BFM #110 - Strap On-In
Posted on March 30, 2006
30 March 2006 – PHILADELPHIA: For some of us, the adventure started well before we even reached the site of the BFM’s 110th hash, the Triangle Tavern. The address of the bar is 1338 Reed St., which in accordance with normal Philadelphia city planning, would put it very near to the intersection of 13th and Reed. Oh, but Philly is tricky. 1338 Reed St. is actually at the intersection of 10th and Reed, a slightly farther walk from the ever classy public transit system. Philly 1; HTS 0.
Once I actually made it to the bar I joined a crowd that included Cunnilingus Interruptus, Cunting Season, E=MyCock2, Fiber Opdick, Little F*cking Winkie, Lil’ Red Riding Wood, Rash, Skin Fiddle, Stacks, and Strap On. On this fine Thursday, the mob was graced with the presence of two visitors, Monday Sticky Monday and Sloppy Ho, from one of the many fine hashes in our nation’s capital. Soon Bastard Child and Beer Sucks sauntered in with Tastes Like Chicken arriving shortly afterward. Cunting Season offered straws and the shortest one went to the most diminutive hasher, Strap On. Mrs. MyCock2 dutifully scampered off with her bag of flour and after waiting for Tickle My Elmo’s wardrobe change, the mob headed out in pursuit.
The rather extensive trail prominently featured what hashers lovingly refer to as “the projects.” In this vicinity, some female hashers enjoyed catcalls that seemingly emanated from an open car trunk. Closer inspection revealed that there was actually a person in the trunk, presumably fixing something. It was around this time that I heard an unhappy grunt at my side. Cunnilingus Interruptus had stepped in *something* squishy. “Smell the bottom of my feet?” he offered. Sorry buddy, you at least have to buy this girl a drink before she smells any body parts. After losing trail several times the mob seemed to give up actually looking and coincidentally became oblivious to flour blobs inches from their feet. Mark on the light post anyone? Finally, the trail meandered through the Italian Market and past the Tur-duck-en store (refer to BFM 48) before finally heading On-In. By this point most of the pack was just following E anyways. Outside the bar, the mob was greeted by a familiar bicycle with blinking red lights which could only signify the arrival of Popeye’s Bitch. Once the mob had a chance to refuel with some liquid carbs, the lieutenant RA Skin Fiddle convened the rowdy circle and decreed that everyone stand. The down-downs followed as such:
Hare:
Strap On (to loud complaints that she did not include a beer check like her husband)
First In/Last In:
E (who navigated by wife-ESP rather than actually searching for the trail) and Skin Fiddle (I had no idea you can still find vintage pink tie-dye)
Visitors:
Monday Sticky Monday (Sloppy Ho made him cum) elected to serenade the BFM with “If your gf tastes like sh*t….”
Sloppy Ho (E made both of them cum….Hmmm….), who indulged the mob with not one, but two bad jokes.
Q: What was the pirate movie rated?
A: Arrrrr!
–and–
Q: What do you call cheese that’s not yours?
A: Nacho cheese!
Autohasher:
Popeye’s Bitch (let the record show Skin Fiddle did not collide with him this week)
Violations:
Strap On for missing last week’s hash for her sorority
Rash for going to a Model UN meeting (give her a break, she’s a board member)
Cunting Season because she likes ‘em small
Monday Sticky Monday for tech on trail (he timed the trail but ironically forgot to stop his watch at the finish)
Announcements:
Cousin It’s tailgate in August
Reading’s 650th was Saturday April 1st
Not long after the circle closed Sly Fox (sporting very nice shoes) and Just Craig slinked into the Triangle. It was around this time that a heated discussion began, regarding Popeye’s Bitch’s alleged cheap feel of Fiber Opdick’s ass.
“It’s not like I enjoyed it!” – PB
“Do you even have an ass?” – Lil’ Red Riding Wood, to Fiber Opdick
(no further research was conducted to answer this question)
Eventually, the hash cash was depleted and the mob began to disperse. The hash went in peace, presumably some of us got a piece, and rest assured we’ll all be back for more….
On On,
Hold the Sausage
Filed Under Trash |
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