Ben Franklin Mob Hash House Harriers

Hashing every Thursday in Philadelphia since 2004

BFM #229, Yunking Up The Hills

Posted on July 15, 2008

        Any section of the city that rhymes with gunk has got to be fun, right? Manayunk, with its hills, shopping, trendy river bars, and atmosphere, makes a person forget for a moment that they are in Philadelphia. Until you try to park your flippin car, that is.  Now, granted, Up Her Ali did warn everyone to take public trans or ride their bikes there, and several hashers did do just that, but for us Delco transplants, the idea of jumping on the R3 into center city then getting on the R whatever for Manayunk just did not appeal to me.  There are times I’d rather bathe with a toaster than ride SEPTA, and this was one of them..
        So I drove in, and was pleasantly surprised to find that it only took me two trips around the bar to find a parking spot. Right under the train tracks too, I might add. As I got out, I saw the ominous 1-hour parking limit sign greeting me, and said, ahh, screw it, I’ll eat the $45 later if I have to.  
        The bar looked familiar and it took me a while to realize that I had been there before on a bender back in the fall of 01. Sitting IN the window was Stacks, and several others.  Still more hashers were attaching three locks a piece to their bikes.

YUNKING HASHERS:
    Wind Up Toy (Smutty Crab H3), Hold the Sausage, Up Her Ali, Just Blythe, Just Mike, The Rash, Stacks, Virgin Pimp, Just Pam, Just Melissa, Dublin Dick, Just Stephanie, Big Tackle, Short Distance Rimmer, 2 Clump Chump, Rear Engineer, Just Dev, Working Girl, Cleavage To Beaver and her bitch, The S&M Man, Son Of A Goatfucker, Jus Dayna, Ass Parade (Portland H3), Mr. Snuffalupamuff, First Down, Just Adrianna, Holy Fuck, He’s A Lesbian, Little Red Riding Wood, Mayor Quimby, Just Tom, Tight Lips, Just Craig, Can You Hear Me Now, Fisted Sister, Cherry Poppins, Skin Fiddle, Scooby Snatch, and Skin Fiddle.

    Stories were exchanged, some dick showed off his new mug, and before we realized what was happening, the BFM’s answer to Brangelina, Hold the Rimmer volunteered to Co-hare.  They scampered away, and one of them probably removed a shirt and went out to lay trail.  Little Red Riding Wood, who had been taking testoserine pills recently, immediately began ushering us outside with a few, “LET’S GO, PEOPLE, CHALK TALK, MOVE OUTSIDE FUCKING NOW!”s.  Not for nothing, but I can imagine her being a drill sergeant, complete with that Aussie style hat they wear as they berate Basic trainees.

THE TRAIL
        The lack of wisdom of letting someone who used to live IN Manayunk be the hare became quickly apparent as the trail immediately went up a hill, both ways.  It must really suck living there in the winter when the roads freeze up.  So we immediately ran up hill to Pretzel Park, so named because some butt munch decided to put a big statue of a soft pretzel in there.  ADD moment here, but a soft pretzel is not an appropriate does NOT seem appropriate for Manayunk.  South Philly, maybe.  You want to have a statue that screams Manayunk, make one of some UPenn or Drexel Co-Ed, showing her tramp stamp as she pukes into the Schuylkill.  Or of a bike rider puking on a steep hill.  
        Speaking of hills….
        Back to the trail of tears.  We ran across the park and uphill again on Tower Street, where I saw a Parking Authority Nazi driving up the street, looking for illegally parked cars, and wondered how badly I would be getting screwed this night.  We turned left on Terrace and ran uphill again and then there was back check somewhere, and I was too busy huffing and puffing my fat ass up the street and catch my breath to realize where the hell we were to give an accurate description.  
        We hung a left Pechin and ran down there, past two Cookie Cutter Brittanies who thought they were so original, yelling, “Run, Forrest, Run!”  Nice, girls, thank you for calling.  Now try and name the oceans on either side of the US.  We turned left on Lycombe and right on Dexter, Left on Green, again on Freeman, and right on Gay Street, which I believe is really appropriate for Manayunk.  Oh and there is a place called Nob Hill on Gay Street.  I’ll bet many a knob has been polished there.  
        The trail then went down these stairs that were overgrown by bushes, which looked really cool and old, and at the bottom, went right on DuPont and true to the masochistic form of our hairs, went right up the next set of stairs, I was about to head up there, when I heard our FRBs scream out, “Oh, MOTHERFUCKER! BACK CHECK 6!”  
          We continued down Silverwood where an oh so kindly helpful (and possibly homelessly drunk) bystander in camouflage told us he had seen some guy with no shirt on leaving dobs of white powder run up the stairs he was on, so up we ran, again, to Crams St, where we hung a left on Lexington.    
        I ran past some woman who yelled at me, “You’re gonna get hit by a car, you, idiot! They don’t look here!”  I thanked her and replied that I saw her daughter a few blocks back on Pechin Street, and continued on, and into a field, where it looked like Son Of A Goatfucker was out there.  The rest of the pack arrived, because we couldn’t find trail and we also found a few soccer balls that were left there.  Just Jessica was so excited she did a cartwheel past me and I made a note so as to violate her for having too much fun.
        During our meeting of the minds, someone finally yelled, “On On!” and we headed back the way we came and I tried to pez one of the FRBs with a Nerf ball that someone had left in the field.  Maybe I am showing my age, but WTF? We would never have left balls in playground field where I am from.  The kids these days, sheesh.  
        We ran back down Hermitage, hung a right on some street and left on Fountain, before someone yelled out about a beer check. A few of us decided that our fun meters were pegged and we decided to have an impromptu beer check at Union Jacks. About ten of us crowded in and the bartender immediately turned his back on us and decided to play catch up with his paperwork.  It was obvious he saw us.  What a dick!  Someone yelled out “The real beer check is down here!” and off we went.
        Downhill (finally) on a set of stairs under the railroad tracks, that in the waning light, looked fairly ominous.  You’d think that many a rape has happened under these tracks, and before we knew it, we found ourselves running across a bridge to an open parking lot filled with empty truck trailers where, of course, we had the beer check.  Great location.  After a few minutes of this, off we ran, down the canal (Now, I didn’t even know they HAD a canal in Manayunk, but it was cool), which had been restored, and up onto Main Street, where we did the obligatory run through the outside dining areas of trendy restaurants, which, I’m sorry, but NEVER gets old.  Seriously, I think it’s my favorite part of the hash. Especially seeing the ONIN right next to a young couple toasting their Merlots.

 
Total Distance 4.75 mi.

    We wound up back at 105 Social and methinks we made a mental note to make this a hasher bar, since it was huge and we were the only people there. Cheese fries resting on top of a layer of Ranch Dressing awaited us, and I could feel my arties starting to clog as I enjoyed bite after bite of that creamy goodness.  My revelry was disrupted by Little Red Riding Wood, who started bellowing for us all to form a….

CIRCLE:
HARES:  Hold The Rimmer or should we call them Short Distance Sausage?
VIRGINS:  Just Mike, and Just Tom (Holy Fuck made him come.  Does anyone else notice she brings a fair share of virgins? Yes, she makes a lot of people come)
VISTORS:
Just Melissa (From Media? Since when do they have a hash?) Wind Up Toy (Smutty Crab H3), Ass Parade (Hockessin, Does that even count anymore?) and Just somebodyorother  from Charlotte
CUMS LATELYS:  Stacks, Cherry Poppins (just back from her world tour to Dubai and Jersey), Mayor Quimby, Scooby Snatch
FIRST IN/LAST IN:   Virgin Pimp / Up Her Ali
AUTOHASHERS:   S kin Fiddle, Scooby Snatch, Fisted Sister, Can You Hear Me Now, Mr Snuffalupamuff,

ACCUSATIONS:
    Stacks for taking Pantaloons on the hash.
    Just Blythe for pointing in the circle
    Mayor Quimby for something or other
    Virgin Pimp for being Virgin Pimp
    Can You Hear Me Now for trying to make Stan break-dance
    Short Distance Rimmer for running without a shirt.  We didn’t see it, but we know he did it.
    Can You Hear Me Now for throwing an empty beer cup
    Mr. Snuffalupmuff for nursing Stan, and when one auto hasher drinks….

NAMING
        Just Craig was brought into the circle.  Now, no one liked the name Craigalicious and since Sloppy Ho was conspicuously absent (anything outside of center city scares her), we decided now was the good time to name him.  The following suggestions were offered:
        Craigalicious, Blinded By the Cause, Germ Gurgler, Broke Back Montherfucker, Welfare Queen, Bush Licker, Fuzzy Little         Man Bitch, You Pay I’m Stupid, Takes It Up The Ass Like Stan, Eddie Munster, Twenty Four-Year-Olds, Don’t Ask Don’t             Tell, Underachieving Ass Clown.
        Voting started immediately, much to Up Her Ali’s consternation. The choices started being narrowed down and it looked like Fuzzy Little Man Bitch might be his name, but the Mob had other ideas this night.  Ali’s constant bellowing of “WE’RE NOT VOTING, PEOPLE, WE’RE NOT VOTING!” led to our illustrious scribe adding THAT to the list and faster than Germany turned Nazi, the entire Mob started pumping fists and chanting “We’re Not Voting!” If you squinted, it looked almost like the Nuremburg rally, really.  Even CYHMN was jacking his hand up and down like a “Sieg Heil” salute.  
        The combination of our chanting and Ali’s dismal realization that she had lost ALL control led to the WTF look on Just Craig’s face, like the Galactica crew realizing that Earth had been destroyed by a nuclear war. So without further fanfare, Just Craig will be named forevermore (Or at least until we change our minds or he does or says something really fucked up) as We’re Not Voting.  Welcome, YFF!  Hey there could be worse names….

ANNOUNCEMENTS:
    7-17-08 the Ultimate Shiggy Trail (Somewhere in Fairmount)
    Cousin It’s Tailgate Party sometime during football season now, but still for a Phillies game
    Strap On’s Dildo Run
    Full Moon Dartathalon Coming soon to a date and time near you
    Bruceapalooza http://www.bruceapalooza.com (his sister will be there!)

        With that, the Mob decided to entertain ourselves with renditions of Jesus Saves, The S&M Man, Chicago Department Store Failure, and Yogi Bear. One dumbass Hasher had to get to bed early so he could spend hours outside the Apple store waiting for a new iphone. People slowly staggered home and I wandered out and my jaw dropped to see NO parking tickets on my truck! Yay!

OVERHEARD AT THE HASH
“Nothing I like better than ass in my face.” Unk Hasher
“Can we NOT talk about your penis for once please?” The Rash

On On, YFF
He’s A Lesbian

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