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Archive for December, 2008

P2H3 Run #892 – Leaking Duck Christmas Run

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on December 30, 2008

snow-trail on-the-trail1

Date:  28/12/2008

Hare:  Leaking Duck (run), ??? (walk)

Run Report:  Yogi Bra

The holidays upon us, hashers are distracted by the abundance of festivities around town.  Between the steamy weather, a few children and mannequins sporting Santa hats, and the rest of the population only vaguely aware of this Western phenomenon, it’s hard to think of anything else.

What happens when you set a trail a week in advance?  Keep reading.  The trail started and ended at the Leaking Duck mansion in a loop that would keep us on our toes, if not our knees, desperately seeking signs of white spray paint.  We were off to a good start but got lost in the paddies, spreading out in all directions.  Finally we made it onto the roads only to fall into the same predicament.  Fortunately the walkers had no trouble since all they had to do was follow the scent of food, as their hare slurped bowls of chicken stew the whole way.

At one point when we turned our heads and saw the walkers ambling towards a familiar truck, most of us abandoned the hunt and headed to the treasure chest of beer and water.  Once there, a heated debate ensued between the hare and the hounds.  In the case of FRBs vs. Leaking Duck, arguments ran along the lines of:

“Where were the marks?”

“On the trail.”

“Well, we didn’t see them.”

“Of course not, you weren’t on the trail.” and so on.  The hare shamed us into back-tracking and the cowed pack obeyed, diligently running back from whence we came to complete the intended first half.  The second half went more smoothly, the FRBs only lead us astray once, nearly into the Bassac.

In a heart-warming holiday tale of overcoming obstacles, the hash proved to be made of strong stuff.   Blah Blah-hobbling back to the front, despite his injuries.  Pipe Organ-upright and running well despite getting hitched the night before.  The Norwegian Mafia-alive and well, despite their ice cream and Lutefisk indulgences.  Yap Yap and Yogi Bra-leading the female delegation, though slowed by their sinful indiscretions involving cookies and that traditional Japanese drink, eggnog.  Two young hashers, who appeared to be 10 or 12 year old girls (unless they were very small marathon runners in disguise) were some of the best runners of the day, shaming us all.

Back at the Palace, GM Blah Blah corralled the hashers from the picnic spots they had set up all over Leaking Duck’s lawn.  The hares were summoned, but few complaints were filed, possibly because hashers’ mouths were full of the mangoes and snacks graciously provided by the hare. Mr. Tinkle as stand-in Choir Master muddled along best he could.

As Stand-in RA, Leaking Duck used his pulpit to further browbeat the FRBs as the worst bunch of hounds he had ever seen.  Mr. Tinkle, Herring Choker, Runs Well, Wanna Cracker, and Poor Wine were all found guilty, while Leckety Slit committed the grave sin of eating during sermon.  Technology Abuse for two camera-wielding virgins, one of whom used an enormous telephoto lens to capture, what?  The individual beads of sweat on our faces?  Check some of the dodgier sites on the internet to see exactly how much of us he exposed.

Beaver Shot, who enjoys dual status as returnee / foreign spy depending on what angle you take, was joined by a number of foreign spies this week.  A high number of virgins from Oregon were present, visiting Matt, and escaping the cold, rainy winter. Many anniversaroids, ranging from Miho-san’s 10 runs to Number One’s 8,000.  Pipe Organ’s marriage was honored, and all repaired to the Golden Cabbage for turkey and more eggnog.

On Donner! On Blitzen!


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P2H3 Run #891 – European Disunion

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on December 23, 2008

FRBs claudie-claus

circle ride-home

Date: 21/12/2008

HaresPhlegm (running), Chick Pea & Botticelli (walking)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

For the trail Master did look at his watch and declare in dismay, “bugger, ’tis one o ‘clock in the morning and I findeth myself at Sharkies. Tomorrow is Saturday.  Who shall I call who can setteth the hash at this late hour”?  And he wept in his despair. [Hops 13:01]

It was a late text received by Phlegm yet he answered the call to arms in the true fashion of that most militaristic and expansionist country from which he hails, Belgium.  And the hash itself had a certain Belgium flavour; chocolate coated with a high alcohol percentage.

It was off to Koh Dach for the hash as the hare yearned for the wooded landscape of Ardennes.  In a valiant bid to replicate the movement of the European Parliament from Strasbourg to Brussels, Phlegm managed to get the entire stock of hash beer onto the back of two motos who were to meet us at the end of the run at some other ferry point.  Akin to the discussions of a common agricultural policy in Europe, many feared it would end in tears however Phlegm had fashioned a map worthy of Gerardus Mercator and a measure of confidence returned.  The Norwegians, led by Herring Choker, felt no such concerns feeling comfort in the fact that oil slush funds would see them through any crisis.

The French were determined to be seen to be leading with Pipe Organ and Jeremie making efforts to steer all in their direction however somehow the Germans, represented by Blitzkreig, always seemed to be one step ahead.  The English, represented by Mr Tinkle, were seen to be taking short cuts whilst the Scotts, in the form of Long Shanks, regularly checked out alternative routes with little success.

As a Nigerian, Flaccido Domingo was banished to the walk until he met the requirements for entry, being a fully functioning leg, whilst the Japanese in Yap Yap and Miho-san continued in their own fashion regardless of the pace or direction of the pack.  Yogi-Bra, in true US tradition, was more interested in the cows than the pack whilst the Canadians, in Tokyo Joe, deftly switched sides from the run to the walk when he thought no-one was watching.

At the circle the Thida, Number One, Tinkle Spinner and Piglet went with the ASEAN approach and sat off to the side shopping and not involving themselves in others’ domestic affairs.  Meanwhile the Australians, in Blah Blah and Squint Westward, follow tried and tested Antipodean diplomacy as they attempted to please everyone whilst getting their own way.  Since the drinks received were cold it may have proved a successful tactic.  Young Claudie found the mixed parentage aligned her best with the saxophone wielding Belgiums and tried to emulate the smurfs with her Christmas hat.

In the end the pack headed off to a restaurant where Phlegm promised all the finest Trappist beer from the Abbey of Westvleteren, or was that Anchor?  I can never remember.

On On

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P2H3 Run #890 – Where the Mad Cows Roam

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on December 16, 2008

killing-fields  mad-cows-stampeding

Date: 14/12/2008

Hares: Yogi Bra & Su Ming (running), Escort Services & James (walking)

Run Report: Rubbed Raw

Between the holidays and many hashers absent on the waters off Sihanoukville attempting to catch some fish, it was thought the Hash pack would be smaller than usual. Not to the numbers of run #888, but so many turned up that the single truck looked, as in old times, like it was heading to a garment factory.  With none of the Bourgeois cars present, no alternative vehicles were available to ease the crush.

Despite a vicious wasp attack, and dodgy drunken men as they set the trail Saturday in fading light, the only Hare left standing was Yogi Bra.  Her co-hare, Su Ming, survived all, only to be taken down by a dodgy sandwich and was not present.  To the Killing Fields was the brief instructions, and the scrum onto the truck began. Once there, without GM, Blah Blah available, RA Flaccido Domingo (not wishing to give up his role) tried to persuade the likes of Ikea and Check Around to host circle, but to no avail.

**Hash Trash / Yogi Bra notes:  Ikea eventually stepped up into a leadership role after the run and did a competent job of handing out plastic Dixie cups of champagne to sweating, parched hashers.  Well done. 

Finally, your scribe today Rubbed Raw was press-ganged into service and introduced the 10 or so Virgins present on the day.  Many new faces confronted the acting GM after his 3 month absence illustrating the revolving door of P2H3 hashers (we must be doing something right!).

FRB’s Runs Well, Ikea and WannaCracker were soon on the trail, with tricky plank bridges put in the way to slow them by the hares.  The trail zig zagged through the now dry and harvested rice fields, with a fast pace being set, with so many FRBs checking a well-marked and scenic trail, traversing water lilies, streams and amber fields. Only once did the pack briefly lose the trail due disappearing marks, and a slightly confused looking Yogi Bra (later punished for her sin after trying to pin it on her absent co-hare).  But then a hearty “On On” was heard from the underbrush and the P2H3 hash train was back on the tracks.

This week however, farmers around Choung Ek appeared to have a serious problem with Mad Cow disease.  Herring Choker was the first victim of this Bovine Curse, with the frothing herds chasing him down trail, narrowly missing a gouging.  Mad Cow incidents were also witnessed by walkers when one of these crazed beasts took out both moto driver and cyclists as it battled mental demons.  One Hasher bravely grabbed a cow’s tether in an attempt to calm him through her cow whispering skills, only to be charged and nearly trampled for her troubles.  I think a double action shotgun may be only solution for these poor creatures of Choung Ek! 

After a fast run in the good surface provided, a short but sharp and enjoyable run meant the circle was to be held in daylight for once, presided over by Rubbed Raw.  It was fairly subdued with so many regulars out, and with many new faces, there was a distinct lack of Hash song knowledge.  Stand in Choir Master Ikea even forgot the words to the P2H3 Hash song at one point.  The Hares were commended for a good run/walk, Virgins welcomed and foreign spies ButtMan (Chennai, India) and English Muff In (Oregon, USA) interrogated.  Having missed many weeks due to moto injury, RA Flaccido noted the P2H3 hash clearly had slipped into it sinning ways without his moral guidance.  Over achievement in the Angkor Half was first to be punished, then mad cow bating, nudity, fashion crimes and other sins were punished harshly.  The circle was called to a close, only after P2H3 stalwarts Ikea and Escort Services were given a hearty farewell before departing these fair shores back to Aus, so Ikea can finally earn a living again!

On On!!

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P2H3 Run #889 – Obama Beach

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on December 10, 2008


Date:  7/12/2008

Hares:  ??? (running), Piglet & Chickpea (walking)

Run Report:  Phlegm

STD, who recently proposed to start the weekly Hash at 2:30pm, arrived at
3h05pm at the railway station while Flaccido Domingo joined the start
to say hello and showed his enormous inflated limb to the hashers. Only one truck and 32 hashers joined the Hash regarding the “Half runners Marathonians” visiting Angkor Wat.

We left north, crossed the Japanese bridge and join the ferry to reach
the closest Mekong Island. Tokyo Joe excited by Scoutmaster’s return
from Kabul, arrived too late and they took the second boat. So, the
runners pack waited at Obama beach for ten minutes and a brief story
of the island was narrated by Phlegm for the Virgins. One upon a time,
Obama great father arrived to this island in June 1944…

Piglet and Chick Pea, Master walking hares, left with foreign spies
including Pizza Piss from Kuwait and some virgins from Wales. Like Pu
Yi a century ago, Claudie, 2 years old, walked the whole trail which
was around 4 Km. Not bad for this first Impress of P2H3.

On the other hand, Wanna Cracker, best runner from the pack, flew to
the old banyan tree for the first holding after only 800M. So Fester
(280 runs last Sunday) and Paddington Bra decided to stay with the
pack. Jeremie, Jim Morrisson, and Organ Piper representing the brave
Frogs citizen appreciated the cool breeze while Scoutmaster and Dorien
checked the marks on the leaves of the mango trees.

After 5 more holdings, two pagodas and 7Km later, we crossed the
bridge back to Obama beach and the down downs started with STD leading
the show with Tokyo Joe and Scoutmaster. Paddington Bra and Fester had been punished for finishing the trail with a moto dop. Many girls
received beers for Shopping especially Silk Kramas (the clever guy
arrived in the middle of the circle to sell all his clothes). When the
sunset gave some fire colors to the iridescent Mekong, Scoutmaster
organized a prayer and we kneeled repeating some stupid words.

On On On was at Irina Russian favourite Fester restaurant.

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P2H3 Run #888 Mekong River Boat Run

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on December 5, 2008


giant-squid1 the-hares3 pre-run the-trail hash-feeding dirty-phlegm the-hares2 escort-services the-aubergine2

Date:  30/11/2008

Hares: Ikea & Herring Choker, Lois & Thida (walking)

Run Report:  Yogi Bra

The Hash takes to the high seas… You boys and your aubergines… Phlegm is a dirty, dirty man

Blimey that’s a lot of people.  Where did they all come from?  Everyone in town got in on the action, requiring us to commandeer a third boat. 888 turned out to signify not only the number of runs, but also the number of people who turned up.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.  In his swan song to the hash, eternal hasher and eminent FRB Ikea enlisted his friend and fellow FRB Herring Choker to hare the auspicious 888th Run.  The hash takes numerology almost as seriously as beer, so this was bound to be a momentous event.  Wishing not to disappoint, they went for the glory that is a boat run.  Everyone loves a boat run:  the wind whipping through your hair, the sea breeze in your face.  That glory does not come without headache was a lesson they learned.  First – too many people.  As Leaking Duck pointed out, with the promise of an afternoon on the river, BBQ, and T-shirts, it was to be expected.  On second thought, maybe we shouldn’t have sprung for that billboard over Monivong, or the skywriting plane the day before.  This was not a problem per se, but food and clothing supplies were strained, or severely lacking.  Second – boat runs take forever.  Many hashers swanned in way after the cutoff, an endless stream filing slowly up the gangplank for what felt like hours.

Finally asea, the hares scanned the horizon, wondering aloud if the 3 cans of Pringles they bought would sustain everyone and trying to remember where on earth they set the damn run, when they spotted the pagoda.  Good landmark, only 50,000 or so in the country.  With Herring Choker’s cry of, “go to the cow!” to the captain, another brilliant landmark choice, we anchored and were off.

The run:

Between Herring Choker, who has twice hared in almost 50 runs, and Ikea who has lost car keys, 7 cell phones, 5 wallets, all his razors and a lot of face, they had a tall task ahead of them.  In the ever-competitive spirit of the hash, hares have not been content to merely divine a trail that’s a perfect length, well-marked, appropriate number of checkpoints and holds, and not too far out of town.  They also try to find the most picturesque spot possible, so as to hear oohing and aahing from the crowd as we catch our breath at stops.  In this Ikea and Herring Choker did not fail.  We set out along a scenic village road and were soon running astride the Mekong, under trees and through fields.

Runs Well, Wannacracker and brothers Two Hands and Port Wine, Thong Cheese Flasher, Simon, Andre were up at the front and stayed there.  Mr. Tinkle has been making a decent showing these days and Milky Discharge is coming back to life.  Herring Choker was up there too, despite being the hare.  Lovely scenery, no water, not too many cows, we only killed a few young crops.  Very shady.

In other news: Yogi Bra got tied up in wire along some crops, and was jostled and shoved by all the FRBs as she bent over to free herself (thanks guys!) before Love Bite helped her out of her snare.  In the back lanes of a village, Mr. Tinkle ditched trail, yelling that he spied some appealing vegetables.  He reappeared a short time later brandishing a sizeable aubergine which he claimed was to be used in the circle in lieu of the usual device.  After taking a wrong turn on a shortcut, Phlegm ended up face down in the mud.  He looked like the Bogman, arms and legs literally dripping with mud.  Even his sunglasses were covered.  Revenge is sweet and dirty.

The Circle:

A Football injury claimed GM Blah Blah’s right leg; unfortunately the mouth works fine.  When asked how his walk went, the usual jolly GM lashed out in a paracetemol-induced rage and let out a string of curses that would make any pirate blush.  Finally he called the circle and everyone gathered, sausages in hand, under the darkening skies.

Ikea, Herring Choker, Lois, and Thida were called in to account for the beautiful day and a beautiful run, that Ikea declared came in at 8.88 kilometers.  Hashers were straining to find something to complain about, a feat with this crowd.  A few returnees were dragged in and serenaded by returning Hash Choirmaster STD.  Due to the late hour and massive number of virgins we sang their song, but didn’t make them stand for inspection.

Of course the sinners can’t be ignored.  Acting RA Milky Discharge presided over the whipping of: Ikea for being a loser, Jeremie for over-dedication to the hash for designing the awesome t-shirts (more on that later), some poor kid for running at least 10ks on the upper deck of the boat on the ride over (don’t worry, we didn’t fill his potty with beer – everyone knows kids love vodka), Runs Well for wearing some bizarre slipper / sneaker combo, like some soccer mom from Duluth, and Phlegm for his dirty, dirty ways.  Good lord, I just realized we didn’t call in Sarsy.  Will rectify next time, for sure.

It’s all in the name. Due to his utter lack of direction, American hasher and occasional stand-in RA Greg was dubbed Khmer Compass.  And Lois, dedicated walker and hasher, immensely patient wife of Ikea, will now be known as Escort Services, since her number must be in many Cambodian men’s phones as she attempts to pick up after Ikea.

Slow boat to China. The ride home took forever and a day.  The two boats that were tied together were attacked by Somali pirates and held hostage, but when the pirates realized no one would pay ransom, and people gleefully asked if they could witness any torture of the hashers, they let us go.  Things got a bit blurry at Velkommen at the on on on, the Thida sisters seeming to multiply every time you turned around.  Once the seafarers were fed and drunk, we all stumbled out into the night for the long journey home.

On On!

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Hash Ball 2008

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on December 3, 2008


Date:  22/11/2008

Event:  Hash Ball

Ball Report:  Yogi Bra

The Hash cleans up nice. Who knew everyone looked so pretty when they’re not covered in mud and sweat on the back of a truck or slogging through a rice paddy.  The Khmer ladies did not disappoint, strutting their stuff with sparkling finery and artfully coiffed manes.  The rest of us looked ok, but clearly do not know the meaning of “dressing up”.  The evening began with champagne and live classical music in the garden, a lovely slide show of all of us covered in mud and sweat on the back of a truck, and slogging through rice paddies, some food, some wine, some beer, then upstairs for circle.  Hasher of the year:  Laverne.  Hare of the Year:  Flaccido.  Trail of the Year:  Phlegm.  Run Report of the year:  Ikea.  Lifetime Hashing Achievement Award:  Blitzkrieg.

Then onto dancing.  Everyone got their hooch on and danced to an inspiring collection of gangster rap and Khmer pop.  Again thanks to the fashion sense of the Khmers, there were more outfit changes than a Spanish soap opera awards show, and they put on outfit number 2 (or 3) and got down to business.

The Mr. Tinkle show does not disappoint. After much revelry, Mr. Tinkle abandoned his sense of decorum and underwear, and treated us all to a memorable dance.  Did no one see this coming?  Apparently not satisfied with the few rave reviews he got, he asked Escort Services and Yogi Bra several days later whether they attended the show and if they agreed with the reviews.  Poor Mrs. Tinkle was less than pleased with the performance and practiced her backhand on her betrothed’s face.  In fact, many wives’ wrists were sore the next morning, and not for the usual reasons.  There was more slapping at that party than in a British comedy of manners, but no serious harm was done and all emerged intact, if a bit hung over.  All in all the evening ended up a fun bit of revelry for a group of people who take revelry quite seriously.

On On to 2009!

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