NYCH3 #1053, May 26, 2004
HARES: Mean Jean and the Boy Toy Seth
Start: New York City Public Library
5th Ave & 43rd
On In: 19th Hole
Scribe: Cockstar
The Boy Toy R*n
As one of the founding members of the Boy Toy Club (BTC), let me tell you the first rule of the BTC: There are no rules in the BTC!
That being said, allow me to bestow upon you some of the wisdom my lady-friends have shared with me over the past few years.
1) Never call your BT by his proper name. Always use a nickname. Some of my favorites are: Soccer Boy, Cutie Pie, Elevator Man, the Little Turk, Japan Man, D1 through 3, BBC (Bald By Choice), Bootie Call and Actor Dude. This, you see, not only undermines his manlihood (assuming you’ve got one with grass on the field), but also enhances your position as the dominant one in the ‘relationship.’ It also ensures that he understands he is of no import to you and that you can toss him to the curb at any time.
2) Go young. If you can’t say: “yummy yummy, don’t tell mummy” to your BT with a straight face, then he’s too old! Do what the men do: half your age plus seven years. If that doesn’t work, half that number. Remember, you’re only as old as you care to admit publicly!
3) Make him pay. Even if he’s young, chances are he’s employed (even if it is just a paper route). Let him run up his credit cards. It’s not like you’re going to MARRY him. Who cares if he’s got debt! That’s the next hussy’s problem, not yours.
4) You first. That’s right. You don’t do it to him ‘till he’s done it to you. Remember, it’s all about YOU.
5) Two months. That’s it ladies. Love ‘em and leave ‘em. I find that the two month cut-off works rather nicely. It’s enough time to get it on without looking like a ho and yet not quite enough time to get attached. No need to be gentle, just try not to slam the door on their ass on the way out.
Well, now that we understand each other, on to the write-up. Mean Jean, another founder of the BTC, graciously offered to assist one of our newest and youngest members, Seth, with setting a trail. There was much hemming and hawing at the start about what kind of “assistance” MJ might have given, but because she was involved, we were assured a relatively short trail.
The weather did not look auspicious as thirty-some-odd hashers arrived on Fifth Avenue. But then again, since Wet Willie was not setting trail, we were optimistic that the rains would wait until we arrived at the bar.
There were a lot of new faces last week. [Most of them women, brought by my boyfriend (??????).] Regulars were a plenty as Geoff, Rick, Fast Am. Dave #6 (a/k/a Tripod/Ralph), Fairy Queen, Cree, Kyle, Polish Manslave Andrew, Sarah Down Under, Numb Nuts, Alice, Magoo, Bahamonde, English Andrews #1 and #2, Lisa, Patrick and Bruce sauntered up to the start mark. Even Father Jim returned! As usual, MasterCard showed up 25 minutes past the start time. At least this time she had changed and brought her sneakers. Similarly, Pearl Necklace arrived, with no intention of r*nning of course. She claimed some sort of yoga injury.
The pack set out at a brisk pace, leaving us to find a cab on Fifth Avenue. In typical BTC fashion, MJ ordered Seth to find us (Pearl Necklace, MJ and me) a taxi. Seth, being the dutiful BT he is, tried in vain to flag down a cab. MJ began to get nervous after 15 minutes, when two cabs refused to take our 50 bags. At this point, I was sent via subway to mark the on-in.
Where did the run go? No idea. I don’t run these days. But, as I arrived at 19th and Second, Seth was outside, setting the hotline and the on-in was marked. Our faithful bartender, Patrick, was manning the bar at the 19th Hole and the beer started to flow immediately. Has anyone noticed how he continuously tells us hashers: “This one is on me?” How dumb or drunk does he think we are? Anyhoo. I digress.
Our JM Heather ?Got Wood? Malloy was on her own for down-downs. Rumor has it that her co-hare, HUA, is afraid to show his face until his pre-wedding hash, because he neglected to tell anyone he was engaged until the start of said pre-wedding hash was posted on the web site!
First up were the hares: Mean Jean and Seth. MJ was called up again to imbibe another beer because she treated Seth like the BT he is. She made him set all of the chalk marks, ordered him around at the start and made him hail a cab in the middle of rush hour while she stood on the corner. When the Circle was announced, she ordered him to ask the bartender to turn down the music for the down-downs. You GO girl! Bruce was called up next because of his over-eagerness to be Mean Jean’s BT. Bruce, sorry, but a BT you are not. I hear he was jumping up and down at the start pleading – what can I do, what can I do — and, when told to write down the hot line number, wrote down NYCHASH – not HASHNYC.
Up next were the visitors and Virgins: Myrna, Nicole, Tammy and Tim. Note: Nicole, Tammy and return-hasher Krista we’re all brought by Young Jo(h)n, but sanctioned by me first. Fast Am. Dave #6/Tripod/Ralph was summoned to drink because he tried to set a “pack check.” Dumbass! I may be getting old, but I don’t remember a pack check appearing on the old web site as a sanctioned hash mark. Jon was up next for new shoes.
AOW went to English Andrew. One of the virgins asked Cree how hashers get their hash names. Cree explained that you can wait to do something stupid on the hash to get a name or you can try to name yourself as English Andrew did. Andrew tried to name himself Pants Gun (obviously a misnomer). In response to what English Andrew perceived as an affront, he threw a glass of ice water over Cree’s head. Unfortunately, when called out on this AOW move, English Andrew did not appear. It seemed, at the time, as though he had left for the evening. Because we had a second English Andrew (Ross) in our midst, this minor technicality did not ruin our fun. Andrew Ross was called up to covet the dubious honor. However, when the crowd began to get rowdy with cries of “When one Andrew drinks, all Andrews drink!”, three Andrews were summoned to imbibe.
Thinking he had gotten away with it, the former AOTY English Andrew appeared from the bowels of the bathroom after the first three Andrews were done with their beer and was awarded an extra-special AOW down-down.
Hold on to your r*nning shorts Wyeth. You’re next!
On –out.