Hash Trash: what you missed if you weren't there; what you weren't paying attention to if you were.
Asunción H3 - Asuncion, Paraguay Last Updated: November 16, 2003
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*FINALLY!
Run No. 52 - Hares: Too Easy & Brahma Sunrise (BS) November 15, 2003
Run No. 51- Hares: ?? November 2, 2003
It was a long time ago and I am an old man with a poor memory.
But I
remember sitting around a pool at a suspiciously fancy location, discussing
how late people were up at night after the Marine Ball. And I remember only
Breaks Wind had the guts to come in her ball gown, and downright fetching
it
was, with slinky dress and sports bra and sneakers. And we did some
running. And we drank some beer. And there was role confusion (runners
walking and walkers running). But otherwise it is a complete blank.
On on and better luck next time
Watertight
Run No. 50- Hares: Sticky Buns & Breathless (running trail), Breaks Wind (walkers trail) October 18, 2003
Be prepared. This will be short. The lazy scribe went off on
a 5 day trip
to the northern arctic regions of Paraguay (Fuerte Olimpio, to be exact)
before scribing. Run #50 is already a haze.
Anyway - The hares Breathless and Sticky Buns provided a mercifully
short
run, given that it felt like it was 120 degrees. But we got the obligatory
run across a garbage-strewn stream. And the walkers had their own marked
trail! And we were hard to tell apart in our new t-shirts. A good run.
The down-downs were properly rowdy, notable for the bestowing of the hash
name of Fuzzy Wuzzy on Mark and for 50th anniversary tee shirts being shamelessly
flogged to all and sundry. There was a 50th run party for those who had
any energy left (not including the scribe). 50 is a venerable age!
On on
Watertight
Run No. 49 - Hare: El Contador, October 4, 2003
A grand total of 2 runners set out on the 49th running of the
AHHH's run on
October 4th. Thats right, TWO. Well, there were conflicting birthdays,
late information, and place confusion. And we did pick up two stray Marines
at the beer stop. And we followed a well-marked trail through the backyards
of the slums of Asuncion (over the river and through the trash to abuela's
house we go.....). So it was a good run. But there was not even enough
energy in the group for down-downs. Beer still got inbibed, but without the
ritual. Instead we stood around admiring a (admittedly adorable) baby.
That shows what happens when a hash is deserted by its Dominatrix. Next
time is our 50th, and we WILL do better
On on
Watertight
Run No. 48 - Hares: Snowflake and A-Guy-Named_Mark, September 20, 2003
Snowflake and the as-yet-unnamed Mark hared the 48th running
of the AHHH on
Sept 20. It was remarkable for an actual marked walkers trail, beautiful
yellow lapachos along the way, and a scurilous false trail (without a check
point). It was also remarkable for being HOT. It was Snowflake's final
AHHH performance; he leaves to join Red Hot Pussy Cat in sunny Sarajevo
(where hashers leap landmines).
The downdowns were notable for 3 people drinking from new (and
old shoes).
El Contador also managed to bully the members into renewed enthusiasm at the
mention of the holy word BEER and most even stood up for the circle. The
hash spirit survives.
In 1 month the AHHH turns 50, and a teeshirt is being planned,
to be covered
with the names of those who have shown their faces in the past 6 or so
months. Get yours before they get sweaty!
On On
Watertight.
Run No. 47 - Hares: Watertight & Jigsaw, September 6, 2003
Despite multiple problems (hares posting meeting
place late, confusion as
the time, HOT AND DRY) this hash attracted 2 runners and 4 walkers. The
marines were called at the last minute but opted out, true hashers. We
started at the National Athletic Federation and wound around the race course
to the far side, to arrive at the beer stop parched and roasted. Breaks
Wind opted out of the second half of the walk, and Watertight opted out of
the second half of the run. Wimps both! In the same fashion, the down downs
were pitiful with only one member choosing the elixir of choice, beer, while
the others opted for various weak and vile beverages. And we avoided songs
with offensive words! What is the world of ASSHHH coming to? Real
Hashers, come back!
Watertight
Run No. 46 - Hare: El Contador, August 16, 2003
It was a last-minute hash. As of 10 AM, El Contador was still
begging on
the web for the possessor of the hash supplies to reveal their whereabouts.
But he pulled it off.
The walkers and runners set off in opposite directions towards
the beer.
The first half was well marked but uneventful. But the highlight of the
second half was ducking through a hole in a wall, running through hospital
trash (brave runners!) and finally jumping a locked gate into the IPS
grounds to be greeted by a peeved security guard. Watertight was taken to
headquarters. hostage for the good behavior of the other runners (more fool
him) but a laidback security supervisor solved it all.
The down down circle was marked by a large number of virgins,
coming for
various reasons. Sm-Elly-Kat recieved her name for having done baby duty so
El Contrador could mark trail. The street rang with the usual vulgarities
Run No. 37 - Hares: Marni (Too Easy) y El Contador (until he abondoned his responsibilities), March 8, 2003
It was so exciting I just don't have the worlds except the walkers took the
scenic route and so did Dismissed's drunk butt. But we all came out together
in the end and beer was drank. That's all that really matters right?
On-On
Look out for March 22nd. It's sneaking up quick.
Run No. 35? - Hares: Burnt Sox y Headbanger, February 8, 2003
In summary: Some people hashed. More people did not hash.
In detail: The hares, Burnt Sox and Headbanger, promised a truly terrible
trail, and they did not disappoint. The starting semi-circle was led by El
Contador. It was his first attempt to explain the theoretical trail markings
bilingually. He failed miserably. Luckily, Watertight and Jigsaw were there
to save the day and avert an international midday crisis. Diana and Mabel
were appreciative and properly confused. Peter Parker (the jokes should be
inserted here) watched, reflecting on El Contador not having enough responsibility
to balance his meager power.
Eventually the hash began. Except for Mabel. Something was lost in the translation.
She followed her own trail which led to the bathroom inside Rolandi’s.
Wasn’t she forewarned that hashers are not welcome in there. There was
some speculation that after her lengthy visit, future hashers were to be shot
on sight.
The trail led the hashers through the Villa Mora barrio, and at the second
check El Contador dived into the thick of the beautiful foliage that adorns
the edges of Asunción’s many babbling brooks. After visual contact
was lost, some reported hearing (interspersed between some colorful explicatives)
him calling out, “On nine…*&$%...On ten…*&$%...this
better be the true trail…*&$%ing hares….” Finally, the
rest of the beleaguered hashers decided to follow, and they were rewarded
with a true trail. (If they had only looked on the other side of the street…)
El Contador was still leading and cursing when he realized that the trail
backed along its previous route, just one block over. This elicited a new
round of charm school drop-out type phrases. At one corner he looked right
and saw the hashers passing. Being a strong proponent of short cutting, he
jumped up and down and called for others to follow. Headbanger saw this and
tried to dissuade others from following, but 7 Minutes, in an act of direct
insubordination, said, “Go ahead, give me a down-down!” and took
off. Diana did not need a translation. She followed 7 Minutes. Somewhere around
this point, Athletic Cup claims to have gotten lost. She then claims that
she found everyone and caught up. Ah, such are the tribulations of an adolescent
hasher. Surprisingly, the Marines—one of whom is known as Sticky Buns—also
became lost, but found the trail. I guess their training translates well when
the objective is beer.
The hash ventured across Mariscal Lopez. The safety-aware hares were considerate
enough to put a check on the median of one of Asunción’s safest
thoroughfares. (*side note: During the first marathon in Asunción,
one of the runners was killed by a bus while running along Mariscal Lopez.)
Up some more hills, through some more delightful side streets the hashers
did hobble until they came to the entrance of a sport club. With the incentive
of a Beer Near marking, El Contador attempted to slip past the toothless gate
man. After a stunning parley of Spanish, El Contador retreated. But when he
saw that 7 Minutes and Diana were entering the club, he changed his cowardly
demeanor and reentered. Luckily the drunken, toothless, age impaired, but
very imposing, gate guard had moved on.
Soon thereafter the beer stop was found, and there was much rejoicing. Except
by Catwoman. She complained. Hey, people have to do what they do best, right?
The hash sweated and drank. Pretty picture, huh?
The hares promised that the second “half” was much shorter. The
hash resumed. At least they did not lie about that length.
At one point during the truncated second leg, a check was found aside the
serene bank of yet another tranquil tributary of Asunción’s water
system. Peter Parker refrained from using his alter ego’s amazing jumping
prowess to clear the obstacle in a single bound. (Yeah, I know. I am mixing
my super hero catch phrases, but I am grasping for material.)
The trail finally ended in a circle, as do all hashes. But, Burnt Sox, with
El Contador (who thought it was a great idea), Stretch and Athletic Cup, hijacked
the beer-mobile under the guise of going to retrieve vehicles from the start.
Much to El Contador’s disappointment, it really was a trip to get the
cars.
Upon their return, Headbanger began complaining. He did not stop. Ever.
The circle including down-downs for the following offenses:
The hares for being the hares. Headbanger complained.
The virgins Diana, Mabel and Spid…um…I mean “Peter”
for being virgin hashers.
Stretch for being Stretch. She claimed she didn’t do it.
Catwoman for still being Catwoman and not being gone already
7 Mimutes and Diana for being defiant and getting a wish to come true, and
for being themselves.
The Marines—a down-down here is obvious when one of them somehow earned
the name Sticky Buns, something I am sure goes over very well in barracks—for
being Marines and snazzy dressers.
A group down-down which included just about everyone for being hashers and
wanting to drink.
Aren’t people supposed to not like down-downs?
Some people did not have down-downs. More people did.
Some people swung low. More people did not.
In two weeks, some people will hash in Lambare. More won’t. Such is the hash scene in Asunción.
El Contador
Run No. 34 - Hares: Stretch, Breaks Wind & David. January 25, 2003
There is no correlation between planning and results in the hash. Over the past year, we have created The Web Page Nobody Reads, the E-mail List That Germinator Deletes on Sight, and Fax Flyers to groups around Asuncion. And we're lucky to get eight people at the hash. (But all good people.) For Run No. 34, the hares attempt to keep the very existence of the hash a secret until days before, and the location was revealed with only 24 hours until the start. And we have THE LARGEST ASUNCION H3 TURNOUT EVER - 21 people with nothing better to do. Like the Law of the Theater in "Shakespeare in Love," the Hash always works out in the end. How? "It's a mystery."
On the appointed day, then, the hashing horde gathered outside Stretch's house for what this hasher figured would be another boring romp through the streets of eastern Asuncion. Within five minutes, I was proven wrong. By the time I found trail again, the trail had taken to dirt paths, climbed the F.S. Lopez Memorial Bridge, and taken a turn for the better into some really ugly fields. The runners got to the beer check, and since Breaks Wind was nice enough to leave her car unlocked, Neil and Dismissed helped themselves to the goodies. Stretch tried to give us instructions for the last half of the run, but I told her it would work out. How? "It's a mystery."
Sure enough, everyone made it to the end. Breaks Wind led the walkers through a "smelly" garbage dump, and they came in wearing Eau d'Asuncion. Head Banger and Elmo ran straight down Boggiani ... following flour ... and came in the way the hares had intended (thirsty). Catwoman took a small phalanx through a bonus trail that went through someone's front yard before meeting up at the end, after finding a convenient water stop (and kitty litter). And Watertight and stray Marines found the beer coming from a completely different direction. Still, Pork N Pig was oblivious to it all--he had driven in from the beer stop and posted at the front gate. All this with flour so spaced out that the hares had a few kilos of flour left over. How, you may ask. Oh, go on.
For some reason unknown to man, Burnt Sox (who's being a real Dick-tator) lately, set up the circle next to the pool. After celebrating the mysteries of haring with the opening down down, we welcomed Allison, Elmo and Fernando to our ranks, as well as visiting Hash vagabond David, back in Paraguay for the hash. We gave Catwoman farewell down-down and the Home Version of the AH3, who with The Joker and David is moving to the Lisbon H3. We noticed that Bandana and Kelly had returned to the fold after many moons, and sang them a song to assure that they won't return for many more. Generally, every one got a down-down with the notable exception of Jigsaw, who escaped her birthday down-down because of the Hash's short attention span. We even named Skip, who shall be known forevermore as "Sticky Buns" because last hash ... oh, wait, it has nothing to do with the hash. (Sorry, folks, I'm a little dicktatorial today.) We Swung Low, introducing the Booger Version of our favorite song. And, despite the whining, carping, being lost and fire ants, we'll do it again on February 5, following Head Banger and Burnt Sox. Why?
"It's a mystery
Hash 30 - The EmbezzleHash - Hares: Rumpbreaker & Burnt Sox: November 16, 2002.
7 Minutes is our hash cash, charged with the mismanagement of the hash funds we collect each week to pay for our endeavors. She's done such a good job in controlling the funds that we were able to throw this hash as a freebie. Who better to asado for the masses than Rumpbreaker? Who better to lay a trail that winds through unknown parts of the city? Anyone besides Burnt Sox.
We gathered in front the Palacio Wagdalt to start our journey. Passing Mburivicha Roga and waving to the crew loading the president's HHE into vans, we hit a familiary landmark: The US Embassy. Stan Lee and Snow Flake decided to take their leave, leading Head Banger to call true trail past the office. Red Hot and I took our time going past the Vatician Nunciature, only to find a very far off trail Snow Flake trying to catch the pack.
We regrouped before (after a false trail by our returning RA Hot Wax) heading into Mundo Aparte, a cement maze of houses and narrow streets. To prove that everyone loves the hash, the residents had laid their own trail, setting arrow to lead us directly out of their 'hood. The pack survived, then climbed over a bridge to the other side of Eusebio Ayala. After a slight problem negotiating a check where the trail ducked into an alley, everyone made it to the next regroup, except Stretch and Red Hot. Playing the averages, that's not too bad: we started with nearly twenty hashers, and ten percent is acceptable loss. Ni modo... after an impromptu water stop, the pack continued to beer at Parque Celso Speratti. The walkers didn't have time to wait, and we all arrived more or less together back at the palace.
At down-downs, we welcomed Marcelo and two friends of Jackie-Wagdalt's. We noted the return of Hot Wax, and lamented the continuing lack of directional sense by the USMC. But enough of that circle stuff... With Rumpbreaker's wonderful asado, we got more than our money's worth. A good time was had by all.
Back to business as usual on December 7, a Day that we'll hash in misery. On-on!
Trip Report: Brazil Nuts HHH’s Nutty Weekend,
Passo Quattro, Matto Grosso, Nov 29 to Dec 1, 2002
The Brazil Nuts HHH, based in Sao Paulo, Brazil, established themselves as a farce majeure in the hashing their Nutty Weekend. Hashers from Rio de Janeiro and Asunción showed up. We had fun and by the time we left, we were stuffed with beer.
Our flight was late, but Makin’ Bacon was waiting for 7 Minutes and me when we landed in Sao Paulo. Good thing he was a tall and healthy Dane; an American would have left our asses on the runway. Three short hours and a lot of b.s.ing later, we pulled into the Pousada do Verde where, after over two years of hashing, the BNHHH was taking their show on the road. GM Vicar Licker greeted us with a semi-cold beer and warm greetings (much better than the other way around). Rio blew in an hour later, with Halfpenny and bunch of tall, blonde women. By the time we took off on trail for the midnight lingerie run, we were pretty well-lubricated, a good thing since the trail was nearly 2 km long. Slow Hand was voted the best-dressed in lingerie. We returned, had a circle, and then did what hashers do best, all over the world: talked and drank beer. I "went to sleep suddenly" at 4 am and was later ridiculed for being one of the first to drop. Bone Ranger was the last to go to sleep at 7.
We were up at the crack of noon for breakfast Saturday. We had come at night, and awoke to a breathtaking countryside, rolling green hills kneeling before a distant, blue sky. We had a few free hours until the afternoon, and most of us hung out around the pool. Amid the obligatory throwing-in-of-people, Hand of God, 7 Minutes and others showed off death-defying water slides. I joined in only after Yodel Phone, my nemesis for the weekend, threw me in. Flip Flop and I may be married after a few of our slides, but he’s an all right guy, so that’s okay (even if he still has my shirt!).
Finally, someone noticed that it was time to hash and we took off into the countryside. When we later learned that the hares still had 20 kg of flour in their vehicle, we weren’t surprised, because there was very little of it on trail. On the good side, the complete lack of trail markings kept the pack together. Together through cow paddies, bean fields, dale and valley. And togther at the end for downs-downs in which, I must confess, I felt victimized. Somehow, I had mislaid my vessel the night before, and I paid my volume in beer to get it back. We honored the BNHHH for their excellent planning with Goa t-shirts. We started naming people right and left: I Touch My Stuff and Shake Before Use. First time I've seen grown men spanked in a hash circle. Fun circle, led by VL and Kangaroo, and then we went to our neutral corners for a little down-down time before dinner.
After dinner (food was good, excellent on the hash scale), we started the skits. The highlight, without question, was Makin’ Bacon and Dori (a soap opera star whose fans kept asking for autographs) dancing the forbidden dance... tango. Concrete Boobs serenaded us, and Pussycat shook her thing... in this case, her belly, Turkish style. The general formula from this point on was do a little dance, have a little fun. A highlight was a body painting contest... with strawberry chutney. After an unshaven Kangaroo licked my chest clean, I truly think I will never be the same. Trash Can Man’s lip sync to "Finally" may have ruined the song for me forever. The late-night pool crowd started shedding clothes, but after the previous night, most people disappeared by 3:30 or 4:00.
At ten, when the red dress hangover run was to start, hares Trash Can Man and Squeaky Squishy were still looking for each other. When we finally left the pousada, we were in for a treat: a row of horses on the street for a horseback hash! I was so impressed that I didn’t mind spending a really long time on horseback. Concrete Boobs’ horse did, though, and tried to quit halfway through. The horses took us to IBAMA Park, where we ran up to a waterfall and jumped in. We ran back down, stopped and drank. By the last circle, mis-management was starting to wear down. They finally managed to welcome Madame Satanne back to their fold after a six-month absence. And this time Mamma Mia time bore the brunt of the down-downs. After a quick ride or run back to the pousada, we began the slow, painful process of sobering up enough to drive home.
By now, the sunburn has started to peel, the headache has subsided and I plucked the tick off my butt. But wasn’t it grand? Hats off to the Brazil Nuts HHH for putting Sao Paulo on the hashing map. Updates at http://www.bnhhh.fws1.com/. And if you’re ever in Paraguay, we’re sorry. But look for us at www.geocities.com/assuncionhhh all the same.
On-on, Burnt Sox, Dick-Tator
TOP
Last hash - Run 29 - October 26, 2002 - Breaks
Wind and Head Banger lay trail.
Some comment on the beautiful neighborhood it flows through. Cops at Shopping del Sol, where we circled up, comment that maybe we should finish our songs and leave.
It was nice to see Paty again, and she seemed to remember hashing pretty well even after having been away for nine months. Jigsaw, in a moment of pure commercialism, showed up just to pimp her contra dancing the following day. (Incidentally, you should do this. It's fun and ... c'mon, what else are you going to do?)
We started at 5 pm, pretty late, and isn't if funny how Snow Flake and Catwoman/ Kitty Litter, the hashers who welcomed the new time, didn't show up? Burnt Sox almost blew it again, but 7 Minutes got her birthday song. Rumpbreaker was impressive, hashing for two as always, and Hash Potato wanted to see a movie so bad that he went hashing with her and Prohibition Frank.
Janine, the secret mystery hare, who threw two infected children into the car and schlepped them around between beer stops, will henceforth and forevermore be known as Germinator (or did we mean Germinatrix?). And that was it. You had to be there. Trust me.
Next run: Burnt Sox and Rumpbreaker hare the EmbezzleHash on
November 16, 1600 hrs. On-on!
TOP
Picture it: Atop a trash dump in a deserted
barrio in Asuncion rests a filth-encrusted toilet. An older man, tattered
of shirt and muddied of shoe, is hunched over, his head deep in the bowl.
I am climbing that dump, because I want to talk to that man ... and become
enlightened in the ways of the Hash. I reach the summit and greet him.
"Greetings, Hash master. I wish to become enlightened in the ways of the Hash."
Groggily, he pulls his head out of the bowl. His eyes are bleary, and something resembling sardines is encrusted in his beard. He stares, wordless.
"I brought you a beer."
"You may approach, my son. Siddown. Quietly."
I hand him the can of cold Baviera. He rips open the pop top with his teeth, sounds a discordant note from deep in his throat, and takes a sip. "Ah. That's good. Now, what is it you wish to know?"
"I do not understand, Hashlike one, the way of the trail."
"It is simple. Where there is hash, there is trail. And where there is trail, there is beer. If there is no trail, there is no beer. Got it?"
"But certainly, O crusty one, the trail does not lead right to very threshhold of the beer stop."
He shuddered, and I was sure he would put his head back into the toilet, and clog my flow of knowledge. But in a moment, it passed. "The trail must continue, without cease, to the beer. There is no other way."
I mused upon this. But I needed more. "Your Hashiness, the trail is composed of hash, whether it be shredded paper, flour or chalk. But surely the piles of hash should be large enough to see from fifty meters....?"
He shook his head sadly, drained the Baviera, and crushed the can on his forehead. "No, you ninny. Only lay enough hash to get you to the next mark. If you lay too much, someone will think it's as big as a snowdrift and name you something like Snow Flake."
It all seemed so simple when he explained it. But it was as though I were a newborn, and he was about to smack my bottom. Dare I ask more?
"Yet again, Your Downity, the Check is evil, is it not? For it takes us away from the beer."
He threw the beer can at me, and it bounced off my head with a hollow, tinny boooing. Holding his hand out for another, he replied, "No, the Check is good, for it draws the pack together, and together they can look for trail. And they should look for a while before finding a true trail arrow; make 'em work for it. At least a few meters. For in that way, and in only that way, will they appreciate the beer."
He started to cough, and spat up something that looked like mango chutney, but then continued, "But remember--the trail remains true until a check, and only after a check can you have a false trail. Because when there is no check, there is no false trail, and where there is no trail, there is no beer."
He was indeed wise, but he was starting to repeat himself, so I decided to leave for the Hash. As I stood, he challenged me, "Take the beer from my hand, grasshopper." I stooped and took the beer, easy enough since he'd passed out. I took a sip, put it back in his fleshy, sweaty palm, and climbed back down the dump. Enlightened in the ways of the hash.
Meanwhile, after Run No. 27, on September 28, 2002, the Asuncion H3 circled up. The hares, Snow Flake and Red Hot Pussycat, were honored for their enlightened trail. We welcomed two newbies, Ted and Kimberly. (We'll try to have a red whine for Kimberly, next time.) Lacking wealth, we shared the beer with Watertight (blood on trail), Catwoman (pending renaming for other fluids on trail), 7 Minutes (losing her nametag on trail), Burnt Sox and Stretch (matching embroidered hash t-shirts). Evan and Marathon Barbie were just standing around, so they drank too. And, just before we were about to leave, Breaks Wind, who hashed here six years ago, called on the phone. She's back, and she was on her way. She led us in a fine Swing Low, and most of us went home. Except a determined group that stayed for hours until there was no more beer. And they, too, were enlightened.
Next hash - October 12 - 4 pm. Hares: 7 Minutes & Breaks
Wind. On-on!
TOP
Run No. 24 -
Quick update on the latest exploits
of the Asuncion Hash House
Harriers (I have five minutes left on my lunch hour).
To mark a year of hashing in Asuncion, the AH3 gathered in Limpio
for
the Habitat Hash, Run No. 24. Limpio means clean in Spanish. Isn't
that ironic??
Cut to the chase: we named Kathryn "Jigsaw" because
of her endearing
habit of piecing the shreddie back together and reading it. (Mental
note—down down for Stretch.) And after he canceled the hash because
rain was forecast, David shall forevermore be known as "Watertight."
Now, Jigsaw and Watertight were just finishing the trail as
the rest
of the hash pulled up. What we were lacking in numbers we were also
lacking in common sense. We decided that we would have to hash for
those less fortunate. For instance, 7 Minutes hashed for herself and
Stretch, while Watertight hashed for Rumpbreaker. Doubling in size,
we took off.
The trail wound through dirt roads of Limpio. Despite the hares'
concern about littering, the place was so dirty at times that we were
actually making it cleaner by sprinkling paper on the ground. At the
end, in the middle of a desolate flood plain, we gathered for down-
downs. (Mental Note—remember to bring guampas and sacred mantle to
the down-down site.) It was a miracle Head Banger survived, because
he was determined to return to the starting point, even though our A
to B trail ended about 5 km away. 7 Mins., after telling Jigsaw she
was old and gray, fit the down-down around her foot in mouth. Burnt
Sox drank because his faith in the Hash was restored by a really good
run. Jigsaw and Watertight were named. Enough --- time to go back
to work.
Next hash – Run No. 25 will be on August 18 … need
hares, as usual.
And Run No. 15 will finally be rescheduled for August 19 … the long
trail will be the 26-mile Asuncion Marathon, while the short trail
will be handing out water, fruit and beer at the Hash Relief Station
at Mariscal Lopez e/ Belgica.
On-on to work, Sox
TOP
Run No. 23
Saturday, June 22, 2002 - A teeming horde of Asuncion Hash House Harriers ran myriad trails before imbibing copious amounts of their beverage of preference. So what else is new?
7 Mins. and I arrived to find Marines Kris and Richard sitting huddled in a car, wondering if they'd been the victims of a cruel hoax. 7 Minutes quickly set up the hash cash and took 10,000 guaranies from each of the Marines. (You know, 10,000 guaranies can't buy what it used to...) As we wait, The Shumgler and Head Banger ran up, just finishing the last of the trail, with not a minute to spare. I still think it's eerie when two cars pull up and double the size of the Hash, but when Stretch and the Gunny parked, we had thirteen hashers ... a recent record!
I only needed three attempts to explain the Hash to the group, and we were off. The women led the way at first: Stretch, A-Cup, Catwoman, 7 Minutes and April sprinted off down a hill toward Check No. 1. We cut through a field, ran past the empty vaults of the Central Bank and into a neighborhood we've visited on three earlier runs. (This is proof that shreddie really does wash away.) More by luck than skill, most of us made it to the beer check at the teachers' house. Richard overran the house by a block and I was going in a different direction. Best of all, Kathryn joined us ... she'd followed the trail backwards to the beer stop and beat us there.
After some refreshments and gabbing with the teachers, we took off again. No one really minded that El Contador was auto-hashing today. He whined about having run 31 miles that morning, like that's our fault. The pack tried to follow trail but lost it at the end, with hashers coming into Beer Near from several different directions. Catwoman, the overachiever, ran to the end, decided she wanted more, and did the last part of the trail again.
The Shumgler put it best: "I'm a little disappointed by the circle." Maybe it was the frigid 10-degree weather, or the release from the end of the school year, but the teeming horde just wouldn't shut up. [April pointed out that the DickTator could find a nicer way of asking everyone to "shut up."] El Contador ceded the circle to me, and I think that was our first mistake. Among the down-downs were quickies for the Marines (including Richard, who re-earned the Sh*t Shirt for having kept it for six months) and a note for the Hares, for a pleasant, short, somewhat marked trail. Everyone seemed to have earned a private party down-down: 7 Minutes, Stretch (great job selling those tees!), Head Banger, El Contador ...does the list never end? Kathryn was honored for having run on the hash. April was welcomed as the first newcomer in a mighty long time. We gave the Shumgler a used hasher guampa and asked him to leave the country. My favorite part was when Catwoman and Stretch, now known as the Horde-ettes, sang a down-down song ... ON KEY!--a first!
In the end, a few of us stayed on to drink a few whiskeys with
The Shumgler. No, Ben, you'll never hash in this city again. But for those
who still here and still interested, the next hash is Sunday, July 7. Mark
your calendar and clean off your hashing shoes. On-on!
Full english version of Run No. 18
TOP
Dateline: Asuncion, Far-away, May 11, 2002 - Run No. 21(?). Against
all odds and common sense Head Banger was haring (being the Hare Raiser, he'd
be stuck doing it anyway), and he found a new Marine, a not-so Naked Gunny,
to shotgun. At 2:00 everyone was actually at the start, and we were signed
in, pre-beered and ready to roll before the Grand Old Lady of the AH3, Stretch
Marks, had arrived. We waited because SM had skipped a shopping spree to Buenos
Aires (Blue Light Special: all items 2/3 off) to attend the hash, proving
that she is a lifer: in the face of something clearly better to do, she still
showed up.
Head Banger had been dropping hints that we would run the exact same trail he laid seven months ago, but he actually managed to mix it up a bit. El C#ntador and Burnt Sox found themselves way ahead of the pack, mostly because they short cut trail through an equestrian park. Meanwhile, Rumpbreaker, wearing some zippered contraption in hopes of earning a new name, and Neil were at the, well, rump of the pack. At a critical split, El C#ntador ran away from the beer stop while Sox followed some railroad tracks to a park with Beer Near markings. (Note: since the Paraguay railroad cease operations three years ago when the train fell off the tracks, this was not a high-risk maneuver.) Janine, the Beer Mistress, was nowhere to be found, giving 7 Minutes and Bergen, then a cast of thousands, time to show up. Meanwhile El C, shortcutting again, had picked up trail and almost finished trail without benefit of beer. But he came back.
Refreshed and stiff, the pack trudged on. The FRBs stopped to watch a rugby match (if they're going to steal sports, how about some NFL action, huh?) until Athletic Cup caught up... and the hash ran in together, one big happy family, running hand in hand. Actually, it was about 34C, and we were all hot and cranky. Still, Janine let us into the house and, with the proper application of beer, we were ready for the circle. El C presented the Sacred Vessels and Mantle, then had the hares show us how it's done. Actually, since Head Banger was wearing a r*cing T-shirt, they got to do it twice; Stretch Marks managed to leave before getting the business for still not having hash shirts ready. (Incidentally, the Dick-Tator has ordered on-on feet from some guy named Stray Dog, and we should have hasherphernalia soon.)
We welcomed the not-Naked Gunny and Bergen as first-timers, and likened Neil's return after six months to the recent alignment of planets, which won't happen again for 40 years. Paty told us that whatever gringo sensitivities we have, she finds nothing offensive about ASSuncion. Bergen and the NNGunny were down-downed in hopes that they would make fellow Marine Richard return with the Sh*t Shirt. We tried to name Janine, but decided that we'd rather drink beer instead. (The hook: because mis-management victimized Head Banger, the hash was the second of two parties he and Janine had to host that day. There's a name there somewhere.) After bickering about when we'd have the next hash, who'd write the trash, and what they call those plastic things at the ends of shoelaces, we Swung Low and went home. Except Head Banger and Janine, who were already home. And no doubt preparing for yet another fiesta that evening.
On-on from Asuncion!
Burnt Sox, Dick-Tator
TOP
Picadillo collected of march 17, 2002, for
executed no. 18(). It was not only day of the St. Patrick but who,
agradecidamente, was picadillo last of the summer. And it was to scorcher
-- hardly hot level. However, we were pleasantly surprised to find to four
just arrived in our means in the operation and, in addition, to a good séquito
of the regulars and to interest and to the short sign mercifully, we handled
to clear another operation.
I think that each one needs to take a deep breathing. Burned Sox had thought class on the sign, but when it explained his plan half-cooked to the furnace to the Accountant... whereas faithful wire drawing fixed itl... the pulse of our religious advisor up to 227. Diagnosis: methodone very anxious or of the necessities. Main banger was skeptical, also: when after executing a very short course in the left centric streets, its arterial pressure rose in the thought of another circle in a part seedy of the city, surrounded by drunks. And Mr. Lopez, our man of the boat, was surprised who we really showed for above.
But, and a private letter took through the bay of Assumption to the Mbigua club. Grieved, people -- it was not the Chaco. After five minutes of hashing symbolic, we regrouped with drinks you cold and the forced camaraderie. In the circle, we gave the welcome to Patricia, to Kathryn, amy and to David -- thanks to come! Obtain this: three of them came because they would read the Web page that nobody Lee (who will have extremities of recycling of Kathryn... is thankful) Between supsects generally, the frank letter of the prohibition, the cortacircuítos of grupa and the potato of picadillo were observed to obtain in the green alcohol. Seven minutes wore away a green law (and each one has a so dirty mind). Main banger and Janine were kissed and composed (you do not blanket a happy conclusion).
And, more importantly possible, we changed the name to the Assumption H3. The Accountant made a work fine that executed the circle (although he behind did not assemble the point under unexpected of the oscillation in the stroll of the boat home). Some think that it is diversion that is the dictator. The popular revolts are animated. Or at least one participant democracy.
After logistic stranger, the hares lead home whereas each one
crossed behind in the hot sun. We were ourselves, but Janine called us to
return with the keys. We surrounded behind, and we see main banger sprinting
towards the cars, cellphone pressed to the ear. Our ring of cellphone, and
we heard to a man frenzied, of jadeo that requests to us to that we become.
Priceless. Where is sh*t jacket when you need one? In-in!
TOP
ASSuncion H3 - Asuncion, Paraguay
Run No. 17 (?) March 2, 2002 - Hares: The Naked Gunny & Head Banger
You should always try to go out at the top of your game. Don't end up like Archie Bunker, suffering on through endless series changes. Stand tall and proud, like Hawkeye and B.J., and leave while people still care. Or like the The Naked Gunny, who left ASS H3 with an A-1 first class trail on his farewell run.
A few faithful managed to follow the two differing sets of directions to the start, and after waiting for Reina (who didn't show), we took off. El Contador and Burnt Sox ran while Head Banger led the way, managing to figure out almost every check. (Since he'd laid the trail, no one was impressed). We hit Eusebio Ayala and took a foot bridge over that horribly rutted, traffic-laden street to the Nacional Consejo de Deportes. El Contador and Prohibition Frank managed to follow trail, including running in the bleachers among terere-sucking fans watching REAL runners on the track below. Catwoman (who one day soon may be renamed) and Janeth (who was very soon named) found a nifty shortcut that put them at the head of the pack for a few minutes.
Paul was one of the first into the beverage check, which TNG had ready for us--and we needed it. Poor 7 Minutes was decomposing before our eyes... the heat, the humidity, the sweat stains. Yuk. TNG then sent us on our way along the same bridge, which he had gone back and remarked (excellent haring technique). Trail wound back through the neighborhood, overlapped some territory covered a few weeks ago, and we found ourselves back at the park.
In the circle, the most notable event was designating The Naked Gunny a Used Hasher. We gave him his parting gift (the second edition of the ASS H3 guampa) and made him leave the country immediately. In other none of your business, Henceforth and Forevermore Janeth shall be known as Rumpbreaker (those at the Marine Ball know why) and Paul shall be known as Hash Potato (get off the couch, my son, there's a whole world out there). El Contador agreed to serve as the RA now that Hot Wax has forsaken us, Stretch said she'd get some T-shirts, and Head Banger shirked some job we tried to give him. Catwoman threatened (promised?) never to show up again if we renamed her.... Burnt Sox and El Contador will hare next time around, starting at the Britannia Pub on St. Patrick's Day (a Sunday). Until then, may all your beverages of preference be happy ones.
On-on!
TOP
Run No. 16 (?), Februay 22, 2002 - Most
of the pack missed the fun before the run even started. While setting the
trail earlier that day, El Contador, Ben and Audrey thought it would be cool
to set trail through Shopping del Sol. Not a bad idea, but the security guards
took issue with laying shreddie inside the mall. Though the guards were slower
than the average hashers, eventually they caught up to the hares and told
them not to do that. How did they find them, you may ask. As Smug Ben explained,
"Well, we did leave a trail." <rimshot!>
And it was that same trail that those of us bored enough would follow at the appointed time of 4 pm. Or at least most of us: somehow, I remember seeing The Joker, but he seemed to have left before the run started. The trail led from Audrey's house across San Martin and, predictably, to Shopping del Sol. Here, Catwoman was separated from the group, so the rest of us drank while she watched her babysitter watch David play. The rest of us drank a little, then tiptoed around the mall to return back to Audrey's. Where, luckily, there was beer. Head Banger was surprised at how The Naked Gunny and Burnt Sox kept pace with him even though they were nowhere near the trail. With Ben shepherding the pack from his bicycle, though, no one was getting lost today.
After milling around, we convened the Circle. In our Short Attention Span theater, Audrey left before we could have the hares demonstrate a down-down. Our first-timer joined our little group with a drink of her own. The Dick-Tator seemed a little rusty, stumbling over his song lyrics--could it be that he's still recovering from the sudden loss of RA Hot Wax?! After deciding not to rename The Catwoman "Mommie Dearest" for her non-hashing maternal instinct, we did name Red Fred "Howdy Doo Doo" for his smooth telephone manner with the fairer sex. Aftewards, we promptly designated him a Used Hasher and wished him well on journeys to Texas and Belgium. For his part, Smug Ben will be known as "The Shmugler," a name sure to mystify and annoy all. Our old ladies of the hash, 7 Minutes and Stretch, did a down-down for being generally disrespectful of the Dick-Tator. El Contador regaled us again with his Tony Bennett version of the "Finger" song. The Naked Gunny volunteered to hare one last time, and Audrey came back, along with some guy named Alan.
Swing Low was Swung and everyone went home (except those who
live with Audrey, who were already home. On-on 'til next time.
TOP
Run # 15 ??
Those familiar with the history of the ASS H3 may know that Run 15 was never held. We forgot why. But in Arlington on July 20 we had a reunion of enough hashers that I think qualifies as the missing run.
Due to a happy confluence of travel plans, at 6:00 pm, a number
of
ASSites from the past met at Cafe Asia in Rosslyn, Virginia, to
reclaim our past glory. And drink. Surprisingly enough, Burnt Sox
and 7 Minutes were the first to arrive! Kitty Litter joined us and
started a steady diet of martinis, while The Joker looked on sadly.
KL was trying to find a recipe for kitty litter cake, which I have to
confess doesn't sound interesting. Head Banger, still recovering
from his experience with the White House H3, showed up with
Germinator and those kids in tow. Y'know, it's fun watching 3-year-
olds re-meet after a few months apart. It's like nothing has
happened.
And it was pretty much the same with the rest of us. By the
time
PorkNPig, Athletic Cup, and the Grandma Dame of the Asuncion H3,
Stretch, joined us, we were having the same conversation we could
have had months ago at The Mexican Restaurant or Rolandi's. Now,
Bandanna's attendance was a pleasant surprise, since he and Kelly had
expected to welcome their son into the world that evening (Andrew was
born in due course the next week).
Yeah, we talked about the hash a little bit, but mostly we just
took
one more turn at the friendships we'd built sharing a few years
together in Asuncion. I'd like to think that sharing a few hash
trails and beers helped forge those bonds, too.
We didn't sing Swing Low, and we never found a coffee shop to
continue our platicar, but we did grab a little more time together.
And, when it comes down to it, isn't the Hash all about wasting time,
er, I mean sharing time with fun people, and not worrying about
anything for a few minutes? (And the beer.)
On-on, Burnt Sox
Dick-tator for Life and Cruise Director
TOP
A Executive Decree:Whereas, during the 13th
running of the ASSuncion Hash House Harriers, on January 5, 2002, Stretch
and Dave did set a trail through the hilly, rainy streets of Asuncion,
and
Whereas, the hounds, with no common sense of their own, did follow that trail
to the beer stop (at least some of them), and
Whereas our Virtual Hashers, Pan and Unitchief1, did arrive, only to leave
before the Hash festivities began, and
Whereas our newest hasher, Richard, did splash Hot Wax and Burnt Sox with
water from puddles, and
Whereas Janine and Adriana had cold beer waiting for us at the beer stop,
I decree that the first half of this hash was a success.
Whereas the Marines disappeared after the beer stop and ran
back home, and
Whereas Dennis followed the Marines (always a bright thing to do), and
Whereas 7 Mins. & Athletic Cup were the FRBs on the fields and scenic
urban views of the second half of the trail, and
Whereas the Hares placed arrows, false trails and shreddie pretty much wherever
they wanted, without regard to ASS H3 conventions, and
Whereas the rain washed away their markings, anyway,
I decree that the second half was good, too, 'cause there was beer at the
end.
Therefore, be it RESOLVED,
That Unitchief and Pan are Virtual Hashers until they actually show up and
stay for the whole ordeal,
That Richard is welcomed to the hash,
That Dennis shall wear the Sh*t Shirt for following the Marines, and
That Dave shall henceforth and forevermore be known as Headbanger (in honor
of the lovely oozing sore on his forehead earned just hours earlier in a losing
battle with the garage door), and
That Burnt Sox, for his iron-fisted, but benevolent, guidance of the ASS H3,
shall be known as the Dick-Tator (at least until he chills out).
Oh, and that the hares get a party foul for running out of beer.
ON-on to run 14. The Dick-Tator has spoken.
TOP
Run No. 12 - December 22, 2001
December Two Two
Hash Number Twelve (I think?)
Asunción Hash
Hash Number Twelve - Yay!
Fred and Burnt Sox set the trail
All the rest follow
Hot. Very, very.
Visitors are overheated.
They have foreign sweat.
Huevos Grandes - from
Seoul. Big eggs, and two children.
Wife, too. Woody's back.
Dennis and Eileen.
Two kids ride in huge stroller.
I call it "Wide Load."
A scorchah out there.
We run through drive-thru, panting.
Now it's a McHash.
Keep running. Hot Wax
Can't find trail. Where's the shreddie?
More importantly....
Where's the beer? Da Cup
Says beer should be here, but no.
7 must run, Sox will pay.
Finally. Beer stop,
At church. Religion, a fine
Thing, I'll drink to that.
Run around the block,
Back at stop 2 for more beer
(Pork-n-Pig bought more!).
Finally, back at Stretch's place.
Jump in the pool, drink, and chat.
Hot Wax has returned.
We drank, we sang, and
We still don't know what to do
But it's fun trying.
Fred, the big red stud.
Called, said, "Hi, Mierda"
Spanish for "Hello, @#$#."
It's holiday time
We sing "Women's Underwear":
It looks like Christmas.
Swing Low, Sweet Char-yot
Coming for to carry me ..
Hey - almost haiku!
Next time, Stretch and Dave
Will set trail, and we'll drink beer
Do it all again
For now, swim a while,
Then go home and sleep it off
On, I say, on-on!
Howdy Doo-Doo, Burnt Sox, All Nighter, The Shumgler, El Contador--Where's the beer??
ASSuncion Hash House Harriers Movie Reviews
Here's what's playing at Run No. 11, on December 8, 2001. All seats are Gs 10,000, but newcomers get in free. All of these flicks are rated OK (off-key), due to problems with the singing ensemble. So pull up your keg, run a trail and enjoy the show! On-on!!
"You Never Forget Your First Time" - With clever allusions to the Festival of the Virgin of Caacupe, Director All-Nighter captures the essence of hashing with the novelty of trying something new, something different for the first time. To keep the reality, she casts newcomers Linsdey, Corinna and Reina in prominent roles. You'll love the scene where they flag down the ice cream vendor but then decide not to eat anything ... because they're watching their figures! All-Nighter says she's retiring after this picture, so look to enjoy one more from the master while you can. Rating: 4 beers.
"Davey, I Can Drive My Car" - Father and son team of Pork-n-Pig and Dave X back together again, with the usual hijinks and hilarity. Incredible stunt driving makes it seem as though the Daverific Duo is actually driving the trail the rest of the extras are running. This formula should be good for a few more outings together, yet they're willing to experiment: no piggyback down-downs this time. Rating: 3 beers.
"Mr. Esmeet Goes to Asuncion" - Not sure this one worked . High concept, but setting run outside former president's house predictably leads to entanglement with local police and bodyguards. I mean, you can see this one coming a mile away, but at least there's a happy ending. Everyone gets beer. Rating: 2 beers.
"Great Expectations" - In this musical, 7 Minutes, as the older, mature role model, regales the young upstart Athletic Cup in a songfest that looks to propel the youngster into womanhood. Rating: 1 beer.
"The Honorary Hasher" - Wood E. Pecker travels from Buenos Aires to join the ASSuncion cast in this cross-cultural retrospective. Spoiler Alert: he brings the house down when he tells Burnt Sox that the ASS H3 is the raunchiest hash he's ever run! The real plot twist, though, is when the directors run out of cold beer, leaving the cast parched and sober. Remember: Revenge is beer served warm. Rating: 4 beers.
"Smug as a Bug with a Beer Mug" - Ben teaches us how to look concerned without really caring. It's so nonchalant, it's so 90's. But the real surprise is Dave, who emerges from the background to seize the moment. The sh*tty costuming is consistent with this period piece... you can almost believe that Madonna is still a contemporary musical force. Rating: 2 beers.
Coming Attractions - Burnt Sox directs "The Smelly Dozen,"
ASSuncion's Run No. 12. It'll be on December 22, 2001, at a location yet to
be determined, announced, and e-mailed repeatedly. To all those on holiday
travel, have a safe trip, the happiest of holidays, and the safest of returns.
TOP
Would you like a finger in your beeeeeeer? Would you like my finger in your ear? Let's not even talk about how you guys screwed up that song.
Run #10 Re-Hash: November 24, 2001. Hared by Burnt Sox and the Hasher formerly known as Dave IX, who gathered the pack in the South of Asunción. Slyly, Sox had warned that we'd be near, the Yacht Club.... but we all knew that we were really gathering in the shadow of Cerro Lambare, didn't we?
After lathering on bug repellant provided by the hares, the pack took off through a low-rent neighborhood, following chalk and shreddie. As the footing turned from asphalt to cobblestone to scattered pebble to rock, the trail became harder to follow. Why? We passed three children covered head-to-toe with shreddie, apparently wearing most of the first part of the trail like cheap cologne. The Hash: 10,000 guaranies a week. Photo of paper-covered children: Priceless.
After the paper dolls, we descended a flight of stairs into
a lower economic rung. At the bottom, we hit a dirt road that ran along a
swamp. While laying the trail earlier that afternoon, Sox and Dave had been
casually trotting through down that street when Sox was
startled by a pig running out of the rushes. "Rob, the pig's following
us." Huff, puff. "No, really. It's still coming. Run!" Luckily,
they outran the love hog and finished the trail.
Note: say what you want about the squalor of that neighborhood,
bu the residents swept the shreddie between the laying and the running of
the trail. Be it ever so humble.Trail ran led across a beam straddling the
Rio Lambare, and we were
treated to a prime view of the cross atop Cerro Lambare. But it wouldn't be
that easy. We turned right, ran along a construction site, up a hill and onto
... a beach? Yes, there is a sandy strip at
the confluence of the Rios Paraguay and Lambare. (But don't go in the water.)
The pack fought their way through blowing sand, ran basically through some
poor man's living room, and into a parking lot behind the Hotel Ita. We ran
toward a white truck -- the beer! No, just a man parked in the wrong place
at the wrong time.
And then things went horribly wrong. Trail followed a path into
the woods beneath Cerro Lambare. Then the path stopped, but the trail of shreddies
continued. Up, and into the woods, through a mosquito
breeding farm, to pop out on the Cerro roadway. We popped right back into
the woods and came out at the back side of the monument atop the hill. The
trail had gone up the backside of the Cerro! Waiting for us was the beer stop
and a wonderful view of Asunción and its environs. Trail then ran back
down to a small park for more beer and
down-downs.
Everyone drank. From Ben, who rode his bike to the hash, to Stretch and 7 Mins., for their perfect attendance at ASS H3, all were dishonored. El Contador was kind enough to grace us with tuneless renditions of hash songs, and Red Fred learned why they call it the Web Page Nobody Reads. All-Nighter finally got rid of the Sh*t Shirt, but the guest of honor was Dave IX. For catching that's hog's eye, and she had more than bacon on her mind, he shall forever more be known as Pork-n-Pig.
All-Nighter announced that she will hare her last run before
leaving for Colorado--December 8, a date that will live in inebriety. Ben
left on the bike he rode in on, Fred knows the hURL (Hash URL), and all of
us who work for Pork-n-Pig were fired. Another day at the hash. On-on!
TOP
Run #7 Re-Hash:
One thing the hares, El Contador and All Nighter (formerly known as Gloria), did not have to do was buy a lot of beer. Thanks to the forward thinking of The Naked Gunny and El Contador, the Hash stockpile of tasty beverages was still well appropriated! After some thought was given to having a Hash Picnic and surveying the area around Steve Marma’s house, to the point that All Nighter’s Fiat was about to rattle apart, the Hares decided on the trail and so the Hash was hashed as follows:
It being the 7th running of the ASSunción H3 it was only
appropriate that there were 8 hashers who were willing to brave the trail.
After a brief explanation of the hash markings (which hardly anyone ever pays
attention to) was given, the hashers took off like a herd of turtles toward
Lillo. Steve Marma stood by at the beginning repeating his mantra, “I
hate running,” while waving goodbye.
Very early on in the run, Ben made it apparent it was his first time by falling
for nearly every false trail the hares had lain. Burnt Sox, as is his style,
ran off on his own trail for several blocks. 7 Minutes and Stretch showed
their hash moxie by waiting for the other hashers to find the true trail before
running in any direction at the checks.
Antisocial Frank and Paul were a team to be reckoned with as they blew through
the checks and led the pack to a vandalism check at the house of Catwoman
and The Joker, who made the mistake of not being at the hash to protect their
house from the malicious humor of hashers wearing lei’s.
As the group neared the halfway point, All Nighter showed up running in the
wrong direction, which has also become her style.
After noting how nice the German Goethe School’s campus was, the hashers
found themselves at the much-needed halfway point. A nice shady rest was had
by all as Stretch regaled the group with stories of men in suits asleep in
the streets of Iceland, one of her favorite places to live.
Once all thirsts were quenched with the beverages of choice, the hash resumed.
An interesting check was had at an intersection of 5 streets; the hares could
not overlook this Paraguayan feat of city planning. The remainder of the trail
was quick and to the point: beer. With only a scenic run through a taxi parada
(the taxistas were very accommodating when Gloria ran up and asked if she
could throw shreddie all over their meticulous stand) the hashers found the
much-anticipated Beer Near marking and stumbled into the backyard of Steve
Marma’s house for the circle where Down-Down’s were downed as
follows:
Virgin hasher: Ben, as if we hadn’t guessed on trail.
Steve Marma: For not having any common sense and letting us use his house
for the hash.
Paul: For running like he was breaking wind.
El Contador: Clarification of the widely mispronounced name.
The Intern: For being a world hasher—Thanks for sharing.
7-Minutes: It’s her birthday month. We all revolved around her.
Hash Naming: Gloria, in recognition of her post-hashing prowess of drinking
tequila and leading other hashers down the path of inebriation, was named
All Nighter.
Several Bad jokes were shared by El Contador, Burnt Sox, and 7-Minutes.
Sh*t Shirt: After a reign of 2 hashes, Antisocial Frank was able to shed the
sticky sh*t shirt. The new proud owner was Steve Marma.
A brief and confusion discussion followed regarding the calendar of future
hashes ending in a group down-down of sorts.
Burnt Sox: For being Burnt Sox.
Finally, Swing Low was swung (we really need to practice) and
the hash adjourned until All Nighter could lead us on yet another one of her
special post-hash extravaganzas.
TOP
Run no.6 - Re-Hash:
The run was back to the basics from the beginning! The hares, The Naked Gunny and El Contador, didn’t even contact the previous hares about passing along Hash supplies. Instead they went straight for HiperSeis and the beer aisle. The hares, not wanting anyone (in Asunción) to go thirsty, proceeded to fill up BOTH shopping carts with tasty beverages. And so, with full coolers and empty wallets, the hares set about setting the trail, and thus the Hash was Hashed:
The Hashers met at El Contador’s house for a brief explanation
of the markings used on trail and a warning to not be distracted by random
sidewalk drawings. After everyone was done pretending to follow directions
(what hasher needs directions?) the run began. Immediately, Burnt Sox took
to the front of the pack and promptly began missing markings and leading others
astray—something that would turn into a habit.
Not too long into the hash, David IX and David X mysteriously disappeared.
Within a few blocks of the disappearance of the David’s, Gloria and
Burnt Sox decided to take a “small” detour off trail. It is reported
that Burnt Sox was following Gloria, but that could not be independently verified.
The hashers, following a well-marked trail, proceeded by the Banco Central.
Another mysterious occurrence transpired when a circle with an x inside (falsie)
made of a tar-like substance was spotted. It was a clue to future discoveries…
The Beer Check did not materialize too soon for most hashers. Some even went
as far to say that it was along time coming!
After the Beer Check, the hashers decided to check out a little hole-in-the-wall
place, literally, which turned out to be a “secret” entrance to
the hospital IPS. A missed check resulted in much whining from a certain Hot
Wax when he discovered a rather long falsie. Who was following him anyway?
The trail picked up pace as the last check was found. Karen, the intern, was
noted as being a rather silent hasher…shame, shame on the intern.
As the home stretch unfolded, and unfolded, Antisocial Frank, Athletic Cup
and Stretch Robinson made up for the Intern’s silence.
A reverent check was checked when an archeological find of great Hash importance
was found. An "ON-ON" and an arrow trail marking were closely inspected
and experts estimate the marking from the late Tar Period of Hashing. It was
a truly moving find for those present!
With their spirits satiated, but their thirst ravenous, the hashers hurried
to the welcomed end of the run and the imbibing of many tasty beers ?
Down-downs:
1. TNG for all past and future violations. Stretch joined along in comradery.
2. The Joker, David IX and David X for not doing part of the trail.
3. Gloria for inability to follow hash markings.
4. Cat Woman for babysitting
5. Kat just because
6. Hot Wax got a departure down-down.
7. Janneth for sitting down during the circle.
8. El Contador for whining
9. Stretch for making the hash a more beautiful place
Naming: Pat Gallagher will now be known as El Contador
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Run No. 5 - September 15, 2001 - Re-Hash:
The hashers called forth to the hares, “We tire of busy streets and
pollution!” And the hares heard the moaning of the hashers, and thought,
“Well we can fix one of their problems so they will quit bitching.”
And lo, the trail for the 5th hash was conceived.
Unfortunately, the winds of change were not with the hares. The mystery remains,
however: Were there hash markings to begin with? Did all of the local cats
eat the hash markings? Or, did the same miscreants who maliciously added markings
to the last run sabotage them? We may never know. What is obvious is that
there was definitely some sinister mastermind behind the hares, but there
will be more on that later…
As a whole, the trail constantly tested the dedication of the hashers to find
beer. With the threat of Mariscal Lopez and San Martin out of the way, the
hares decided to risk the lives of all involved on rickety bridges and raw
sewage rivers. The desire for the frothy beverage even lead a great many to
follow the lead of one truly dedicated Naked Gunny, who short-cut a large
chunk of trail. But, for those of us who survived, it was a great trail in
the end because, of course, there was beer there to sooth our souls and cloud
our memories.
Once most of the hashers were accounted for, the circle (which in and of itself was a testimony for the need of many to re-hash basic geometry) was formed and down-downs were downed as follows:
Private party down-down to Kelley and the Joker
The “Get a Life Club” was christened for all of those who had attended all 5 ASS H3 runs: Catwoman, the Joker, Stretch and 7 Minutes.
Violators/Sinners: The Naked Gunny (scaring horses and, worse,
having a private party with the hash beer); Zaenger's son - walking wounded;
Frank (wearing a walkman on trail - antisocial down-down); Burnt Sox (you
call this being a expert on haring? The sinister mastermind behind the loss
of several hashers and the death of an untold number of cats is finally revealed!)
**Related hare-tale: While setting the trail, a concerned family wanted to
know if the hash marks were being set in an attempt to kill off the neighborhood
cats. **
Newcomer to the ASS H3: Scott was recognized for running hashes in Saipan, and thus having the same Mother Hash as Burnt Sox.
Hash Virgins were welcomed. Maybe they will come back for more?
Sh*t shirt: Antisocial Frank
Founder Mrs. Robinson, ma'am renamed "Stretch" after she lifted her right heel over her head. Heel over head... do I feel yet another name coming on?
And, thus, the beer was drunk and Swing Low was sung.
Post hash, private party down-down: Scott and Burnt Sox for
separating from the group for their own energetic rendition of “Swing
Low.”
Pat
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Run No. 4 - September 2, 2001 - The
run really started for me on Saturday morning when I met Naked Gunny (still
just the "gunny" at that point) at his house to co-hare and mentor
the young hasher on the ways of the hare.
I met him outside and he was holding a sandwich bag full of shreddy and asked me if we had enough, silly Gunny. I then looked over at his daughters devouring the marking chalk on his driveway. So, after a trip to the embassy for a suitable supply of shreddy we set the run.
We marked the trail in pink, yellow, green and purple chalk (in memory of Gunny's hippie days) as well as shreddy. Starting at the Gunny's house we headed towards the Villa Morra part of Assuncion. There was only one problem, where was the Gunny? Apparently, in respectful disrespect he almost forgot to wear the shit shirt.
At Check no. 2 we seen Paula leading the walkers towards the beer stop. While everyone was checking I appropriately lead the pack in the direction of a falsy I had laid the day before. They all bought my bluff!
We regrouped for a beer-stop at Check no. 3. A beautifully serene park overlooking one of Assuncion's many picturesque polluted overflow streams. After a few cool sips of the tasty we pressed onwards.
Naked Gunny, with encouraging words from me like "we did it at my hash in Africa," took us through Assuncion's spooky Recoleta Cemetery. At this point a previous notion was confirmed, people had added markings to the trail. What a great treat!
Mrs. Robinson Ma'am and 7 Minutes found the trail home while Athletic Cup and Mr. Gallagher raced to be the FRB.
Not a bad run to say the least. With all of Paraguay in siesta on Sunday afternoons the traffic was minimal the clouds provided cover for pleasant run.
Virgin (It was your first time, how was it?) Assuncion Hashers: Dennis and Eileen Zaenger, Pat Gallagher, Neil Martin, and Carina, Andrew and Jacob Alejandre
Sinners were suitably punished for their crimes and misdeeds as follows: Naked Gunny(Newly Named) & Hot Wax- Hare/Co-Hare respectively; Athletic Cup & Mr. Gallagher- Racing to be the Front Running Bastard (FRB); 7 Minutes- Short cutting and leading Hashers astray; Hot Wax- Making everyone run to falsies; Naked Gunny- For washing the shit shirt. Shit Shirt-Mr. Gallagher for racing during the hash and being the FRB.
On-on, Hot Wax, RA
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Run No. 3 - August 19, 2001 - Hares: The Joker
&Catwoman
ASSuncion H3 does it again. At the appointed hour the faithful gathered at the Batcave for the third running of this version of Asunción's hash. Le Crash was conspicuously absent, and The Joker woke her up when he called to see if she was on her way. But she won big guarani at the casino, so I guess it was worth missing the hash.
What am I saying? It's NEVER worth missing the hash, especially on cool, drizzly days when (let's be honest) if it weren't for the hash you'd just pad around the house in those Superman pajamas with feet eating Froot Loops and watching Power Rangers re-runs all day. And this hash was particularly nice, since it was NOT 26 miles long (congratulations Gloria and Pat for your excessive effort in the morning's marathon). Bandana led the pack through the same cowfield we went through last run. Since the hares were riding the mercy chariot by then, this was new territory for them, though they did notice shreddie when they laid the trail. Though Gunny took many false checks, surprisingly he never got lost, but more on that later. Mrs. Robinson, ma'am and 7 Minutes turned the head of many a bystander as they sped down the streets, and a shortcutting Burnt Sox almost gave the hares a conniption. Dave IX was still fuming about the White House H3 (let it go, man), and Cesta was promising herself to start running ... next week. Kelly was the only walker, but does a hasher ever really walk alone?
The trail was nice and sane. Well marked. Shortish. A nice beer
check at the opportunistic Austria House, and then back to the Batcave. Cool.
Down-downs were mercifully and anything but quick. We welcomed Cesta, Kelly,
Bandana and Gunny to the hash. Papa Sox joined us for a few drinks. Mrs. Robinson
& the Catwoman got a private party down-down, and David spilled Coke
all over Dave IX while doing the "Dave" down-down with Dave X. (See
why we have hash names? Get yours soon--all you have to do is hare.) Founders'
T-shirts will be available, and we have volunteers for the next two hashes.
Swing Low was swung and it was still cold and dank. But at least we hadn't
run a marathon. And we could slip back into the PJs when we got home. On-on!
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Run No. 2 - August 5, 2001:ASS H3 No. 2 - Asunción
- Against all odds and common sense, the ASSuncion Hash reconvened
for a second running at a football field near Villamorra Shopping on August
5. By the appointed hour of 1400 (and, people, we're serious about coming
somewhere near the appointed hour) we had a fine collection of hashers. Hot
Wax explained the trail markings that had since blown away, and by 1410 the
pack was off running toward San Martin.
Kris and 7 Minutes immediately took off on a false trail, while the rest of the group ran through the Paulista Grill and through the plaza on San Martin. Meanwhile, Paula and Elaine, our walkers, headed off on the path of a different drummer. Trail ran across a pipeline, where the road had given out, down the ritzy Senador Long corridor, and through a dirt-filled road to Espana. Crossing Espana is dangerous, but let's wait until down-downs to sort this out.
The pack followed trail at times and, where the trail had been swept away, like under the Tres Botanas grocery store, they followed Hot Wax. Y'see, Hot Wax was busy Sunday morning, so he and Burnt Sox laid the trail Saturday afternoon, before a warm north wind blew in and scattered the markings helter-skelter. Still, everyone especially Donna (and more on that later) made it to Shopping del Sol, where the pack found a surprise water check and late arrival John, Hot Wax's skydiving friend. Explain this to me: Gloria, who'd returned to hashing after the last Asunción Hash died, had complained about having only one beer check, yet she took her water straight at the mall. And Casey, despite the urgent pleadings of Burnt Sox, defiantly crushed her water cup after quenching her thirst. The pack went on, minus Catwoman and The Joker, who rode with the hare to the beer stop.
Meanwhile, on the other side of town, the walkers hit the beer check in record time, but found no comfort, no solace and, most importantly, no beer. They marched on.
Kris and Rigo were apparently of no help to the pack, since they just stopped at checks instead of looking for trail. Gloria needed no trail to check, but since she was wearing a half-marathon shirt, she was able to get lost more quickly than the average hasher. And, of course, Donna had her eye on our hares. If you know what I mean.
At the beer check, which the pack somehow found, we reclaimed Bandana, a lost hasher. Not difficult, since the check was in front of his house. If you won't come to the hash, the hash will come to you, a wise man said, and Bandana even sang us a song, while his adoring wife and mom looked on. Okay, they paid attention because we gave them a beer. Afterwards, the pack took off again, on an even longer route back to the beer. Dave No. 9 and Dave No. 10 took a short cut, 10 piggyback atop 9, while the rest of the pack followed sometimey markings through the Burger King parking lot to end, at casa de Sox & Minutes.
At the down-downs, basically everyone drank. Most notably, we named our Re-founders. Paula, who in the face of a recent streak of bad luck has completed two hashes without hurting herself or those she loves, will be known as Le Crash. Casey, the overachieving runner who didn't take care of her drinking vessel, is henceforth Athletic Cup. And Donna, who followed the young, strapping Hare wherever he went, will forevermore be called Mrs. Robinson, Ma'am. Otherwise, The Joker got the Sh*t shirt for complaining about crossing busy streets when he spent most of the hash inside an auto. (Point of lager: friends don't make friends run across busy streets.) John got a down-down for showing up late (though well within Paraguayan time). Gloria, who'd hashed with the third Asunción hash, was wearing a running shirt (also, she hadn't hashed in three years). 7 Minutes was a pain in the butt. Daves 9 & 10 got a piggyback down-down. Hot Wax drank for not telling the walkers to stop at the beer stop, and walker Elaine drank for not stopping. Catwoman couldn't keep the sacred mantle from touching the ground, and Chris and Rigo were cited for being considerably less than they can be. And the hash was done.
The Joker and Catwoman will be the hares for run No. 3, on August
19. In the meantime, spread the word, and bring someone new to the next run.
We may just be onto something, here. Also, Re-founders should look for the
chance to buy their special No. 1 run shirts in the coming week. Until then,
on-on! 7 Minutes y Burnt Sox.
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Run No. 1 - July 22, 2001: In the beginning,
there was beer. And it was good. And then there was the hasher, and there
was much thirst, and after singing a song, the beer sated that thirst, and
it was good. And then the hashers decided that he needed to rationalize his
consumption of beer with some sort of physical activity, and the hash was
born. And it was good. And the hasher thought, there is much beer in Paraguay,
and I would like to drink it. Let there be hash. And there was, and it was
good. And there was much rejoicing.
Burnt Sox believed it could be done. If you have beer, they will come. Hot Wax, the hash Jedi, was ready, and the farce was with him. And so it was decided: on July 22, Burnt Sox and 7 mins. would hare the trail, and they would invite all to come and drink beer with them, and Hot Wax would lead silly songs and degrade the others, and there would again be hashing again in Paraguay.
And so they took to trail. Drew and Ben ran fast, and in the wrong direction many times. Donna and Casey were smart, and waited for them to return from their checks. Hot Wax ran, and ran, and ran. Paula and Catwoman walked with the fury of two women walking. The Joker drove his car like never before. And so we, the ASSuncion H3, walked through cow pastures, sandy mosquito-filled paths, anthill-laden gardens, and a really pitiful zoo, to 7 mins., waiting with a beer check next to the animals. After quenching our thirst, the pack meandered back to the on-in, with more desire than flour getting us to the end of the trail.
Hot Wax convened the circle, and the sacred drinking vessels and the mantle of the ASS H3 were unveiled, then put to use with a lot of down-downs. Catwoman drank for being catty about revealing her name, then ended up with the Shit Shirt™ for not coming clean. Burnt Sox was chastized for running out of shreddies for the last part of the trail. 7 mins, Paula and Donna were cited for ... leaning in the circle (that's a new one). Paula made several visits to the circle for taking a longcut on trail and a special slow learner down-down for not taking her hat off. Ty was saluted as a provisional hasher, and The Joker was chastized for not having actually run the hash. Finally, and most grievously, Hot Wax and Ben drank for racing to the beer check (good cause, but racing isn't that good). And Adriana, the sole Paraguayan, was toasted for being the only host country national present.
And so the hash has returned. And we will learn new songs, so
we don't have to sing the same one over and over again. And Swing Low was
Swung, and the hash went in peace, and it was a good hash. On-on. Burnt Sox
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