Many old and new faces gathered at the south gate of Chaoyang Park for the return of the Taxi Ride Her and Phantom, famous in their own lunchtimes, and of course, more importantly, to FOYC RSB. Now back in expensive Australia, Phantom is a little short of money so immediately volunteered to do hash cash. The hares made the mistake of thinking that they could just wander along to one of the restaurants near the start and arrange dinner. Unfortunately, in the 8 months since their departure, a whole row of cheap restaurants has been demolished. No longer an overpaid expat fatcat, Phantom now has no car either, so the pack donned their bags for the long walk to the restaurant near Jingkelong. From here it was on on around the local hutongs to the first beerstop by the smelly creek alongside Hong Ling Jin park, with 47 hot, sweaty runners, walkers and pram-pushers squeezed into a hutong next to a hole-in-the-wall beer shop.
Suitably refreshed, the pack took off into Hong Ling Jin park, with The Only Gay in the Village and Sheepshagger racing each other with their terrified babies in prams. At a stop in the park, TOGitV was surprised when Phantom began rummaging in the little carry bag on his pram, and was even more surprised when two bottles of Tequila emerged, hidden there earlier by the wily hare. Foolish kneeling down no-hands Tequila races ensued, and then it was on on around the park, out the south gate, and west towards another beer stop. While Sheepshagger nursed baby Fiona on his knee, several harriettes insisted on having their photos taken sitting in the pram. One was even seen breast-feeding on a male hasher! I know who enjoyed that the most.
From here it was on on to more hutongs, reaching the start/finish after 8km, just as the walkers arrived. With Dazed and Confused in charge, the circle commenced down a busy little laneway, right opposite a beer shop whose owner thought he had finally reached Nirvana as the hares called for crate after crate of cold beer. Maybe 10 newbies were introduced and serenaded, LTNS were punished, including Chop Stick Legs who hasn’t been seen in action in months, outside of balls (Balls, who said balls, I’ll have some of that – female version). Rev Slackbladder and CSL attempted to out-champagne each other, a reference to some skulduggery at one of the aforementioned balls. F**K That Monkey attempted his down down while doing a snotstand (see photos), Pretty Woman was punished only because we like singing THAT song and Phantom recited verbatim a story Dozy and Confusing told him in Kuching one morning – “Phantom, last night I met a German, long blonde hair, we went drinking for a long time, then we went back to my room, we took off our shirts, and swapped them. He was a very nice man.” Masturbaker was mugged for his 350th run and Pa Baker was recognized for 125 runs (although no badges were found).
The Reverend produced a superlative effort for his last RA’ing job in Beijing. One of his stories commenced with “When I was a little boy, ….”, to which TOGitV was heard to comment, “Did he say when I was in a little boy?”, perhaps a flashback to his own sordid past. RSB performed his last BJ naming, with Joshua Lagos now to be known as Le Cunt (or is that Les Cunt?). This ceremony, as always, confirmed to the large crowd of locals, most already wearing their pyjamas, that foreigners are indeed a strange lot. The beer shop owner simply rubbed his hands together as litres of beer were wasted, prompting a call for another crate.
The pack was called to order while we celebrated two very sad occasions, Headcleaner’s impending marriage and Rev’s FOYC. Several prominent hashers made very moving speeches for the Rev (no they didn’t, I made that up, we just sang the F**K Off song and went to the restaurant). It’s worth noting that at the start of the circle only 19 people were registered for dinner, but by the end of the circle we had 14 extras who pleaded with Hash Cash to pay the extra 40 kuai because they were having so much fun. From here it was on back to the restaurant, where Burning Bush, Snot, and Undulator produced a stunning cake decorated with hash paraphernalia, including a very realistic Cock of Chame. Much more foolishness ensued, including singing, and it is unlikely that we will ever be able to use that restaurant again.
Full Moon Hash
After announcing at the previous Sunday run that Full Moon HHH would be held on Saturday night, then revising to Friday night, then later revising to Thursday night, Decapitated and Confused* was surprised when a good crowd arrived at Dongsishitao “subaway” station for the Full Moon. D&C announced that it was going to be like a pub crawl, but instead of pubs we would be stopping at “beer chops”. Before leaving we had to wait for Fake Spear and co-GM Tricky Shooter who finally arrived. Decapitated was given 3 minutes start, which was plenty given that he used f**k all flour, resulting in the pack taking 20 minutes to get to the first beer chop about a km away. At this “beer stop of the shirtless men”, we took many photos and made friends with the locals. Swiss visitor Sam produced a massive camera (“You call that a camera, this is a camera”) which required a half hour training session for the beer chop owner to take our photo. We changed hares and followed Transexual Schuber from here as we ran on through Taxi Writher’s old stomping grounds. The next beer stop also had the classic Beijing exercise equipment nearby, a magnet for hashers. More photo opportunities presented themselves, with the hasher formerly known as Bottoms Up continually taking photos while yelling what sounded like f**k us to the group (apparently “focus” in her language).
After being convinced to use chalk instead of flour, Damaged and Confiscated again took the haring role and ran off into the darkness. Like lemmings we followed and in a short time found the hare at another beer chop. New runner Barry was wearing down and Shaken not Speared was walking by now. After a quick beer, Spiking Viagra was handed the chalk for the next leg, foolishly leaving Cockgirl in Fan Tong’s capable hands. Needless to say, she made it to the next beer stop, the finish, as slightly damaged goods. The GM’s found a spot for the circle, intriguingly with a dog turd strategically placed, in original condition, inside the circle, making for lots of oohs and aahs as down down recipients unwittingly came ever so close to stepping on it.
Many down downs ensued, including the rather he zuile Peony who performed a strange dance to check for functionality on a harriette’s new card reader. Texting Ride Her and Fat Tom were punished for cumming and going, Fan Zuile arrived late, and old hasher Li Mo happened to be going past and stopped for a beer. Bottoms Up was renamed F**k Us (for Full Moon anyway).
Dinner conversation: Swiss visitor lady Claudia, “What is this vegetable called?”. TRH, “Snow pea”. D&C “Like the dog”.
*names have been changed to protect the guilty.
Dear Boxer Hashers!
Last months road (rail) trip to the grasslands of Inner Mongolia with our retarded cousins, the BJH3 and the FMH3 turned out to be a scorcher in more ways than one. I think everyone got the back of their legs burned, especially Boxer Hare ‘Fucking Matt Damon’ as he got the worst of it with his borderline blisters! New rule for Summer hashes – Bring lots of sun cream, not only to use it as an excuse to rub other hashers but to be rubbed on yourself!
I remember DnC, Spiking Viking, MH and the soon to be named, ‘Fuckus’ (we know who you are!) drinking the whole train dry after a bottle of vodka was demolished in 5 minutes. But thats about it…Sunshine, Drinking, World Cup, Drinking, Dodgy Club, Drinking, Sunshine, Ultimate frisbee, Drinking, Train, Drinking….I think I saw lucky boy at one point…and I’m certain we left Indiana Jones behind!
It was Snot’s Birthday as well as Slackbladder’s swan song as Boxer RA to which we had him doused in the nectar of the Gods!
We also made RSB drink so much that he passed out in the hotel and missed all the nights revelry watching world cup and eating entire lambs before drinking ourselves into a heat stricken slumber. Fare-D-well, Slackbladder, you will be missed but the word/joke association games shall always continue in your honour!
Dry Hole kept up his legendary status as he was the only one who took the initiative and thought of the beer over everything else and found a cold place to store it in the middle of the grasslands enabling us to intoxicate ourselves and keep cool at the same time! Shame on you, hares!
Thanks to all for what should really become an annual thing!
Special thanks go to Burning Bush, who even though she got lost on one of the flattest Boxer trails we’ve ever seen, provided lots of cakes and apple pies for Limp Tart to stick his fingers into at every available moment…