P2H3 Hash Trash Blog

The Muscle Wine Drinking Club With a Slimy Dyke Problem

Archive for February, 2010

Run #958 – an introspective analysis

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on February 23, 2010

Date : 20/2/10

Hare:  Blah Blah (running)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

Though one may runneth through the valley of the mango, one must ensure that whilst they are green they are not applied directly to the forehead.  For it hurteth so, and derives little sympathy from the following pack. [Malt 3:11]

There was a trail.  It was cunning.  More cunning than a French bank thief with a Glock and an inability to see closed glass doors.  More cunning than the Phnom Penh Post sellers on the river front who redraw the printed sales price.  More cunning than Scoutmaster arriving home at 2am, paddling up the river to sneak in via the back door.  It was so cunning that the International Confederation of Foxes and Weasels have requested the trail map to use a case study.

Yes, as you may have guessed, the run was at Kouh Krobi on the Tonlé Bassac, site of many a Blah Blah run.  The trail itself was a gyrating, bewildering affair laden with green mangos and banana leaves.  Yes, there was shade.  It wasn’t enough though for Ali who ended up snoozing under one of the shady trees whilst the pack trundled past.  It was still too hot for VV and Pig Pusher Swine Stabber from Pattaya who took their shirts off to the general concern of the assembled harriettes.   It was definitely too hot for newly arrived Wendy who took to the trail with a hat that spoke of stables, horse sweat and large, long, glistening….. tongues.

But no such problem bedeviled Herring Choker or Germinator who ploughed on through the foliage.  Indeed Toxic Flop was rejoicing in the fact that the trail was a mere 8km or so, as opposed to the 8 miles or so from the week prior.  Even Mr Tinkle, face flush after a grueling week of stitching beer coolers and teaching English (or is that teaching beer and stitching English?) managed to stick with the tight pack.

In true Blah Blah fashion great consideration was given to the walkers, care of such magnitude that if it were possible to be bottled it could be snuck into the water supply of warring nations, causing sudden outbreaks of peace and contentment.  They had no trail.  Indeed the walkers were told that today they would be runners, with a short cut or two thrown in for good measure.  In order to ease their concerns they were duly informed that they could get on the truck at the half way.  Ah, good readers, are you seeing the flaw in this cunning of plans?  Indeed the truck driver was given proper instructions, and indeed he understood them.  What the hare failed to do was explain that he should have left straight away and not wait an hour chatting with his mate.

The walkers were most amused.  Botticelli declared she knew the quickest way home and confidently strode off in the opposite direction to the finish before she was collared by the hare.  Welcome In was sure she knew the way home however came in from the opposite direction from the rest of the pack at the end of the run.  Nancy and Little Boy (who defected from the run) managed to stay on trail, in a manner of speaking, and came in with Hit on Me and Legally Split. They claim they “came astray in the wide area”.  Paddington Bra blushed.  What to make of it I wonder?

The circle convened and the ice dominated with various derrieres adorning the smooth, cool surface.  Mr Tinkle was first, for requesting the ice, VV and Pig Pusher Swine Stabber to show how the skin should best connect with the frozen block followed.  Festering Chronic Masturbator joined, on a chair, for being on the aforementioned and finally Blah Blah for such a sensational and amusing halfway.

There were some names, the result of vigorous petitioning of GM Scoutmaster.  Thavy was named Bikini Wax, for she had a name but no hares.  John Malloy was named Pol Job, for the correlation between the severity of the Khmer Rouge tribunal and the amount of outcomes achieved.

The hash ended in true Khmer style with a drunk motorcyclist connecting head first with the road whilst gawking at the circle.  Fortunately one Swiss virgin was a doctor and managed to put his brains back in before he staggered back onto his bike to wind his bloodied way home.

Oh so cunning.

On On


Posted in Outstanding Haring, Run Report | 1 Comment »

Run #957 – Valentiger

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on February 15, 2010

Date : 14/2/10

Hare:  Scoutmaster (running), Little Boy (walking)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

And the harriete did gaze upon the naked torsos of the pack as they frolicked amongst the waters and was but amazed that such grotesque forms could but finish the 16km run.  For she knew not the commanding pull of the promise of beer that afflicted them thus, and knew not that this transcended the laws of physics declared by men mere mortal. [Malt 3:15]

It’s Valentine’s Day and Year of the Tiger all thrown together.  And the result of this bizarre concoction;  tough love.  And it started tough indeed with Little Willy and Yogi Bra being usurped from the hare line by the sheer momentum of Little Boy and a gem of an idea (at least this is Scoutmaster’s claim).  This doesn’t quite compare with the hare raiser of years past which had Blah Blah and Phlegm laying different trails on the same day however it comes close.

So what is tough love?  Is it Herring Choker deciding to join the walkers at the 7km stage?  Is it STD’s sense of humour going straight at a check whilst he went left?  Is it Eager Beaver and Toxic Flop pushing into the unknown, leaving the struggling pack to slog it out alone?  Is it Botticelli and Hit on Me being denied a half time drink along with the rest of the walkers?  Is it Ouk Bunyeang heading off towards the Tonlé Bassac never to be seen again?  Is it even a straight, dusty 12km first half?

No, tough love is having the halfway at the Tiger brewery…….. and not letting us go in.  Oh the cruelty, oh the humanity.  Never has a Somali warlord, Afghan Taliban commander nor Khmer dentist shown such wanton disdain for the fragile human souls under his care.  Flaccido Domingo broke down, clawing at the gates that would not yield .  Wannacracker sat it a dull stupor, eyes blank as he gazed unto horrors only known to himself.  Chicken Little sobbed quietly as she sat with her arms wrapped around an empty Anchor can, bemoaning what might have been.  Fair skinned John lay on the ground staring at the sun, seeking oblivion in the ultimate tan.

The lesson that this tough love was meant to convey remains strangely obscure and one cannot help but surmise that it was a vindictive act of sadomasochism.  The trail shouted to the world, “I’m going down and you bastards are coming with me.”  The lesson is thus the GM is always right, especially when he’s wrong.

Just to add insult to injury, it was at this point that Fester, who’d taken the truck to the halfway, decided to join for the remaining 4km or so home.  Not only did he find himself in the middle of a weary pack, he still hailed a motodop in order to pass the FRB’s.  There was ice.

Eventually the dusty and decidedly weary runners made it back to the La Luxe Fleur where a swimming pool awaited which was already full of relaxed walkers who were full of sympathy for the runners’ plight.  Nancy was looking very relaxed with a fag in hand whilst Pick Me Up was enjoying herself with lascivious glee on the pool’s jet stream.  Tips was seen practicing her breast stroking and Legally Split was, well let’s just say she was enjoying herself shall we.  It was, after all, Valentiger.

The circle was a crescent moon and a number of hashers were punished for trying to turn it back into a circle.  I can’t remember many of the sins however they primarily consisted of being too close to ring in RA Frenchie when he was stuck for ideas.

After some departed however most enjoyed a meal upstairs, which proved too much for Welcome In who promptly fell asleep on Herring Choker.  And as the remaining hashers boarded the truck, Little Boy made one final surge into the pool, cutting through the thin film of scum left behind by dusty hashers like a walrus in search of a clam.  It truly was a sight to stir the most frigid of lonely hearts.

Happy new Valentiger all.

On On

Posted in Run Report | 1 Comment »

Run #956 – and they go long, long, all the way

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on February 8, 2010

Date : 7/2/10

Hare:  Runs Well (running), Botticelli (walking)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

“I shall fear not the run of distance, for though the first half beith of great length, my legs shall falter not, nor shall my heart quail at the thought of continuing.  Is that the truck…?  Er, can I have a lifteth?  Oi slow up, waiteth for me you jammy bastards!” [Malt 3:09]

[Little Boy] And welcome to the Akreiy Ksat Hash Super Bowl

[Yogi Bra] That’s right LB, it’s an exciting mix today with Runs Well bringing his team onto the field and my they are looking depleted.

[Little Boy] Too right, Yogi.  Clearly victims of excessive drinking and a desire for some Waitangi Day ovine copulation….. and here comes Botticelli leading out the walkers

[Yogi Bra] and again a depleted pack… and it’s on.  Runs Well has sent the runners off and Blah Blah has taken an early lead.

[Little Boy] Wannacracker seems to have his measure though and wait, what’s this ….. I’m with the walkers.  But I’m also commentating.  How can this be?  X-Files, X-Files, X-Files!

[Yogi Bra] Calm down there LB, it’s just a temporal flux, the result of so much passion being concentrated in one spot.  Speaking of passion, I’m riding a horse right now.

[Little Boy] Riiiiiiiight……er……. now back to the action.  Ali seems to be fading.  It’s confirmed, he’s failing and …wait for it….he’s hopped onto a moto!  Scoutmaster has spotted him and it’s on for young and old.

[Yogi Bra] Ugly scenes here at the Hash Super Bowl, and now for a word from our sponsor

[Schubert] Drink Anchor

[Little Boy] The trail is getting long now, up around the 8km mark and we seem to have lost Kristina Weiland and Elane Moane… no there they are…………incredible scenes here.  Team Runs Well seems to have had two runners change sides and they are now walking.  Botticelli will be pleased.

[Yogi Bra] Halfway coming up and Team Runs Well is looking shagged after a 10km first half.

[Little Boy] Indeed, Yogi.  Bruce Bougourd is looking particularly shagged with his right side covered in mud after a rather spectacular fall.

[Yogi Bra] You’ve gotta love the virgins

[Little Boy] Well someone has to.  Wait, what’s this?  Flip Flop appears to be getting onto the truck with Scoutmaster, Bruce, Wannacracker, Kristina and Elane!  Is this the end of Team Runs Well?

[Yogi Bra] Hold your belly there big man, it’s not over for incredible scenes are unfolding here at the Hash Super Bowl.  Virgin Michael, Pencil Dick and Festering Chronic Masturbator have defected from Team Botticelli and joined Team Runs Well.  Blah Blah is soldiering on and, I can’t believe it, Wannacracker is getting off the truck and rejoining Team Runs Well.

[Little Boy] I’ve never seen anything like it, Yogi.  It’s like crapping your bed in the middle of the night.  Sometimes it’s just easier to change sides.  And now for another word from our sponsor

[Schubert] Drink Anchor, don’t sleep with Little Boy

[Yogi Bra] So Team Runs Well is down to 6 players and 100 metres into the second half, we’ve lost Fester!  1km in and there goes Pencil Dick as well.  It’s down to four players for the last few kms and only three are eligible to check.

[Little Boy] We’re looking at an exciting finish to this year’s Hash Super Bowl, Yogi.

[Yogi Bra] Indeed and, what’s this. Team Botticelli is across the line and it’s a win for the walkers.  Paulette is already downing beers with virgin Kathrina, gotta love these French-Khmer girls, and Laverne is relaxing in the shade with Tips; basking in their glory and don’t they deserve it.  I’m not really sure what Wanker Banker is doing however I’m pretty confident it’s illegal.

[Little Boy] Oh my God, I can see me again… but I’m commentating.  What am I doing with my hand?  Why am I staring at that woman’s…. X-Files, X-Files, X-Files!

[Yogi Bra] Damn, here comes Fester down the road.  I guess it turns out you can’t crap in your bed and sleep in it as well

[Little Boy] Isn’t that have your cake and eat it as well?

[Yogi Bra] Whatever, I’m dismounting this damn horse.  It’s all over folks, the hares are on the ice and another exciting Hash Super Bowl comes to a close

[Little Boy] Why am I fondling that beer can?  What am I doing with my tongue?  But I’m commentating here at the same time as I’m there….. X-Files, X-Files, X-Files!

On On

Posted in Run Report | 5 Comments »

Run #955 – Ragnarök

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on February 1, 2010

Date : 30/1/10

Hare:  Herring Choker (running), Andrew Jeschke (walking)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

And the hasher did look upon the savage beast and say unto it, “who’s a clever puppy wuppy den? Who’s a clever puppy wuppy?”  And the beast did wag its tail unto the hasher before proceeding to rip his leg off. [Malt 3:08]

Across the Mekong, towards the land, Herring Choker led his Viking band

With second in command Andrew he went, his mind ablaze with ill-intent

“On On” he cried as the ferry they left, charging up the bank intent on theft

Wielding a can of paint as though a spear, he stormed the island, instilling fear

Cows, paint and beauties they sought, yet ‘twas for the love of beer they fought

With a mighty battle cry of ‘On Back’, Hem Bunting hurtled along the track

Eyes alight with his soul afire, Norse blood under his Khmer attire

Yea under the Viking spell all did fall, the pack felt the lust, felt the call

The call to arms, the call to beer, to run, to check, to gaze, to leer

With mighty horn of copper and brass, Blah Blah gazed upon Bonnie’s…. donkey

Such a sight made him blow his horn, a mighty sound full of pride and scorn

Runs Well ran with swift feet, faster than a Dane, faster than a Geat

With Yogi Bra chasing close behind, towards the North with checks in mind

On to the North they continued to run, the Viking horde under the blazing sun

With a mighty roar they voiced their dismay, for no truck as to be seen at the half-way

They gnashed their teeth and raised the cry, “my beer is empty, I’m goddammed dry”

“You foolish Angles,” Herring Choker did call, “it’s on the other side of the wat wall”

Finally to the South the pack did turn, no beauty, no bovine did they spurn

So beautiful did Flip Flop find one cow, that he stopped to ask Long Shanks just how

How to approach, to stroke with wonder, how to get its telephone number

For some reason, as yet unclear, Mr Tinkle started heading towards the rear

He failed to realize that the Viking term “slash”, is different from the English which is rather more crass

Though perhaps he urinated for he was upset, for Murray had just lost the first set

With bovine romance the last thing on her mind, Hit On Me sought out the Nordic kind

Alas she and Piglet found themselves on the walk, with hefty Sir Walter and Little Boy as escort

Not quite understanding the true Viking way, instead of burning and stealing they offered to pay

They paid for eggs, they paid for sweets, they paid for mangoes and strange looking meats

Also on the walk were the Little Willy Swedes, determined to fulfill their Viking needs

A scouting mission they did undertake, to check the land for cookies and cake

For whilst Little Willy was a Viking true, the other three were to this world new

For rather than carousing they opted for giggles, and rather than wenches they preferred the Wiggles

Finally a council of war did Scoutmaster convene, a circle he formed of warriors fast and lean

Except for English Muffin who though a Viking true, had wandered to the banks of the river to spew

Flock You was quaffing mead with gay abandon, whilst being punished for something entirely random

It may have been age, it may have been sex, for with Flip Flop as RA it was out of context

Eventually the horde noted that night did fall, that pillaging and conquest did not longer enthrall

And onto the raiding truck they did pile, and onto the waiting ferry they did file

Come Grendel, come Fenrir, come Nidhogg and Fester, the horde will face them with all they sequester

With lagers and ales and hard to explain rashes, they will meet Ragnarök like true Viking hashers

øn øn

Posted in Run Report | 2 Comments »