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Hash Trash #1800: Event Run!

Pubic Cervix announcement #1: Darkside. It's time for the best night run of the year. You saw Blowhole's email, but it's worth repeating here. Friday Dec 23. Showtime 7pm. Theme: let me take an elfie. Christmas your shit up and come out

Pubic Cervix announcement #2: Hash NYE party. We're renting out the pool area of the Pacific Star Hotel (formerly Marriott). It's got beach access, view of the fireworks, oh and a freaking pool. The run cost will be a bit more (stay tuned for announcements), but no better people to ring in 2017 than the AH3. Party like it's 1803! Run #1803 that is.

Onto the run...

Honor up front:

Lots of honor for all those who put on this run. In no particular order...I'm on a Goat for hash cashing, Two Buck for the pig, Pissmiss for his light set up, Chili Chili for the water buffalo, Tampon for cooler work and cleanup, Where's the lube for the sarongs (they're in!), Tyrant for eventually coming back to island and sorting shit out (security), Tube Top for the catering, Gecko for DJing, Wanker, Doc, and Godzirra for the setup, and everyone else who contributed large or small to celebrate another 50 runs with the AH3!

December 10, 2016

Hares: Beandad and Long One

Box: side of the road by 2 Lovers with a waste water truck literally emptying its cargo across the street

On-home: Tanguissen beach

Trail summary: There's no way the hares could have chosen a worse way to start the trail. As we all exited our cars, the distinct smell of shit water permeated the air. At first you think it'll dissipate. Then it doesn't. And then you're standing around just breathing in poop. The more enterprising among us buried our noses in a girl's hair since girls' hair always smells good (I went for girl's boobs, another good choice) while the rest tried not to puke their box beer. Eventually we were on our way, and if you like running (so Viagra, Tampon, Fucking Rebar, Me, and Haggan Daggan who's training for the mile "championship of everything" run), you might have liked this trail. If not, it was a classic dilly dally around the jeep trails and then down the road to the beach.

At the on-home, the Tyrant had skipped trail to sort out a slip n slide. Uncaring that we were using the same water from the finite freshwater source for washing, people lubed up with dish soap and then grimaced all the way down the hill through the coral and sand. I recommend the two-man bobsled, which Haggan Daggan and I perfected. Soon after, the table was open and we all gorged ourselves on meat and rice, including a delicious pig cooked up by Two Buck and Beandad. Once the masses were fed, it was Time! For! Religion! The 1800 was slightly smaller than what we've had in the past, but that didn't stop the party train. Someone brought a block of ice, so you know that people who were talking all night (Cow Whisperer) were a revolving door of the punished. Ribbed for his Pleasure was back after a 4 year hiatus, and he only gets a mention because he told me he likes my hash trashes tonight (let that be a lesson to you all). PC and where's the Lube gave out essentially lost and found items from the haberdashery by PC blindly spinning around and pointing at people and demanding that they either 1) show a body part, or 2) take some extra stuff that no one wants anymore. In a fucking diabolical genius move, Lube hid a warm mango Smirnoff Ice in the box. PC spins and points at me, full well knowing I'm not showing my junk. Instead, I reach my hand in and find that stupid sugar drink. ICED! Goddamit PC that's impressive, I hate you.

Trampoline was missing her other Sarah for topless (3rd) religion, so she decided to have a beauty pageant style competition to be RA to her Titler. The contestants could not have been better chosen: Just Felicia, Face Jam, Darth Y'all, Just Larla, Gecko, and Just Bina. Tramp not only made them show their goods, but they also had to answer an appropriately vague pageant-style question. "Topless or world peace?" "ah, um, topless, obviously, since toplessness leads to world peace, hehe." Eventually, Tramp picked FaceJam as a deserving winner, and none of us tried to hide our appreciative boners.

Chili Chili is known for bringing children to the event runs, and in this case, he brought Just Ty (son), and Just daughter way too young for this. They got called up for being either FNGs or backsliders or whatever. Just Ty is now Chili Duty and his daughter pretty much summed up Chili by exclaiming, "that old Fag." Maybe they've got a future after-all.

Second religion, for some reason, I always miss, and in this case, DJ Gecko was busy treating us to some sweet tracks, including a topless YMCA. This was a perfect segue into 3rd religion where Tramp and FaceJ did not disappoint. Everyone was topless and even with a slightly smaller crowd, the circle was still teeming with sweet sweet bobbies anywhere you looked. We stretched out, and then we played a little topless mingling game, which I somehow won by jumping into Bubbles' welcoming arms, leaving birthday girl Cow Whisperer intrigued but ultimately unsatisfied. And, let's just all take a moment to reflect on the fact that we have a topless religion run by two hotties where 100% participation is mandatory. *Ahhhh* It's good to be us.

After topless religion came the obvious progression to naked religion and a naked run down the road, much to the chagrin of the overnight security guard. Most people tapped out after that since skinny dipping drunk on reef rocks is not as fun as it sounds.

The next morning, I awoke to find Tampon still in his tutu and Ginger Pony handing out granola bars. We made Tampon Morning Tyrant. His first order of business was to make Two Thumbs Up do a penalty down-down for an imagined offense, but his second order of business was to decree that for the 1818, we will all be pooling our United miles to fly FUPA out here to make us breakfast. Bloody Cycle could barely talk, FRB could barely stand, and Eat Shit and Die could barely keep down his excitement of telling the story of how someone insisted they were sleeping in a hammock when really they were straight up on the ground. Such are the mornings after an AH3 event run.

Honor to us and those like us! On-on to the 1801!


"What happens on the hash, stays on the hash...except when it's written in the hash trash."

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