BFM #261 Phallocentric Phiasco
OK, so before starting the first trash of the new hash year, I would like to personally address a few things from the last trash, in sensitive and thoughtful fashion:
Ok, now that we’ve got that out of the way, onto the Hash:
I escaped work and rolled into Drinker’s surprisingly early, to find that Big Tackle had beaten me there and was already half in the bag, waiting for the rest of the Mob to arrive. As we chatted, the following usual suspects braved the cold to the bar:
Fire Thighs, Just Britt, Just Theresa, Deep Discunt and her virgin Just Alex, Dr. Squealgood, Fire Down Under, Jingle Balzz Hold the Sausage, Little Red Riding Wood, Mayor Quimby, Midnight Tranny to Georgia, One Night Only, Softcore Analyst, Son of a Goat F*cker, Tickle My Elmo, Two Clump Chump, Where’s My Vagina, Wonder Blow, Working Girl, Just Lisa, Post Ana Drip, and Sternum and Rectum. Know who you don’t see on that list? Go on, read it again, I’ll wait. Got it now? Yes? Yes. Your brand-spanking new GM, Rear Engineer, rolled in fifteen minutes after straws had been pulled and hares chosen. He promptly blamed it on Scooby Snatch, illustrating the qualities that make a GM truly great. Relieved that they had something to do, hares Jingle Balzzz and Fire Thighs took off, gleefully laying a trail on brick sidewalks using flour tinted an attractive brick-color.
After Scooby Snatch gave his tradiational Long Version ™ chalk talk (Seriously, did we forget this? Why did we vote for him again?) the pack took off. It was an unusually fast pack that zipped around Old City, right up until the point the trail hung a right down an alley that was a frigid, frigid, wind tunnel. Hashers went tumbling backward like slightly-inebriated tumbleweeds, cursing volubly. Righting themselves, they followed a trail that wound through a few more wind-tunnelly alleys, then went straight up 2nd street. And kept going up 2nd street. Aaaaaaaand kept going straight up 2nd street, until it hung a right and went straight to Druid’s Keep. A relieved pack poured into the bar and thawed out for a few minutes, then drank some beer. Then they noticed that the hares had left and they probably should, too. The Mob spontaneously decided that they liked Second street so much that they poured right out of the bar and straight back the way they came, the entire Mob beating the hares back to the bar. ( I guess they laid trail. I know I didn’t look for it.)
Back at the bar, autohashers had arrived in the interim: Swollen Cockpit and his virgin, Just Greg, Skin Fiddle, Heave Ho, and Fruit of the Clue. The Mob rounded themselves up and descended to the basement where they pestered Rear Engineer for alcohol, stripped down to change, and generally made nuisances of themselves. Finally, beer showed up and circle commenced:
Hares: Jingle Balzzz, Fire Thighs
First In, Last In: Wonder Blow, Jingle Balzzz, Fire Thighs
Virgins: Just Alex (via Deep Discunt), Just Greg (via Swollen Cockpit)
Visitor: Fire Thighs, and under the When One Hare Drinks rule, Jingle Balzzz
Cums Latelies: Swollen Cockpit, Heave Ho, One Night Only
Autohashers: Skin Fiddle, Mayor Quimby, Swollen Cockpit, Fruit of the Clue, Sternum and Rectum, Heave Ho, Just Lisa, Just Greg
Accusations:
Jingle Balzzz for his shirt, or, as Mayor Quimby thougftully accused him: "What the fuck is that shit?!?"
Just Britt, for thinking that wearing marathon clothing inside-out magically makes it non-marathon clothing.
Mayor Quimby, for overaccessorizing, also claiming that his corduroy jacket was suede.
Prior OnSecs(Jingle Balzzz, Two Clump Chump) for not posting trash and thus preventing Big Tackle from gettin down with his wife (yeah…I don’t know.) and under the When One OnSec Drinks rule, The Rash and Little Red Riding Wood
Big Tackle, for not getting laid because of the lack of trash.
Rear Engineer for showing up late to his own first hash, and under the When One GM Drinks rule, Big Tackle
Softcore Analyst for new shoes, out of his new shoe.
And then it was Where’s My Vagina‘s birthday, and she was summarily side-sided.
Announcements:
1. Next Week’s BFM is a FLASHLIGHT HASH. BRING A FLASHLIGHT. IT WILL BE DARK AND YOU WON’T BE ABLE TO SEE IF YOU DON’T BRING A FLASHLIGHT. FLASHLIGHT. FLASHLIGHT. FLASHLIGHT. FLASHLIGHT. FLASHLIGHT. FLASHLIGHT.
2. Cousin It, Phillies tailgate, etc
3. Philly Hash at Murphy’s on Saturday
4. Green Dress March 14th next month
5. Mayor Quimby is a shower, not a grower.
Hope this gets you laid, Big Tackle!
On On,
The Rash.
I’d like to join the growing list of men who are intimidated by The Rash.
the tRASH is BACK!!!
(it’s gr8 she’s back, but her return, sadly, is one of the seven signs of the coming apocalypse)
In this week’s trash The RASH denies a number of rumors relating to her automotive and sexual practices. This is not the first time she has posted a list of this kind. In the trash from bfm #131, she posted the following denials:
1. I did not have sex with a llama.
2. I did not have sex with two llamas.
3. That picture doesn’t prove anything.
4. I am not pregnant with a llama.
5. I probably don’t have a tapeworm either, but I still like to talk about it. Much as in the same way that most of you don’t have sex but still like to talk about it.
The lady doth protest too much, methinks.
Just because I put it in a list doesn’t mean it’s not true.