I’m sitting at work realizing it’s Thursday already [crap. didn’t do the trash.], and despite “real work” deadlines [my boss is out today], I wouldn’t want to disappoint you fine hashers [whiney bitches] by not having the trash. Thinking ONLY of your best interests [don’t wanna drink for it later], I’ve pushed everything else aside [checking MySpace and lunch at the sushi bar], locked my door [doesn’t actually have a lock], held all my calls [no one's called so far. I am important. Really.].   The problem is my memory [drunk] and my handwriting [again, DRUNK] on this tiny notepad I borrowed last week from Europee’n [also drunk], along with the fact that Lick Hymen [gay] was not there and I can’t pepper the trash with random observations and innuendoes about him [sure can]. Bear with me.

 

The Mob flocked to Skin Fiddle’s for his annual pre-Labor Day hash last week…mostly for the famous chicken wings and fine beer selection. Why is there a holiday to celebrate Labor anyway?     

 

Who came earlier: Skin Fiddle, Hold The Sausage, Sloppy Ho, Europee’n on Me, Holy Fuck, Likes the Hard One, Sly Fox, Popeye’s Bitch, Just Alison, Well Hung Jury, Fire Down Under, 2 Clump Chump, Teen Beat, Rear Engineer, Scamming Old Ladies, Lunar Digit, Mulva, Fiber Opdick, Soft Core Anaylyst, Virgin Pimp, Where’s My Vagina?, The S&M Man, Jingle Ballzzz, Allturd Boy Just Jon, Major Piece of Ass, Festering Beanie Baby, Just Dan, Just Kyle, Just Brian, Just Marcel, Allturd Boy, Anal Proboner, Cause for Blindness, E=My Cock Squared, Strap On, The Horse Whacker, Son of a Goat Fucker.

 

Who came later: Scooby Snatch, Nice Nuggets…Fat Ass, Nappy Headed Ho, Sloppy Ass Kisser, Just Meg, Up Her Ali, Tickle My Elmo, She Man, Deep Flute, Beagle, Fruit of the Clue, Bastard Child, The Rash, Pelvis has Left the Building, Mr Snuffleupamuff.

 

It seemed like we had as many guests and virgins as our regulars. There was limited space in Fiddle’s courtyard, so many hashers waited on the sidewalk for the chalk talk as a giant can of “OFF” was being passed around to help ward off “alleged” bugs.   As people were slathering the shit on, I couldn’t help but notice how great this bug spray smelled, like a fine French parfum. Or Loves Baby Soft, as Anal Proboner suggested.   Teen Beat agreed: “Smells like a teenage girl perfume.” To which 2 Clump questioned the visitor: “Whoa…did you just say it smells like a teenage girl?”   I waved the can away, but Friday morning, with bites down my legs, I wished I’d stunk like a teenage girl that night too.

 

The Mob volunteered Virgin Pimp as the hare and then told newcomer Where’s My Vagina? to go with him. We felt a little badly about it afterwards, sending her off alone with Pimp, plus the fact she’s from San Francisco and probably had no clue where she was.    There was no inclination that this would become the latest hash match. “I’m guessing they are not hooking up,” someone said.

 

Sloppy Ho commenced the “chalk talk” and some of our visitors and virgins were brought into the circle, including Just Dan who Likes the Hard One (aww…), Just Marcel from the Albania HHH, Scamming Old Ladies from Tokyo and St Louis … apparently he was involved in several pyramid schemes, and Teen Beat from Reading HHH.   We could see a limping figure in the distance heading for our circle, who we soon recognized as Cause for Blindness. She excitedly announced that her purple cast had been removed (from her drunk dock jumping/flipping incident at Mayor Quimby’s party, in case you’ve been in a coma or dark hole the past month). She now has a black moon boot.

 

We gave the hares another 5 minutes after chalk talk, and then the pack was off, wafting of eau de teenage girl.    We came to our first check a block away, which looked more like a “Y.”   Could be a San Francisco thing. The Mob ran toward Spring Garden and made it across with the stealthiness of Frogger.  But the trail immediately disappeared and we had to backtrack across this street finding trail headed toward the right .  I should note that this is one of the many times the trail changed direction with no check or arrow.  “This is terrible – no one puts checks anymore!” Popeye’s Bitch wailed.   A block later we lost trail again… a pattern that would keep repeating.  

 

We ran around the block and saw a lovely little bar that would be perfect for an impromptu beer check called the Green Room, but no one was willing to give it up just yet.   Some drunk guy stumbled out of the bar and noticed us standing there looking all athlete-like and stuff.  “All you marathon people… assalamalegum!”    That’s how he pronounced it. I’m not even going to bother spell-checking.   We soon picked up trail going toward Spring Garden again… wait… this is the exact same block we just ran down a minute ago!   Even so, we continued over Spring Garden AGAIN, looking like fools, with no trail in site. 

 

The Mob then found something even better than flour or anthrax… a live hare!   Yes, Virgin Pimp had indeed lost his Vagina on trail, and looked completely flabbergasted when the Mob caught up to him.   The question was… Where is My Vagina? “Has anyone seen My Vagina?”  We stood on the street corner for a while yelling these and other variations…with no reply.  Our words disappeared into the gaping dark hole of the night.  Obviously Virgin Pimp was inexperienced at finding Vagina, so he was of no use to us.

 

Standing on the corner, we made the executive decision to head back to the Green Room for a beer check, but as soon as we took off, we were immediately averted by Rear Engineer. “On left!” he yelled as he cut across our path.   We followed him for exactly a block until the trail dead-ended once again. Ok, now can we go?  

 

On the way to the bar, 2 Clump Chump speculated that the dead ended trail could have been from last week.   Rear Engineer disagreed: “I swear that was a fresh clump.”   “He knows his Clumps,”  2 Clump said, confirming what I believe we already knew.  

 

When you lose your Vagina, you go drink beer. There were lots of drunks in The Green Room tonight…our initial assessment that they would have “cheap pitchers” due to the blue collar appearance of the place and the patrons, turned out to be waaaay off!   Thankfully, Virgin Pimp (reluctantly), Jingle Ballzzz and Teen Beat fronted the 100 bucks we needed to cover it.   We stayed at the bar for a pretty long while to give Skin Fiddle more time alone with Cause for Blindness back at the house. And to cook chicken wings.

 

Eventually E=MyCockSquared strolled in the bar. Of course he’d actually found the trail when 30 of us couldn’t.   Of course he’d already run the entire thing. And naturally, he managed to find us at this random unscheduled beer check, in a bar that had no marks in front of it indicating we’d be inside.   It’s a little creepy how he does this.   Also creepy = Virgin Pimp apparently getting his “game on” with some chick at the bar.   According to 2 Clump, “It’s like watching turtles having sex on the nature channel. It’s disgusting, but you just can’t look away.” 

 

Even creepier … Fiber Opdick and Popeye getting cozy in a bench, supposedly talking about “chicks,” as Fiber playfully kisses Popeye’s cheek.   When we finally left the bar, Popeye expressed his growing concern over being the object of Fiber Opdick’s affection: “There’s funny… and then there’s you’ve-done-it-so-many-times-I’m-beginning-to-wonder.”  At that moment Fiber ran up behind him and pinched his butt. “Guys don’t feel each other up. It’s not normal!” Popeye scolded him.

 

We were happy to find our Vagina unscathed back at Skin Fiddle’s house. There were also a ton of late-comers, lazy-asses, and autohashers, who didn’t go on trail and just came for the food and beer. I was starving and grabbed a hot dog from Skin Fiddle’s grill before I had to record this latest list of people.   Hmm… where do you hold your hot dog when you are writing the trash? “In my butt,” Tickle My Elmo responded to my rhetorical question. Wrong answer. 

 

Some of the crowd spilled in from the courtyard into Skin Fiddle’s living area/bedroom to watch TV.  2 Clump wanted it noted in the trash that he thinks Skin Fiddle stole his modular chairs from a dorm room. Not nice to comment on the host’s décor! But I will make a note of the very suspicious yellow stain on the ceiling above the bed.   “I call that ‘Nice shot!’” said 2 Clump.  Skin Fiddle agreed it was a very good night for him and himself. 

 

Hares: 

Virgin Pimp, Where’s My Vagina?   The first block was great!

 

 

Just Marcel from Albania … told a joke but needed a translator for us to understand it

Scamming Old Ladies from Tokyo (Domo Arigato!)… told a joke about parsley and pussy

Teen Beat from Reading told a joke about a virgin and something that looks like “baker” in my notes.

 

Autohashers:

She Man, Deep Flute, Just Meg, Sloppy Ass Kisser, Nappy Headed Ho, Beagle, Cause for Blindness, Just Kyle, Bastard Child, Tickle My Elmo, The Rash, Fruit of the Clue … more walked in after circle was closed

 

Cums Lately:

 

Anal Proboner accused Just Jon of threatening someone with a golden shower

 

Sloppy Ho accused Skin Fiddle of hosting a BBQ with “not enough gas”

 

2 Clump Chump accused Skin Fiddle of furnishing his apartment with dorm room furniture.   “He didn’t go to college!” The Rash countered.

 

Sloppy Ho accused 2 Clump Chump of “calling the kettle black”.  

 

Soft Core Anal-ist accused Europee’n On Me of “running squarely into a parking meter.”

 

Europee’n on Me accused Soft Core Anal-ist of wearing new sneakers. 

 

Holy Fuck accused Fiber Opdick of molesting Popeye.   At some point it IS gay.

 

Teen Beat accused latecomer Nice Nuggets…Fat Ass of “forcing a little boy not to come tonight”.   Nuggets had to then explain the The best part was E=MC2 yelling “Do it in Scooby’s voice… It’s funnier!”  Scooby showed up later for the record. Sans beard and goatee.

 

Tickle My Elmo accused Anal Proboner of being a lawyer for IKEA,which is apparently (but not in reality according to Just Jon) suing the hashers that laid flour in their parking lot in New Haven….

 

…and when one IKEA employee drinks… Just Jon drank.

 

 

Philly Full Moon Hash is September 21st… check out the web site.  

 

Happy Hour at TenStone last Friday … sorry if you missed it or Bob and Barbara’s afterwards!

 

Circle was closed and the keg was being violently pumped indicating festivities may soon be coming to an end. Concerned for the safety of my car on a nearby block (yes, it’s still a “transitional” area), and my hangover in the morning, I headed out after 2 more wings, and a handful of chips.  

 

The trash is complete hours before the hash. I did it all for you.

 

 

 

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