SAIPAN
HASH TRASH
issues 1040 -
1049
RUN #1049 The” ANNUAL GIFT
EXCHANGE VIRGIN BOY TOY FULL MOON” Run
HARES: SWORD
SWALLOWER, DOMINIC,
BOX: WHISKY
BUNKER,
PAPAGO
DRIVE
ON HOME: GURUGUR LN.
CASUALTIES: BERNADETTE
RUN: ¶¶
RELIGION: ¶¶¶
DLMM Rating: 0
CLDPDMMM: UNKNOWN
32 hounds showed up at the BOG for the annual Saipan
Hash House Harriers Gift exchange. In
the past 3 years this was traditionally a caroling through Garapan with
Claymore and Kramden. However, this
year was a full moon and Claymore is not longer here to sing, so we dispensed
with that part of the Christmas run.
However, we did have FNG’s, Janis and Lea, and one returning
Hasher (12 years ago) named Mike who is a Doctah Dentist. We also saw the
return of Lemur who has had to work for the last year and has been unable to
hash. Pegasus and her sister were also there after a long absence. The box was announced and the assembled all
headed up in that direction. A steep
trail up the hill put us in to a tunnel dug into the cliff with a heavy steel
door. The last time I was in here,
there were 8 bottles of Jack Daniels lined up against the wall for the hounds
man enough to drink some. Anyway, the hares
got us all in, ‘splained the instructions, and took off. The Tyrant ‘splained the instructions to the
FNG’s and then everyone milled about in the cave.
After the 10-minute head start, the pack was off and headed
south towards the quarry. There was no
trail to follow (except some on-on’s we were not supposed to see in the grass
on the side of the road), and like sheep we just followed the FRB’s. Eventually we found a checking that we were
not supposed to see (yet) and Kramden spied a stack of pallets barely hidden
and neatly stacked just off the entrance to the quarry. He whispered to Ciega and they pretended to
be looking for trail. More of the pack
came up and those who had gone into the quarry started to come back. Then they tried the road east of the
quarry. Ciega and Kramden hid in some
vines covered berms. Several hounds
came back and discovered them, but did not ask why they were hiding or what the
pallets were for. Kramden pointed in
the direction of the quarry, where FRB flashlights could now be seen flickering
up the hillside across the quarry. The
dumb hounds said ok and took off. Then
Ciega and Kramden waited patiently for the hares to show up and discussed
important issues of the day.
The hares showed up and wondered what we were doing there,
and told us all about the long on backs they had set as homage to Haj
Claymore. Eventually the hounds began
to trickle in and a big pot of HOT CHILI was brought out. There was even some veggie chili.
Great big bowls full were ladled out and there was even some
hot dogs and buns. Once all the hounds were in and the Tyrant piped up
Religion, Pervert and Leave It got into an Obnoxious Off to see who could out
obnoxious Kowpaddy. The hares were
called forward and talked about the trail and what was “SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN” and
Kramden reminded them that it was actually Claymore, to whom this run was
dedicated, that said, “Never underestimate the stupidity of the hounds.”
Testiculese was officially named from the previous week.
Next the FNG’s came up and told us that Sword Swallower made
them come. Since it was a full moon,
everyone was required to come up and do a down down. During this time, Paul got up with Bernadette and described how
they were singing a song on trail and Veiner Von Braun came up with the name
Wandering Menstrual for Bernadette who swore she would never hash again. This was great fodder for the yahoogroup
this week. After everyone got up and
did their down down, the gift exchange began.
There were lots of cool stuff like a Beta max (which Leave it threw a
tantrum over), and Interamericas Hash t-shirts from Toronto Canada from
Melanie. There were also some porno
stuff as usual, but everyone seemed happy with there stuff. Soapy Snatch and Dirty Girl were wearing
contrasting basketball jerseys with the # 85 on them and this was one of the
gifts too. Crapper Don kept saying his
favorite number was 85. He also rolled
his eyes in Pegasus’ stress tit balls but never took them. There was a lot of
stealing of gifts, but everyone, (Except Leave It) seemed to be happy with what
they got. The vessel was retired, the
area policed, and Swing Low was sung.
Most people headed straight home because it was already very late. I wonder where CLD went?
The Saipan Hash House Harriers convenes every Saturday at
3:30 p.m. (4:00 p.m. during "summer") at the Bank of Guam parking lot
in Garapan U.S. $10.00 (NON NEGOTIABLE)
MISMANAGEMENT
TYRANT/GM Haj,
F. Kramden, Sir!!
RA: Dog
Leg
AAAARA: OPEN
FIRE MASTER OPEN
HASH CASH Ciega
TRAIL MASTER Dog Leg
DLMM TECHNICIAN Dog Leg
HASH SCRIBE Dogleg
1051 01/08/2005 PHARTICUS
1052
1/15/05 HOP ON COCK
EDITORIAL
What a year! And
what a tragedy in south Asia. I can’t
wait to hear CLD tell me that it was a plot by Bush and Cheney to get the war
in Iraq off of the front pages and CNN. But I digress. We have so much to be grateful for here in
Saipan. We have a hash every week. We have cable tv. We have DSL. Cold Beer
and soft drinks. Too much food. Cars.
Stereos. The list is endless.
If you sit back and find yourself with too much, please make
a contribution to the American Red Cross in care of the Asian Tsunami Relief.
Kudos to those who got up early on Sunday morning to do the
Island Relay.
RUN #1048
RUN #1047
RUN #1046 The “Bleeding On
Back of Death”
-
or -
“1,001
ways to maim the hounds using nothing but materials found on trail”
HARES: Donkey Dick
& Pervert Hoover
BOX: Obyan
Beach (cave)
ON HOME: Obyan Beach
(beach)
CASUALTIES: Maxcheesemo,
CLD, MHP, Ellen
RUN: ¶¶
RELIGION: ¶¶¶
DLMM Rating: 10!
CLDPDMMM: ~5,000?
Some people learn from their mistakes, and get better with each
subsequent attempt. Some people fear
the embarrassment of a poor job more than they fear anything in the world, and
are thus motivated to do well on whatever they try. Then there’s Donkey Dick and Pervert Hoover. Most of us were willing to accept their first
run as a fluke, and give them the benefit of the doubt on their second
one. Well, fool us once… But that still fails to explain exactly why
so many people (32) showed up for this run, including the long-missing Minnie
Pearl, Messiah, Salty Gash, and even the return of Nathan, with 2 cases of
Michelob Ultra and an FNG. We were also
graced with an appearance by several Hash women who were not going on the run,
but were instead going wrasslin’ with Kowpaddy.
Being a bit more seasoned, Dogleg was not expecting much. But he did expect the hares to at
least show up at the BOG, so he began to get worried as it passed 4:00 and
there were still no hares. So he began
planning an impromptu run with CLD, and then quickly rejected him in favor of
Mr. Happy Pockets who suggested a better trail, and who was also not hacking up
chunks of his lungs with every puff of his cigarette. More time passed, so Dogleg committed to his plan and ran across
the street to buy flour. This, of
course, was right at the same time Pervert Hoover decided to show up
(alone). This was about 4:10. He looked frazzled, at best, and when he
announced the Box to be Obyan Beach, we knew we were in for another shitty
trail.
By the time we got down there and got into the Box it was almost 5:00,
and still no sign of cohare Donkey Dick. The call went out to carry flashlights – it was probably going to
be dark before most of the pack finished.
Had we known the trail that Pervert had planned for us, we might have
breathed a little easier. Or we might
have lynched him and set trail with the flour Dogleg had bought. But all we knew was that the last time this
duo set trail, we were forced to run 8 miles of dirt and paved roads, so we
were a little concerned. Pervert told
us that trail would be marked with “bleached cotton” and then was off. Dogleg ‘splained the instructions to the
FNGs, which included Nathan’s friend Farah, Shawna (a PIC Clubmate – NWATPIC),
some judge guy who didn’t stick around for religion, and a freaky hippy dude
named Zack who was kept asking if trail was set in organically-grown flour, and
started chanting in the cave as soon as we were finished.
Just as the 10 minutes expired, Dogleg noticed a previously invisible
shortcut above the cave, so he went that way and the only one who followed him
was Maxcheesemo. This took them
immediately onto the road above the parking lot, and finding no on-ons, they
decided to fly up to the Boyscout road.
The rest of the pack found true trail heading into the boonies at the
end of the parking lot, generally following the coastline towards the Boyscout
Beach area. Trail had been cut – you
have to give them that – but in a rather remarkable manner that left sharp
punjie sticks poking out at all levels, but mostly eye level, all over the
place. “Anyone who had skin” was
injured to some degree.
Out on the Boyscout road, Maxcheesemo and Dogleg soon discovered that
the road had disappeared after the summer’s typhoons, and they were forced to
turn off toward the coast, heading through uncut boonies towards the sounds of
the pack. Surprisingly, the uncut
boonies were safer than the “cut” trail, with only a few, naturally pokey
sticks in the way. Soon Minnie Pearl
could be heard (by everyone) shouting “On Back! It’s one big On Back!”.
Ugggh! Not that trick
again!! Who taught them how to set
trail?? Chicken Little Dick?
Kramden??!! Dogleg and
Maxcheesemo had an argument after reaching the on-back, which had three little
cartoon drawings of Kramden, Ciega, and Droolbag telling them to go back to the
Box. Cheeseboy insisted that going back
on trail would be faster because the Boyscout road was overgrown. The fool!
He would pay the price in blood.
Dogleg and Derek left him there and headed out for the road, following
the mushed weeds left by the FRBs, and soon were on the old road, which was in
pretty good shape. They were soon
joined by most of the rest of the pack, who all had the same idea. All these people were OK. The people who turned back on trial were
fucked. Even though it was less than a
mile, the punjie sticks and low branches turned it into a slow and bloody
crawl.
It was already getting dark when
the first of the these true-trailers started coming back into the on-home, as
the rest of us opened our third or fourth beers. They could be seen limping back along the beach in clumps, barely
visible in the twilight. The first one
in was MHP, and he had taken a stick in the ear, of all places. Next was Maxcheesemo, and he was a bloody
mess, with a gash above his temple that had already bled through a pair of hash
gloves. Finally, the last group could
be seen coming down the beach in the gloom.
As they approached, it could be seen that Ladrone had sprouted an extra
pair of legs, and they were dangling from his stinky armpits (Ladrone should
read Dogleg’s advice here.) The extra legs turned out to be Ellen, who
most of us know as a three-time FNG who has yet to come up for a down
down. She had been hit on the ankle
with a falling rock. Though Ladrone had
done all the work of “saving” her, MHP immediately pounced on the opportunity,
and spirited her off to the “hospital”, which much to her surprise turned out
to be his couch, with a bag of ice and a cocktail. “Hey baby, wanna watch Lord of the Rings on my new
hi-resolution video projector?” But
everyone else had made it in with only minor injuries, except for CLD who also
had a head (who said head?) injury. But
he didn’t seem any more disoriented than usual, so Dogleg grabbed him as
stand-in RA and called religion to order.
The on-home had been set up in a
really nice shaded spot around an old building foundation. Unfortunately, the wind was all over the
place that night, and the fire that CLD had set was very smoky and refused to
really get going until well into religion.
Anyone who came up to do a down down was therefore half asphyxiated by
the time they started talking, which might explain why the hares came up so often
after making their initial excuses (“I ran out of time!” Wasn’t that
their excuse last time?) The fire was
finally corralled by a visiting Hasher from Guam named Paul, who had AH3
attitude disorder. Is this what the SH3
has come to? Then came the FNGs: Zack turned out (surprise surprise) to be a
vegetarian, all organic non-beer drinker, so he showed his dick instead. We then learned that it was Confuse-us’s
last Hash, but he was not interested in doing a shoe down-down, and left before
we had a chance to start one, which disappointed many of us. Several tales from the trail followed,
mostly to do with sharp sticks in the eye, and then Beerhead showed her
tits. And then – yes, you may have
heard about it already – Bar Fine showed hers as well. The DLMMM was pegged. But it was not just about Tits: the Hash women got to see (all natural
vegan) pee-pee again when Zack was
called up to be named “MoreOn” for calling “On on! More On!” repeatedly in the jungle. Then Donkey Dick asked for a Palauan with Bernadette, and it was
damn near pornographic. The hares kept
coming up again and again, which kind of dragged things out, but it was offset
a bit by some good tales from the rest of the crowd. It rained again, got unbearably smoky, and the vessel was finally
retired. A good sized crowd headed to
Hamilton’s for the On-on-on, where some of Kowpaddy’s wrasslin’ girlfriends
showed up later, and partied ‘til they puked.
The Saipan Hash House Harriers convenes every Saturday at
3:30 p.m. (4:00 during "summer") at the Bank of Guam parking lot in
Garapan U.S. $10.00 (NON NEGOTIABLE)
REMEMBER, IF YOU GO BACK TO THE REAL WORLD AND THERE IS NO
HASH, START ONE. IT IS A GREAT WAY TO
MEET PEOPLE, AND SOME ONE IS BOUND TO SHOW YOU THEIR TITS ONE OF THESE DAYS.
MISMANAGEMENT
TYRANT/GM Haj,
F. Kramden, Sir!!
RA: Dog
Leg
AAAARA: ????
FIRE MASTER Not
CLD
HASH CASH Ciega
TRAIL MASTER Dog Leg
DLMM TECHNICIAN Dog Leg
HASH SCRIBE Dogleg
CONTACT CIEGA TO SIGN UP. IT IS A HASHER’S DUTY TO BE A HARE.
BE A HARE,
SET TRAIL FOR YOUR FRIENDS
RECEDING HARE LINE...
1048 12/18 Peewee
– 20th SH3 Birthday
1049 12/26 OPEN (Sunday Full Moon Run)
1050 1/1 Pussy-Stain
1051 1/8 Fartacus
1052 1/15 Hop
on Cock
1053 1/22 Donkey
Dick
FM106 1/25 Crackerjack&Ass
(Tue. Full Moon)
EDITORIAL
We can bitch all we want about last week’s trail, but
remember unless you have also volunteered to set a trail when no one else has,
you should not talk. Honor to Pervert
Hoover and Donkey Dick for stepping up to the plate. If they want, I am offering my services next time they set trail,
to give advice or coach them through to complete their trail next
time. My machete is ready…. Dogleg
Honor to Confuse-us! May we all still be Hashing at his age!
RUN #1045 The “It’s all
about Dogleg” Run
HARES: Crackerjack,
Wiener Von Brown,
Maxcheesemo
BOX: Wing
Beach
ON HOME: Wing Beach
CASUALTIES: Crackerjack,
Chicken Little Dick
RUN: ¶¶¶
RELIGION: ¶¶¶
DLMM Rating: 8
CLDPDMMM: ~5,000
Only a handful of Hashers turned
out on this incredibly rainy Saturday evening for the Dogleg Full Moon Tribute
run. It was probably the rain. Or the dark. Or the lack of advertising.
Whatever, but you don’t think it had anything to do with Dogleg, do
you? Nah… probably not. Crackerjack
and Maxcheesemo set up a T-shirt sales station in the cab of the Cheeseboy’s
truck, but with only 15 hounds present, things did not look good for
Crackerjack’s bank account, which had been emptied to fund the 30-plus T-shirts
she had printed up, each with a picture of Dogleg lighting a cigarette with a
dollar bill, and at least 1,000 words of pointlessly reproduced e-mails having
to do with setting the price of the Full Moon run, ad nauseum. Fortunately, Ciega saved Crackerjack a good
$10 by deciding to reward the hardcore Hashers with a FREE HASH. Thank you, Ciega!
Among Dogleg’s good friends that showed for this momentous occasion
(besides the Hares) were Piss Break, and, uh, Piss Break… Notably absent was former cohare Hajj
Chicken Little Dick, who, it was said, had gotten into a big hare fight with
Crackerjack regarding the content of the T-shirts, and had backed out of the
run, leaving a small gap that was enthusiastically filled by Maxcheesemo. The rest of the hounds, which included
Droolbag, Ladrone, Tandoori Chicken, Sissy, Vertical Lay, and Kramden (among a
few others) were as surprised as Dogleg, having heard nothing special prior to
the run.
It took Crackerjack a long time
before accepting the fact that she wasn’t going to sell any more T-shirts. But finally she announced the Box to be at
Wing Beach, and the pack was off, carpooling to a surprising degree for a
change. When we got there, the rain had
temporarily stopped, and it was just enough for the hares to be able to lay
down flour for the Box and the instructions, which Kramden ‘splained to the
lone FNG “Emir”, who Bernadette made come (again). Special instructions were confusing, having something to do with
old ribbon someone had left up in the boonies, and then they were off. After the instructions were ‘splained, those
who were listening heard the story about someone having their listbot behavior
forwarded to their boss, and those present were suitably outraged.
Out of the box, the pack
immediately headed down toward the end of the beach, the way the hares had
gone. Dogleg was in the lead, and he
was certain he knew which trail they hares would take, so he led the pack right
past the true trail and into a clusterfuck at the end of the beach in the
rocks. Dirty Yellow Balls found trail
at the last on-on, heading up into the boonies. This was a slow, winding trail, through lots of wet vines and low
branches, and it started pouring rain just before the pack broke out onto the
road. Trail was damn near washed away
in the downpour that followed, but just enough flour was left to guide the pack
up the FEBC road, and a short way up a badly eroding checking was found which
took the pack off into the boonies on the right. This was a steep and rocky boonie trail, and was borderline treacherous
under the evening’s conditions. This is
where Crackerjack tore her leg open, requiring her to go to CHC and have Dr.
Francois seal up her gash. Dogleg also
sliced his thumb open in here, but even though it was nearly as painful as a
really bad paper cut, he didn’t whine about it like Crackerjack. But it was not long before the terrain
opened up onto the golf course, and trail was found on one of the cart paths
leading back toward the clubhouse.
Droolbag took this as a cue to start running for the front, but he was
kept back because he kept mistaking frogs for on-ons. I’m not kidding.
The rest of the trail was a pavement pounder back down to Wing
Beach.
At the On-home, the pack carried
the coolers down to the beach while Maxcheesemo drove back to Crackerjack’s
house to get the three greasy cheeckens that he had purchased from 99
Cent store in honor of Dogleg. But it
was Crackerjack who disgusted everyone by jamming her fist into one of the
carcasses and tearing away half of its flesh, and cramming it down her throat
as fast as she could swallow. It was
like something from the movie Alien, or Indiana Jones and the Temple
of Doom.
It did not take long for everyone but Ladrone to come in, and the Hares
had picked him up on the way back with the cheeckens, so the new FM
Tyrant Wiener Von Brown was able start religion in short order, gathering the
small crowd around the smoky fire that DYB had started. First up were the hares, and they explained
that the trail was meant to have been a re-creation of the first Full Moon
trail that Dogleg had set (FM #9), but Dogleg clarified that his original run
had no boonies; only road and golf course, and further explained that it was
not as lame as that sounds because most of the other Full Moon runs prior to that
had either been in the rain or on Beach Road.
Next was the FNG, and he did not do too badly, except that he was unable
to provide us any help in getting his friend Bernadette to show us her tits. Then it was time for everyone else to come
up. Kramden got up in short order and
gloated about being able to heckle, and then wore the can of sacred nectar that
he had been warming in the fire for something like 20 minutes. Kowpaddy, who arrived late, got up and tried
to make excuses for why he hadn’t paid Ciega yet. Of course, no one wanted to tell him it was a free Hash. Why spoil the groveling?
There were a couple more courtesies and tales, and then the Dogleg part
of the show began: Dogleg was asked to
sit on a cooler, and a shower curtain was drawn around him (supported by a PVC
pipe frame inserted down the crack of his ass). Then a series of Hashers came up and told tales, impersonated
Hashers, and read old Longfellow poems as part of a “this is your life” quiz
show, on which Dogleg could not be fooled, and soon the score was Hash 0,
Dogleg 10. The work that had gone into
this “show” was obvious, and Dogleg was touched – literally – in some ways he
did not want to be, when Sissy called him up for a Palauan as “man of the
hour”. Now it was Hash 1, Dogleg
10. It started raining again and then
the rest of the people who had not come up yet were forced to come up,
including Bernadette and Vertical Lay, neither of whom wanted to say anything,
so they took care of themselves at the same time with a Palauan, and it was
nothing like the closed-mouth, stubbly, stay-away-from-me kiss Dogleg had
“given” Sissy: It was hot! “♫ I like you, you like me…”But
that was the last of the hounds, and aside from a few old (and moldy) Dogleg
stories from Piss Break and Kowpaddy, the small pack was just not interested in
dragging religion out any further. So
the vessel was retired and the area was policed. Swing Low was sung, and several hashers stuck around to enjoy the
rest of the fire. But only a select few
went on to the On-on-on at Mom’s Round 2, because it was too late for the rest
of the wankers, and the Hares had to go to CHC to have Crackerjack’s gash
sealed.
The Saipan Hash House Harriers convenes every Saturday
at 4:00 p.m. (3:30 during "winter") at the Bank of Guam parking lot
in Garapan U.S. $10.00 (NON NEGOTIABLE)
REMEMBER, IF YOU GO BACK TO THE REAL WORLD AND THERE IS NO
HASH, START ONE. IT IS A GREAT WAY TO
MEET PEOPLE, AND SOME ONE IS BOUND TO SHOW YOU THEIR TITS ONE OF THESE DAYS.
MISMANAGEMENT
TYRANT/GM Haj,
F. Kramden, Sir!!
RA: Dog
Leg
AAAARA: ????
FIRE MASTER Not
CLD
HASH CASH Ciega
TRAIL MASTER Dog Leg
DLMM TECHNICIAN Dog Leg
HASH SCRIBE Dogleg
CONTACT CIEGA TO SIGN UP. IT IS A HASHER’S DUTY TO BE A HARE.
BE A HARE, SET TRAIL FOR YOUR
FRIENDS
RECEDING HARE LINE...
1047 12/11 Pussy-Stain
1048 12/18 Peewee –
20th SH3 Birthday
1049 12/26 OPEN (Sunday Full Moon Run)
1050 1/1 Pussy-Stain
1051 1/8 Fartacus
1052 1/15 Hop
on Cock
1053 1/22 Donkey
Dick
FM106 1/25 Crackerjack&Ass
(Tue. Full Moon)
EDITORIAL
When I was about 10, I realized I was probably
destined for greatness. I knew that
some day, I would be given the “This is Your Life” treatment, before a crowd of
people that would reflect on my accomplishments. I’m so happy that it has now happened. Now I can relax. My work
is done! All my dreams have come true!
Dogleg
RUN #1044 The “! ARE WE
REALLY GONN FALL FOR THIS TRAIL AGAIN” Run
HARES: KOWPADDY
BOX: KINGS
PLAZA
ON HOME: SAN ISIDRO BEACH
CASUALTIES: SWAMPCRAWLERS
RUN: ¶¶¶!
RELIGION: ¶¶¶
DLMM Rating: 0
CLDPDMMM: 9000!!!!
45 hounds showed up at the BOG. Included in this gaggle 3 Japanese Tourist
FNG’s, returning hashers CBP, Splat,
Red Sasquatch, Banger, Ladrone the Large Ambassador, Beerhead, Phartikus, Billy Graham, and Tanya Hardon and Pissbreak. The box was announced as Kings Plaza in Dan
Dan and the Tyrant arrived late because of his support of a community couples
group (which would figure in the trail later).
Once everyone was in the box, the Tyrant went back to the beer truck to
get his gloves. Then he went back to
get his flash light. Then he went back
for something else. All this time
Kowpaddy was giving the special instructions.
At the box, Speckled Pecker left because Kowpaddy said it was not a child friendly run. Later Kowpaddy would tell Pharikus “I told
you so” to which Phartikus would reply “Fuck You Kowpaddy!”, over and over ,
and over again.
After Kowpaddy left, the Tyrant ‘splained the instructions
to Akira, Daisuki, Ishigenori, Yoon Joon Kim, (who came with Vagina Slim),
Paula (S.U.Y.T.) who Tanya Hardon made come. Once the instructions were over
and the 10-minute head start was over, we headed north towards Kannat Tabla on Tandug Rd.
This took us to Kannat Tabla road and a checking. The true trail checked left (although many
of the all slimers thought we would be going into the quarry and then up and
over to San Pedro Chapel).
However, this was not the case and trail went back out to Chalan Monsignor Guerrero. We crossed this street and an arrow took us
on to Tun Anonion Apa Road.
This took us past the Northern Happy Asshole College, the Northern Happy
Asshole Acadamy, and then another arrow on to Husk Ln. to the Riviera
hotel. Unbeknownst to many, Riviera
Resort is Chez Confuse Us and this particular weekend was the venue for
Marriage Encounter. Kowpaddy somehow
figured that Kramden would be mortified if a bunch of screaming hashers ran by
but this was not the case since Kramden was only helping and not DOING the
weekend. Anyway, the trail continued past the lobby, down the road behind, and
then into an old, typhoon ravaged jeep trail.
The trail was really slippery and steep and eventually we popped out on
to Manha Ln. which happens to be the Kiyu Family Compound.
We tan passed all of the Villagomez family mansions and then popped out on Tun Joaquin Doi Rd. It was here that the
trail got strange. The FRB’s followed
true trail on to Ghoot Ln which took them down into the old Saipan
Cultural Center, which had a cockpit, go kart track, bumper cars, and all sorts
of other stuff.
Kramden allowed himself to be led astray by Ciega, and
followed by Pervert Hoover, and later Shit Pyle, headed straight for the bowels
of Chalan Kanoa. As they made their way down the road, Kramden pointed out the
names of Rajneesh, Acapulco, Zorro, and Snookie, who immortalized themselves on
the first Thanksgivng with Kowpaddy run, by scratching their names in the wet concrete
of the flood ditches.
True trail continued through the Cultural Center and then
headed into the swamp and wetlands that run astride As Perdido Rd. So, many of
the FNG’s and new hashers got the treat that the rest of us suffered through
some 9 years ago. Kramden and his
entourage beat the FRB’s into the On Home by a mere 2 minutes. But apparently FRB Chicen Lil Dick did not
do true trail either and skipped the swamp. As we settled in at the On Home,
Mae East showed up with the Kow spawn, Turkey, Chicken, pumpkin pie, and dinner
rolls, on top of the regular hash snacks.
The Turkey was FANTASTIC and so moist.
Honor to Mae East. There was a cooze hound who showed up to sniff around
Splat but he paid $10 so we let him stay, even though he did not run the
hash. A fire was started on the beach
and once the stragglers got in (including Vagina Slim and Soapy Snatch),
Religion was piped up. The hare was
called forward and took much abuse from the hounds for the Shitty Trail. Next visiting hashers were called but the
Guamaniac Agony Hasher turned out to be a first load poofter. Next the FNG’s were called and apparently
the Japanese had never run 6 miles of pavement, jungle, and swamp, and then
chugged beer, because right after their down downs two of them went to sleep on
the beach. Next we had Paula of the
pendulous breasts, but no amount of coaxing would get them titties out of her
tee shirt. The last FNG was the one
that Vagina Slim brought and she did not want to treat us either so just drank
it.
There were many discourtesies to the run, not the least of
which was Phartikus’. He ranted and
raved and the only thing Kowpaddy had to say was, “I saved your baby’s
life.” There was a great deal of “FUCK
YOU KOWPADDY” but not from the flyers who knew better. There was much whining and complaining about
the dirty water in the Swamp, but this was second only to the complaining about
the filthy ocean water that fronted the beach.
Someone said there were huge turds floating in the lagoon, but I saw
them not. Bernadette was literally
dragged to the front of the fire and asked to either show her tits or her
T-back, but all she did was some Cheeky Palauan with a friend of her
brother. After a long and drawn out
Religion, the Tyrant called for retiring the vessel, policing the area, and the
singing of Swing Low. Once this was
done, the assembled headed to Hamilton’s. The Tyrant of course went home.
The Saipan Hash House Harriers convenes every Saturday at
3:30 p.m. (4:00 p.m. during "summer") at the Bank of Guam parking lot
in Garapan U.S. $10.00 (NON NEGOTIABLE)
MISMANAGEMENT
TYRANT/GM Haj,
F. Kramden, Sir!!
RA: Dog
Leg
AAAARA: OPEN
FIRE MASTER OPEN
HASH CASH Ciega
TRAIL MASTER Dog
Leg
DLMM TECHNICIAN Dog
Leg
HASH SCRIBE Dogleg
RECEDING
HARE LINE...
1046 12/4 DONKY
DICK &
PERVERT HOOVER
1047 12/11 SHITSTAIN
AND
CHESHIRE PUSSY
1048 12/18 HAPPY 20TH
BIRTHDAY
HAJJII PEEWEE
1049 12/26 CHRISTMAS OPEN FULL MOON
1050
1/1/2005 SHITSTAIN AND
CHESHIRE PUSSY
1051 01/08/2005 PHARTICUS
1052
1/15/05 HOP ON COCK
EDITORIAL
I was at Lower Base Party Beach on Thursday morning at
5:15. I saw Mike Johnson and I saw Kurt
Barnes. I walked up to Mike’s pickup
and asked, “Are we FAGS or what?” Well
there was no Turkey Trot that morning because of the rain, so you know the
answer to that. Neither Rain, nor Wind,
nor dark of night, nor typhoon strength winds has ever stopped us from doing
the hash. Why so why did we not do the
Turkey Trot on Thursday? Because those
are not hash people. They do not
understand the word adventure.
THE DOGLEG INSTITUTE OF COMMON KNOWLEDGE
Honor to Dogleg for the implementation of D.I.C.K. This is really some important stuff. This is sort of a S.O.P. Manual for hashers.
If he ever decides to give up that government subsidized
welfare check of a job, I think we should hire him as the executive director of
the SH3.
RUN #1043 The “! DONKEY DICK
AND PERVERT HOOVER, , ONLY BETTER ” Run
HARES: HAJ CHICKEN
LIL DICK AND DOG LEG
BOX: OBYAN
BEACH
ON HOME: OBYAN BEACH
CASUALTIES: ANYONE
WITH SKIN
RUN: ¶¶¶!
RELIGION: ¶¶¶
DLMM Rating: 0
CLDPDMMM: 9000!!!!
The annual Club $10 hash was well attended. We had a whole lot of people
show up including Harelip Dog and his kennel known as the Lucky 7 Hash House
Harriers, all members of the crew of the USS Blue Ridge. A Marine from Manila (who hashed here when
he was with the AG’s office some 10 years ago) also showed up with a Nexlexsex
nurse who we assumed passed the test.
We also had some more FNG’s from the PIC (N.W.A.T.P.I.C.) and Bernadette
made it 4 in a row. The box was announced as Obyan Beach and CLD winked at the
Tyrant. This was to make the Tyrant
think that we would be going to the end of the island, Naftan Point, the
original site of the first Club $7. But this was just a ruse and the Tyrant
would discover it only after taking a long On Back at the box. Once everyone
was at the parking lot, the box was made up near the cave. The hares gave the special instructions
(flour and NEW orange ribbon). Once
they took off, the Tyrant ‘splained the instructions to the FNG’s and the L7H3,
since markings are not all the same everywhere in the world. Then we all waited for the time to run out,
and the Tyrant counted down the last 10 seconds and the pack was off. Kramden, KNOWING that we were going to
Naftan took a few dopey hounds with him east towards the end of the parking lot
and an on back about 75 feet into the jungle.
The rest of the pack went out to the main road and hit a giant arrow
that led down to the beach. The trail
continued west on the beach until it checked right onto someone’s farm and
north to the main road. We crossed the
road and went back into the jungle.
Then we zig zagged for what seemed like hours. After about 25 minutes, we popped out on another farm and a small
cliff. Generic White had been down on
the trail and said that it went straight into the ocean. Kramden told him that there had to be an
access road to the farm, so GWB took this to Ladder Beach. He was not seen again. True trail went down to the cliff line, but
no one saw it except and FNG sailor, who became Cliffhanger during Religion. In fact he was named during his FNG down
down so we never did get his real name. The trail hugged the coastline over
some really horrendous limestone and eventually, we all had to get down in the
water near the west end of Ladder Beach. Rough Rider, Tandoori Chicken, and a
Geek Sailor named Chris came in way after dark from the road. Once everyone was in, the Tyrant piped up
Religion. The hares got up and gave
each other great kudo’s. Then the
Tyrant called up the visiting hashers.
There was one serving wench among them and of course, everyone wanted to
see her big tits. She refused. When asked where she was from she said,
“Missouri” and the Tyrant asked her if Missouri wasn’t the SHOW ME STATE? She
still did not take the bait and drank her down down. The L7H3 earned great respect on this night. Next the FNG’s were called forward. There was the nurse from Manila, the PIC guy,
and a couple of sailors include Cliffhanger.
There were lots of courtesies, an indictment of the hares for littering,
and more courtesies. Some feeble
attempts at humor were made and much comparing of the Donkey Dick/Pervert
Hoover run of a few weeks ago that dragged on, and on, and on, and on,
etc. A slight drizzle started and the
Tyrant shouted for everyone to protect the fire. So we all stood around the fire, choking on the smoke, and
getting soaked by the downpour (although the fire blazed on). We tried to get Alouette started but to no
avail since there were no hash women who could compete with the Tyrant. Eventually the vessel was retired, the area
policed, Swing Low was sung, and the assembled headed to Hamilton’s. The Tyrant of course (after dropping some of
the crew at Hamilton’s) went home.
The Saipan Hash House Harriers convenes every Saturday at
4:00 p.m. (3:30 during "winter") at the Bank of Guam parking lot in
Garapan U.S. $10.00 (NON NEGOTIABLE)
MISMANAGEMENT
TYRANT/GM Haj,
F. Kramden, Sir!!
RA: Dog
Leg
AAAARA: OPEN
FIRE MASTER OPEN
HASH CASH Ciega
TRAIL MASTER Dog
Leg
DLMM TECHNICIAN Dog
Leg
HASH SCRIBE Dogleg
RECEDING
HARE LINE...
1045 11/27 Sat.
Full Moon – Wiener V.
Brown
1046 12/4 OPEN
1047 12/11 HAPPY 20TH
BIRTHDAY
SHITSTAIN AND CHESHIRE
PUSSY
1048 12/18 PEEWEE
1049 12/26 CHRISTMAS
OPEN
1050
1/1/2005 SHITSTAIN AND
CHESHIRE PUSSY
I thought it was great to have the Lucky Sevens H3 come and
run with us this past weekend. Imagine
being able to travel all over the world and hash.
I hope that some day, when I grow up, and retire, I can do
the same and become a hash bon vivant. The price of freedom is costly, and
these people pay that price by giving up part of their lives to serve this
great country of ours. NO one should have a problem with that.
Hash Trash
Lucky Sevens Traveling Hash
Run #15 - Obiyan Beach, Saipan
13 Nov 04
I can sum up the entire Saipan hash trail in one word: "OUCH!"
That trail left emotional and physical scars on the 30 people who braved the
heat, the rain, and the threat of darkness to brave one of the toughest trails
I've done in my hashing career! This was a ball buster of a trail that
was advertised to be 'dog friendly'. It just wasn't "Harelip
Dog" friendly....but, on with the story.
I arrive at
our appointed starting place, the Bank of Guam in Garapan a few minutes before
3:30, like a good little hasher. Already there's a few Lucky Sevens hanging out
by the ATM machine making the local customers nervous. As more skantily
clad hasher arrive in various states of undress, the line for the ATM seems to
have shrunk a bit, as customers are seen looking over their shoulder as they
pull their money and run! Ciega arrives and we line up to pay our dues
and get t-shirts...dry ones will come in handy later tonight. While we
meet and greet the local hashers, we're told to hop in cars and the backs
of
trucks for the ride to the hash site. Driving what seemed to be the
entire circumference of the island, and out past the airport, we finally arrive
at Obiyan Beach, a beautiful beach complete with armored fighting positions,
unexploded ordnance, and other WWII artifacts just lying about. Local
hashers Chicken Little Dick and Dog Leg have conspired to teach the
pack a thing or two about setting a trail.
We're told
to head....(HEAD? Who said Head?) down to the beach and get into the
'box'. CLD gives us some cryptic instructions before throwing flour to
the wind and the two hares are off...like a cheap prom dress, leaving the rest
of the pack to decipher the heiroglyphics scrawled on the floor of a small
cave. Luckily, I think it was the Tyrant who 'splained what the
scribbling was to the more than a dozen visitors that nearly doubled the size
of the Saipan pack. Soon, when the droning was done, the hounds were
released. The pack was quickly fooled into thinking it was going to be an
easy trail. The pack quickly found the first intersection, with half
going right, and half going left. STD,
not one to ever go on the right track, led the way to the left, while Saipan
hasher Dirty Yellow Balls sent the pack into the deep shiggy to the right, with
Just Missy close behind. HLD, Just John, Just Andy and I think Just Josh
waited at the intersection while the ON-ON calls grew fainter and fainter in
both directions. Finally, we couldn't take it any more. We had to
make a decision. Go West you men...so we did. Or was it east.
Whichever direction it was, it turned out to be true trail, which quickly
became one of the shiggiest trails I've ever hashed in my my seven years of
hashing! Soon, the pack was doing everything from crawling on hands and
knees under bushes and branches, low-crawling and slithering like snakes past
pill boxes and rusting WWII relics, and scaling down the
face of a 15-foot cliff on rocks that would shred your hands to ribbons. Oh,
and how about a sharp stick in the eye? I'm sure everyone got their fair
share of those too! Is this what you call fun? Hell yeah! Where's
the beer? Oh, we're almost there.
Just when we
thought the worst was over, and the trail started to open up, we were back in
the thick of it again!!!
Crackerjack was overheard saying, "This is the best, ouch, fricking, ouch,
trail, shit, I've ever been on!" Soon, the trail opened up again,
and we were afforded a beautiful view of the ocean and the setting sun over
Tinian. Wait! If the sun is setting, that means it's going to get
dark soon...and the trail isn't going to get any easier!!! I'm thinking
virgin hashers, Just Joe and Just Al are going to kill themselves on the trail
as they hop from one outcropping of dried up coral to another. I'm not saying
this was a tough trail, I'm saying this trail was treacherous! This was
not a run...This was a frigging Boony Stomp Hash! Way to go Saipan!!!
As the sun
was setting, and the sky began to darken, the markings for the trail became
fewer and fewer. Only a few brave souls like virgin hasher Just Robert,
would be brave enough to actually sniff out true trail, which was about 3
centimeters away from a 20-foot cliff towering over the crashing waves.
For his bravery, he shall be bestowed an honorable hash name....but more on that
later! But first, to the end of the trail. And I do mean END of the
trail. What do you do when you've run/walked/crawled a half-mile along a
trail that looked like a volcanoes' caldera, and then the trail leads you to
the water? Was this a Bad Trail? Did the evil hares trick the
pack? Would they even consider sending the entire pack searching for the
last intersection over this terrain in the dark....Of course they would.
Luckily, they didn't, and a couple of brave hashers saw marks on a couple of
rock outcroppings in the water...when in doubt, take the water route!
Which happened to be
true trail. A short swim was a welcome respite after suffering from the
heat, humidity, dehydration, scrapping, cutting, gouging, slicing of tender
flesh, etc...you get the picture.
With
everyone in....wait, who's missing. Chicken Little Dick was dutifly
checking off attendance as hasher made it on-in. three hashers were still
on trail, and it's pitch black on a moonless night. On Dogleg, on CLD...Go find
those long, lost hashers! Golden Gloves is still on trail!!! Dogleg
sniffs out the lost hashers and brings them back to the circle....finally the
Tyrant decides to start the festivities, which he conducts under threat of
rain. Threat, hell! It rained!!! But before we sang Swing
Low, one of our virgin hashers found himself a new name. For conspicuous
gallantry by hanging his ass over
treacherous overhangs, hopping from rock to rock while simultaneously flailing
his arms to maintain balance and defeat the laws of gravity, and by avoiding a
certain and untimely demise into the roiling sea below, Just Robert shall now
be know, forever and ever, from now until eternity, as......
Cliffhanger!!! Cool!!! Welcome to the hash!!!
Thanks to
all of the Saipan hashers for your hashpitality and helping us have a great
time in Saipan. We'll be back!!! And we hope to hash with you all
again!!!
And if you want to join the hash, tell your 'cool' friends to be at our
next hash in Guam...details below.
Who: Lucky Sevens Traveling Hash #16
What: Invades Guam's Dark Side Hash House Harriers
When: 6:30 p.m. Tuesday, November 16
Where: Tower of London Pub on Epau Road just up from the Hilton!!!
Why: Why Not?
This is going to be a 'Bar to Bar' run, so bring cash. As usual, the
hares will leave ahead of us to set up drink specials at the next beer
stop. I'm sure everyone will have a great time. See ya there!
ONON
HLD
RUN #1042 The “Virgin Ass”
Run
HARES: Kowpaddy
Kowboy, Ass
BOX: 13
Fishermen Memorial
ON HOME: South of
Carolinian Utt Beach
CASUALTIES:
RUN: ¶¶¶
RELIGION: ¶¶¶
DLMM Rating: 2
CLDPDMMM: meter
not available
It was a hot day. Damn hot!
So most of us waited in the shade of the Bank of Guam while the rest of
the Saturday Night Idiots checked in with Ciega. It was pretty much the usual crowd (with the exception of the
Tyrant, who was MIA), though we did have some visitors from Guam, and nothing
happened that was particularly unusual, except for the HUGE pallot that
Maxcheesemo brought, and the sorry fact that Shitstain and Cheshire Pussy have
reached a sickening new low point in cuteness, wearing matching outfits and
holding hands (Puuuuke!) So it
came as no great surprise when Kowpaddy announced the Box as the Thirteen
Fishermen Memorial on Beach Road. Yep,
business as usual!
Without Kramden around, Dogleg
was required to ‘splain the instructions to the lone FNG, a little Asian hottie
that Pervert Hoover had brought. The
rest of the time was passed making small talk with the visiting Agony Hashers,
assuring them that yes, the Saipan Hash is indeed the Kinder, Gentler
Hash. Never mind that we desperately
wanted to see visitor Chelsea’s tits, and that she would be dragged against her
will to the front of religion to show her bare back, which would drive her away
for the rest of the evening. All that
matters is that we gently dragged her up there! And our interest in her breasts was a kind
interest! Would you kindly show
us your tits?
The Box was broke and not a
single hound failed to take the checking up the dirt road towards
Hamilton’s. The only question in our
minds was whether we would go up into the bamboo above the Green Hill Brothel,
or up the JG Sablan road. As it turned
out, we ran past the brothel. But not
before Wong Way and the visiting Hasher Peterphile showed us how to Chariot
ride, by hopping onto the tailgate of a passing truck. Since when do FRBs need to cheat?
Trail entered the usual boonies,
winding through the bamboo, and up the steep slopes to the north of the ravine,
passing by several Japanese stone fortifications, which Droolbag repeatedly
knocked over, saying “What emplacements?
Where? I don’t see any
emplacements! On belay! And watch out for those falling rocks!” Down below, the effects of Pervert Hoover’s
viagra overdose had caused him to yodel out his on-ons like a wounded rooster,
as he followed the ripe, glistening bottom of his nubile young girlfriend. At one point, the viagra surged through his
system and he even got a hard on for Ciega.
Or so she said.
After what seemed like a very
long climb through the stifling hot jungle, we topped out for a while, and then
started going down a series of ledges along a big cliff face. Loose rocks were tumbling down everywhere,
and Shitstain managed to knock most of them down on top of Dogleg, Heavy Flow,
and Two-Timing Bitch. This prompted
Dogleg to decide to start the Dogleg Institute for Common Knowledge (DICK),
which will become a repository for folksy, sound advice, and the collected
wisdom of the Saipan Hash. For example,
“Falling Rocks are 100% preventable, so watch what the fuck you’re doing,
Shitstain!” Please submit any and all
submissions to the DICK at bbearden@saipan.com. You will receive credit if used by the DICK.
Trail fumbled around on the
rocky slope for a while before exiting through a long corridor of elephant
grass, onto the boonie road just above the Saipan Ice barracks. On-ons led the pack down to Sugar King Park,
and then across into the China Town neighborhood behind Gold’s Gym. Maxcheesemo was amazed, having never been
through this area. How long has
Maxcheesemo lived here? From there it
was a straight road run back past the Bank, and down to the beach just south of
the Carolinian Utt. The FRB’s were
surprised to see CLD, Wiener Von Brown, Heidi and Soapy Snatch already there,
having flown and caught one of the hares.
It seemed that Kowpaddy had left her for dead at the first sign of the
hounds, and cruised away in the truck.
Quite contrary to what she had promised the pack, her panties turned out
to be rather large and unsexy. In fact,
CLD and Dogleg considered re-naming her “Tarp”, but decided against it.
After a couple of drinks, Dogleg
and Maxcheesemo decided to try out the water.
“It’s been several days since it’s rained, so the water should be clean”
explained Dogleg, neglecting to consider that the sewer system routinely
overflows in this area. Crackerjack
joined them just as several turds floated past on the current. “Ouch!
This water stings!” And she
wasn’t kidding.
The hares set out to look for a
large number of hounds that were still missing after sunset, while the kinder
& gentler SH3 men ogled the Guamanian visitor, who did not look half bad in
a bikini. After much begging from
Dogleg, CLD reluctantly started the fire, but promised never to do so again,
because Kramden had broken his “Rule” and listed him as the official Fire
Master. As it turned out, it was a
really shitty fire, too. Soapy Snatch
found some sort of strange, motherly fire instinct inside of her and took over
for him after a while, frequently dropping to her knees to blow furiously. (oh baby!)
The missing hounds (Ciega, Shitpyle, Pervert & friend, and visitor Dave) walked in to the On-Home a short time later, and Dogleg got religion started with CLD as RA. Kowpaddy hogged the vessel and took all the credit for poor virgin Ass, who had to stand there and listen to all of his crap ON TOP OF having CLD sniff her shorts and throw them on the fire. Smells like Ass! Show us the Sheets! The visiting Hashers came up and we learned that, despite being a Clubmate (NWATPIC!), Chelsea w