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A Haring effort of great and worthwhile praise due to a great location, trail or special interest

Mekong Indochina Full Moon Hash #2.5 – Phnom Penh, 2010

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on November 15, 2010

Mekong Indochina Hash – Full Moon or Any Moon Run No. 2½

Hares: Flip Flop, BoBo, STD

Date: 1st November 2010

Many things wrong here: firstly there was no full moon. It was ¾ moon to be exact, but who’s counting? Maybe the same person who determined that Sunday’s run was the P2H3’s 1,000th when it wasn’t. Secondly, the organisers of this little event had decided that, in order to not to confuse Hashers with unnecessary details, information about the event was to be given out on a need-to-know basis. However, since they forgot to tell anybody that it was on, not many people were making enquiries!

Those who managed to remember what, when, where, and why dutifully turned up at Velkommen Inn on Monday evening where the confusion continued. Hordes of Hashers emerged out of the woodwork; many more than expected. We even had a virgin turn up –  impressive for a run that was only advertised two days prior and then only to Hashers at the run site. STD made frantic phone calls to the boat driver and the On On On proprietor to make sure they could handle the crush. They couldn’t. Amid the confusion, a nest of maggots that had found cozy refuge in Rocks Off’s shoes decided to hatch, sending a flurry of tiny insects scattering across the floor of the soon-to-be-condemned restaurant. Sorry about that Herring Choker! The rest of the Hash watched in amusement as the staff tried to stamp out the little critters, whilst quietly cancelling their food orders.

Then the rain clouds came. Our boat trip was looking less and less delightful, but in the absence of other choices the order was given by disorganizers Flip Flop, BoBo, and STD to hit the high seas, so off the Hashers went. The Gods were clearly smiling upon us, as the boat trip and scramble up the opposite river bank to Snow’s bar were mercifully uneventful. Upon hitting the eclectic, welcoming bar and in the presence of so much beer, there was excited chatter about skipping the run altogether. But cooler, more sober heads (BoBo’s) prevailed, and we bid tearful adieu to Snow in order to run around dangerous streets and filthy alleys in the pitch dark. Who came up with this idea in the first place? Also, since only three of the 50 or so Hashers remembered to bring a torch, there was little chance to avoid disaster.

The age-old question of spray paint vs. flour was put to the test. Unfortunately no one remembers the answer. STD stuck with old, white, toxic faithful, while BoBo, in the absence of his preferred shreddie, opted for the environmentally friendly white stuff. Considering how lost the pack was, it’s safe to say neither worked like a charm. Cooler weather made for a fast-moving pack, which proved a bitch when the Runners were off trail and had to trek back long distances to where the Hares were patiently waiting, wondering when they would notice that the Hares hadn’t actually moved from the Check. First casualty was Herring Choker, who abandoned trail 500 meters along to rejoin Snow at the bar. Smart man!

The rest galloped along, panting and frothing at the mouth. After several false turns and long digressions, they finally veered off the road and into interior Chroy Changva, and the ancestral homeland of venerable Hasher Check Around. A quick jaunt through his property, including a scramble over a low wall was quite shitty, literally. Overheard:

Virgin “this place smells like shit.”

Leaking Duck “there’s a good reason for that.”

After leaving the heart of darkness (the aforementioned shit-smelling abode-to-be of Check Around) the Runners continued eastward and reached the glare of a well-lit road – whereupon one bearded Runner (name unknown) stumbled over a pebble and tumbled head first into the tarmac. Go figure! He was to repeat this exercise at least once more so one assumes that he had spent a little too long hydrating in the bar prior to the run. And so the Runners muddled along. The lack of visibility of the marks ensured that at least one loop was missed by the pack but there didn’t seem to have been any complaints on that score! A visit to a brand new 20 story high-rise apartment block was not high on their priority list although both STD and Flip Flop had insisted that a thorough recce of this building was required when setting the run. Luckily the Hashers missed the trail leading up the 20 flights of stairs to the rooftop viewpoint!

Local Hasher, Blah Blah, was caught out at the second to last Check when he went straight ahead rather than turning left to go down to Snow’s. One would have thought that he would have known better but he was saved from a fate worse than death, or at least a very long run Home, by one of BoBo’s clear False Trail mark laid in flour.

The On Home was just a straight run for about 1.3 km along a mixture of paved and dirt roads. BoBo was glad to see that his final Check, laid just metres away from Snow’s bar caught out at least three of the FRBs, including his fellow Yangon Hasher, Gigolo Joe. They turned right and followed his trail of flour until they realised that they were off flour – the only part of the trail where a False Trail mark had not been laid.

Somehow all ended up back at Snow’s.

 

Full Moon Trail (scale 1:20,000 or 4 cm = 1 km)

[Trail in yellow was the trail taken on the night. The one in red is the trail taken by the Hares while laying the run and False Trails earlier in the day]

After the Hash cooled down from the run with too many beers and too few waters, blocks of ice were brought forth and BoBo kicked off the circle in grand fashion, with Joint Venture as his enticing beer bitch.

Circle:

The Hares were iced and toasted. Herring Choker gave a glowing run report, but that may have been the aquavit talking.

First time Full Mooners fought over seats on the ice.

BoBo announced that the non beer drinkers had the opportunity to do their Down Downs with some hideous local hooch that was given the name Mr Muscles due to the picture of a ripped body-builder on the front of the bottle. Perfect for those of a gay bent!

Danes had to drink. Yanks had to drink. Aussies had to drink. The 2 virgins were sullied, one on STDs lap. One must take a moment of pity for the ice, which saw more ass than a toilet seat. Plug Her was elected ‘ball tester’ to gage whose was biggest, a role she seemed born to play. Even Yap Yap was drunk, an occurrence probably not seen since her wedding night.

Those geographically challenged at the last Check were given a beer to ease their pain.

The man who succeeded in tripping over his own feet was similarly anaesthetized.

Those who took part in the previous Full Moon Hash in Yangon drank – if they could remember that far back!

After gawking in horror at the ritual taking place in his bar, Snow eventually got into the action, and was iced as well.

Charges from the Circle were requested and received in droves. The Circle dissolved into utter carnage, there was ice, beer and Mr. Muscles all over the floor and not a few Hashers ready to pass out.

Finally we all piled on the boat which ferried us safe and sound to Velkommen Inn to continue our quest to make sure the beer population of Cambodia doesn’t get out of hand. T-shirts were doled out to those who earned them by signing up early.

Note: BoBo finally got his T-shirt!

Posted in Event Hash, Outstanding Haring | Leave a Comment »

A Brief (not at all) History of the Indochina Full Moon Hash

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on November 15, 2010

Author:  Bobo, GM, YH3

Some background information on this timeless tradition may be useful (or not as the case may be but you are going to get it anyway). The genesis of this run started way back in the mists of time when dinosaurs still roamed the planet – like Phlegm. Shortly before the dawn of mankind, a group of proto-hominids, known as Hashers, visited Siem Reap for the 7th Mekong Indochina Hash. After completing a run around the temples of Angkor Wat, the Hashers assembled on a dusty plain to observe arcane rituals, which were supervised by their High Priest, Flip Flop (see picture).
Sometime after darkness fell, Flip Flop espied the moon and he determined that his congregation were sufficiently purified that they could go and eat and drink and make merry. So he dismissed them with a cheery injunction to “Get on the damn busses and go home!” The crowd instantly dispersed and got on the damn busses – but then Hash planning made itself felt. The busses were parked on a plain that consisted of something close to quicksand. Any attempt to move the busses after they had sat there for several hours only resulted in them getting further bogged down. The few busses that were free to move were used to try and pull out the ones mired in the bog. Result: you guessed it – more busses bogged down up to the axles in shiggy.

Net result was that many a Hasher had to trek out to the road and flag down a passing tuk tuk/ moto/taxi/bicycle with padded rear luggage rack, etc. Result: lots of happy Khmers making dollars from desperados The beer truck finally left (but not before beers had been safely stowed in backpacks for what looked like being a long walk home!) and during the ensuing mass exodus BoBo ventured to Flip Flop that they should call it the inaugural Mekong Indochina Full Moon Hash and that the event was worthy of a special T-shirt. Flip Flop agreed and a roll-call was taken to record for posterity those who took part. 23 names were recorded and 16 of them were drunk enough to part with cash there and then in return for a promise of an exclusive T-shirt. Flip Flop took the money off the gullible and promised that a special edition T-shirt would be promptly put in the post and would most likely be waiting on the Hashers doorsteps before they even got home.

A month or so later, when BoBo noted that his doorstep remained free of Hasherdabbery, he made a casual enquiry to Flip Flop to find out what progress he had made. “None,” was the answer but it did prompt Flip Flop to come up with a design (which looks strangely similar to the one dished out in Phnom Penh in 2010!). In true Flip Flop Hash fashion he then tried to pass on all responsibility for further enhancements to BoBo, who politely declined.

And there, dear reader, the ball stopped rolling. The 16 Hashers who invested their hard-earned cash in T-shirt futures, got burned and so endeth Run No. ½.

Fast forward the clock from the Cretaceous Period (ca. 2004) to 2009 when the Mekong Indochina Hash visited Yangon and turned back its watch by 30 years. BoBo was still waiting for his T-shirt from Flip Flop but had come to realise that if he wanted a Mekong Indochina Full Moon Hash T-shirt he would have to make one himself. This he decided to do and so he announced Run 1½ and persuaded 80-odd souls to take a run around the Shwedagon, through monasteries and ancient bamboo groves in the middle of downtown Yangon and to get bombarded with missiles hurled by the irate abbot of a religious establishment who took umbrage at Hashers disturbing the peace and tranquility of his little empire. Apart from some slight injuries to the leg of Yogi Bra, the Hash otherwise went off without incident and it was adjudged by all and sundry as being a bloody good run and perhaps better than the regular weekend runs. All who took part were presented with a lovely bespoke T-shirt – and it looked nothing like the design that Flip Flop had sent to BoBo five years earlier!

Fast forward another year and BoBo found out that Flip Flop was again in residence in Phnom Penh after a long sojourn to Australia, Africa and elsewhere. “Where’s my T-shirt?” enquired BoBo. Flip Flop’s replies were akin to those that would have been sent by a frightened rabbit caught in the headlights – if only rabbits could write (and it’s arguable whether Flip Flop can write – well write anything other than technogeek). BoBo suggested that things could be remedied if another Full moon Run was organised. Easy!

To cut a very long story short, Flip Flop agreed to produce a T-shirt if BoBo would help to Hare a run and produce a design. Done deal said BoBo. He instantly mailed back the (unproduced) design for the Siem Reap Run. However, since he didn’t know diddly squat about Phnom Penh, he asked for some help on the run-setting front and so Flip Flop volunteered the services of STD. That’s delegation for you. He must be an excellent manager in the real world. So, after running around the countryside of Phnom Penh for two days, BoBo found himself having breakfast with STD and Flip Flop on Monday morning and was gratified to hear that all was under control – well all except the fact that the T-shirts had not yet been printed, that the route of the Hash had not been decided upon and the method of marking the trail had not even been thought about. Thus Run No. 2 ½ started in the manner in which it meant to continue!

However, planning of a sort had in fact started a couple of days previously. BoBo remarked to Flip Flop that it might help if an announcement was made at the Circle at the end of the Saturday Hash to let people know that there would be a “Special Run” on Monday. This seemed to resonate with Flip Flop but unfortunately the hurried cold and wet Circle on the boat wasn’t an ideal venue to make such an announcement and so BoBo put Plan B into action. Enlist the services of a good-looking Harriette!

Yogi Bra’s fervent attempt to collect money for this thing on Saturday evening, when all were well and drunk, resulted in a huge influx of cash and a huge lack of comprehension over what exactly one would get for one’s $5 contribution. In truth, the lack of comprehension extended to the Hares, who, at their Monday morning pre-trail-laying breakfast meeting, wondered how many slabs of beer they needed to steal in order to satisfy the thirsts of everyone that threatened to show up.

Will anyone figure out what the hell is going on?  Stay tuned for the actual run report…

On On!

Posted in Event Hash, Outstanding Haring, Uncategorized | Leave a Comment »

INTER MEKONG HASH 2010 – PHNOM PENH

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on November 15, 2010

Phnom Penh narrowly avoids disaster as they attempt to mismanage the hash hordes invading their fair countryside.  No one lost a leg.  No one died.  So our petty, insignificant screw-ups really look quite small, comparatively.

After a lengthy hiatus, hash trash is back with a vengence.  Please see in the following order:  1. IMH3 report by our beloved Short Time, who, true to name, has already fled the country.  2.  History of the Annual Full Moon Hash, complete with table of contents, index and glossary by uber-hash trasher and GM of the YH3, Bobo.  3.  Actual Phnom Penh Full Moon Hash 2010, which in true hash fasion,  took place during a waning crescent moon.  Please read and enjoy.

Love,

Yogi Bra

 

Indochina Mekong Hash 2010 – P2H3 1,000 run – Full Moon Hash
Hares – Herring Choker,Blah Blah,Yap Yap,Yogi Bra,Ikea,Runs Well and Wanna Cracker
Dates – October 30 – November 1
Run Report – Short Time

Overheard by a foreign hasher on his first trip to Cambodia, stepping onto the shore of Koh Dach – “Are there active land mines here?”

A veteran P2H3 hasher replied, “Nah, after you …”
Day 1:
The Indochina Mekong Hash weekend began with a registration party at Sharkys Bar & Restaurant where ice cold Anchor Beer and a barbecue dinner was served. Hashers were given goodie bags with shirts, a hat and a map of the host city. A new friend was made by all, Schubert, our host representing the Anchor Brewery.

Schubert is the kind of guy who is your best friend at night as beer is flowing. You thank God for individuals like him, who make this brew for alcoholics, I mean hashers. But the next morning Schubert’s popularity takes a severe hit when bloodshot eyes open and aspirin bottles are fumbled for. Fortunately, this was a weekend event and upon returning for the actual run, several large coolers filled with Anchor awaited. Schubert was once again, the man.
Day 2:

The Indochina Mekong Hash began under cloudy skies, intermittent rain with a sail up the Mekong River to Koh Dach. A 18 km and 12 km run awaited, along with an 8 km walk circuiting the island, famous for its silk products. Perhaps the happiest people on this chilly, rainy day were all the silk sellers who found 225 hashers, rather than the usual 30 P2H3 hashers they are used to seeing. After the run, hashers were buying scarves to keep warm and they shivered under windy, rainy conditions.

P2H3 GM Sarsy convened a circle on the boat, with Scoutmaster leading the group in “Our Lager …” while sailing back to Phnom Penh. Hashers from the various foreign kennels were recognized over the course of these two days. Although it was difficult to determine which kennel sent the most hashers, one thing was clear this day, “Hammersley takes it up the ass, do dah, do dah.”

After the Indochina run, dinner was held at the Hotel Cambodiana where the two moments of excitement seemed to be confusion over what time food was to be served and the disappearance of 30 liters of wine, the latter obviously being more important. Once the wine was located, it disappeared again within an hour.
Day 3 (oy, still going):

Morning dawned, the rain stopped and hashers rode on eight trucks to Kambol, where the 1,000 run of P2H3 was held. Kambol is a fun park, with go karts, a barbecue pit and swimming pool. But the real attraction in this area is the military shooting range located just a kilometer or so down the road.

In Cambodia, there is a lot of military surplus from years of involvement in various wars, dating from the 1960s to 1979. Customers have the opportunity to fire weapons ranging from pistols to machine guns to rocket propelled grenade launchers. Prices increase as ammunition gets bigger.

But what fun is shooting without a target? The military sells targets that include traditional bulls-eyes to old jeeps, even live chickens and cows are reputedly offered. Fortunately, our hares for the day laid a course in the opposite direction of the range, through rice paddies, past Buddhist temples, an old graveyard, and of course, the signature of a true Phnom Penh hash, grazing cows and cow shit.

Flip Flop served as RA for the circle after the run. The two newest members of the Phnom Penh hash were named. A lovely, young virgin, who was very embarrassed and didn’t want to stand in front of the 200+ person circle, opened the door for the name “Doesn’t want to cum.” Luckily, her brother was close at hand to escort her into the middle of the group. He also earned a name based on his action “Cums with his sister.”

Barbecue was eaten. Hashers were thrown into the pool. Anchor was drunk. But probably the highlight were the many different songs that were sung. “A Gay Caballero” along with “Me no likey British sailor, Yankee pay 5 dollar more” were amongst the highlights.
Mini circles formed after the main circle ended. And singing continued back to Phnom Penh on the trucks. The On On On was held at Velkommen Inn ,the hash bar on street 104.

Day 4 (Christ, not this again):

Day 4 saw a reduction in the number of hashers and also the length of the run. The hash was held across the river starting and ending at Snowy’s Bar. It was supposed to be a full moon hash, even though the full moon was the week prior and no one could see the moon on an overcast night.

Bobo of the Yangon Hash was made honorary GM. Herring Choker was asked for a run report by Mr. Tinkle. But Herring Choker claimed he got lost 700 meters down the well-lit paved road and luckily was able to find his way back to the bar, and low and behold, 300 cans of beer. Mr. Tinkle accused Herring Choker that he got lost finding the door to get out of the bar.

Everyone got iced in this final circle of the weekend. And as the full moon did not rise on this Monday night, the events of the Indochina Mekong Hash and P2H3 1000 run came to an end.

Lots of  Anchor beer. Lots of running. More important, lots of fun.

On on.

Posted in Event Hash, Outstanding Haring | 1 Comment »

Runs #972 & 973 – Outward Bound

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on May 28, 2010

Hares:  Cuntsultant (organizer), Blah Blah & Yap Yap (running)

Date 22nd & 23rd of May

Kep, the soft sound of a calm ocean lapping against a lazy, black beach.  Kep, the smell of cooked crabs wafting across the quiet streets.  Kep, the cry of birds in their jungle mountain abode.  Kep, the quiet cracking open of a cold Anchor.  Kep, the muffled belch of a happy hasher.  Kep, the loud guffaw of a beer sodden runner.  Kep, the blaring of loud music and dancing.  Kep, the vulgar language of the night club…… ah, Kep.

Indeed the hash went to Kep with full intention of destroying what tranquility remained in this little slice of idle.  The run included going down, coming back up, going down, going even higher up, going downish, going up up up up up up, going down down down down, going flat, ending in the ocean.

Comments from the run were diligently collected by the scribe:

Toxic Flop: “The hills are too small”

Mr. Tinkle: “Don’t mind me while I throw up on this here mountain Wat”

Leking Duck: “What do you mean this isn’t the halfway?”

Bikini Wax:  “Ooooh, look at the crabs.  Oooooh, look at the resorts, Oooooh look at the…. hang on, where did all the runners go?”

STD:  “I demand more short cuts”

Scoutmaster: “Cancel all future short cuts”

Sarsy:  “No more shortcuts!?!  I’m going to go Goldman Sachs on STD’s ass.”

Pick Me Up: “they want the walkers to go up there?  Bugger that for a game of soldiers.”

Chicken Little: “I’m not buggered, honest.  I’m, er, admiring the view from Sunset Rock.  Can we admire it for a bit longer?  Please?”

Diapers:  “I’m not deliberately taking the wrong path at each check, honest”

And no sooner had it begun, than the run was ended.  Into the ocean went the pack led by the intrepid Chicken Little closely followed by Catwalk Boy who, for some reason, had a towel wrapped around his waist.  Beers were sunk in the muddied waters at the end of the old pier and eventually a circle was convened on dry land.

That evening saw the pack finishing its evening on the opening night of Kep’s first, and possibly last, night clubish thingy.   Tips played her first ever game of pool in pajamas, Little Willie provided a bottle of whiskey which didn’t last the night thanks primarily to Runs Well, Laverne declared pizzas smell funny and Blah Blah was proved wrong when he figured no-one would pick up the club’s only transvestite when a barang, not a hasher, did the deed.

The next day the pack piled into small boats and in a flotilla reminiscent of Dunkirk, headed off for Rabbit Island.  Herring Choker started to lead the way for the run around the island however quickly found himself keeping Sarsy for company as the alcohol from the night prior raised its ugly head.   Little Willie managed to mangle his toe however apart from that it proved to be a pleasant run around the island.  At one point Runs Well did lead the pack up a false trail.  How that is possible on a run around an island which has a track remains something of a mystery.

The highlight of the run was quite clearly Spike’s distress at urgently needing to relieve himself of the previous day’s crabs and pizza with about 2km to go on the run.  This reduced him to a butt cheek clenching walk and hence earned him the hash name, Diapers.

Eventually the pack made it back in good time, despite Scoutmaster’s boat having to be towed due to a lack of fuel.  And by the end of another nice lunch at Vanna everyone was happy.  The pack was happy with the runs, Cuntsultant was happy to finish without significant debts, the bus driver was happy with his fare, and the good residents of Kep were happy to see us go.

On On

Posted in Outstanding Haring, Run Report | 1 Comment »

Run #967 – Gorillas in the Midst

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on April 20, 2010

Date : 17/4/10

Hares:  Leking Duck, Mr Tinkle, STD (running) Chicken Shit (walking)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

To be read to the tune “The Lion Sleeps Tonight”…. hit it boys…

[The beer is cold]

on the island, a Bassac island
Leking Duck set the hash today
on the island, the damn hot island
Mr Tinkle leads the way

(Chorus)
On on on, on on on, on on on, on on on

Nancy’s walking today

On on on, on on on, on on on, on on on

Blah Blah’s gone the wrong way

[Porn Star’s here]

[Chicken Shit’s near]

[heat]

Near the village, the peaceful village
Scoutmaster’s following white paint
Near the village, the peaceful village
Virgin Euorkim is about to faint

(Chorus)
On on on, on on on, on on on, on on on

Two Hands declined to run

On on on, on on on, on on on, on on on

Frenchie’s melting in the sun

[beer is near]

Hush, Herring Choker, don’t fear, Little Boy
There is shade by the truck’s side
You lazy bastards, you sneaky bastards
You snuck on for a ride

[Hey, Barbie Doll crashed]
[Tea money!]

(Chorus)
On on on, on on on, on on on, on on on

Little Willie’s doing a check

On on on, on on on, on on on, on on on

Yogi Bra’s looking a wreck

[the end is near]
[swim]
[swim well]

At Duck Mansion, in the pool
Yap Yap is donning her best
At Duck Mansion, in the pool

STD’s showing his hairy chest

(Chorus)
On on on, on on on, on on on, on on on

Laverne’s cooling down

On on on, on on on, on on on, on on on

Flaccido’s scared he’ll drown

Oh the bare arse
Don’t fear, Schindler’s Fist
Oh the bare arse
Don’t fear, Schindler’s Fist

[The beer’s still cold]

Posted in Outstanding Haring, Run Report | 1 Comment »

Run #963 – Once in a Blue Moon

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on March 29, 2010

Date: 28/03/10

Hares: Blah Blah (running) Yap Yap (running/walking)
Run Report: Short Time

It was that rare event. A blue moon. The white unicorn. A four-leafed clover. A sober hasher.

It was a run without much complaint. The trail was marked. The truck arrived at the half way, without much incident. The circle started on time (early by Scoutmaster’s beer count). The walkers finished at almost the same time as the runners. Fester went to China. The hash truck was less populated than the cars providing seats for everyone. And as the sun set over the horizon, we did not run out of beer. Cheers!

Over a variety of terrain, including small resevoirs, evenly planted crops, mysteriously white spray-painted dogs, the pack went forth. Red ants not withstanding, we only witnessed blood on Herring Choker and Short Time’s legs. Through barbed wire and mango orchards, the pack eventually came to the half way, conveniently located next to a market for Laverne’s shopping habit.

As the pack came hobbling/limping/crawling back home, a rare site was seen in the sky, a sun with an almost full moon rising simultaneous. As a reward for a job well done, Scoutmaster did not make the circle get on their knees to recite a prayer. He said many of them probably spent more time on their knees this week than they were accustomed to. Especially May Not as he peeled the tape from his sore knee joints with a shit-eating grin.

The circle started with a call for virgins, returnees and foreign spies. Upon finding none, the hash realized that it is either a dying breed, or it’s just getting too damn hot outside in Cambodia. With Khmer New Year upon us, and the police lining their pockets for the big celebration, the pack had a certain modesty, a glazy-eyed look as they circled up. Maybe it was a fear of a driving while intoxicated charge, nah, maybe it was a week of hang overs, nah, maybe it was just a case of this being a good run that people were despondent, and tired. In the end, the run was rated a 3.9 out of 10 by Little Willy. But using Generally Accepted Cambodian Accounting Principles, it was reclassified as a 1.3, subtracting the 2.5 from 3.9?

For the walk, Hare Yap Yap was rewarded (penalized) with a down down on Blah Blah’s knee. And while Blah Blah basked in the glory of the ice and Yap Yap’s extra weight, Little Boy joined the down down on Blah Blah’s other knee. Feeling the discomfort/excitement from Little Boy, Blah Blah realized that Little Boy lived up to Mr. Tinkle’s illustrious reputation this week, but from the number two end, and quickly dismissed him. By the way, is Mr.Tinkle on house arrest?

The chief sinner had to be Sarsy. His sin was wearing the colors of a Thailand hash, knowing Anchor Beer to be the sponsor in Phnom Penh. Little Willy was accused of running while he should have been walking and walking when he should have been running. And Scoutmaster was accused of not paying the hash fee, even though this was his 320th run. But the point was, as the circle saw it, he didn’t offer to pay. And Runs Well took long cuts, not short cuts, imagine?

The ice, in the end, was used to chill beer. Not to compare Yogi Bra’s actual figure versus the imprint she left on ice last week. The pack broke into smaller circles, enjoying Anchor (not Singha, Sarsy) as night fell upon the mango fields, cow pastures and Little Boy’s cow paddy.

On on.

Posted in Outstanding Haring, Run Report | 1 Comment »

Run #960 – Splash Splash

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on March 8, 2010

Date: 07/03/10

Hares: Herring Choker (running) May Not (walking)

Run Report: Short Time

Unopened beer cans do float after they sink to the bottom of the swimming pool. After the terrified eyes of the hashers cleared as their Anchor rose to the surface of the pool after initially sinking, it was just a matter of wiping the chlorine from the top of the can to restore calm.

Run 960 had a overriding theme of water. The pack started by riding the Naga ferry across the river, running 7 km through rice fields and finally ending up in the warm, yet refreshing, waters of the Mango Resort. The pool overlooked the river and the setting sun. The run is not what the pack will remember however.

Farmers remembered to water their rice paddies resulting in a run through green fields in the middle of dry season.

Little Boy remembered a shortcut to the finish from the previous day. He advised Sarsy to follow. They arrived out of breath, and in time to see the rest of the pack already floating in the pool for 30 minutes.

Scoutmaster remembered a box of KFC from the day before and thought it might reappear on Sunday. But it turned out to be an illusion, a figment of the imagination. As it was on Saturday.

Runs Well remembered the days when he actually ran. No more.

May Not remembered to welcome everyone to run 959, even though this was run 960. Unless you refer to Hash Stats which listed last week as 960 and this week as 959???

Did we mention beer cans float?

Herring Choker remembered the days when ice was punishment, not the equivalent of a floating matress in a swimming pool.

May Not remembered ice from the Vancouver Olympics and was reaquainted with it in the circle.

Wanker Banker remembered a conversation from the day before about the resort rooms being available on an hourly basis and a new name was given, Short Time, to Andrew Jeschke. Daphne, a virgin, did not understand.

Booker and Grapes remembered how they received their hash names in Canberra, but the pack wasn’t listening still in amazement that the Anchor cans actually float. Metal is heavier than water, but is beer lighter than water? If you fill a metal can with liquid that is denser than water, taking into account the surface tension … shit, the pool water warms up the beer if you let it float for too long.

The business owners on Street 104 however did NOT remember to pay their electric bills and the On On On, scheduled for the Velkommen Inn, was moved to another watering hole, Sharkeys.

Posted in Outstanding Haring, Run Report | 3 Comments »

Run #959 – A Rare Commodity

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on March 2, 2010

Date : 27/2/10

Hares:  Pol Job & Germinator (running) Botticelli (walking)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

And the pack did stareth at the wat for they knew there layeth the end of the run.  And the hare spoke unto them “yea we shall tread a difficult path, looketh at my legs for confirmation.” And the pack did so and marveled at her scratches, yet it was the carpet burn that staked a spear of fear unto the hardiest of them.  [Malt 3:13]

A rare commodity was on display as Pol Job set his first trail with the aid of the irrepressible Germinator in Ta Khmao.  Was it diamonds?  No, something much rarer.  Was it truth?  No, even in Cambodia a commodity rarer still.  Perhaps it was a clean Fester shirt?  No, though few things in the known universe are rarer than this garment of such mythical proportions that Jason’s Fleece is practically gospel truth by comparison.  It was white paint, in abundance.

Oh the joy, oh the humanity, of being able to follow a trail by actually following the marks as opposed to having to second guess the mindset and general incompetence of the hare.  The pack was delighted at the sight of Son of Bitch finding on-backs, whilst Scoutmaster was horrified to learn that holds were in abundance.  The trail was so well laid and planned that Little Boy stayed with the pack and Runs Well didn’t short cut.  It was so well laid that if the trail had shoulder blades they would be calloused.

In order to determine how the pack found this sudden turn of fortune a quick survey was undertaken, the results of which have been transcribed below in the interests of transparency and accountability:

[Mr Tinkle] “The pack was constantly on the move, I had no time to urinate.  It was a disgrace.”

[Toxic Flop] “Yaaa, it was well marked.  I always went the wrong way though so there must be something wrong with it.”

[Botticelli]  “I couldn’t lose the walkers.  I tried, it’s traditional after all, however they stuck with me.  I have lost face and now have to shave off all my hair.  Did I just say that?”

[STD] “The pack stayed together like a Chinese tour group.  It was so tight it was practically illegal.”

[Little Willy] “For me the trail was like making love. It started slow then finished with an exciting rush through the bushes.”

[Wanker Banker] “There are serious concerns that the amount of paint used will cause a consumer driven inflation spike.  I’m reporting the hares to the appropriate authorities.”

[Herring Choker] “I don’t give a shit.  Who’s hare for next week?”

As can be seen the pack was truly grateful for the experience and will no doubt repeat such a wonderful example of trail setting with religious fervor.   In fact there was so much religious fervor on display that the hares opted to finish the run in the midst of a nun-led Buddhist ceremony at the local wat.  Fortunately GM Scoutmaster saw that this lack of cultural sensitivity and ensured that the circle was moved to a far less sensitive area, being next to the crematorium and monk’s graves.

Eventually the circle came to a close and the pack wandered off to Irrawaddy where the food was prompt and the delicious as per usual.  Some didn’t come on account of the food being delayed and plain.  There’s no accounting for taste.

On On

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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 #944 – A Study of Objectivity

Posted by p2h3hashtrash on December 3, 2009

Date : 27/11/09

Hare:  Blah Blah (running), Frenchie (walking)

Run Report:  Blah Blah

And as the pack did set forth a great cloud of dust did issue forth from yonder road, invading the lungs of the pack with disease and filth.  And the hare did but feel glad, for he knew it could only improve from here. [Malt 3:03]

This week’s blog is to be based upon the concept of objectivity, the definition of which is:  1. ability to view things objectively: the ability to perceive or describe something without being influenced by personal emotions or prejudices; 2. accuracy: the fact or quality of being accurate, unbiased, and independent of individual perceptions; 3. (philosophy) actual existence: the actual existence of something, without reference to people’s impressions or ideas

I appreciate that many hashers may struggle with the concept so I’ve provided a simplified version below:

Objectivity = what I say.  Oft confused with Subjectivity = what you say.

Now we have that off our collective chest, on to the report.  The run was set across the Mekong at Akreiy Ksat and I must say in sheer, unreserved objectivity….what a bloody beautiful run.

It was so beautiful that Wannacracker actually stopped at the holds to admire the scenery.  It was so beautiful that Frenchie insisted on continuing the walk unto eternity.  It was so beautiful that Hit on Me actually joined the run.  It was so beautiful that Yogi Bra spent more time admiring the view than the shirtless visitors.  It was so beautiful that visitor Brown Eye for the Gay Guy was moved to tears (though, upon reflection, some of the tears may have been sweat).  It was so beautiful that Abuser stayed on trail.  It was so beautiful that Loan Shark declared his undying love for the trail without ever quite realising Cheap Date was standing behind him.  It was so beautiful that Cuntsultant decided to forgo the Vietnam visa and all the Saigon Hash had to offer.

And the checks, oh the checks.  Wannacracker was completely flummoxed and by the end of the run a hunted look occupied his haunted eyes.  The checks were so good and the short cuts so profound that twice Festering Chronic Masturbator found himself as FRB.  The trail was so interlaced with cunning and mystery that Yap Yap took a copy of the trail to submit to the Japanese national origami museum.  The resultant pack was tight, like the sweet butt cheeks of the hare.  Objectively speaking, of course.

And dare I even mention the circle.  The circle was run with the clean, crisp machinations of the puppet master herself, Yogi Bra.  The circle was run with such efficiency that the German government has sent representatives to plead with Yogi Bra to share her trade secrets for whispers of the circle that evening had even reached that far corner of the globe.  Little Boy showed his skill and ingenuity by updating the entire hash statistical database with nothing more than the inside of a used chewing gum wrapper and an old piece of charcoal from a desolate police post.  He further showed his efficiency by cunningly hiding the statistics on the hash truck so that foreign spy agencies would be unable to locate and seize this vital information.

And the on on.  Oh the succulent flavours of the Irrawaddy delta, brought to Phnom Penh through the subtlety of the tea leaf salad and the brashness of the chickpea and chicken curry.  Not to forget the cold Myanmar, that cousin of the beloved Anchor, and the ridiculously low price.

So was it run of the year?  The answer is clearly yes; until such time as I set another one of course.

On On

Posted in Outstanding Haring, Run Report | 2 Comments »