Yeah, yeah. We get it.
And we've let you down.
Who came? I don't know. I didn't write anything down. I promise I'm sort of starting to do my job again. As I said, baby steps.
Once we finally left at the very much on-time hour of 8:24pm, the pack darted off in search of beer, guided only by the light reflecting off Just Kristine's sparkly Jersey skirt. Because apparently this was a Jersey themed hash. Clearly, she's the only one who got the message.
Urine Luck and He's a Lesbian hared, because Urine Luck couldn't find anyone to pull his short straw. Nothing new there. We ran around a lot, zig zagging up and down some streets. We finally found beer waiting for our arrival on the end of Race Street Pier. I'm convinced the hares selected this location solely so that they could write "BN" on the sidewalk next to La Peg, hoping that we'd scream "BEER NEAR" right next to a hundred movie-goers silently trying to enjoy Nightmare on Elm Street.
TRAIL TWEET HIGHLIGHTS:
- "I'll help you tweet. Are you using your pound signs*??" - Gelatio
- "Can you tweet a picture?" - GML. We baby boomers at the BFM are a little out of touch with the internets.
- "You're not infertile. You just never have any sex." - Slothy Seconds
- "I woke up and was like, 'Oh my gosh. Why don't I have a penis on my face?'" - Semen on the Poop Deck
- First accusation of the night: Penny, for live tweeting during circle.
- The entire what-a-dozen-girls-in-heels-and-mini-skirts-are-saying-on-the-street-corner-because-they're-too-young-to-get-into-shitty-Old-City-bars-on-a-Thursday-night segment.
BFM #609, Part Two - Circle. Because one on sec can't be trusted to document an entire evening.