Tuesday, August 26, 2014

RUN 1677 Venue: North Britain Hotel Hare: Roadrunner 25 August 2014


Back to the North Brit, classic well run well staffed foodies pub. Finding a space for a fat arse 4WD proved challenging in the narrow angle parks but one wouldn’t comfortably fit in a Fiat 500 would one.
Prematurely ejaculated from the pub, the Hash taddies shot out and disappeared north up the Doveton fallopian street up to how hard? On east down kneel.  Did we see more? Strong Arm Clarendon, Lydiard, Drink Stop!

Like first root after 8 weeks away, over almost before it started. Just caught up, just warmed up.  Stop! Drink! Plenty of drinks though with ice.

 

We got a grog and gathered around the log fire out back of the Pub, in the company of four likely lads, the circle was formed. Down Downs had be extended and padded out to down down deeper downs to try and keep all amused until the 8.30 meal slot. REAR ENTRY stood up and bellowed boldly as stand in Choir Master. His buddy SILIC was later bemused as to why such athletes as they always copped shit. “Why are we so oft decorated in dangling dags?" Fester fumble bumbled.

A new runner, HEATHER knew a bit about hash as she has experience from an ON ON Collage. She  had a companion to drink with as MOUNTIE had a Same Hairdo Day.  One was misheard as heifer and the other resembled an emaciated calf (she thought that was a leg injury).  We counted incumbent pub patron’s ROBBO and his three mates as first timers.  They bolted downtheir down downs enthusiastically.  (We missed WET SPOT the regular regular.)

Welcomes Backs to NUM NUM NUM and DUMB  DUMB DUMB having the night before flown in from their Europing to reunite with their travel companions, MOUNTIE and SNAG/PUSS BUCKET. They were spaced widely around the circle. PEBBLES rolled in again as did PHUKWIT PHILL.  No runs of significance though. PLUCKA baker’s dozen?  Still dozen matter!

HEAVY, while working in the Kimberley near the DUMBER Range, sent forth a nursery rhyme about Three Blind Wives. Bum Cum and Fun were just some of the complex rhymes. The Roadrunner song was too obvious.

FASCINATOR told of Pat the postman getting his Christmas treat. The hubby said, “Fuck him, give him five bucks” She did then gave Pat the money. The meal was her idea!  Young Immaculate CONCEPTION chimed in with a charge wisely reckoning the recipient was really Matt the Meat deliverer. If REAR ENTRY can take payment by the Hairy Cheque book for tuning a TV, how many mutts does Matt make on a real estate sale commission? LOIS LANE reckons he’d get a blank cheque.

DUMB repeated the recent MASTABAIT charge about CRISSCROSS and traces of Japanese exprosives and terrourists. We don’t want to attract unwanted attention from metadata searches. Hash already engenders suspicions.

Three old deviants were blamed for chasing away the lovely BELINDA last week. NORMAL bore the brunt of blame and took one for the boys. He grumbled that his understudy beer buddy, FLUID MOVEMENT is said to have found something better to do on a Monday? Could it be?

Tall tales and true tortuously told took us to tea time in a long circle.  Good tucker Lamb’s Fry and cutlets were popular with Lashes on tap.

Next Week’s Run: MOUNTIE at the RED PEPPER Restaurant, bottom block of Sturt Street North side (Use Rear Entry) Theme; Garden Gnomes or Snow White and the seven snorting Dwarves or some such Christmas in July (or any month other than December) thingy. Always Lovely anyway you do it.

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

RUN 1676 Venue: Old Colonists Club Hare: Bad Hair Day 18 August 2014


Tried and true for a Ballarat Winter is the colonial air of the Old Colonist’s Club in the night spot centre of the city. Everyone attending smiled for all the CCTV cameras (more than at the Shed Soirée). Through the 2 sets of solid timber doors, up the beautiful carpeted staircase into the toasty bar area, gas wood fire ablaze.  It was almost too good to leave.

Again trail troubles were forecast due to the intermittent rain but the trumpfarter BAD HAIR DAY played the mini horn masterfully and his experience shone through like a polished scalp under a full moon.  He kept all runners tight and on track making the most of city cover yet getting a good run in.
Walkers happily arrived about the same time at the Drink Stop under cover in the library car park with some chaps chatting up the hash tarts and hoping for a freebie drink. They must have been French as I heard BP call them De Rose?  We skipped the starter at the soup kitched and headed home to the warmth and ales to find SOS out to play and volunteered to be Choir Master for the night.

NORMAL reckons his protégé GrogMaster FM is getting some from elsewhere and he had to once again serve solo.

Welcomes Backs to many;  ROADRUNNER to make sure he wasn’t a welcomes back for his own run next week (and his lovely friend that disappeared), GLIDER returned from European interhash, PEBBLES rolled in again, PLUCKA ducked in, heard to be recovering from an in-her-rear blockage, Stents are HOCKING bypassed some runs and has returned to test his excitement meter.

Significance was deemed to apply to the mighty OneOne69 not needing to MASTABAIT and Dozen matter about PLUCKA’S 12 runs.

HEAVY, having found something better to do, has penned a lyrical ode to the tune of “On top of old smokey” ON top of BAD HAIR DAY, no hair to be seen, but what does he have there? A loverly sheen.   More verses about his root toot tooting horn playing and that he has plenty of feelings, usually of Hash Tarts!.  Summary?  A Top winter run from the hairless hare.

STENTS Seargeanted in a steadfast manner. The biggest charge involved most in the room as it was his shout. BAIT had more travel tales of ineptitude involving CRISSCROSS.



SNAG’S sweet snatches, confectionary genitalia, aka pink lollypop fannies, featured again.  REAR ENTRY had dipped his in chocolate and finished it lickety-split. NORMAL got too excited he couldn’t get his tongue around it so he swallowed his hole whole!


Charges were bandied about some getting regular rooting and MRS D recognising the envies of those that dream of more. We finished the beer barrel so we ate.


T’was indeed sumptuous and generous feast lovingly prepared and served by the great Old Col Crew.  Sauces and gravies accompanied the multi-roast meats that came along with a grand selection of wholesome vigies followed by kiwi fruit salad and ice cream dessert.  Must Say; Thoroughly enjoyed by all, the full bellies rumbled Many Thankses!!


Next Week’s Run: Roadrunner at The North Britain Hotel  Cnr Doveton and Macarthur Streets for more warm cosy quality. (Gourmet was mentioned, something about tongue in cheek and lambs fry and Half a Favourite, Lamb cuntlets).

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

RUN 1675 Venue: Bluebell Hotel Hare: Beer Fuck 11 August 2014


"Go West young man"God said to the Geologist! "Seek your fortune amongst fringe dwellers, flat ground, hot cars, bicycles with motors, and not many other joggers. Order your meals before you go to be ready for 8.15pm."

 

This trail probably did wash away with the intermittent heavy showers we’ve been having. BUT FUCK BEER had his bike handy to ride around and freshen up the markings one last time then shepherd us on the run trail.  Plunging into the depths of the west with ease, west ease that is. Violence on Violet, muggings in Marigold and past the Grand Master’s Store. Lucky the hare was there to cut off the extra 4km loop he had set in case we needed a challenge. Around the West railway station and out to Gillies. Meeting up at the

Drink Stop of Cerveza under a fairly full moon by Lake Wendouree, at the end of the Forest, in the back of the blue wagon the ice cubes hadn’t melted in fact they had grown bigger.  We listened to the birds night calls that 2 old Coots, SS and MASTA recognised as Musk Duck mating calls!!

 

Back at the cosy billiard room BILLY had passed the Baton to SHAFFY and as meals were only a few minutes away Down Downs were abbreviated to Do Dos.

 

Welcomes Backs to the west for the southern couple that so like the East. MOUNTIE and SNAGGY PUSS BUCKET had endured Iceland, Neverneverland, Belgieland, and Croatialand leaving NUM and DUM to do each other as they please, then dashing back for 2 hours sleep, work, then Hash. Would we expect less?  Also CRISS CROSS returned from his worldly euro jaunt. The only run of significance was FASCINATOR falling asleep on ZZ.

 

Intermittent HEAVY in absentia bastardised a hash classic; Aye Aye Aye Aye si si senora My sister Belinda she pissed out the window onto my big sombrero, CERVEZA’s luck and manhood were questioned in rhythmic lyric.  The chorus was sung enthusiastically and ingrained into memory banks of all to resurface next bus trip? Good roll-along run for some, through interesting neighbour hoods. (2 common words in these parts). At least equalling GIN ON THE ROCKS best effort. Well done!

 

MASTABAIT charged his travel mate who told us of CRISSCROSS likely starring on Border Crossings, his luggage having returned a positive swab for something akin to exprosives?  SNAGS wouldn’t repeat the highly humorous but short retort for us instead proceeding to produce some travel goodies from his Jet Lag Bag.

Two lovely pink lollypop fannies all the way from Amsterdam were passed to all day suckers REAR ENTRY and BOOTROOTER (talking under water is easier than asking Do you like that? With your tongue fully extended) It shut them up and we went for tucker in the Bistro.

 

The $15 Winter Warmer menu was popular for those that don’t yet qualify for the $11 Seniors Specials, (pre chewed in case dentures were deficient).

 

Next Week’s Run: BAD HAIR DAY at The Old Colonists Club in Lydiard Street Theme; ?? ROWDY will know

Sunday, August 10, 2014

RUN 1674 Venue: Golf House Hotel Hare: Fluid Movement 4 August 2014


The Golf theme continued on from last week’s Hare whom was playing a round but this week there was a hole in one hare, Fluid Movement.   The Ballarat brave HHH had a tight cluster, a combination of ages returning to witness the nipple tensing night, meeting in the chill after the snow had melted only a couple of days prior.
 
The trail wasn’t going to wash away in a hurry having apparently been sponsored by Haymes to use up last year’s excess stock of spray cans. Well marked! In and around the old woollen mills up into Ballarat North, territory of the former Midlands Course site, cross to pay tribute to our beloved Ah So in the cemetery. “That’s not where I marked trail, slaving all day over hot aerosol cans and fighting off vapour highs.”  Said the hare to the head as she refused to be drawn far from her trail.  Walkers and all got to the Drink Stop in the back of the green hatch to be quenched with beverage and sated with beer nuts.
 
Welcomes Backs were in order for a few Fosters, young Hymen and Silly’s boy, the Wylie Fox.
No runs of significance? Fluid Movement was eagerly anticipating Heavy’s screwing and got a song to the ego boosting tune of “Pretty Woman”.  She liked that, but not so much the lyrics that flowed like the various bodily fluids and thrusting movements that were referenced.
 
Charging ahead Seargeant Spence invited Elder Statesman Mastabait to explain to the Hare the relevance and reverence of paying respects to Ah So Dobbo when in proximity to his resting place. Unfortunately the demon dog in the pink box that Silic likes so much had his attention and he had no idea what was being asked of him.
 
It was said that Shallow Hal and Rooter of Boots were so enjoying their Tour de Asean getting on well with a young lady known as Wy Ping Kok.
 
Billy Goat, passed the Bobby’s Batton back to Shafted after running Hash like a well-oiled machine for 6 weeks. Rowdy likewise hand-balled the Blog responsibilities a little too soon as the ball was dropped until this belated effort, dredging a jet lagged memory bank.
The Menu type was too small and the light too dim for some so early ONON home with a heavy heart but an empty belly while those staying for tucker enjoyed ales and a nice house red.
Next Week’s Run: Beer Phuk (Cerveza las Relaciones Sexuales?) at The BlueBell Hotel in Howitt Street,
Proposing a Spanish Theme and Westoning the Westies