Yay, it’s the BFM 200!!   And thanks to our Philadelphia Parking Authority I’m now in a FOUL MOOD after just finding a $41 ticket on my windshield after I came out of the liquor store with a bottle for the shot check.  Only gone for 6 minutes! With flashers on!  I drive off in a rage, dodging pedestrians and running red lights to make it to the New Deck in West Philly on time. Just TRY and ticket me again right now. I’m paranoid now that every parking spot is a trap, so I spend 15 minutes driving around West Philly trying to find “legitimate” parking.

 

It’s impossible to walk around in the New Deck with  all the people there.  I reeeally could use a beer but can’t get even close to the bar.  I’m not gonna name all the hashers who showed up because there were a lot.  And okay, so maybe I didn’t write them down.   But chances are if you did something stupid you will see your name in the trash or accusations.  If not, maybe you should try a little harder.  

 

 

Everyone put their bags in Fruit of the Clue’s bag car since this was an A to B trail. “Hope you have your ID with you!” Sloppy Ho announced.    “Aw FUCK,"  I heard FOTC whine. “It would have been good to say that before all the bags were packed in the car.”

 

We had 3 visitors and 3 virgins for this celebratory hash.   The visitors where given “the option” = Tell a joke/show a body part.    Not sure what part Frank Lloyd Thong showed, and I don’t remember hearing a joke. Flounder told a joke about one-legged women who eat at IHOP.  Indana Jones and the Temple of Poon sang a song that she wasn’t a house wife, she’s a wannabe whore. Who isn’t.

 

The trail had 3 legs…3 very uneven, sometimes wobbly, legs.

 

 

We noticed off the bat that checks were marked with a ton of flour, like someone had taken the extra time to give each one a second or third coating. "Wow, you can’t miss that!”  Fire Down Under yelled.   “The hare is captain of the obvious”  someone replied. This would probably be the reason for the lack of marks during the latter part of the trail. 

 

“The trail went across Market and under the street through a subway tunnel.  Mmm….bum’s urine.   The rest of this leg took about 40 minutes of straight r*nning.   We crossed over the river twice with no reward.  We went down the XPN stairs under Walnut and came back up another set of stairs. 

 

“Where’s my fucking beer!”  Waaahh.  “I want food!”  Hashers began to whine.  I could hear the Wizard of Odds’ Christmas tie playing Silent Night over and over and over again as he ran next to me.  After what seemed to be an eternity, we came upon a shot oasis in a secret “nook” by a building on Penn campus. Was this a university sponsored event?

 

Up Her Ali waved us in for shots of brandied cider. “Sweet Jesus, that’s good!,” I heard someone remark. Yeah it cost fifteen bucks. Nothing but the best for you guys. The check gave the 3 breaks in the pack a chance to catch up to one another.

 

 

The few of us bringing up the rear (she said rear) packed up the shot check and headed back on trail through campus. We ran under a bunch of trees with non-denominational holiday balls hanging from all the branches.  Pretty.  I just love Christmahanakwanzika time.   We soon lost trail because the hares probably had expended their flour supply earlier. Oddly enough, we found Europeen On Me, who was just joining the hash. I’m still not sure how she found us at this exact spot near nowhere. 

 

We picked up trail again and arrived last at Strikes Bowling Lounge to find to rows of running sneakers lined up on top of the rental counter. The Mob had already taken over lane numbers 8-12 and would soon claim 6 and 7. Pitchers were flowing. I wondered how many hashers could actually bowl. I found out soon that hashers not = bowlers.

 

Popeye’s Bitch claimed he’d never done it in his life. And apparently he’d never bowled either. Sloppy Ho practiced her roll-thru-the-legs little kid method, which surprisingly worked about 50% of the time. We had many gutter balls. And many french fries. I looked at scores across the other lanes and they mostly ranged from the 40s to the low 100s.  I am the ball tonight.  I score a whopping 105. Up Her Ali rules our lane with a 116.  I can’t figure out how you can get a spare on a split.  It defies the rules of physics and logic.

 

As we are leaving the bowling alley,  S&M Man wants me to check out Lick Hymen playing foosball near the bar with a bunch of dudes. He suspects there may be something gay going on. We walk by nonchalantly and try to observe.  We do see that LH has now unbuttoned his shirt down to his naval, but that’s nothing new.  I’ll make a note of it anyway.  Heading over to Cavanaugh’s for the apres, I notice Target is staggering carrying a see-through cup of beer he had taken out with him.  And he is walking right past the cops.  BADASS.

 

 

Small, but its all ours. And it’s decorated for the holidays. For some strange reason there’s a big massage recliner chair sitting by the bathrooms.   And of course it serves as a nice alternative for girls that don’t want Horny Hands putting his paws all over them. Sure why not? I sit down, but notice it takes dollar bills. Much to my surprise, Lick Hymen steps in and pops a dollar in for me.  He then proceeds to watch me get rubbed.  I am not fooled.

 

I brought the rest of the bottle of brandied cider into the girls’ room to see who wanted to polish it off.   Indiana Jones is more than happy to help; so is Bumble Beaver.   And when we walked out of the bathroom with the bottle, CYHMN snatched it out of my hand and sucked the rest of the shit down hard like, well….

 

The circle began…

 

HARES: 

 

Sloppy Ho, Up Her Ali, and Mayor Quimby (E=MyCockSquared stood in for him)

 

Mike – Made himself cum

Chad – Holy Fuck made him cum. 

Eric – Yak in the box made him come.

 

VISITORS:

Indiana Bones and the Temple of Poon (Colombo Hash House Harriettes)

Flounder (Harrisburg/Hershey)

Assfinder (Colombo HHH)

 

 

Scammin Ol Ladies accused Rear Engineer of having his testicle sucked up into his body. 

 

E=MyCockSquared accused Virgin Pimp of betting someone about another hasher’s circumcision status. He’s apparently done this once before, and yes, Lesbian confirms he is, ladies.

 

A hush came over the crowd as Son of A Goat Fucker entered the circle. “Shhhh… Goat Fucker speaks!”  they yelled. On this rare occasion he not only had one violation, he had 3:

 

1. Scooby for eating a “deliciouss smelling calzone” in the circle. Fair enough.

2. Fruit of the Clue for having a 26.2 sticker on his car. 

3. The best one was saved for last… A clueless Virgin Pimp apparently just asked Goat Fucker’s wife, Just Liz, out on a date. They’ve only been married a few months, Pimp, she may be more willing in a year or so.

 

Just Liz tried to violate “her” (pointing to Cause) for something, but Im not sure what. The violation was shot down.

 

He’s a Lesbian accused Fire Down Under of not knowing what 26.2 was. 

 

JingleBallzzz said he was very intimidated by Wizard of Odds holiday tie. “I can’t keep up – I shake my ass.”  

 

There was a toast to everyone who bowled over 100… and then to the many more who bowled under 50.

 

 

Sloppy then called Just Brian into the circle for his official laming.

 

Well, he looks like Kramer. He hangs out with a bunch of girls, rolling donkey (yeah, I have no clue – is that like rolling a joint?). He went to GA Tech where he cross-dressed on occasion.
Ugga ugga would ya?

Midnite Tranny to Georgia!   May need to abbreviate that one for your necklace.

 

 

 

“Where’s The Rash? There’s a birthday in the house!”   Sloppy yelled.

 

“That was last week,” The Rash replied.

 

So whose is it?  Sloppy asked the crowd.  

 

Finally, Fire Down Under was pushed forth amidst the confusion and given her birthday side-side.   

 

The founders of the BFM were called up to chug for creating one BIG FUCKING MESS:

Self Service (now Baltimore/Annapolis), E=MyCockSquared, Strap On, Can You Hear Me Now, and Cunting Season (“She doesn’t count! E yelled)

 

 

 

E=MyCockSquared- There will be a hash in city on New Years Day around the parade in South Philly

The Rash – December 21, Philly Full Moon Ice Skating Hash

Rear Engineer – My second ball just dropped out of my body

Strap On – Philly Hash in Chesterbrook Saturday 3pm (this has since passed so don’t show up this weekend)

CYHMN – "I bowled three strikes in a row and got a 132. Beat that!"

Sloppy Ho – Next week’s hash is the South Philly Holiday Lights run. Be there or bah humbug.

Cause for Blindness is still single.

 

 

The night continued with loads of pitchers and Cause groping men.  Several of us then headed over to the “on-after” at an all-night diner across the street for a full 10-course breakfast.  After we absorbed the booze, I made it back to my car to find a familiar site on my windshield.  Wow, this one’s only 26 bucks…bargain!

 

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1. cyhmnow December 20, 2007 7:33 pm

   great trash - i would only add that rolling 3 strikes in a row is called, ‘a turkey’.
   cyhmnow