Well, hash 15something came and went as uneventful as it's siblings past and future I'm sure. But of course the resourceful scribe can always bend reality enough to squeeze out some low-points to embarrass our prosperity, [ed. do you mean posterity!?] so here we go:

The 15hundredsomething's hash running hares were Doggystyle and his Hebitch; walking hares being BUTT and Mirjam. Hebitch showed his immaculate hashing skillz quite early on by laying a false oral trail
(ehh..) to the hash-site, for which your scribe hereby would like to thank him.

As is Doggystyle's custom, both hares were nowhere in sight at the all-in/on-in/home-point-thingie. So we amused ourselves playing some frisbee with an official Hash frisbee. Then your scribe amused himself for 20 minutes running around a three-meter-high wall adorned with barbwire, to find an opening so as to retrieve said professional frisbee, which had mysteriously landed there, despite the professional-like frisbee skillz of its last-wielder-slash-your-scribe.

Eventually the hares absence got on our tits, so we decided to take bold action and just leave without them. The run was nice. As you all on the interwebs know it's rice planting season, and our canine hares
(ehh..) must have thought we'd just as well amuse people who actually work for a living with falling in their rice-fields and destroying their micro-rice-field-dams.

We went up some hills, and then down some hills, and then up some again. Rice fields all round. Crossed two bridges far apart, then had to climb several meters up a dirt-face, which was impossible to scale for dogs (see pic on the left for you who use graphical browsers). Extremely inconsiderate of Doggystyle and his Hebitch. Also unscalable for some humans by the way, who found out by falling off. A bit higher up on the dirt-pile, the hares were bumming around under a tree, handing over beers as repentance for their laziness.

We had already walked close to two hours by then and were nowhere close to home. Turns out Doggystyle's principal refusal to scout beforehand had left him and his Hebitch without fanthomed [is this strange Anglo-Dutch expression derived from the word 'phantom' or 'fathom'?] bridge back to cross the Bagmati back to home and forced them and us for a long, long way along this very river. So we gave them a head start before we released the houn... No we lost the hounds. This canine/hare cross-breed mutt couple turned out more cunning than i would have given them credit for.

The way back was mostly on or next to paved roadlike thingies. Final time clocked in around the three hour mark, but nobody complained due to beer-while-running-apathy/sedation-syndrome (cunning, cunning).

In the circle it became clear to your scribe that the HHHH is becoming somewhat of a nerd-bastilion. In the opening circle we had witnessed Italian virgin Bernie and his immaculate typical Italian fashion sense, in the form of his haute couture/hoisted (knee high) socks. You wouldn't say it, but he is one of us. And there are a lot of nerds around who still haven't dared to come out of the closet. We're gonna take over the hash you know. Not by running itself; we tend to stumble, bumble, and fall our way back to base, if we get there at all. No, we tend to bore you to death with our computertalk. I heard the complaints. If you were bored this hash, it was just a warning. Revenge of the nerds indeed.

And revolution is necessary, because the circle mismanagement was again ridiculous this time around. Broken-off hash-name crownings, badly motivated hashit appointments. The list goes on and on. Really, I could go on and on. But I won't. Cause I'm civil and diplomatic. But then again... National Anthem-singing. REALLY?! Have we sunk this low? Not to mention the danger this practice brings to our ears and collective health. Should we start a knitting club while we're at it (not that there's something wrong with the art of knitting per se).

Perhaps we're all nerds at heart, just different kinds!.. Yes that's it!

You know, there are only 10 kinds of people...