Thursday, 30 January 2014

Mismanagement Committee Positions

Then get you some, child.

Email with the color of your underwear, and your interests in ascending order. These positions are alphabetically arranged.

BEERMEISTER or BEER MISTRESS: These are unquestionably the most important positions in the hash. The Beermeister and Beer Mistress share the weighty responsibility of making sure that the lifeblood of hashing is available at each and every hash event. They keep constant vigilance to find the cheapest spirituous fermenti available, always have coolers in the trunks of their cars, cases of beer in their bodegas, and reliably return the empties between hashes. This job requires a strong back and a weak mind.

GRAND MASTER: The guiding light. The GM is not simply a figure head for the hash; rather, she personifies the hash’s character (or lack thereof). She leads with a dynamic strength that permeates the fabric of the organization. Both directly, and through her mismanagement officers, she gives inspiration, direction, and vision to all. This position ranks only below Beermeister, Hare Raiser, Hash Cash, and Hash Geek in real importance to the hash.

HARE RAISER: This hasher makes sure that there are hares for each hash, and that the start location is known to the Hash Geek well in advance of hash day for publicity purposes. The Hare Raiser IS the hare if she can’t find anyone else to do it.

HASH CASH: The holder of the purse-strings. Someone needs to dash about the start of each hash begging for money. Someone has to keep track of what comes in and what goes out. These generally unappreciated duties fall on the shoulders of the Hash Cash. This trustworthy soul must withstand the whining of the Hares who have over-spent, the whimpering of those who forgot their fees, and the interrogations of those who mistakenly think there should be some sort of accounting for hash funds.

HASH FLASH: The person who captures on film for posterity all embarrassing hash moments. The hash flash must have an acute sense of the absurd to know what to take photos of, and also a small degree of reliability to bring a camera, take pictures, upload, and put only the finest thereof into the sacred photo album of the internet. Should be on at least speaking terms with Hash Geek.

HASH GEEK: This position is a masochist’s wet dream. She struggles with piles of papers, miles of computer wire, and attempts to occasionally produce a Hash Trash to keep the hash members reasonably informed. She is the official representative on the internet, maintaining the Web Site, email lists, Facebook group, MeetUp group, and other such forms nonsense. This Hasher also maintains the hash membership data base. Boring stuff to say the least.

HASH HABERDASHER: This hasher can speak Chilean, and has access to a car. Her responsibilities include procuring and selling items of apparel to the hash.

HASH HUSH: Do you love discipline and getting others moist? Do you enjoy the pebbling of nipples? CAN YOU HANDLE THE SHRIEKS? Apply within to wield a water gun in the hopes of getting other hashers to shut the fuck up.

PECKER INSPECTOR: This hasher was like Mother Theresa and Gandhi and Princess Diana all rolled into one in her past lifetimes. In this most selfless reincarnation, she gets to look at penises to verify the colours of underwear for reticent spies and virgins. Because there's nothing the hash hates more than someone WHO MAKES STUFF UP.

PISS POURER: This hasher is one whose eyes and hands may have betrayed her before, but who keeps fighting, and because of that Herculean effort, can pour beer into cups. Repeatedly.

RELIGIOUS ADVISOR: Keeper of the faith. Enforcer of the scriptures. This is the hasher who has seen the light (but not Bud light) and can taste in her soul the true spirit of Hashing. The religious advisor spreads the word and inspires the zest and zeal of the hash in all participants. Any hasher found transgressing the spirit of hashing is disciplined by the RA. She is the keeper of the sacred Laws of Hashing and comes up with sufficiently plausible lies to cover any serious questions of propriety of actions within the hash.

SONGMEISTER or SONG MISTRESS: This is a hasher with no self respect. She never lacks for a song suitable to the occasion. Her songs are risqué, lewd, and vulgar. The Songmeister or Song Mistress speaks with other hashers and hashes to acquire songs to add to the hash hymnal. The mission is to explore new tunes and new celebrations. To boldly go where no Songmeister has gone before (pardon the split infinitive.)

SUPPLY HASHER: This perfect specimen of a hasher has seen it all before, and can help out during periods of absence of other members of the Santiago Hash House Harriers mismanagement committee. 

Wednesday, 29 January 2014

Hash 141: Treasure Hunt Brewery Camping Hash

Gaaaaaah guys, last hash was pretty much perfect. Kegs of delicious beer, trails of treasure hunts for alcoholic prizes, singing songs in Spanish (póngale!), and campfire guitar strumming all made for a relaxed evening in the greenery surrounding Santiago. For those of you who missed out, here's what you missed:

We arrived a bit before 4pm hash start time to set up tents and eye each other's hasher dashery.

Stroke My Bono and Spank My Schnitzel know to wrap it up, every time.

Approximately fifteen tents were foisted upon the hospitality of Mickey Gin and his brewery of delicious Tubinger beer, nestled in the foothills of the Andes in Pirque.  

Behold, the palatial tent of Virgin Marcia! For reals, impressive.
Once we'd set up camp, we circled to welcome the Virgins, called out our adorable hash names, and listened carefully and with great dignity and sobriety as Prune and Home Schooled cautioned us that this run would be more interactive than your normal pavement pound. Mickey Gin then led us in a rousing warm up of Father Abraham, and we readied to run.

Butts, butts, glorious butts
So, in this hasher's humble opinion, it's a rare hash in which the run outpaces the drunken shitshow of the circle that follows the run. But this run, Dear Reader, ooooo this run. THIS run, and its less-sexy-kinda-homely-stepchild walking counterpart, SUCCEEDED.

While some hashers choose to read the clue, Just Mark and Sir Turtle Head elect to dance the cueca around it for greater cosmic understanding. Equally valid options.
Por que, as Prune and Home Schooled had promised, the trail was a treasure hunt, and the treasures were alcoholic.

There once was a man, discontent
Whose wanker was so long it bent
He found it such trouble
He kept it folded double
And instead of coming, he went

Poems and other clues were spotted throughout the trail to help the hashers identify and locate precious, precious beer. 

I've only ever been in love with a beer bottle and a mirror.
We climbed trees, and then:

we found beer!

Well, Stain Pants found two cans of beer under a rock, but they immediately exploded! So he shared the love, generous lover that he is.

Splooging all the glory
  Runners remained in high spirits,

Hey guys! Guys! Look! We're TWINS!
because they walked! Later every single runner would be called into the circle for punishment. Each and every one of them chose to traipse through the stones rather than risk a rolled ankle and INFINITE GLORY from running a running trail in its entirety.

And then I said, "Rectum? damn near killed 'em!"

The walkers split into two groups in order to look for a two liter bottle that covered beer, or some other thing, hidden in a cryptic and mysterious way. The ones who turned left eventually returned early, discouraged and a little dirty from picking up every bit of trash for a kilometer, hoping beer would be secreted behind it.

The second, more industrious and slightly cleaner group, actually followed the trail correctly and without incident. They, too also made it back before the runners, and helped out with the onerous job of downing the first keg of beer and then piss pouring.

This is where the magic happens.
Back at the brewery, Mickey Gin led us on a delightful tour through paradise.

And then we circled up for pleasure laced with pain.

Sir Acting Semen acted as Grand Master in Sir Sump Pump's absence. Our virgins this hash were very international, hailing from all over Europe and South America. Is it just me, or do the virgins keep getting more attractive?

Spy Sleeping Beauty approves of Chilean beer and fabulous hats.
We sang songs, downed down-downs, kept our right hands pure and untouched by evil alcohol, and did circle things.

Octopussy maintains order. Last to Cum maintains his mouth-vomit.
No me wueveen, Chilenos: ¿WHERE'D YOU HIDE THE MANJAR?
Hares Prune and Home Schooled keep fluorescent fashion alive.

Muffler Sucker and French Polisher man the beer table.

All the runners, all the shame they have brought upon their families
Then, Dear Reader, then something beautiful happened. Drinking songs were sang in Spanish! Twice! It was gorgeous. True story.

Here are the songs again for appreciation and memorization purposes:

Ese farol no alumbra, no alumbra ese farol
Ese farol no alumbra, no alumbra ese farol
Póngale parafina, que alumbrará mejor
¡Y!; Póngale póngale, póngale, póngale, póngale…. (póngale = drink it down)

Tome tome compañero
Tome tome compañero
Si mi compañero toma, nosotros le cantaremos
Aloeeeee, aloeeeee, aloeeeee, aloe
Aloeeeee, aloeeeee, aloeeeee, aloe
¡Y!; Póngale póngale, póngale, póngale, póngale….

Thanks, Bi-Weekly Deposits and Sir Turtle Head for the introductions!

Finally, the circle was declared fucked, and then folks broke into groups to cook food, distribute meat, drink more, smoke things, play soccer, sigh methodologically, touch each other intimately, whatever. NOT YOUR BUSINESS.

Action shot!
This is one of the few images that can finally put to rest the false claim that Just Mark and Octopussy are in fact the same person.
 Night fell, and we circled a fire because that's what people do in the movies. 

Pirque: home to the purplest fires ON EARTH.
We sang plaintively and with vigor, depending. Just Mario busted out some supreme Sublime classics, and then, as a finale, tossed a wine cup into the fire after finishing it, just liked you'd how expect a FUCKIN ROCK STAR to behave.

Music! Sweet, sweet music, and the joy it brings everyone but the deaf.

Beauty is everywhere.
Big thanks to Mickey Gin for hosting us, and to Prune and Home Schooled for setting a titillating trail!