Hash Trash 2

Hash Trash 1 was full!!

RH3 #982 The Vimy Ridge Hash

So I woke up Monday morning on April 9th.  
Super crazy stoked that it was a hash night.

Deciphering the hash lingo, I noticed a Canadian theme.
So I rolled up some maple leaves and they smoked like a dream.

It had been forever, since I attended a hash.
So I was there good & early with my Canadian cash.

The pre-lube changed and I was already lost!
But got over that quick with a pint of boom-boom sauce.

The circle was quick and we were off in a jiffy.
And immediately after, the trail got shitty.

Down the road, quick on my feet.
I'm pretty darn sure we're heading to Canal Street.

Canadian beers at the BN... well that makes sense.
But I'm sure we're heading to Canal street before this ends.

Ninth street to Laurel Street, we're not that far!!
We're totally heading to Canal Street Bar.

Just like my buzz, all the hashers were gone.
and I found myself on 3rd street, scouting alone.

So now I'm somewhere between 4th and Pearl.
And who do I see?  Exploited College Girl!

With a mighty thirst and a sense of defeat.
I ask ExCoGi,  "wanna go to Canal Street?"

Yes, we missed the circle, the apre', and all that shit...
But fun was still had, going "out for a rip!"

Peace & Love you Wanks!

#981 Hairy Palms Hash
Near the end of the trail yesterday, Choo Choo politely told me that it was MY turn to write the hash trash for the Hairy Palms trail. I said "Shit Choo Choo, I’ll try, but I think I may have enjoyed too many hazy beers already". Here goes…
On a chilly Sunday, the pack circled in, you guessed it, a school yard. After a very short circle, the Foot Fairy took off to begin laying a live-ish trail. This marks the second time in as many weeks the hares choose to man up and attempt live haring. As the pack finished their beers, Bukkake decided to relieve himself on the side a what looked like a rundown school maintenance building. However, the target of his urine was in fact a neighbor’s home. Luckily, the gun toting landowner was none-the-wiser and Bukkake scurried away unharmed and smiling from ear to ear.
After 8 or so minutes, the pack scampered away, following freshly laid pink flour. As usual, the pack split up in two or three groups. I did witness some uphill running, but the guilty will be protected. All three packs merged together again near the water tank and manage to find the bottle of honey whiskey. Cougar and myself passed on this shot due to the aforementioned hazy beer intake. From the shot stop, trail was located mainly by zen’ing up the mountain until we found flour that was placed the day before. Down the mountain we went until we located ToeFU’s mobile beer stop. As always, delicious Hamm’s was <enjoyed> consumed. Leaving the BN, we headed towards Antietam, lost trail from there, and then re-located it just before heading into Confederate Flag hell in the trailer park...crossed a creek deep enough to perform a belly flop, and then to a driveway with HHH displayed. Unbeknownst to Bushwacker, the circle was hosted by her. During circle, Bushwacker's’neighbors must have been tired of hearing us, so they angrily revved their engines in hopes of drowning us out.
After circle ended, a few A-type assholes decided to run back to the school, while others risked life and limb piling into random vehicles for a ride to the end. When the A-types returned to the school, we noticed Bushwacker, who had lent a trustworthy hasher her spare car to bring tired souls back to the school, looking for a volunteer to drive her car back to her house. However, since the car had a manual transmission, volunteers were few and far between. I ended up driving her WRX back to her house. Noteworthy, it’s really fun slamming gears, spinning tires, and drifting corners in someone else’s rally cross car. Après was at Klinger’s, where beers were consumed, food was devoured, recliners on bar tops were abused, and drama ensued.

Analholics Anonymous

#980 Kiss Me, I'm Still Shit-Faced

Hares: Casting Couch, Old News, Hare Today Cum Tomorrow
Today, $7 bought you trail, beer and a very inappropriate T-shirt. It was, however, a great cheatsheet for composing this Hash Trash. Well marked trail started through the woods at Hampden Park and then led through the streets of our beautiful city. From local meth tents to multiple back alley’s, I have never missed my rape whistle more. Multiple spectators were sprinkled throughout the trail, but if you do not speak Spanish, you had no idea what they were cheering. There was 1 shot stop and 3 bars. Multiple pitchers were drunk but in poor Hash form, some were left unenjoyed. The last bar stop was a breathe of fresh air as it offered some local color, shuffle board and free lung cancer. HHH was found at Northeast Middle School.

Trail was followed by a brief fashion show of discovered trail treasures by Bushwacker. As opposed to imbibing at a local middle school, circle was smartly moved back to Hampden Park. The menu included beer, leftover mini bottles, Lucky charms, Peeps, and Cheese Puffs. What more could you ask for? After 20 minutes of the out of towners and hares drinking we ended Circle with the incredible show of the previously known as Just Lisa slowly chugging beer from her new footwear. She was ultimately rewarded with being named, Exploited College Girl, aka Excogi. Still don’t know the exact story that inspired this naming but hope to hear it soon.
Prelube and after drinks were consumed at Johnny & Hons and Northeast Taproom, respectively. I unfortunately could not attend, as my liver had raised its white flag hours ago at the bike bar crawl.
Just Kate (with some help from Exploited College Girl)

#979 Mystery Hash

Choo Choo asked me to write hash trash for today’s trail. Mystery Hash and a half? Trail was definitely a mystery for a lot of us. Even Scooby Doo wouldn’t have been able to find the elusive markings. Let me just say that after running the same Ridge with Legal Easy, Breast Stroker, Toe Fu, and Cougar Bait four times in search for marks, Egg and I decided that it wasn’t Ground Hog’s day so we said, “Fuck it, let’s go back to the bar!” There we found a few other hashers who opted for the same path back to Coach Light. We car hashed to the witch’s hat, which indeed was colder than a witch’s tit. Ergo to create a wind shield, we were joyfully ensconced in a shrink wrap circle. The highlight of circle bondage came with the naming of our beloved Boocockey ("Bukkake"....ToeFU spellcheck). May he enjoy face fulls of splooge from now till forever more. Songs sung, pizza eaten, down downs downed, the herd returned to the Coach Light for beers, shots and soul food. That’s all I got.

Feel free to add your take on today’s trail.
With love,
Wants It Bad

#978 Why the Fuck Not 

I'll tell you why...

As our hares started us at the Brownsville Fire Co., they gave us a choice of an eagle or turkey. So like a dumb ass, I took the turkey trail. We got to the bottom of the hill and had some words written on the ground. “Go up the hill 4 time” So as hashers, this meant to do 4 loops, then go up the hill. Why the fuck not? Because we are half minds, Tidy and I ( Swamp) went clockwise while everybody else went counter clockwise. We met in the middle of the loop and drank beer at the check. Lap 2 now starting, Tidy and I picked up the beer and made a roving beer check. After 2 laps we said this sucks, so fuck it. Went up the hill to the HHH and told the hares not to write messages to us, because we don't think with a full mind. The trail never went in circles, but us half minds thought that was the right thing to do.

So Shitty Trail.

#977 Year of the Dog Hash

Well, prelube was as shaylor (not as good as Oakbrook but then again I might be biased). Some of the lady hashers tried on new haberdashery with spectators and the beer began to flow which made most of us late to circle. That’s ok, we had no idea what was going on even when we got there. Why? Trail was laid with quick oats by How Long in melting snow. So, we couldn’t see it or understand it. He could have at least provided a translator and used Old Fashion Rolled Oats.

How Long told us to start from the football stadium.... He really meant soccer quarry . From then on it was a oat hunt, agreeably beneficial for the wildlife but not for hashing. Through Wyomissing Park we went. 10 deer, a beer near, a skunked vagina shot squeezed from a used condom wrapper, a few snowballs and a bag of cheese curls later we circled back at the Trading Post.
Did I mention the hare followed us, the whole trail, with oats.... yelling his own on-on? Opto was prepared for at least an 8miler with pockets of granola bars. She clearly was over fed and under worked.
Circle had minimal accusations yet there seemed to be a lot of headgear and at least 1/4 of us were out of towners. Weird. On after was at Paolos graced with Fat Tire, Troegs Perpetual, pizza and candy hearts.
There were no fucking dogs on trail, until circle where we chanted KONA ....thanks Crack!
Year of the Dog is going to be awful if this shitty trail was any example of what we have to look forward to.
Great Way to Die

You want a prediction about the weather? You're asking the wrong Phil. I'm going to give you a prediction about this winter? It's going to be cold, it's going to be dark and it's going to last you for the rest of your lives! -- Phil Connors

Annual GroundHogs Day Hash
 -- Hash #776 in the year of our GM Toh Foo.
All hail The Foo.
Royal Slayer of Foot Fungus.
Imperial Conquerer of HammerToe.
Lord of Corrective Footwear.
Huzzah Huzzah Huzzah

And with the early February snow turning to rain and the rain turning the fallen snow to slush, in turn making the trails and streets seem like open-air sewers, we embarked on yet another of the annual excursions known as ‘Ground Hog Day Hash’.   Over the years, the annual GroundHog day has evolved into a ritualistic hashing exercise that has the pack retrace their steps and re-run trail in the hopes of change.  Some great memories made over the years -- the haberdashery, the introduction of Drunxatawney Bill to the Reading area, and of course the time one of our hashers threatened to visit the hare’s home and shit in his mouth, so pleased was she with the hashpatality she was shown.  Over the years, the annual GroundHog day has evolved into a ritualistic hashing exercise that has the pack retrace their steps and re-run trail in the hopes of change.  Some great memories made over the years -- the haberdashery, the introduction of Drunxatawney Bill to the Reading area, and of course the time one of our hashers threatened to visit the hare’s home and shit in his mouth, so pleased was she with the hashpatality she was shown.  Over the years, the annual GroundHog day has evolved into a ritualistic hashing exercise that has the pack retrace their steps and re-run trail in the hopes of change.  Some great memories made over the years -- the haberdashery, the introduction of Drunxatawney Bill to the Reading area, and of course the time one of our hashers threatened to visit the hare’s home and shit in his mouth, so pleased was she with the hashpatality she was shown.

So if you can’t figure it out -- there’s a theme to this hash where we do the same shit over and over.  We who hash on the day of the earth pig are like those who do not learn from history and are damned to repeat it.  Or, to put it in a more transactionally understandable way --  Where else can you get repeatedly fucked times for only $5.00?

But this was to be a different Ground Hogs Day -- what with the Eagles 3rd attempt at a Superbowl championship scheduled for the evening, and the fact that the ever-changing weather was turning the hares’ venue of choice into more of a liability than an asset, this years’ repeated pack-fucking was shortened just a wee bit to the relief of all involved.

The pack met at Antietam HS.  Absent virgins, we were told to just get our asses out on trail with very little instruction or reverie.   Hashing up to Antietam Lake, the pack found trail marking that scaled the dam spillway, and trail then ascended to a cornfield shot check (yummy), back down to the dam and across the creek, up and over to Polly’s Love Shack for a quick BC.   The trail went ON-Down Pollys ice-glazed driveway that lacked only the telltale propane smell to assure us that the Zamboni had properly prepared it for our arrival.  Then another stream crossing, yet another shot check, and a YBF.  The pack headed back up to Pollys, had a brief circle in the garage (after ex-GM Fudge attempted to give us all a rather nasty case of CO2 poisoning.

In the spirit of true Reading Hashpatality we were told our cars were 2 miles away and we should find our way back on our own, and then head over to Francescas for Zah and Beer.  There, we found the smarter hashers -- aka, the ones who skipped trail.  Beers were emptied, pizzas were consumed...in other words we repeated history yet again.   In other words we repeated history yet again.  In other words we repeated history yet again.  In other words we repeated history yet again.  In other words we repeated history yet again.  In other words we repeated history yet again.

Shitty Hash.



#975 Virginal Sacrifice Hash

A gathering occurs at the Pike Café to warm up our drinking muscles with some pre-run beers. Our virgin hares are present, one happens to be celebrating a birthday and is already feeling no pain at all. Beers flow and we retreat to our cars to head to the On-On, and someone forgot to pay their tab…

As circle commences, we are introduced to additional hashing virgins, our hares, the usual flour marks and a general erection which we all know is going to lead to Mt. Penn. Everyone is off to a quick start to attempt to warm up after standing in a cold circle. As expected, trail leads us for the wooded Mt. Penn, with a true trail mark confirming our suspicions. Before we make it to the wood line, Quarterstick is already finding his trail treasure, a random box of goodies and a spare tire. Shortly into the trail, our first check. At the base of that mountain, where else would trail go??? So we split up and headed vertical, only to find our hares, being virgins at laying trail, have yet to figure out where trail should have gone. The small band of wankers that headed up had a great vantage point of everyone else actually running the trail which obviously did not go up the mountain. We also noticed how quiet all those trail followers were. The only hollering of On-On we could hear was from Foot letting us know he was still with us up on the mountain, dick move but we found humor in it.

Eventually the small band of us that took the tour of the mountain conceded that there was no flour up there and wasn’t going to be today, so we descended upon the city of Reading hoping for a BN at the Northeast Taproom. Go figure, another virgin trail laying mistake, no beer there. Dejected and thirsty, but of course not ready to give up, we spread out and covered an 8 block wide swath of streets and alleys and headed on in search of flour. About 10 blocks later, we found our prize, and a large pack of fellow hashers. Trail proceeded through school athletic fields, parking lots, a little shiggy, a nice false up an icy drainage culvert, and under an overpass to a check. Above the check was a sick prank…a soft-sided cooler full of ice and FLOUR but no BEER! Our virgins made up for this though, as the beer was only a couple hundred yards further up the hill in a parking lot. Finally refreshed (I know, our own fault for missing the first champagne stop for being where trail should have been instead of where it really was) we were again off in search of flour. More blacktop pounded until we followed trail around Bernhart Reservoir to another refreshment stop. Nothing like a little Hot Sex on a cold day to keep you going. Back on trail, heading for the Crab Barn and perhaps now up onto Mt. Penn? Nope, just a teaser of the mountain on an icy road access followed by a trail of shiggy before dropping back onto the pavement. A short little jog from there put us back at the virgins house and the HHH. The hares earn some kudo’s here, a warm fire and good cold beer awaited us, and Just Lisa was still upright! While our hares did well, our virgin hasher of the day failed miserably while drinking wine and complaining of our shenanigans in circle. Beer was drank, songs were sung, and Just Jane was named! Congratulations Jane U Ignorant Slut You (JUISY)!!

Thanks to Just Kevin and Just Lisa for opening the house to our band of crazies, and for the beverages and spread of food. We did finally make it to the beer we were expecting at the Northeast Taproom, Just Lisa has 28 more b-day smacks on the ass to go, and at some point I’m sure that the fur hat will again make an appearance!

Get ready for Ground Hogs day bitches!!! See you there!


#974 Cuddle Me Drunk

Despite dire predictions of imminent frostbite, 20some intrepid hashers ventured to the frozen wastelands of Kutztown for a bit of fresh air. Foot and company declared a Pre Pre at Saucony Creek, while Wrong Way Just Kevin and squeeze sat at the Tavern across the street from the designated Pre, wondering where everyone was?? Several Rogue North hashers, including their infamous leader Sex-a-Sketch, were able to find the correct watering hole effortlessly. All forces finally gathered at the K’town Pub, just in time to shuffle off to the On On. Again, confusion was the theme of the day, as no one seemed quite sure which parking lot was the correct one. 

There was a bit of a snap to the air, so yours truly skipped the formalities and let the hares ‘splain their trail as quickly as possible. Off the pack went, crunching across the tundra. Egg Fucker and Wants It Bad did a 180 and autohashed to the Apres, the location of which had been carelessly divulged by a hapless server. Wants’ excuse for not doing trail was a claimed vein stripping, but smart money is that she finally got those ass cheek implants she’d been longing. 

Meanwhile, back on trail, we followed an intermittent spattering of beige flour, highly optical against the beige salt crusted sidewalks and streets. The hares saw no problem turning trail 90 degrees at intersections with nary a check. We slide into a cozy driveway for our first BN slushy. Then down the alley, hook a left and back into the park. There we found GladHeAteHer, along with a thermos of hot chocolate, several high octane additives and an air mattress located in the dugout. The last explained the curious marks at the On On....it was a Cuddle Check. I was first to test the comfort of the mattress, followed quickly and cumulatively by a half dozen or so of my bestest hashing buddies. The air temp and the dozen or so layers of clothing everyone wore assured no penetration. We eventually rolled out of bed and scurried on to the HHH, located in a park pavilion. Here, with winds reduced to under 30mph, we held an abridged circle, while those of us with remote vehicle start features assured our rides were a comfy temp on entry . 

Apres was, as promised, Saucony Creek where tasty beverages and flatbreads warmed our cockles. Rumors of namings were obviously unfounded as we departed to our various Saturday night drinking ventures. 

I think I can finally feel my ....


#973 The New Year's Hash

Hares: Flashwound, Just Jane

I end up writing again the hash trash of another fucking freezing and windy day, the first of the New Year.

We, all wankers gathered at Lower Heidelberg Elementary with our asses almost frozen seeping beer before it turns into ice.

The local cop showed up to make sure we do not drink too much from the start. Obviously he did not know that many of us started with pre-lube long ago.

Fudge Packer filled in for the Grand Master who went to Utah looking for snow and cold weather when he could have found it here.

We started with the circle to introduce the virgins and by tradition we welcome them with “we do not give a shit if you get lost”. Ginger Snatch took care of her new virgin that doesn’t get lost first time.

The general erection was pointing to the woods and the colorful pack start running. The nice shitty trail was warming up everybody. With smiles on our frozen faces we soon arrive at a beer stop that most of the group skipped.

Bugle boy was keeping the pack together. The next stop was a nice warming sweet cider served by Praying Man Tits. From here the pack splits.

Legal Easy, a natural born tracker quickly found the on-on markings and crossed the HHH finish mark ahead of everybody.

NFB was wondering solo and happy smiling in the woods looking for the signs he does not believe in anyway. We end up on the road and we found the true trail mark but for NFB doesn’t mean shit because he always can find his own trail.

We celebrate in circle around wood burning fire with many down-downs for the hares, bold guys, birthdays and Tidy Bowl - Little Man in the Boat engagement.

Soon we were ready for the Paradise by the Slice to indulge with beer, pizza and wings. Great time for the start of the year.


#972 The Boilo Hash

We gathered at Mikes Tavern..one of my favorite little dive bars for there annual Boilo night competition. Circle was short and sweet, no introductions. The pack found trail and headed out towards Riverside elementary where we all lost trail...still not sure who eventually found trail but eventually we all wound up running up Centre Ave and following trail to a shot stop on the railroad  property where we probably weren't supposed to be. Just Kevin did show just a little bit of concern that Just Lisa was nowhere in site...eventually she did show up right about the same time a railroad employee pulled up and our bike hasher Turtle had to explain what a bunch of people running away from him were actually 
doing gathering on railroad property. From there myself, and a few others lost trail and wound up just making our way back to Mike's, where we were joined by the others who did find trail. No on after circle as by now the little bar was becoming pretty crowded. From this point after my memory becomes a little blurred thanks to sampling way to much Boilo!! Two things I think i do remember are Choo Choo maybe leaving without paying for her Moscow Mule ...not for lack of trying though... and those of us that stayed for the duration got to watch Crack wash every glass that Mike's owns!! Another great Boilo Hash for sure!! 

On Out, Old News

 #971 Santa Fucks The Hash

First of all, who the hell was dumb enough to ask Just Kevin to write the Hash Trash for the most wonderful Hash of the year? He can barely spell his name or remember what he did yesterday even when he hasn’t been heavily drinking. So here is Just Lisa with one more thing on her to do list during the busiest week ever.

Pre-Lube was at Berk’s most over-priced beer bar, good old Liberty Tap Room where Quicken is always kind enough to let me know that we spend the majority of our paychecks here and have exceeded our food and alcohol budget by 100%.  At least they usually have good beer and it was enjoyable to watch the Hashers roll in with their festive outfits.
After a few beers, up to the fire tower we go! Not only was pre-lube over-priced but so was the Hash! $20 f-ing dollars and all we got was a beer koozy and a bottle opener (fine it was pretty cool) oh and lots of good beer and French fries but we will get to that later.
Two virgins were thrown into the circle to be prepared to get Fucked. Amazingly they are still our friends, since we were the ones who brought them. Red and green clad Hashers everywhere. Our hare NFB must have stock in an orthopedic surgery business because I am pretty sure he tried not just to fuck us but actually kill us or at least break some important bones. Trail started with us jumping the stone barrier on Skyline Drive and down the snow covered rocks and steep terrain we go. I personally ass sledded most of the way down that. Luckily for someone I am relatively new and am still learning names but you completely bit it first thing on the way down.
Finally some runnable but snow covered trail. We never make it all the way down the mountain but just up and up and down on snow covered mountain. Finally a BN! Hot cider for everyone. Then off we go again more up and down through the snow. I am directionally challenged so I can’t actually tell you where we went or what “trails” we were on. A yucky Jagger shot was the second BN.
Finally we come up one last steep shitty hill and we see glorious alcohol. Everyone finally makes it to the top and our typical rowdy circle commences. Snowballs are thrown, songs are sung, beer is drank, and penises shrank.
Then off to the Apre  at Decarlo’s where the fun really starts. Chicken wings! French Fires! Open Bar! Santa! Songs! Elves! Gifts! Condoms being blown up on Hasher’s heads.
Can’t wait to get Fucked by Santa again next year!
On On
-Just Lisa

#970 Twat the Nite before Hashmas

Twat the night before Hashmas and all through the town all the hashers were stirring with not a frown. The beer was placed on the tables with care in hopes that drunkenness would soon be there.

The hashers were nestled all snug at the bar, as visions of frothy beers danced from afar. And the hares with the flour and us ready to go had just settled down for a nice winter’s snow. When out on the street arose such a clatter as hashers stumbles ...with teeth that chattered.
Down the road we ran shouting without dismay until we figured out we went the wrong way. With more yelling and bellowing we climbed back to the bar, just trying to stay on par. All beat this time we went across road but only end up sorrowed.
Thinking they were smarter, NFB and Johnson took off up the hill only to come in last to get their fill. Back out the pack went for another round and to come on in with one mighty bound. Down downs were served and beers were drank until everyone had a nice full tank.

God bless us every one,

Johnson On The

#969- Backyard Bully Hash Trash

Over the powerline, through the woods

To Great Way to Die’s house we go;
At the back check today, no one knew the way,
So everyone scattered, running to and fro!

Over the powerline, through the woods

Up and down “7 Bitches” we go,
Following Foot and Old News, we missed all the booze
Though we saw the Captain Morgan below.

Over the powerline, through the woods

We turned right when we should have stayed straight.
A mile out of the way, we were led quite astray
With not a spot of flour for us to locate!

Over the powerline, through the woods

At last, a passerby we did spot!
He pointed us back to the trail (too bad he didn’t have ale)
Oh, what we would have done for a shot!

Over the powerline, through the woods

Finally found our way back to circle
Gets Paid for Oral was named, and that name was explained
(…And I just realized no words rhyme with circle.)

Over the powerline, through the woods

At the après, much smoked meat we ate.
The beers were down downed, and we all stood around
‘Til we realized it had gotten quite late.

Over the powerline, through the woods

At last it was time to get gone.
So we all said farewell, and I’ll see you in hell
If I don’t see you at the next On On!

-Just Julia

#968: You Only Die Twice!

Hanging out on the East Side of Reading, near the Best Titty Bar Ever, was the Prelube at Island Pizza in Douglassville, PA.

Sucks It IN and Great Way to Die decided to embark on Douglassville, near the Best Titty Bar Ever, collected us all to start at what looked like an abandoned farm, in reality a Motocross training Facility. Parking was near the abandoned looking home, the actual start was up a long ass hill but we all made i...t .

Al lil mud and some awesome trails lead us up and around into Monocacy Park. Beer and whiskey was the drink of the day. Spotting a couple of teenagers, ToeFU agreed to carry the whiskey out, Hmmm, Genuine concern!

Discovering the Fuck You, head back to the start, we turned around and headed back to the start. With lots of brilliant minds we found the trail heading in the opposite direction and flour was marginally placed. On On.
After heading back into the woods, the trail became a stinky, muddy, shitty, with lots and lots of pickers and shiggy. Good times were being had by all, I heard some cursing, oh wait that was me! Ginger, Sucky and myself found a road. It was a long road, a very very very long road.

Up and down hills er ran, alas, Roids drove by and was pulled over, apparently every wanker out there missed his beer stop, he was heart broken, boo hoo! We jumped in his car and had him drive us a couple hundred yards. We jumped out and continued hashing on that long road. When out of the blue came a van filled with hashers, NFB and FootFairy. They turned around and picked our asses up. My first personal auto hash, it wan't that bad!

We circled in a garage near the Middle School and were as merry as could be after a 7 mile Hash, Shitty as could be! Good job my Friends!

The Apres was at Island Pizza, bet you thought it was going to be at the Best Titty Bar Ever, maybe Next Time?

Vera Wangless

#967 Flashlight Hash

Darkness was setting in on what was looking to be a gloomy night. A small crowd gathered in the empty parking lot of a tennis court facility. Tensions were building. Finally, a cooler of the most wonderful Hamm's beer appeared and the crowd rejoiced. A circle started to form, and our hares Bad Semen and Horn of Plenty commenced with their explanations of trail. As darkness was falling, how would we see flour on trail? It turns out that there wouldn't be any flour on trail? What? No flour on trail? What kind of crazy trick was being played on us? Trail would be marked with small patches of reflective scraps courtesy of the one and only Stupid Brother. With headlamps lit, the pack headed of on the quest for the reflective marks, one for trail, two for a check, three for a BN/SN or whatever we decided it should be, four for a false. Or maybe it was three for a false and four for a BN. No one could keep it straight, and this was sure to turn into a massive CF. 
Off the pack went following trail, down behind the the army facility. What? We aren't going up into the Shillington Park? These tricky hares! Trail eventually wound around behind a school and baseball field and up towards the park. Ha! they thought they had us fooled. A shot stop in the park and off went the pack in search of more reflective patches. Checks and falses finally led us well up into the park and back down to a beer near.​ with beer consumed and everyone replenished, off we headed back down towards the start, only to find another trick, the finish was not at the start, but we had to get in our cars and drive over to Sofrito in Mohnton for circle and beer. Trail was shitty, everybody drank and the pack got a piece. 

On-on, Dances.

#966 The Bonfire Hash

Really people, Is your life that pathetic??…do not answer that…multiple posts.. promises of a human sacrifice, a fire, and debauchery and you failed to make the # 966 the Bonfire hash??

There was a circle, a virgin, names, flour, chatter, chatter, chatter, smushed lantern flies, and a general erection.
Well you didn’t miss much…a short wait for Roids while the gang relished in fantasies of a tumble in the hay were met with barely the distance to f...irst base. On the wagon, off the wagon, and Charlie Sheen nowhere to be seen.
First beer stop and no sign of the matriarch that produced a Tidy bowl. Yes, hasher’s have expectations. Few choice words and Fudgepacker, hare of the moment, was off. He wanted 5, the merriment gave him less and….well ….does anyone really hang around for the Hamm’s?
Poor planning on Fudgepacker’s part, if he’d looked over his shoulder he’d have caught an eyeful of women going down.. and down, and down, and down…Go figure... before it was over there was something to coat the throat.
In classic Tidy Bowl neighborly fashion, a shot stop was traded for the kennel helping to move a playset. Surprisingly, the youngster who gained an awesome fort and swing set did not get the Kevin Spacey treatment from AC/DC.
Somewhere around this point Foot Fairy was thrown from a moving white van…auto hashing??? Possibly…. a kidnapping rejection more likely….
More down, down, down….and we’re not even waiting…..typical calamity ensues as the trail disappears mid Fleetwood….2 options….”A” take the hunch and go to Klinger’s… “B” follow Cougar Bait….
“B” was the bad choice…he’d run off to the cemetery…with a hard one in his hand no less.
Klinger’s the correct answer… cold nourishment…trading sweat…cramped in a dark room. Sounds like fun…
Whisper down the alley… a trading of hares and we’re off chasing pink from Little Man in the Boat.
Barely 100 yards out ... Legal-easy identifies the Grand Canyon of plumber cracks. That might be the high point as Little Man gave it to us… straight up.. and up… and up… Shot stop….and up… and up…
Gather… circle, something about blue shirts, a virgin that nobody made come, bald people, and a great melody about grabbing a cab. Then we burned things. If you missed it you suck.

With deepest admiration,


#965 Crack's Analversary Hash

Prelube was at Paolo's where a dozen or so hashers met. After a couple of Perpetuals, off we went to the On On.

About 25 hashers showed up at Ollie's Outlet parking lot on Shillington Pike. It was windy, the temperature was dropping and it was about to start raining. What a great day for a hash! Then again, every day is a great day for a hash, or so we thought. In circle, Horn of Plenty shared a story that she was at a hash and RH3 was in th...e song. Ah, this is great. RH3 will be remembered forever! Not so fast my friend... The song went something, something, something "and Reading cancelled a fucking hash!!!" Yes, Reading will always be remembered shamefully for cancelling a hash.
As depressed as we were, the hash must go on. Because this was three weeks ago and I'm now writing hash trash, I don't remember much of the trail. Only the important parts like the first BN at Hot for Teacher's garage and like Ground Hog's Day, we were back at Hot for Teacher's garage for the SN. We circled behind the KFC. Pizza and beer at Paolo's. How can you go wrong??
A message to all future hares and GMs. NEVER EVER EVER CANCEL A HASH!!!
Peace out - LBD

#964 The Halloween Hash

It was a shittily hot day for costumes. 

ToeFU had the proper attire, although the harriettes were traumatized by the underpinnings of his coconut bra and grass skirt. 

Circle commenced with stupidity, false introductions, and not enough slutty outfits, for any occasion, let alone an RH3 Halloween hash. Head Pedaler and Cums on Demand donned their best pirate attire. Jake from State Farm wouldn’t turn off the ringer on his damn landline. Popeye and Bushwhacker paused for a muscle contest. Finally some guidance was given to the pack (a GPS check... some bullshit acronym stuff... ), and they were off. 

Galavanting through an elementary school property, it took about 69 seconds for costumes to start being removed. The pack followed flour to the Shillington farmers market, where a fly-by beer check did no favors to bring the pack back together. But it did allow a hot Hooters chick a chance to join the fun. Over hill, over dale, and along Lancaster Ave, the herd scaled a hill, scouted a park, and found trail. Roads, alleys, etc, until a check turns us into Alvernia. This is when we should have gone to the bars of Millmont, Oakbrook, Troopers, etc, but instead, in the absence of flour, we followed NFB and his lame-ass monster t-shirt toward the Ken Grill Pool, where half the pack ran right by a shot check. After scavenging for 5 minutes with the back half of the pack for some trace of alcohol, we were overjoyed to see Head Pedaler emerging from the rear with fruity treats for the clan. Now if only Head Pedaler was half as sweet. Agitated that the hashers had somehow missed part of trail (oh my!), AND missed a beer check (well shit.), he hurriedly sent his minion Norman Bates on to another stop. Emerging through the swamplands, we crossed major roads, ran toward civilization, and that’s about when my full-body Care Bear costume resulted in complete dehydration and delerium. A vague memory of some apartments, a cell tower, and possibly a return to the On-On, my car ended up back at Casa de Cums, where a wine check preceded Head Pedaler’s last ditch effort to coerce stupid people to play even stupider games at his direction. Dizzy bimbos, balls, and long shafts, and yet no one even got laid. Circle brought prizes, bald people, and shitty beer. Head and Cums provided much food and booze, closed poolside views, and some cheesy fake popcorn snack that made my week complete. It sucked, and the hash was merry and well.


Legal Easy

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