Always read the announcements when doing something at a certain time. Just by a coincidence I realised the bus leaves a half hour earlier than my brain had noted. The running up Yamoto had a highlight when a guy screamed: Boat to island? Banana boat?
‘A’ site was a nice place with a decent view, which I learned that has been used heavily before. Since it comes with a concrete wall, roof and all, it’s rainy season heaven. And as Sir Airhead pointed out later during the circle - it was what the hash needed a few years ago when Mother Nature gave the Monday Hash a show in the form of a typhoon.  Pre-run circle called with the usual explaining from the hares, and the new shoes dealt with. A more serious announcement from GM Frog and the mismanagement followed. Will probably be explained with capital letters somewhere here in the Trash but basically… The Happy Hour bars started serving free food as a “thank you” years ago, around the time when the Hash Happy Hour was more or less where we spent the rest of the evening, drunks as we were those days (hmm, still are). Today it is a place where most of us grab a beer and food and leave happy a bit later. So it should be. Buy 1 beer or more if you’re eating! Nuff said (stolen). And the other announcement was about bringing the Hash Horrors into the Happy hour Go Go bars. This is a no no, and in these Thaksin days, it could not only give the bar very bad press, it can mean at least 30 days closure and G knows what. Then after a last warning from the Hares to King Yao Yao, to be careful and not play with the barbwire out there, it was time for another mystery tour in the land of smiles, in the city where men are men, and cracks are cute.
I had a quick meeting with my favourite Kraut, The Stupid C’one, and decided to rather watch the hares prepare all the Irish stuff than running. So sorry for not filling in with which dog that was barking, which barbwire the King missed, and if Sir Airhead actually caught up with you after arriving 3.5 minutes late. Instead I will give you a behind a scene look of all the work going on backstage by the hares while you are out on the afternoon stroll. Stroll for most of you, a bit more serious running for my fellow countrymen Karamba and Peler. Wonder if Karamba got a heart problem coming up with that blood pressure measurer thing around his arm. Hares got straight into action as soon as the pack turned around the first tree. First they had a quick meeting deciding it was way too hot in the sun for the pick-up truck, so they backed it 2 meters into the shade of the wrecked building that surrounded us. Then it was table, gas, pan and oil out, all organised by the cracks, while Seaman and Clit Face organised ice cubes and got out a bottle of Jameson. After 15 minutes when the first bunch of spring rolls still looked like a pale Norwegian night guard, supervision from Clit Face was needed again. The gas can was changed faster than the ice in a Jameson glass can give away a drop of water, and the oil was back to boiling, the rolls started to get a tan, and the girls all smiled again.
The front runners arrived and we spent an hour in the sun solving more problems like how they manage to remove the taste from airline food, cinema hot dogs, etc etc, and so so on on. Enough spring rolls to feed a bunch of hungry drunks. Wonder how many of you who got a soar tongue today, like me. And it is not from licking something you shouldn’t have licked, but from almost eating the rolls straight from the oil. After fruit, rolls, doing the only shopping (hash stuff) we male like (that is of course ‘cept for electronics we didn’t realized we needed until we saw it), it was time to deal with the run and the last weeks events. Circle called and I suddenly realized I was scribe. Always loved you, Flying Frog, thank you for asking. You saved my Tuesday morning. Would have been bored silly in the rain, and I got the perfect excuse for an 11 am G/T. Flying Frog welcomed us to run number something, with hundred and something hare and hounds, and he iced those guys who always use 3 minutes to end a conversation after the circle is called. Among the housewife’s was Karamba as usual. Will try to get most down here but since half what I wrote is just as understandable to me as reading a hand, bare with me. Hares in, and we all thought it was an OK run on a well used location. Karamba iced for having his fly open. Raffle followed and it lasted a bit long. Hashers have a tendency to buy tickets but not check when they have to use the brain. Not easy when you hear a number and at the same time compare it to what you look at, at least for us men (hey, we are the ones who turn down the volume at the stereo in the car while looking for house numbers). At the same time the kids found out how much noise you can make when you have a combination of concrete and small new lungs.
Religion followed and Sir Airhead honoured Rottweiler, Ewok and Miss Chivas for the food organizing, and iced Clit Face and Seaman Stains for not doing enough of the work. Sir Airhead followed by mentioning that there is nothing left of the St. Paddy day celebration in the Pattaya hash. Green beer and most of the Irish men – all gone. Derelick iced for last weeks photo – he don’t believe in underwear. Monster joining him on the ice for leaving. Derelick will return home to take up a profession as a male prostitute in jail. Icy Davidson joined them on the ice, explaining law problems regarding Derelick and his lawyer’s. The questions to the US lawyer’s office was something like: I know I was not suppose to leave the US… the reply was: Please do not contact us again! A naming followed, which I lost completely due to a visit to the bush, picking up a new can. Leavers, Visitors from Egypt, Subic, Darwin and a least two more places. Then the huge bunch of returners. I forgot I was one, missed my beer. A few birthdays which I only remember V.V was one. Chicken Fucker took over the circle and Iced Spaghetti Head. He lost his car last week so a bicycle was his form of wheels this week. Was it stolen? Was it locked? Yes and no. Then I missed one. Think it was the girl who had the trauma of seeing Derelick’s “thing” last week. She is now looking for something bigger and better. Then it was more from poor Ewok’s love life. No need for all the details about the poor man but it involved a third floor and the impact it can have to the legs when not using the stairs. Song of the Day from Chicken Fucker was about the happy life you can have as a lady boy. Peler was iced for calling Chicken Fucker and interrupting while he was playing with his rubber friend. The call was about some unimportant stuff he lost on the Bush Hash. Anniversaries, a few, all listed somewhere (yes I was in the bush shooting rabbits again). Then we welcomed 5 virgin to the wonderful world of Hashing, the hares did a good job with the hare song, we did the Hash Hymn and it was time for the bus back to town, and to finally have a look a Jameson’s. I’ve seen the photos on the net during the process and now it even looks like a pub. I only had time for a drink and missed the food, but I know. Kim and the staff do it well when it comes to serving us bastards. Thanks Kim! Thanks to the hares for the most un-Irish Paddy celebration I have tried, but hey, do it again, please. All in all, another boring afternoon with the hash.

On On
Oslo Fuckin’ere aka Vodka