BFM3-136 The Mob Cums Twice
Posted on September 28, 2006
PHILADELPHIA: So this is going to sound familiar. It’s Thursday and I still haven’t finished the trash. Television and having an actual life are partially to blame, but this afternoon I honestly just opted to disinfect my thrift store dress for the DC RDR. That’s an important task people. I think you can excuse a tardy trash by taking solace in the fact that I won’t be contracting herpes from a garment of dubious origin this weekend. And I can take solace in the fact that I now know why Philadelphia drivers are so incompetent. So here goes….
After a rare on-time arrival and a slightly dubious choice of parking spot, I entered For Pete’s Sake and joined a crowd that included ANALytical, Bumper Humper, Can You Hear Me Now?, Cousin It, Cunting Season, Egotesticle, Europeen’ on Me, Fruit of the Clue, Just Jeremy, Just John, Little F*cking Winkie, Nice Nuggets Fat Ass, Pelvis Has Left the Building, Plastic Pud, Rash, Snowball, Stacks, Tickle My Elmo, Two Clump Chump, and Up Her Alley. The pack was counted, straws were gathered, and the short one was selected by Tickle My Elmo. The brave hare journeyed out with a bag of white flour. Why does this detail make him brave? If you somehow failed to get the memo, refer to BFMH3 #15 or BFMH3 #32. Or refer to this. Not quite so brave autohashers He’s a Lesbian and Skin Fiddle elected to stay behind at the bar and get a head start on the drinking while the mob trudged outdoors for the chalk talk. Always an excellent orator, GM Cunting Season delivered an outstanding chalk talk and then promptly left the mob for something better. Word on the street is that she left in search of drugs.
Now entirely unsupervised, the mob decided to look for trail. This proved to be an unusually difficult task. However, the tenacious pack prevailed and sniffed out the first mark. Unfortunately, subsequent marks were no easier to find and the mob floundered in such memorable locations as a parking lot and the projects. At least the trail was interesting. It led west out of the bar, then wrapped east and over that big bridge toward South St. Despite its colorful inhabitants, the BFM always garners quizzical looks and probing questions on South St. and this evening was no exception. The trail finally wound through Society Hill and by Pennsylvania Hospital before offering up a lengthy tour of Philadelphia’s subsidized housing developments en route to the bar. It was at this point that the confounded mob lingered at a check while Nice Nuggets Fat Ass, Two Clump Chump, and I forged on employing the logic that if we went southeast we would eventually find trail. We did find trail, as well as a talking dumpster. Okay, it wasn’t really a talking dumpster. But the dumpster totally obliterated the speaker and the idea of a talking dumpster is much more comical. The dumpster’s dialogue:
“Y’all are in the ghetto. Better watch out. I’m gonna get ya!”
I was pretty frightened. And by frightened I mean I asked the dumpster to repeat himself so I could get the quote right for the trash. This was immediately followed by a man on a bike enthusiastically barking. Philadelphia is just so endearing, no?
Once the entire pack was safely back at the bar, E=MyCock² and Strap On arrived. Apparently they had arrived very late and opted to run the trail anyway. Before the sweat began to dry, the mob was faced with a quandary. For Pete’s Sake was in reality a slightly classier establishment than those the BFM usually frequents. Everyone soon agreed that the staff and patrons would probably band together and throw us out if we attempted to start the circle. And surprisingly we do try to avoid being thrown out of Philly bars. At least when we’re all still sober. It was time to select a second bar for the evening. Luckily, the resourceful vice-RA Skin Fiddle went on a bar hunting mission and eventually led the mob to salvation in the form of the New Wave Café.
The bartenders at the New Wave easily recognized the mob and directed us to our usual back room. Pitchers were procured and soon a very disturbing display took place. For no explicable reason, Rash was singled out and treated to a very extensive serenade. She looked scared. She had reason to be scared. Having successfully persecuted an innocent harriette, the mob opened the circle.
Hare:
Tickle My Elmo – but he was back at Pete’s eating, so we’ll wait for him
Visitor:
ANALytical – from Ann Arbor – our website made him cum – he chose to expose a body part for the BFM (as soon as his hands went toward his pants I looked away, but the groans suggested that it wasn’t pretty)
First In/Last In:
ANALytical and E=MyCock² – with other Michigan native Snowball
Autohashers:
He’s a Lesbian and Skin Fiddle
Accusations:
Plastic Pud – for sporting a r*ce shirt
Little F*cking Winkie – for his shiny new shoes
Hold the Sausage – for tech in the circle
Rash – for failing to post the trash in a timely manner
Little F*cking Winkie – because like Rash he’s an ex GM
Egotesticle and Hold the Sausage – for both wearing Joe Boxer undies – yes kids, we totally planned it
Tickle My Elmo – because he finally showed up at the New Wave to do his down-down
The circle was then closed for approximately thirty seconds then reopened in honor of Just Michelle, a woman of a certain age who followed the BFM to the New Wave at Rash’s suggestion. With that the circle was closed permanently for the evening. And I made a rare early exit. So I really don’t know what happened afterwards. But I’m going to offer my own conjecture. Some people got drunk. Someone stayed sober. Somebody got laid. Most everyone else did not. Somebody gave too much information. Somebody tried to hit on the locals and was rejected. That’s my story and I’m sticking to it.
On On,
Hold the Sausage
Announcements:
10/13/06 – Philly Full Moon hared by Stacks
Filed Under Trash |
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