Remember that story about the little engine that could the fat old man who could? Well, by golly, I successfully completed yesterday’s Hash trail. Granted, it was the short trail, but it was still plenty challenging. The big up for us shorties came at the end, and it was an ass-kicker for me. I was able to overcome the urge to bail largely because there was nowhere to bail- climbing that hill was the only way back to the On-Home. Head down, one step at a time, and puffing out, “I think I can” got me to the top. Finishing felt a lot better than I did after I wussed out last week, that’s for sure.
And so it beginsA short climb to start things offBut it was my kind of trail for the most part after that…until that ending I told you about.We only had twenty show up for yesterday’s HashThat’s the Hare, Leech My Nuggets out front on his way to mark the short trail.Blow My Pipe in the woodsNow you are talking my language!The short trail meandered, but was mostly downhill at firstThere were a couple of creek bed crossings to maneuver.I’d been this way several times, usually in the opposite direction.The three Gash who took the short trail caught up with us here.Glad you could join us!This is the new Barretto bypass highway under construction. It may or may not be completed in my lifetime.Follow me, girls!Walk this wayThe first of two carabao encounters. After what recently happened in Angeles City (two Hashers attacked and hospitalized), we gave them a wide berth.An Easter Mountain viewLife in the sticksThrough the valley we must goThat hill up ahead has our name on itCarabao number two. He was on a rope, but Blow My Pipe is telling us to go around the other way. We thought that was a good idea.And so begins the final climbI can do it. Harder than it looksLooking back down from whence we came, you can see that new bypass road across the valley. The thunder was rolling, and the skies were threatening, but we made it to the end without encountering any rain.On-Home at Tiny Cunt’s houseIt’s nice on ice!Derby’s Bitch got the Hashit this week…The long and short of it. My trail was just under 5K.
And that’s the lowdown on this week’s Hash.
In the memory category, I’ve got some “through the years” photographs to share from Facebook. My son had posted these for Father’s Day.
Me at 20.And 25Early thirtiesFortiesAnd nowadays
In today’s YouTube feature, Reekay talks about the best the Philippines has to offer. I’m glad to be here to partake.
And we will finish up this post with some humor:
I thought it was funnyI’ve heard it doesn’t cost much here, which is another good reason not to piss anyone off.I seem to have more lids than bowls these days…
Anyway, Swan and I are doing the foot spa thing this afternoon, and we’ll see what comes about after that. I reckon you’ll read all about it here tomorrow.
4 thoughts on “I think I can, I think I can…”
Harder than it looks
When I’m puffing up a hill, I often think to myself how nice it must be to be small, short, and skinny: your center of gravity is low, there isn’t much of you to heave up the mountainside, and you’re less prone to being out of breath.
And 25
Oho! Just a hint of a unibrow!
I seem to have more lids than bowls these days…
A lid for a coffin, eh? Just burn me and scatter me, I say. Or like in the film Captain Fantastic, dump me down a toilet.
Glad you made it up the hill.
It’s good you didn’t wuss out like a faggy pussy, John. Perseverance is key for success in this world, or so I have been told. Patience, too, something my neighbor Matt apparently has in spades. I’m surprised Matt hasn’t called the police on us yet, especially after the ex went on a screaming porch rant about him and how he’s “raising his daughter to be raped”. So many times after we got into a scream fight I expected to see a police cruiser roll up the driveway, responding to a noise complaint or domestic violence report. I’m also surprised none of the AirBnB guests complained to the landlord about our very public, very noisy, fighting. I expected to get a text or call from him saying I can’t have ‘guests’ anymore or he was evicting me for being a garbage tenant.
It’s interesting seeing the ex’s hygiene going down the tubes. She’s normally fastidious about showering and brushing her teeth, but she goes weeks without showering and brushes her teeth maybe once a week. We’re on the porch, yesterday, smoking and finishing off the bottle of Listerine I started on the other night when she makes a joke about giving me a blowjob – she sticks her tongue out and the middle of it is streaked black and yellow, like one of those poisonous, hairy, caterpillars you find in rain forests. She claims it’s because of a yeast infection and when she sleeps naked boy is she ripe. On a related note, she doesn’t seem overly concerned about the dilapidated condition of the apartment. Aside from bitching about the dirty dishes in the sink and the occasional maggot crawling across her foot she doesn’t comment on the state of the place when normally she’s so anal about keeping the place clean and gets on my case about how I’ve let it deteriorate in her absence. The Christmas tree and all the decorations are still up, which I thought would have been the first thing she’d comment on, but she’s mostly oblivious to the mess.
She demolished half a handle of vodka last night as well. Singlehandedly. When I pointed that out earlier to her she scoffed it was actually me who drank most of it. I try to point out I can’t drink liquor like she can and have been on wine mixers, but she won’t have it and insists I drank most of her vodka. This is a repeated theme with the ex. She’d once said she doesn’t drink vodka because it makes her an angry drunk. I mean, she’s an angry drunk anyway, but it’s only then I notice she’s drank that pretty heavily since she’s been back, eschewing her usual rum or tequila. So many times I’ve begged her “please don’t go on a rampage when you drink this” and she just rolls her eyes and tuts “yeah ok, whatever, I won’t.”
Well, she’s passed out over the toilet again so I’m going to hit up that vodka before she realizes there’s more left. Gonna to need it to as she crapped the bed again last night. With the fresh wet shit mixing with the dried crusty shit on the sheets it’s one hell of a miasma in there, and no way I am going to be able to sleep in that stench without passing out. Let’s get the party started!
Perhaps neighbor Matt considers the daily drama between you and the girlfriend free entertainment. I hope you enjoyed your solo date with the leftover vodka. Better you than her. We all get the life we choose, and it seems you’ve gone all in for this one. Good luck with that!
“Today’s pig is tomorrow’s bacon!”
Hunter S. Thompson
Yeah, the hill climbs are a reminder of my deteriorated physical condition. Age plays a part, but letting myself go weight-wise has consequences.
Yes, I’m definitely wanting to be cremated and have the Hash scatter my ashes on trail. If they choose to flush me down a toilet, I won’t care.
Another day, another hill to climb. One way or the other.
Harder than it looks
When I’m puffing up a hill, I often think to myself how nice it must be to be small, short, and skinny: your center of gravity is low, there isn’t much of you to heave up the mountainside, and you’re less prone to being out of breath.
And 25
Oho! Just a hint of a unibrow!
I seem to have more lids than bowls these days…
A lid for a coffin, eh? Just burn me and scatter me, I say. Or like in the film Captain Fantastic, dump me down a toilet.
Glad you made it up the hill.
It’s good you didn’t wuss out like a faggy pussy, John. Perseverance is key for success in this world, or so I have been told. Patience, too, something my neighbor Matt apparently has in spades. I’m surprised Matt hasn’t called the police on us yet, especially after the ex went on a screaming porch rant about him and how he’s “raising his daughter to be raped”. So many times after we got into a scream fight I expected to see a police cruiser roll up the driveway, responding to a noise complaint or domestic violence report. I’m also surprised none of the AirBnB guests complained to the landlord about our very public, very noisy, fighting. I expected to get a text or call from him saying I can’t have ‘guests’ anymore or he was evicting me for being a garbage tenant.
It’s interesting seeing the ex’s hygiene going down the tubes. She’s normally fastidious about showering and brushing her teeth, but she goes weeks without showering and brushes her teeth maybe once a week. We’re on the porch, yesterday, smoking and finishing off the bottle of Listerine I started on the other night when she makes a joke about giving me a blowjob – she sticks her tongue out and the middle of it is streaked black and yellow, like one of those poisonous, hairy, caterpillars you find in rain forests. She claims it’s because of a yeast infection and when she sleeps naked boy is she ripe. On a related note, she doesn’t seem overly concerned about the dilapidated condition of the apartment. Aside from bitching about the dirty dishes in the sink and the occasional maggot crawling across her foot she doesn’t comment on the state of the place when normally she’s so anal about keeping the place clean and gets on my case about how I’ve let it deteriorate in her absence. The Christmas tree and all the decorations are still up, which I thought would have been the first thing she’d comment on, but she’s mostly oblivious to the mess.
She demolished half a handle of vodka last night as well. Singlehandedly. When I pointed that out earlier to her she scoffed it was actually me who drank most of it. I try to point out I can’t drink liquor like she can and have been on wine mixers, but she won’t have it and insists I drank most of her vodka. This is a repeated theme with the ex. She’d once said she doesn’t drink vodka because it makes her an angry drunk. I mean, she’s an angry drunk anyway, but it’s only then I notice she’s drank that pretty heavily since she’s been back, eschewing her usual rum or tequila. So many times I’ve begged her “please don’t go on a rampage when you drink this” and she just rolls her eyes and tuts “yeah ok, whatever, I won’t.”
Well, she’s passed out over the toilet again so I’m going to hit up that vodka before she realizes there’s more left. Gonna to need it to as she crapped the bed again last night. With the fresh wet shit mixing with the dried crusty shit on the sheets it’s one hell of a miasma in there, and no way I am going to be able to sleep in that stench without passing out. Let’s get the party started!
Perhaps neighbor Matt considers the daily drama between you and the girlfriend free entertainment. I hope you enjoyed your solo date with the leftover vodka. Better you than her. We all get the life we choose, and it seems you’ve gone all in for this one. Good luck with that!
“Today’s pig is tomorrow’s bacon!”
Hunter S. Thompson
Yeah, the hill climbs are a reminder of my deteriorated physical condition. Age plays a part, but letting myself go weight-wise has consequences.
Yes, I’m definitely wanting to be cremated and have the Hash scatter my ashes on trail. If they choose to flush me down a toilet, I won’t care.
Another day, another hill to climb. One way or the other.