PH3 Run 1774 Scribe
Show Scribe Report by Gangreen
Another Monday has rolled on in sunny, sunny Pattaya which means that we all have to get rid of our weekend hangovers and start all over again at our very own PH3 (Accept No Subsitutes and please bring correct change). It really is a ‘drinking club with a running problem’. But as our beloved PH3 has started to become very ‘geriatric’ lately, there seem to be more walkers, Beer Hunters and loaf-a-bouts than actual runners nowadays. It is said that running and other forms of exercise will help delay the onset of ‘old timers disease’ but if you take a gander around our Hash Family, you can tell immediately that it is way too late to do that running crap for most of us. The age keeps going up and the IQ keeps going down. At this rate, we are going to need an ambulance instead of a baht bus to bring us to the A-site. Instead of beer down-downs, they will be passing out ‘shots of oxygen’.
What’s a ‘douche canoe’? It’s a lightweight craft used by douches to move around on the figurative conversational currents to spread their messages of doucheness to new individuals who were blissfully unaware of their existence. It also has cupholders, which is the only redeeming quality of the ‘douche canoe’…and that ladies and gentlemen is why I am writing this scribe report today as if it needed any explanation.
My Hash day started of course at the rear of NECROPHILIA (If you want romance then just unzip my pants) NIGHTRIDER's Toyota and portable part-time short time room on wheels. It is usually a very pleasant way to start the festivities just relaxing on those comfy plastic chairs while waiting for WANK-KING'S WANKER to arrive and see just how ‘fucked up’ he is this week. All I can say is that I do believe that WANK-KING'S WANKER is in the throes of menopause, apparently very cranky and physically uncomfortable, what with hot flashes and the like. Don’t worry W.W. once you stop ovulating, you’ll start to feel a whole lot better.
I looked over yonder and saw a group of people in some form of a circle and thought that I would mosey over and check it out. Unbeknownst to me, the Hash had started with PUGSLEY and some unknown guy drinking beer from one of their shoes as previously mentioned shoes were of the new variety and had to be christened in the PH3 style. It is always funny to watch when it happens to the ‘other guy’. And then it was the Belgians turn to explain to anyone who was actually listening what their run was all about.…Surely one person in that group was capable of forming a sentence in English so that we all could understand. I really believe that Helen Keller could have given better run instructions than the “Spanglish” or “Google Translate” that was being mangled by this motley crew of foreigners.
Me? ....I saw REALLY SADISTIC BASTARD and SPAGHETTI HEAD heading down a hill (it was a very small hill) towards a local drinking establishment. Who needs a Hash run when all you really need for some exercise is to try and keep up with these two octogenarian gazelles heading for the comforting arms of some old Thai lady holding a frosty, cold welcoming beer in each hand. It really is a “Hallmark” greeting card moment. The Beer Hunters group is really gaining momentum lately with today’s attendance around 10 people. Sadly didn’t have time to solve all the world’s problems in this sitting but there is always next week to finish to job.
I missed the first part of the circle and FREE WILLY’s always Raffle extravaganza (I’ll take door #3 Monty) in time for our very own EMPEROR (The Way To My Heart Is Through My Pecker) AIRHEAD. AIRHEAD wasted no time in icing those pesky Belgian Hares. Even though we all saw their lips moving, nobody had any bloody idea what they were saying about their run. As usual, we just let them rant on for a while, make them drink a beer and then send them back to their main function…. blocking access points to the beer coolers around the rear of the beer truck.
All English transition words and phrases (sometimes also called conjunctive adverbs) do the same work as coordinating conjunctions: they connect two words, phrases or clauses together and thus the text is easier to read and the coherence is improved. Well that’s not going to happen here!!! Been trying to read my scribe notes from the last run and it’s a struggle….I think it’s written in “beeroglyphics” and I don’t have a Rosetta Stone to help me out so here are some random thoughts and misty memories……
It appears that SCAR (Let’s get drunk and screw) W/2T’S was a frequent visitor on the PH3 iceberg. Mostly to do with his new bouffant which he claims was in tribute to all the gold medals Norway won at the last Olympics (an Olympic that most of the world gives a rats’ ass about). Despite all of the outrageous slings and arrows he had to endure from all of us, SCAR was adamant that he looked ‘damn good’ flaunting his “Bum Fluff” as our SIR (“Don’t Tell Anyone I Fucked You”) CHICKEN FUCKER so well put it.
But then we found out that all that fake Norwegian pride was all a sham as STUPID (I Got My Willie Out) KRAUT KUNT bounded into our sacred circle claiming that SCAR was really a Frenchman and had the fake beret and day old baguette to prove it. That was all the evidence (and of course SKK’s eloquent babbling) to convince us that SCAR really is from south of the Maginot Line….and in the Hash Court: “You have the right to remain silent as anything you say will probably be stupid anyway”.
Next up was PUG (Make your daddy happy) SLEY. It’s been a while since PUGSLEY last visited us but this time he was unchaperoned this trip. When queried further about the whereabouts of “The Wife”, PUGSLEY went all ‘Witness Protection’ on us and started mumbling something about how he “Lost Or Misplaced” her somewhere back in Canada. Just remember PUGSLEY…….”Wives are like grenades…. Remove the ring and “BOOM” a house is gone!!!
This next scribble makes no sense at all. It seems that the Hash (yes, our Hash) was arguing over the good merits of DIRT (“I’m multi-talented: I Can talk and piss you off at the same time”) LOONEY. In order to avoid a repeat of this theorem,..HE HAS NONE!!!!
All of a sudden, REALLY (“That boy makes me horny”) SADISTIC BASTARD went all Father Jack Hackett (from the Father Ted TV series) and just started screaming…”Drink!”, Drink!”..”Drink!”. Luckily we have seen this type of behavior before and RSB was quickly revived by placing a few drops of Chang Beer between his lips and gums. Quick thinking by the PH3 response team saved the life of another cranky, cantankerous, old bastard. Thank you, we think.
It appears that THE (The Sheriff wore a dress) WIZARD has taken exception to the our Hash Award (aka…toilet seat). According to THE WIZARD, our Award (now will be called Little Johnny) looks quite tacky and doesn’t have the quality patina an award of this stature deserves. He must have picked up his ‘antiquing’ skills from working all those years in English prisons (or as FREE (Don’t believe that lie I gave you) WILLY calls them…. AirBNB). About the only time I’ve ever heard the Hash talk about ‘patina’, they were describing the pinnacle of SPAGHETTI (My pecker started talking to me again) HEAD or AIRHEAD's noggin.
Yes there were awards. But the most notable was DUCHESS TADPOLE making an appearance to accept our sincere, heartfelt thanks for completing 550 runs. As AIRHEAD was long gone, TADPOLE was able to leave her ‘bolt-hole’ long enough to accept whatever we did, or said or gave her.
Next up…to the sound of most of the cars revving their engines it was NO MORE (Honest everybody, I really don’t suffer from ‘Cherophobia’) CUM's turn. What was left of the circle had started to become very, very disgruntled and it was NMC’s chore to put the ‘gruntled’ back in his fellow hashers. You have to give the little fella credit but we all know how impossible it is to perform at peak level when you really don’t even like most of the people were still left there and just waiting for the baht buses to leave.
Another interesting tidbit found out was that REAR (I never missed a lick) GUNNER's original Hash name was: “COFFEE, TEA OR ME”. It harkens back to the time when he was working undercover as a stewardess for Quantas Airlines. The COFFEE, TEA OR ME name suited him very well as he was a lot more ‘prancie’ back then but he has really ‘butched’ up a lot since hanging around with the real men of the PH3….I know that I have.
To finish up this drivel I must mention our SIR CHICKEN FUCKER who really showed SCAR what a real Viking with real gold hair looks and acts like. His performance would have been a little more forceful if his front horn hadn’t become a little too droopy. I well know that a Viking’s horn at your age does lose quite a bit of the old ‘marrow’ if you know what I mean. Also, your prostate is probably too far away from your droopy horn to be of any effect as you get more miles on your odometer. I’ll do some research on this and mention any results in my next scribe report. After one of the longest farewell dissertations we have ever heard he finally fucked off. I thought SCF was suffering from some incurable disease at one point with his maudlin, weepy good-byes.
And now we are coming into the home stretch. All it takes is for BURL IVES to sing us the Hare Song (as mentioned above those Belgies don’t know no English) which leads us into the Hash Hymn. Have a quick whiz (leave nothing behind except your footprints and a puddle) and hope that you hit the baht bus lottery and found some like minded drunks sharing the ride home and not having ‘you know who’ on board.
Sure there is going to be a long hard run today, lotsa’ lottery prizes, unlimited supply of cold beer and the companionship of good friends….but the real reason I came out to todays Hash (and I assume most of you too) was to answer the burning question.. ”Did FREE WILLY get those special beer condoms?” If you want to know, you must come out to our next Monday Hash…..see ya’ll then