A Frenchman a-sits in the loo
with some shit perched atop o’ his shoe
he craps; his teeth gnash
and the feces doth splash
in the end, he be proud of his poo
—Kevin Kim

In a first in the long and storied history of LTG, an original Hash-style poem, written by fellow blogger and friend Kevin Kim. See the comments on this post for the provenance of the poem, written in and translated from the original French. It seems like an appropriate way to kick off this week’s Hash House Harrier report, don’t you think?

Trails and Travails.

As is our custom, we loaded up in the Hashmobile and were driven a goodly distance out to downtown Subic where we commenced our hike.

And we are ON-ON!

Wherever I may be on-trail I try and appreciate the scenery. *ahem*

Over the river and to the woods we go!

I’m sure this lad must have found a troop of mostly foreigners marching by a little fishy…

Leaving the world of pavement behind…

Always amazed at the folks who live life truly off the grid. And I complain about not having running water (and I still DON”T have water by the way).

I’d check periodically to make sure I wasn’t bringing up the rear. Didn’t want to be left alone on trail again this week…

All’s clear on the way ahead…

Followed the creek bed and didn’t have a paddle….

….but I did have my walking stick. Which I needed as the ascent was particularly steep this week. At one point I grabbed onto a tree trunk to get my balance only to discover the bark was covered with tiny stickers. “Watch out for the bark on those” I was belatedly advised. Damn things would not wash out in the creek water either. Finally used my hanky to wipe them away. Bastards!

The view from the top. Way off in the distance is Alta Vista, my subdivision.
Now, before we departed the Hare had advised that the descent was going to be steep and muddy. He suggested we find a stick to use if we hadn’t brought one. One of the Hashers actually bailed at this point. I was thinking on the way down that he might have made the right call. I was on my ass twice and in danger of toppling over several other times. One of my slips caused a mini-landslide and the two Hashers behind me came down with it.

The look of satisfaction on my face after reaching the bottom of the mountain with no damage other than the mud on my ass.

After that it was clear sailing (well, hiking) as we were on relatively flat ground for the longish remainder of the Hash…

On the home stretch along the paved banks of the Matain river.

LIfe on the riverside….heh, I’ve seen much worse.

On-Home was at Treasure Island this week. One of my favorite venues in town. Treated myself to the some orange chicken and some grilled wings. Life is good, glad I didn’t lose mine on trail!

The Hash Circle commenced and as is the custom, we were asked to rate the trail. I said it was perfect for a mountain goat. And then while the Hares sat bare assed on the ice block we honored them with with the traditional Hash song:

(sung to the Mickey Mouse Club theme)
S-H-I-T-T-Y T-R-A-I-L
Shitty trail (It sucked)
Shitty trail (really fucked)
The Hare’s have laid another shitty trail
I would rather drink a beer than hash your shitty trail,
S-H-I-T-T-Y T-R-A-I-L

Later on I was compelled to spend some time on ice for my two Hash Crashes. The guys who fell with me also joined me on the ice. One of them suggested that the Hares also take another cold seat since they had laid an impossible trail down the mountain. And finally I was given recognition for achieving double digit status (11 Hashes already!) with the Subic Bay Hash House Harries (SB H-3).

Then the circle closed with our going away song:
(there’s a bunch of pantomimes we do as we sing, but I can’t be fucked with describing them right now)

Swing low, sweet cherry ass,
Cumin’ four two carry me home…
Swing low, sweet cherry ass,
Cumin’ four two carry me home.
I looked over Jordan,
And what did I see-ee,
Cumin’ four two carry me home…
A band of An-gels,
Cumin’ after me-ee,
Cumin’ four two carry me home…

If you get there be-four I doo,
Cumin’ four two carry me home…
Tell all my friends I’m cumin’ twoo,
Cumin’ four two carry me home…

Yes, I know. I know. But it’s a Hash tradition. Don’t be a hater!

Yesterday was pretty much what passes as normal for me around here. If you discount the shitting the bed thing I mean.

I always start my day with a dose of the internet, mostly the blogs I follow and some Facebook. There’s some gems out there if you get lucky enough to find them. Like I’ve got this new pickup line to try out on the local ladies:

Although it will likely prove every bit as effective as my current repertoire…

Repertoire…isn’t that French? Coincidentally, the cover of this month’s online Hash magazine seems to feature bits of that archaic and dying language.

Maybe Kevin Kim can make sense out of it….

In the Subic kennel, we sing our songs in English thank you very much. Of course, I’m still learning the words to most of them but little by little I’m getting there.

I wish I could find me a songbook with all the lyrics for the Hash standards.

Anyway, once I’ve satisfied my internet addiction, it’s time to hit the road for the first steps of the day and of course some breakfast. I usually do Treasure Island for my morning meal, but yesterday I changed it up and ate at Mango’s.

Eggs with a view as it were.

I try to get 10,000 steps (1.5 hours) every morning. Back home to rest a bit, then give Buddy a walk through the neighborhood. He smiles the whole time!

Had my Sunday darts tournament at Alley Cats and managed a third place which was a tad disappointing. I’m not going to complain about it much, but this is not the traditional “blind draw” where teammates are randomly chosen. The tournament director instead divides folks into two groups “A” caliber players and everyone else, which in theory would give you more balanced teams. I just question how she determines who is going where. Now, I’m always in the “A” group and I belong there. But damn, she has some really solid players that in my mind should be in “A” as well teamed up with other “A” partners. Ah well, I have some thoughts on how to better rank and rate the players, but I can’t be bothered with it at this point. Just want to relax and have fun.

After darts I hoofed it on home and ate some leftover baby back ribs from the previous night’s dinner. Then took Buddy for his afternoon walk. With Buddy walked and fed, I packed a bag and headed back into town. Rented a room at the Paradise hotel using my 50% off coupon from the SOB raffle. Took a much needed shower, had a shave, dressed up nice and hit the bars.

It was in the back of mind that maybe, just maybe, I’d put the bed in that room to use. Sometimes my “no barfine” policy seems ridiculous. I mean seriously, some hot young women willing and wanting to fuck you for forty or less dollars and I just leave them up there on the stage? It strikes me as an awful selfish thing to do. After all, they really really need the money.

Alas, despite seeing some prospects that ticked all my boxes I just couldn’t pull the trigger. Bought a few ladies drinks which helps them out some at least. And didn’t feel guilty about enjoying some brews. This quote (attributed to Babe Ruth, but who knows, it’s the internet after all) pretty much sums up my thinking:

“Sometimes when I reflect on all the beer I drink, I feel ashamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. If I didn’t drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. I think, “It is better to drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver.”

After an abbreviated bar hop (Wet Spot, Cheap Charlies) I popped into Lollipop. On Sunday night they have a live band doing country music. I pulled one of the dancers off stage to keep me company, but mostly to be my bodyguard. There were only two other customers in the joint and the hoards of thirsty waitresses were swarming around my table with the “buy me a drink” fever in their eyes. It really is off putting.

Only stayed for the first set of music. The band was okay, featuring some Eagles tunes and a Kid Rock song I like, Only God Knows Why. Caught a trike home, leaving my hotel bed untouched. Slept on the couch since I didn’t want to put clean sheets on a dirty mattress.

And that’s pretty much how things roll around here.

People don’t know about the things I say and do
They don’t understand about the shit that I’ve been through
It’s been so long since I’ve been home
I’ve been gone, I’ve been gone for way too long
Maybe I forgot all things I miss
Oh somehow I know there’s more to life than this
I said it too many times
And I still stand firm
You get what you put in
And people get what they deserve
Still I ain’t seen mine
No I ain’t seen mine
I’ve been giving just ain’t been gettin
I’ve been walking that there line
So I think I’ll keep a walking
With my head held high
I’ll keep moving on and only God knows why

I rarely post news of the scatological, but I had a particularly shitty night.

So, I’ve had a case of the LBM (liquid bowel movement) for the past few days. It’s not that big a deal, no cramps or other side effects. When I have to go, I go. It’s just liquid. Sorta like shitting pee. Until last night that is.

I wake up at 2 a.m. and my underwear are wet. WTF? Sure enough, I had shit the bed in my sleep. Well, damn. I got up, cleaned up as best I could with no running water. Removed the soiled sheets, flipped the mattress over, re-made the bed, used the toilet just to play it safe, and then managed to get back to sleep.

Woke up at 5 o’clock and guess what? I had done it again. Even worse this time if you can imagine that. I honestly don’t get it. The LBM is no better or worse than it has been. I mean, I haven’t had the need to poop all day so it’s not like I’ve got a case of raging diarrhea.

Now on the chance that you are wondering if this might be drinking related, it wasn’t. I came home early last night after drinking less beers than I normally do. In other words, I was not intoxicated. I was about as normal as I get.

I don’t recall ever having shit my pants since I was child (other than the occasional shart). And I’m sure I never shit the bed since being potty trained.

And then twice in one night. Wow. I’m trying to recall if maybe I dreamed I had gotten up to go to the toilet, but I have no recollection of that. I just don’t get it. In the category of “it can always be worse”, one night earlier and I would have shit all over Marissa. I’m not sure our relationship could handle shit like that.

Anyway, it was a crappy start to the day. I really need to get my shit together…

Still no water. Unfucking believable. Every promise made has been broken, so I’m in the “I’ll believe it when I see it” mode. Ah well, deep breath and all that…

Spent the night at The Pub hotel last night. Prior to a shower and sleep (alright, something else between those two but I’m not going to go there because I’m a gentlemen and all that) this is was how I filled the day:

Did some walking, over 15,000 but less than 20,000.

Had a fight with Marissa.

Played some decent darts (our team won the match 13-0).

Had dinner at Mango’s Resort.

That would be the fish and chips…

Made up with Malissa. I was fully prepared to just cut her loose, but she is a pretty sweet gal. She is far from an ideal girlfriend. I don’t think it is in her nature to give me the type of relationship I desire. But in the end I just decided that at least for the time being I’ll try to appreciate her for who and what she is and not let what she is not bother me overmuch. We’ll see if I can live up to those words.

Better than eating alone, that’s for sure!

After dinner we headed out to Alaska bar for the weekly SOB dance competition.

I sat in judgment of these assembled dancers from the six competing bars.

Afterwards I booked the hotel room, took a shower, and hit the sheets. It was nice to have a smokin’ hot body sweet someone to sleep beside.

What’s gonna happen next?