BFMH3-145 - The Mob Gets a Boner
Posted on November 30, 2006
30 November 2006 – PHILADELPHIA: Anyone who has traveled via airplane in the last few years knows that air travel is no longer glamorous. If you’re lucky enough to actually fit into your seat and have row-mates that aren’t spilling out of theirs, it’s likely the small child seated directly behind you will be practicing karate on your seatback for the entire flight. The lovely phenomenon of global warming has caused extreme weather, practically ensuring that your trip will feature some turbulence. Or you’ll be seated next to someone who is sneezing uncontrollably, is hacking up phlegm, and is quite possibly infected with Ebola. (Speaking of Ebola, does anyone remember when SARS was the communicable disease du jour? Good thing I realized it was just a passing trend and decided not the splurge on the Louis Vuitton SARS mask…) And let’s not forget the ever-dreaded perpetually crying baby. Unfortunately, it doesn’t get much better in first class. The last time I was upgraded to first, I wasn’t even offered alcohol because the prehistoric flight attendant assumed I was underage. Oh, the horror! How can one be expected to fly sober? All of this unpleasantness aside, nothing compares to this flight. I suddenly don’t feel so victimized by my experiences….
It must have been the unseasonably warm late November weather because an unprecedented number of hashers turned out for the BFM’s 145th hash at Cavanaugh’s in University City. Upon arriving at the bar I immediately flashed my ID and headed down to the basement to stow my bag. The BFM’s unofficial subterranean haunt was empty, but a large crowd had formed by the upstairs bar and it just kept growing. By the time the straws were gathered, the pack expanded to include Big Tackle, Cousin It, E=MyCock², Europeen’ on Me, Fruit of the Clue, Jingle Balls, Just Dana, Just Jen, Just Kelly, Mayor Quimby, Nice Nuggets Fat Ass, Plastic Pud, Rear Engineer, Scooby Snatch, Sloppy Ho, Sly Fox, Snowball, Stacks, Strap On, Tickle My Elmo, Two Clump Chump, Up Her Alley, Virgin Pimp, and Well Hung Jury. With our GM absent, Nice Nuggets Fat Ass offered straws to the boisterous pack. Ironically, once each hasher had chosen a straw, she was left with the short one. Unconcerned about the latest criminal on the loose in University City, who had been menacing young women in classic Philadelphia style, Nice Nuggets scampered off with nothing more than ten pounds of flour for protection. Granted, if I were a screwdriver wielding nutcase, I’d surely realize that the person covered in orange-colored baking ingredients scrawling strange symbols on the sidewalk should probably be avoided and move on to a more desirable target.
The waiting hounds soon became restless and decided to start their pursuit of the hare. The trail snaked north toward Market St. before turning south and back into the UPenn campus. The hashers ran through the engineering quad and crossed 34th St, allowing Stacks the opportunity to almost literally run into a colleague in front of the library. Entering the main campus quad, the BFM beheld the spectacle that was the UPenn Outing Club’s Winterfest for Wildlife event, complete with a campfire and tents. (In reality this is probably a noble organization, but is it just me or does that name make it sound like it’s a club for exposing closeted gays?) The hare’s orange flour blobs lead the pack along the Locust Walk which was lit with pretty holiday lights and then west to the 40th St. commercial area. Finally the trail meandered back to the bar, with the familiar, friendly On In promising that camaraderie and beer were not far away.
Miraculously, the pack stayed mostly together and was soon comfortably established in the basement of Cavanaugh’s, quenching its thirst with pitcher after pitcher of lager. Once enough beer was gathered to sustain the circle, RA Scooby Snatch opened up the floor for down downs.
Hare:
Nice Nuggets Fat Ass – whose trail was faulted for not enough police presence, not enough hot guys, and not enough shiggy
Virgins:
Just Dana and Just Kelly – brought by Just Jen and hospitably offered condoms from the ladies’ room by Strap On
First In/Last In:
E=MyCock² and both virgins, because when one virgin drinks….
Cums Lately:
Well Hung Jury, Rear Engineer, Mayor Quimby, Just Jen and Cousin It, who paused to grab a handful of condoms the virgins had rejected on his way into the circle
Autohasher:
Just Manish – who sported a suspicious-looking cast on his forearm
Accusations:
Tickle My Elmo – for having tech on trail, with fellow GM Scooby Snatch
Big Tackle – for uncharacteristically not having tech on trail, with fellow on secs Stacks, Nice Nuggets Fat Ass, and Hold the Sausage
Holy F*ck – for sneaking in dead f*cking last
Snowball – for leaving the BFM for California, with fellow ball Jingle Balls
Just Manish – for his cast – the official offense is “hitch-hiking on trail,” for those who are taking notes
Scooby Snatch – for creative choreography in the circle, will fellow GM Tickle My Elmo
Naming:
On this particular evening, Just Jen was determined to be in desperate need of a name. Her friends Just Dana and Just Kelly were called into the circle too, in hopes that they would divulge some scandalous information that might help in the naming process, or at least provide general entertainment. After seemingly endless badgering and down downs for their silence, the virgins were released from the circle and the name suggestions began. Among the contenders were Shirtless in Seattle, Who’s on You First?, Anal Probation, and Stairway to Heaven. A commendable group effort eventually resulted in the name that personified Just Jen above all others. With the BFMers as witnesses and by the power (in)vested in our illustrious RA, Just Jen was welcomed into the great brotherhood of hashers as Anal Proboner.
Really DFL:
Just Michelle, unofficially known as Mrs. Robinson – who first encountered the BFM many weeks ago
Contest:
While traveling to DC, Scooby Snatch obtained some haberdashery from the S.H.*.T. hash which he offered to the pack in exchange for the best sh*t-themed story. A multitude of stories, both bad and really bad, ensued. Ultimately the winner was Sloppy Ho with her heartwarming, personal story about sh*tting by the DC Metro. Second place went to Europeen’ on Me for her story that gave new, not necessarily pleasurable, meaning to the term “dirty sex.”
The winners were awarded their prizes and the circle was finally closed. Having lasted for what seemed like hours and having featured what seemed like hundreds of down downs, the lengthy circle left a number of hashers feeling rather weary. Something besides a simple beer was in order and thus the first of many shots was ordered and gulped down upstairs at the bar. Several Dirty Girl Scouts later, the proud BFM had dissolved into a pack of inebriated fools gyrating to bad hip hop music in a manner almost indistinguishable from the resident underage college students that usually populate Cavanaugh’s bar. The hashers blended into the crowd so well that several locals became confused and tried to dance salaciously with Holy F*ck and your humble scribe, providing endless amusement for the onlookers, especially when the efforts of the brave young men were promptly and decisively rejected. Slowly the BFM began to temporarily halt its debauchery and disperse into the night. Some eagerly moved on to an all-night diner. Some regretfully ate at the aforementioned all-night diner. Others had enough brain cells that weren’t completely saturated with alcohol and opted to go home. Thus concluded another successful gathering of the BFMH3, see you wankers next week….
On On,
Hold the Sausage
Overheard at the hash:
Bartender: The short guy ordered this beer.
Hasher: Him? (pointing to Two Clump)
Bartender: He wasn’t that short.
Bartender: Oh, it was that guy! (pointing to E=MyCock², who happened to about and inch taller than him)
Holy F*ck: I want a wiener!
Plastic Pud: I have to go home and water my plant.
E=MyCock²: Do not encourage the ninja sh*t, you f*ckers! It’s all fun and games to you!
Holy F*ck: You touched his wee-wee?
Europeen’ on Me: Not on purpose!
Two Clump Chump: I just need pussy flavored wings.
Chick in neighboring bathroom stall: Hey!
Boy audible on speaker phone: What are you doing?
Chick in neighboring bathroom stall: Peeing in the bathroom!!!
Announcements:
Remember to fill Sly Fox’s stockings for charity!
Full Moon on Friday with Jello Shots!
Filed Under Trash |
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