling about this bunch! Just Emo Kid sat by himself at the other end of our table again, reading his Kerrang! magazine and looking all Emo. I think on Monday I’ll ask him to slide on over to join us too.
26 JAN 2016, 2:20PM
I forgot to tell you! Earlier at lunch Commando confided in me that he doesn’t wear undees at all. Like… EVER!! Gross!! I have to admit though, I’m a little curious! I think I may give it a try. After all, you can’t knock it until you’ve tried it!! I wonder if… Ooooh, there’s the bell – time to jet, THURSDAY IS A HASHING NIGHT!!
26 JAN 2016, 8:22PM
Chalk Talk!! So Silence of the Goats and Slothy Seconds delivered, guess what, ANOTHER brilliant chalk talk tonight. God they’re just SOOOOO perfect. (blech!) Slothy even slipped the word “penultimate” into her introduction for good measure! (umm, I had to look it up!!) Jeez, what DON’T these chicks do!!? I think Slothy got like a PERFECT score on her SAT! (btw, penultimate means: second to last.)
26 JAN 2016, 10:02PM
Tonight’s trail has been fantastically shitty! Tinkle Bell and the Angry Inch (prediction, next year's impossibly adorable Hash Prom King and Queen!) laid maybe the straightest, laziest trail of all time! There were several checks that didn’t veer anywhere, as well as plenty of song checks, J-checks and my favorite, the butt-slap check! Yes Diary, I know what you’re about to ask and NO, I didn’t poise myself to be slapped by Fort Dixalot. He doesn’t even know I exist! Oh, I would just die if he ever touched me like that!
The beer near was lots of fun. I was sad not to see Commando Christ at the mid-run interlude, but unfortunately… HE HURT! Perhaps I’ll catch him at circle later.
26 JAN 2016, 10:40PM
Have I had it ALL WRONG!?? After the beer near I had the most epic hash crash!! I slipped on a Center City Restaurant Week flyer (XOXO Philly?? F$%! you!) and came crashing to the pavement, skinning my knee. After composing myself, I looked up to find two willing hands offering assistance, belonging to none other than Silence of the Goats and Slothy Seconds!! I was so mortified by my hash crash, but Slothy and Goats were gracious and very comforting! Silence of the Goats reassured me, saying, “Don’t worry Gag, it happens to the best of us!” and Slothy recommended her favorite Halo Top ice cream – her preferred remedy when life has her feeling blue.
Diary, I am such a wretch!! I feel so guilty that my jealousy led me to judge Slothy and Goats so poorly! OH and, I nearly forgot the best part! After I finally regained my footing after my fall, Fort Dixalot ran by, (glided gracefully is more like it), patted me on the rear and said “Shake if off Gag, your first beer tonight is on me!” Oh diary, don’t be offended, but this may be my last entry for a while… I think I’ve finally discovered where I belong!!
27 JAN 2016, 12:17AM
P.S. When I ask Just Emo Kid to join us for lunch on Monday... Remind me to drop the “just”.
GAG REFLEX, YEAR OF THE DIX, THE GOAT & THE SLOTH
Ben Franklin Mob
Always runs on Thursdays at 7:30 PM with the pack out at 8 from various Philadelphia locations.