Hashoween
- *un 1287, Oct. 29, 2007
Last week Fuck Buddy begged me to write this week’s trash, promising what a Fuck Buddy can promise if I agreed to do so. Seeing as how it’s the end of a six-month dry season, I reluctantly agreed. Summer I mean. The dry season. Mediterranean climate. Never mind. Here’s your trash Fuck Buddy, now pay up.
The usual gang of miscreants gathered under the rainbow flag at Castro & Market for “Hashoween”, most making at least a half-fast effort to show up in costume ranging from the truly creative to the totally lamé. Bitches Bitch dressed up as a beer keg, complete with “hose” dispensing “beer”. The tipoff should have been the strange placement of the "hose", the lack of fizz in the “beer”, and the strange smell emanating from the “beer” mug. But noooooooo, your scribe just had to try a sip. Let’s just say I won’t be drinking from BB’s hose again anytime soon. Bucket Slut, disguised as a breathalyzer machine, offered free blow jobs! Unfortunately, she was on the receiving end of said BJs. Your hares, the Noe Valley Mafia, strapped fruit baskets to their heads. Confirms what we’ve always suspected about the NVM - a bunch of fruits. Oh Shit, you are one scary lookin’ angel, dude. Slug attempted her best Jackie O by pinning the cut out top of her Halloween pumpkin to her head and calling it a pillbox hat. Sweetie, it makes you look like a Jack-o-lantern. Get Eat My Pussy or a Sister of Perpetual Indulgence to help you with your accessorizing! Cumming Mutha and On All Fours couldn't decide if they wanted to be cows or Christmas trees, so they opted for both. Just another day in the Castro.
The pack split up at the start with the “T” turkeys hitting a couple of the local gay bars and the “Ps” (prostitutes? pornographers? perverts? my notes are unclear here) heading out for a *un. Having crashed my mountain bike on Sunday your scribe took the turkey route so I can’t vouch for the quality of trail, but reports came back that it veered between “totally confusing” and “completely fucked up”. Somehow, I feel vindicated... The hares at least partially redeemed themselves by offering up Racer 5 IPA and orange food. Those spicy Cheetos suck though – what’s wrong with regular old plain Cheetos?
Religion was dispensed but unfortunately the S.of P.I. could not be with us for communion.
9 ½ Wanks drank for genital confusion. She was supposed to be a pussy but someone thought
she looked like a prick. Wet Nurse, complaining of a migraine, stopped off at Walgreens
for some batteries. Fifteen or 20 minutes later, WN had a big smile on her face and the
migraine was gone. She drank for that. Voyeur and Motor Mount
drank for the crime of, to the surprise of no one, picking up dirty old men in Castro bars. Doggie
Style was outed for wearing the same Marge Simpson getup to multiple parties. My notes say
something about “too much DNA” and “everything’s sagging”. Sorry to hear that DS and
thanks for oversharing. Just
An upcumming hare announced the Nov. 17 “Run Through the Gulag” on
Unfaithfully yours,
Rocky MO