BFM #225 PROM HASH 2008
Posted on June 17, 2008
Ahh, prom…
We all have memories of our high school proms. Whether we were outside the event, cursing the fact that we couldn’t get a date before we went home to pork our mattresses, or getting dressed in that powder blue tux, or gown with the frilly things on it, spending 39,665 hours in the bathroom, popping gigantic, mongo-sized zits into the mirror. Then it was downstairs to either meet or pick up our dates while our parents took terrible Polaroids of us (the cheaper parents that is, the rest had their 35mms, or instamatics) that still adorn their mantles to this day, much to our chagrin.
We try not to remember dancing to the Hooter’s “And We Danced,” like maniacal rock-em, sock-em robots, or puking into the backseat of the car at the after party. We weren’t picked to be prom king or queen, (or maybe some were), and we clapped politely when they won, while hoping their dog died. Oh, and lets not forget the pathetic attempts at losing our virginity on the beach in Wildwood, either crying afterwards, mumbling to our dates that it’s not supposed to happen that quickly, or just taking the duct tape off her mouth. I’ll let you figure out which future physicist and Verizon Wireless representative I’m talking about. Thanks for the corrections to last week’s trash, guys!
The memories of prom will be forever ingrained in our psyche. For the women, I’m sure the memories of NOT being asked out by that hot college guy so you could prove to your fellow high-schoolers that you were oh so mature were painful. Especially when you had to settle for that young republican who clumsily took your virginity and then had the gall not to call the next day after depositing you crying and “Sloppy” drunk with a “Rash” on your doorstep, and trying in vain to wash semen stains out of your dress. I’m not talking about anyone in the BFM, nope, not me!
Our Prom promised to be different. Well, sort of…
The BFM showed up for our third annual prom hash at Bonners, which for some strange reason has NOT thrown us out for good. I don’t know who should be more ashamed, the bar owners or us. But I digress. Hashers came from far and wide for our gala event, some from as far away as Hockessing. They showed up in a variety of tuxes, dresses, and in the case of Two Clump, both sewn together. He smiled and said, “I’m my own date.” OK, there’s another word for that and begins with the letter L.
2008 ATTENDEES AND WHO THEY WERE WEARING:
(Otherwise known as “When bad clothes happen to drunk people”)
Cunting Season (wearing a black dress from Dolce Cabana), Bent Peter (In a Nike outfit), Cousin It (T-shirt from Hanes, flowered shorts from 12&Spruce), Deathwish (Hockessing H3, Goodwill), Yeast of Burden (H4 Goodwill), Big Tackle (grey tux from his past), Short Distance Rimmer (HTS products), Mr. Snuffalupamuff (Miami Vice ‘r Us!), Just Jenny (Pierre Cardin), Sloppy Ho (Red Dresses for Blue Staters), Jingle Balls (Sloppy’s Wigs & Pimp Emporium), Strap-On (Tameeka’s Maternity Wear for Children), Hold the Sausage (Santa’s Helper and Bunny Shop), Likes The Hard One, Heave Ho (Her actual HS Gown!!!), Skin Fiddle (the Gap), 2 Clump Chump (Gown from Goodwill, Blazer from Buster Browns), Lick Hymen (wearing a dress he swore wasn’t his), Just Blythe (Versaich’s Knock-Offs for Women), Just Julie (wearing a turquoise wedding gown), SubCuntinent (HoldMeUp Wear), Virgin Pimp (Borrowed From Trinity Funeral Home), Just Wilmar (Chipendale’s Surplus), Holy Fuck (I Goldberg’s Parachute shoulder pads), Bumble Beaver (In a blue surplus Roller Queen Gown), Little Red Riding Wood (her actual HS Senior Prom gown), Just Andrew (Nike), Cherry Poppins (Cleavage from Vickey’s Secret, Flowered dress from her mom), Midnight Tranny to Georgia (Rash’s dress from 2 years ago! Go check the pics if you don’t believe me!), Rear Engineer (Tuxedo and matching Viking helmet with horns on his head by-HEAD? WHO SAID HEAD…), He’s A Lesbian (tux by Goodwill), S&M Man (Blue Velour Tux by Enrique’s Clothing Cabana), E=My Cock Squared (Crass Bros. Men’s Store: Store of the Stars), Rash (Joan Crawford Outfit from Danni’s Drag Queens), Europeen On Me (St Vincent D’Paul), Cause For Blindness (Red velour thing from Two Guys), Just Jessica (Goodwill), Just Crystal (Sex & The City Special), Popeye’s Bitch (plaid skirt courtesy of St Maria Garetti’s HS for Girls), Just Dave (Jessica Ingram), Tastes Like Chicken (Ross For Less), Just Rachel (Cherry hand me down), Just Rich (Stepfather’s Dress), Mayor Quimby (Batman Cape and dress from Davis’s Trading Post), Up Her Ali (Sparkly thing from Harry’s Hooker Emporium and Jackie O sunglasses), Fisted Sister (Five different outfits she changed into on the way to the hash before settling on Goodwill), Well Hung Jury (Baseball clothes by Dick’s), Working Girl (in a Yve St Laraunt Dress and HEELS!), Fire Down Under (with her ever-present boob painting), Flounder (Wearing the infamous Tux T shirt), Pink and Puffy Rides The Huffy(A Plis).
Since it was a pre laid trail, our Hares this evening were the multitalented Little Red Riding Wood and Jingle Balls. They gave a brief chalk talk and Wood decided to run clean up. Walkers and runners took off into the hot spring night.
THE TRAIL
The pack ran North up 23rd to then across the street, and West across the Chestnut Street Bridge into University City where everyone promptly stopped and looked around, quite confused until Wood started screaming “On-On!” and pointing to the pedestrian ramp down to the Schuylkill trail. Off we ran, north to the Art Museum, passing legitimate joggers who looked at the maniacs and wondered just what the hell was going on. Instead of our usual answer of “BEER!” to their “Why-are-you-running” questions, our reply this evening was “PROM!!!” Let them figure it out.
As we rounded the bottom of the Art Museum, we saw the blessed BN signaling a quick respite. Did I mention it was flippin HOT by the way? I mean I usually sweat like a meatloaf, but this evening I was really spritzing in my $10 tux. That and the fact that I could barely breathe the bowtie around my neck. Who am I kidding? I have no neck. We got there to find Skin Fiddle, wearing his Chaperone sticker and T-shirt and shorts, (I guess all you needed was a sticker? Nice) handing out beer. Some of us really wanted water, which tells you how hot it was. During this time, cries of “Oh my GOD!” filled the air as Just Jessica found out that not only was S&M man adorned in a blue velour tux, he had also died his pubic hair blue! OK, now quick, go back to your happy place. Don’t think about it, don’t reread that last sentence, just keep going…
Yes, they were blue.
The beer stop didn’t last long and before you knew it, we were off again, running around the other side of the art museum, hanging a brief left by the gold Joan of Arc statue and down Pennsylvania Avenue. SubCuntinent was having a problem with her panties falling down or something because she kept trying to hike her skirt up as she ran, with a few female hashers laughing at her in sympathy. Then I realized they were using Working Girl’s running in heels as a pace-setter, since his rhythmic clump clump clumping was reminding a few of them of the trauma of childhood piano lessons. Then, we passed alongside Von Colin Park (named for the Fairmount Park cop who was killed in a grenade and machinegun attack by the oh so peaceful Black Panthers in 1970).
Mayor Quimby then did something that endeared himself to some of our newer female members who really don’t know him yet. Now remember, Quimby was wearing a dress with a Batman cape on. As we ran by the park, he spied a 4 year-old kid in a superman outfit. “Hey Superman! Let’s go!” he yelled, prompting little Just K (Name withheld by parent’s request) to sprint after him. The little guy actually kept up for a bit, scaring the hell out of his father who chased after him, not just a little concerned that his son was chasing a grown man wearing a dress and a batman cape. Of course he was worried, kids have turned up on milk cartons for less. Don’t worry sir, we don’t kidnap children… um, er I think.
Behind the Rodin museum we ran and then across 20th East down another street past the Youth Studies Center, where 2 Clump informed me that he had almost been confused with a child and accidently imprisoned there, then, right down 20th St, before hanging a quick left behind the Free Library of Philadelphia. As we ran East, we wondered where the next beer stop would be, and saw the trail turn left up 16th, we began counting off the bars we knew, Would it be Kellian’s, the home of the giant cockroaches? As the trail turned east down Callohill, I inwardly cheered. Westy’s! They LOVE us there! I hadn’t been there since Halloween when I dressed as Captain Underpants. It would be grea- No suck luck.
Down we ran down 15th St, then right by Hahnemann Hospital (where the naked 300lb psycho had thrown me over a nurses station) then we hung a quick right, and into a 12 story parking garage, past people headed to a real prom, and up the stairs. All 12 flights of stairs. Some of lazy hashers used quick goat thinking and took the elevator to the top, but not all of us. Some of the more overachieving ass-clowns actually schlepped up the entire TWELVE flights of 39,665 stairs. At the top was a blessed beer check.
I thought about swilling a beer, but thought I might actually puke so I wanted to get some H2O in me first. Cunting Season handed me a bottle of hot water that for all I know may have been sitting up on the roof fermenting the whole time. She said that Skin Fiddle or Jingle Balls or someone had gotten it for her, but it was pretty hot. I wasn’t the only one to drink from it, so CS might have been nice to me. Incidentally, the hallucinations have died down and I no longer see Aztec temples in my living room, the walls no longer drip blood, and the dog no longer talks to me in Mandarin.
The rooftop venue was a great idea and we all took advantage of it to take a group picture. Our trusty Photographer, Mr. Snuffalupamuff got us all lined up and tried to set the timer, but had to redo it about ten times. I guess a group picture is more difficult to shoot than an upskirt pic. By the way, Mr. Snuff has a date with a girl he met online soon. For details, just keep watching “Dateline.”
Someone cried “On-On” and we ran for the elevators, too lazy to run down the damn stairs again. 2 Clump said, “Hey I got a great idea, we’ll beat em.” And we ran down a flight to catch the elevator, which took us UP, despite our smacking the hell out of the down button. Everyone piled in on us and we stopped back at the next floor. Then the one below it, and then the one below that. We were to find out later that Europeen On Me had ran down the stairs hitting the elevator button on every floor she reached. Now I know she denied it vigorously during her later down-down, but I want proof that it wasn’t Fire Down Under, or a one-armed man.
Out we ran, past more real prom-goers, to 15th St where a check awaited us. Someone remarked that the perfect place for a beer check would be at an actual prom, which is something to think about. I mean when was the last time one of us got locked up? I know Holy Fuck was for that bridge jumping incident, but really, when?
The trail continued down 15th, down Broad past the Union League and onto Walnut where we ran by all the dumbfounded yuppies, eating outside. I’m sorry, I know you want to have a romantic dinner, but how is the smell of stale urine in 90 degree heat and the sounds of sirens, car horns, and “It’s my parking spot, motherfucker!” romantic? Not to mention the 40 some-odd lunatics running by, screaming “On-ON!” Sorry, ADD moment there.
In we ran to Rittenhouse Square, where some people cheered us, and we found our 3rd Beer Stop. This time, the chaperones provided pizza and water, as well as beer. You could tell how hot it was by the fact that most of us grabbed the water first and barely touched the beer. What blasphemy! Seriously it was hot.
We followed the trail and left the pizza for the real homeless people there. I’m not talking about the bums who hang outside the Wawa’s in Center city who constantly ask you, “Hey can you help a brother out?” I’m talking about the people who sleep in the park at night and don’t bother anyone. Down we ran west down Walnut, where SubC asked, “Where are we? How do we get to the bar form here?” and then back to Bonners, where Well Hung Jury, pitchers of beer and water awaited us. We then adjourned to the Bonners’ Ballroom for…
THE CIRCLE
HARES Little Red Riding Wood and Jingle Balls
FIRST IN/LAST IN: Mayor Quimby / Mr. Snuffleupamuff
VIRGINS:
Just Wilmar (Holy Fuck made him come),
Just Stephanie (A drunk chick who decided to join in)
Just Julie (Lick Hymen made her come)
TRANSPLANTS: Bent Peter (from somewhere)
CUMS LATELYS: Sponge Bath No Pants, Bumble Beaver, Just Rich, Likes The Hard One, Europeen On Me, Midnight Tranny To Georgia
CHAPERONES: Rash, Up Her Ali, Mr. Snuffleupamuff, Jingle Balls, Rear Engineer, Little Red Riding Wood, Skin Fiddle,
AUTOHASHERS: Well Hung Jury, Pink & Puffy Likes The Huffy, Fisted Sister, Sponge Bath No Pants.
AWARDS:
BEST-DRESSED MALE: Working Girl
BEST-DRESSED FEMALE: Heave Ho for her original lacy prom gown
WORST DRESSED MALE 2 Clump Chump for his bisexual ensemble
WORST DRESSED FEMALE The Rash in her Joan Crawford outfit
MOST LIKELY TO GET LAID: Just Wilmar with his Chippendale outfit and washboard abs. I’m not gay, but Jesus, if this guy CAN’T get laid, we should all kill ourselves.
ACCUSATIONS
Europee’n On Me: For hitting the elevator button on every floor as she passed by.
Mayor Quimby: For constantly checking out his pecs in the mirror.
Working Girl: For running in heels.
Just Jessica: For not being able to hold both her boobs and the camera.
Jingle Balls: For NOT holding Just Jessica’s Boobs
Midnight Tranny To Georgia: For having a “baby bulge” in his dress.
Well Hung Jury: For not wearing prom attire. (Both Skin Fiddle and E=MC2 really did wear business shirts for theirs)
Just Stephanie: For crashing the hash
S&M Man: For overachieving and dying his pubic hair blue.
Just Jessica: For having a blue face.
S&M Man Tried to accuse everyone who took the elevator down a floor, and was going to keep doing it floor by floor, but nice try. Drink up.
ANNOUNCEMENTS:
Jun 27th Philly Fool Moon BASH (bring a bike)
Aug 9th Bruceapalooza, a web site is coming soon.
Sep 6th Philly H3 1600 run.
And with that, the 2008 Prom Hash came to a close. A few staggered into the main bar to get our karaoke fix, or hit on the Irish guys who happened to show up. Interesting side note, I recently attended my 20-year high school reunion. The former prom queen now weighs more than me, and the prom king couldn’t make it because he couldn’t get the night off from pumping gas. You can find him at Hoenes Texaco, Route 30 and Cologne Ave, NJ. Stop by, ask for Chris, point, and laugh your ass off. I win, frakkers!
OVERHEARD AT THE HASH
“No water? Why not?” –unk female hasher
“It’s because I have Miller Lite, it’s the same damn thing.”-Skin Fiddle
“My Dress is a classic. Dude, it has the same stains of 20 years ago in it.”-Heave Ho
“OH MY GOD YOU DO!”-Holy Fuck, looking down S&M Man’s shorts.
“I’m beginning to have issues with swallowing too much.” – Just Rachel
“OK, I’ll hold it for you for a second but you better hurry up.” – Holy Fuck
“Anyone else want a piece of tail?” Hold The Sausage
“Its either that or the orange sucky thing.” Short Distance Rimmer (responding)
“My chafing is like rug burn without the pleasure” Unk hasher.
“Oh and if you want to travel in Delaware-“ Hockessing hasher
“In what, the trunk of a fucking car?” Skin Fiddle
On On, YFF
He’s A Lesbian
Filed Under Trash |
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Cause For Blindness (Red velour thing from Two Guys)
Um, the red velour thing from Two Guys (out of business for how many years?) is my Red Dress dress. I was actually wearing Juniors at Boscov’s.
see photo here:
Cause For Blindness (Red velour thing from Two Guys), http://bfm.phillyhash.com/photos/album/bfm-225-prom/page/5/photo/prom-662
Cause, It was a joke. Walk away from it. I know you bought it at Two Guys though!