Hash Trash 2

RH3 #1083 New Year’s Hash
HNY! Hungover. Nauseous. Yawning. We begin at the crack of noon. Why would we hash earlier than normal (what is normal at a hash?) after the biggest party night of the year? In the rain, no less. Rhetorical.. Down, down, down from City Park and up, up, up to city parking. Beer near (and nearest ever to the start?). First ever elevator-hashing infraction? What goes down must go up. Up and up and up to where we began. And to honor and respect our city’s homeless: Mad Dog banana shots. A shot and a beer and not even a mile in. But worth seeing an amazing display by ToeFu when he baby-birdied himself. There are worse things to witness ToeFu doing with himself…. Onward and upward through the woods, past stately old mansions, under the nearly 100 year old Lindbergh Viaduct for another beer stop - and a pair of sneakers for anyone interested - across ball fields and through alleys guarded by dogs. We were a merry band. We found the HHH in front of the home of our gracious hosts who were introduced - and I suspect terrified - by this debaucherous band. We ate the traditional pork (hot dog) and sauerkraut meal for this first day and got the year off to a great start. One final thought: we encountered several homeless camps on our journey. Thankfully, they were empty which is a wonderfully encouraging sign. A little hope on this first day of a welcome new year. Be grateful. Turn the page. Look forward Hashers. Happy New Year one and all.

Down in Front

RH3 #1082 The  Hotline Hash
It was cold and windy, on the mountain side of the city. Bad and Foot met us with good beer and meat chunks. To even find this location was quite the event itself. We had to call a strange number and get the Deets, but all we heard was really awful singing. “ that’s 2 mins of life I’ll never get back”. Until one day the location was revealed.  We circled up but no instructions were given, “go that way”. Off we went, up a steep grassy hill. I fell down. WTH. I’m covered in burrs( not 🦅, burrs). On we went to the first SN. It’s creamy and milky and everybody’s having another” Oh that’s good”. Off we went again up some skinny trail with lots of leaves and rocks. I’m trying not to fall again because I still have this prickly things all over me. We get to BN and the end of the craziness in the woods, but little did I know the craziness of the concrete jungle before us. The smell of skunk was heavy in the air as we ran down the hill to the next SN. Bottom shelf shots, why not? Off we go again through the
Shitty Ally. “ is that flour or some other white powder substance”. One could only guess!  finally we found the end destination and those happy Hs on the ground. We circled up again and there was much complaining. ” so much broken glass, so many water bottles that looked like it had beer, but it definitely was not beer, and $3 Budweiser) Who would pay that? There were so many bald guys that had to drink, so many Gm to join, so many cranky people in the circle at once. “ Who the hell is out of the circle?” I shouldn’t of asked because my turn was coming. Now I am the only one in the circle. I tried to explain my case but my words were being twisted. I’ll take my “ punishment”and chug my beer, and another beer, and another!! And now I’ll take my time chugging my last beer and let you all serenade me.  Much fun was had on this historical Hash. We learned of a secret phone booth where Cryptid messages were left for all you bitches to learn where to go to chase flour. That door is now locked, but for some reason we all still found a way to chase flour . Why?, why not. You got something better to do?
Prickly Tits🌵

RH3 # 1081 The Santa Hash
Keeping the tradition alive, NFB takes us into the thriving Metropolis of Reading for the Christmas gift of the Santa Hash. Unlike years past, this time around he’s got some haring assistance from Dogbreath who decided to grace us with a visit from out of state. NFB must have been feeling gracious this holiday season as he had beer for us to lube up with in the RACC parking lot. There were some colorful marks displayed in the lot which we were told would guide us on our way, along with some sound logic from our visiting hare…”you’re hashers, you’ll figure it out”. Our hares departed to live this bitch asking for an extended 15 minute head start. We must have been in a giving mood too, as we actually afforded them their requested time. On out following red and green smatterings of flour which quickly parted ways. Ah, which trail to take? The entire pack headed off down the river trail following the red marks so curiosity got the best of me and I veered left toward downtown Reading to see where the trail would take me. A not so scenic jog through town led me to Saucony Creek, but as expected, there was no beer stop there, only a false. In an effort to not screw my fellow hashers out of finding the false, I passed through Saucony’s lot one block over before returning to the river to pick up the red trail. After crossing the rape bridge and revisiting the site of Bukkake’s smile altering crash I ran into a small group of hashers returning from yet another false trail, this one ending in front of Broken Chair brewing. Another dream of cold beer crushed by the two scrooges. So being hashers and figuring it out, we returned to the starting point where the only “X” on trail was to be found. Figuring there had to be yet another false to find, our small group split up to search and didn’t go far before I ran into NFB dropping flour on his way back to the start. Well, now it was decision time. Knowing that the trail would almost certainly lead us to another false with no beer, did our small band of misfits give up and drink, or see where the gnome was leading us? Decarlo’s didn’t open until 4 and that was a while off plus our hares did put the effort into laying trail, so why not go for it? On out again, this trail taking us over Buttonwood Bridge, past B2B, and finally coming to…you guessed it, another false at Sly Fox, but this one had a special little love note with it, “Fuck you!” Our small band of hashers who dared head out had dwindled as we climbed up from the river, but those with me headed down to Penn Ave to work our way back to the start yet again, passing over the false at Broken Chair, just so I could say I had seen them all. We come to find out later that the rest of our small pack decided that Sly Fox was a good stopping point and Uber’d back to the start! Upon returning to the start for the final time, those of us there learn another small group had decided to follow the green trail into town where they witnessed a car accident, discovered some used needles, then found themselves in one of Readings fine drinking establishments to kill time. Eventually everyone made it to the HHH, songs were sung, accusations were m

RH3 #1080 Cougar's Angel's
This trash was originally assigned to Balls. However, he has stated that he has no intention of ever writing it, despite the multiple pleadings of the lovely hares. So, lessee what I remember...
We gathered at Breneman Park on a seasonably cool Sunday afternoon in late November to enjoy the trail offerings of Excogi, Nasty Panties and Casting Couch. The usual pre-trail silliness commenced and then the hounds were released. We rambled thru suburbia, eventually finding suitable beverages behind Excogi's place of biz.
Refreshed, we set off again, along a dry creek bed and then finding a second bevy of beverages under a bridge by Cacoosing Park. Stink Finger took the opportunity to wade nipples deep across the stream, prompting Deathwish to perform his patented bellyflop into the chilly water. Fireball flowed and then we departed.
Onward and upward we went, finally reaching Excogi's house, where surprisingly, we didn't end trail. Evidently, the original plan was to circle across the street at a brick graveyard, but for some inexplicable reason, the hares took the "No Trespassing" signs seriously. So, we toured the surrounding development, currently under construction, before returning to Excogi's once more for circle. A robust fire ring blaze ignited her backyard (that sounds kinda dirty) as we sang, then drank...ate...drank some more...and applauded as our GM announced Just Paul's hash name would be Down In Front, owing to his request to the diminutive Crack to perform said act.
All in all, a very good day.
On On,
Toe FU

RH3 #1079 Me, Myself, And Whores
I arrived at the tennis court parking lot, next to the address given, where most of the pack was already standing, shivering in surprise of the 'real feel" temperature of the day. I notice some odd chalk talk (I'm talking a volcano spewing a "T" and an "E" and some Ying Yang '69' thing.🤔🤷‍♀️) Dances With Whores, our soul live hare, enters circle to explain dots, checks, BN, Turkey/Eagle options, backchecks, etc. General erection was determined by your choice of 🦃 or🦅 and our hare was off, given a 10 minute head (Head? Who said Head? I"ll have some of that!.....Like Vikings with horns on our heads! Head? Who said head?)....Ahem, 10 minute CRANIUMstart. Introductions were made, some hash god nectar consumed, trunk lids were closed and we were off! I chose Eagle on this day and about a 1/4 mile in I was told "Pay attention Couch. You've got hash trash" I kind of paid attention. Then I got this great idea to create giant "BN"'s on my STRAVA map and have a lovely photo montage for this trash and well....that was an epic fail. It looks more like a toddler's art project, so you're stuck with this S-H-I T-T-Y S-T-O-R-Y. So off we go down a trail that lead us through a neighbohood where the proper leaf blowing folk gave us quizzical stares. (what boring lives they must lead) Back onto a trail which lead us to our first BN. This would be that last time anyone would see Tour de Puke until the end of trail - more on this later. We head out from the BN seeking new flour, heading along behind Alvernia, and eventually strolling through a predominately Polish neighborhood where everyone was laying around without a word to say and...What? Oh wait, it was a cemetery. (Ding! Bring out yer dead!) which lead us to the road portion of our adventure and a series of random checks, designed to slow the pack but alas...it had trickled back through the pack that the hare had been caught by Cougar, Packs, and NFB!😱 (It IS hunting season) This leads us to our next BN at Opto's house where we hear the details of the catch and release of Dances. Off again and we are met with 🦃🦅 options. Still feeling spunky, I continue on Eagle. One whole block later I am given the chance to rethink this decision as there was again, a 🦃🦅 option. Eagle it is! Up we go through another cemetary where more Monty Python references were made. Up through the woods we come to our next BN with a lovely autumn view. We then descend, through Shillington Park, get dumped into another neighborhood and finally...7 miles into this soiree, we find the H's in an empty(?) Potter's Field. Accusations, birthdays, and announcements were made. Songs were sung. Down downs were downed and finally we swung low and headed to Paolo's just in time for the Denver game. (maybe if I had not followed Eagle trail the Broncos would have broken that damn orange uniform curse and won). OH Yeah.....remember Tour? Turns out he left the first BN and looked for marks on the trail that lead us to the beer stop. Off he went only to be met with the YingYang 69- backcheck 49!! It's ok. All hashers have been accounted for.
On-On 👣
Casting Couch

RH3 #1078 The Halloween Bash

Hares: Head Peadler & Comes On Demand & Lil Red Ridding Ho.

25 bike hashes met at a church in Tuckerton, to get blessed before we took off. We peddled down some roads until we got to Laural Run Park, this is were the single track got interesting. Some had to walk on parts of the trail but we all got through with any issues. Back on the roads to the what's left of the Fairgrounds Mall. Shot check time. From there we rode thru the hood and made it to Bernharts dam for a beer check. Back on the bikes again over hill and Dale railroad tracks, and back to Head Peadlers house for down downs, and some dead bird and other eatables.

Shitty hash,

RH3 #1077 Empty Nest Hash
Basically, all of the dozen or so halfminds who gathered at the discreet parking lot off Hillvale Rd. had done hash trash recently, so this one’s on me. A cool Fall breeze was blowing as we sipped Old Milwaukee and received hash instructions from Decoy and the lovely Bambi, who was recently liberated from child rearing duties and is now free to indulge in our kind of stupidity. In Cougar’s absence (a fish emergency of some sort), Crack took over circle duties. Introductions were made, the requested 7 1/2 minutes head start given and off we went.
We wove through an industrial property, crossed railroad tracks and scrambled up a loose rocky bank. Then zigzagging through neighborhood streets, we arrived at the house of venerable hasher, Roadkill. Properly quenched, we proceeded…next arriving at a statue with a boob check sign. Sadly, as is the case at most RH3 trails, this was roundly ignored by our lovely bims.
Meandering on, we next arrived at Michelin star establishment, Victor’s Cafe. Through billowing clouds of smoke, we stumbled to tables crowded with pitchers of golden nectar. Someone speculated on where the apres might be, prompting Bambi to state “No, it’s at our house. I made two different kinds of chili!” Armed with that knowledge, we resumed trail, ultimately arriving back at the hidden parking lot to circle and collect our vehicles.
As promised, apres WAS at Decoy and Bambi’s abode, where the chilies were delicious, the fire table warming, and the Irish Whiskey welcome. All in all, a fine Fall Sunday.
On On,

RH3 #1076 The Family Hash

It was a Sunday at Blue Marsh, a different venue from the last few family hashes we have attended, which was a very cool change. Buella Ballbreaker and Sucky Sucker had a very cool trail for the kiddoes and hashers alike to maneuver. We first travelled along the marks up the hill to the dry Brooks entrance, then barely found the tricky trail down through the fields, with the help of some young eagle eyes, to our first beverage stop in a parking lot. Some slushy freeze pops and refreshing beverages were waiting for the hashers in training. They were enjoyed by all!!! Not much time was spent relaxing at this stop….this isn’t an H5 hash after all…..more of an NFB inspired group. We were ready to go and so we were off. A quick picture check by the lake was found but the sun didn’t help Pooper to get a very good shot of everyone. She tried. Solid effort from the First Bimbo of the Hash. From there we followed the front running bastards through the fields and trails back along the lake and up the hill to the pavilion to Cougar and Stink Finger cooking burgers and dogs for the crew. Just Brady squeaked in as FRB and sadly his mother was DFL. Everyone enjoyed tasty food prepared by some very awesome hashers and the hash ended with positive vibes and a sense of camaraderie among all. It was a good day RH3. Thanks for showing up and supporting the ones we love. Buella and Sucky, you rock and are much appreciated
Peace and love,

RH3 #1075 Analversary hash
The pack showed up September 22 at the same spot the hash started 37 years ago, also the same spot we’ve shown up every September 22nd for the past 37 years. You would think the neighborhood would be on to us by now. Maybe they are because they leave us alone. Flamer and Bad recounted the story of the beginning of our fine kennel as our hares Decoy and Crack ran off to actually live hare our trail. Off we went through Wyomissing. Found our first beer near at a lovely home just off Reading avenue. Still trying to understand how these people let hashers on their property! Then off to follow more checks that appeared to go back to the on-on but surprise, true trail back at the on-on lead us back out for more adventure. A shot check and a loop around to the HHH in the woods by the bypass. Circle was held on an awkward slope in thick vegetation in the dark. That’s one way to make a closing circle quick! Off to Schaylor for the on after and all beers over 1,000% ABV which explains why I have no recollection of toe-fu telling me I had hash trash. To be honest the most I remember is the adorable cavaliers that Balls brought to the hash….

Yours truly,

RH3 #1074 The Bash

Foot has hash trash....don't hold your breath!

                    RH3 #1073 – Smell My Stinky Stinky Stinky Finger
(Now lick it. I totally dare you to lick it).
On a hot Summer Night would you offer yourself to the wolf with the red roses? Sorry – had to put that in there for all the olds who grew up with the Meatloaf album – but coincidentally, it WAS a hot Summer night and a passel of us gathered behind the (closed) Douglasville Hotel to see what insanity Stinkfinger had prepared for us.
Earlier in the Summer he had smugly posted about scouting for trail and river crossings and all of that shit. Then the Jetstream shifted and we got a series of hurricanes, tropical storms and assorted gullywashers, resulting in a vomiting of water upstream that’s continued since then. Expectations of the hare’s wileyness were high, and anxiety amongst those who don’t swim was higher.
Anyhoot – we started out, ran through some old trash-strewn tunnels and up onto the SRT, finding a beercheck on a little faux island at the base of the SRT bridge. After feeding the mosquitos for about 20 minutes, we headed up the East shore of the mighty Schuylkill in what turned out to be a fun little shiggy fest. Three quarters of the pack made their way up to the train tracks and searched in vain for more flour, when we suddenly heard the melodious “ON-ON” that seemed to be coming from beneath our feet. Good ol’ Stinky had found a black hole! The pack on the track followed the calls of ON-ON and found some ditchy trail, and then up and over 422 into the netherworld that is Douglasville.
Toe FU and I were hanging back a bit, looking at the darkening sky, and trying to keep an eye on the front runners so we could avoid another long false, when suddenly (like magic!) both the trail and the pack disappeared. We searched for a while – finding trees marked for cutting with convenient white spray paint – and then said – fuck it and headed back to the car.
Now – from viewing the pictures posted by the lovely and talented hashflash – it appears that we missed a whole shit ton of trail, but since I wasn’t there, I really can’t tell you what happened. So… I’m going to IMAGINE what could have happened instead.
So…where were we? Oh yeah, the pack and the trail disappeared, because… as soon as they stepped over a bridge, they were swept into a wrinkle in the space/time continuum. They emerged 2 universes away, in the middle of an interstellar battle between the forces of good and evil. With only their wits to protect them, the pack captured the general of the evil forces and held him as hostage, taking him on a 20 mile journey through a fireswamp, where they finally were introduced to the local nectar – which roughly translated means “StinkJuice”. Apparently Stinkjuice is a local delicacy in this parallel universe, and the pack quaffed a few. Looking around, they saw the dejected Evil General sitting there, and they invited him to join in on their celebration. They eventually brokered a peace between the forces of good and evil and were able to find another wrinkle in the space/time continuum that took them back to Douglasville and landed them at Mama Stink’s house. Unfortunately space/time being what it was, it was now pitch black and their memories of the other hashers who might have been on trail with them (aka me and Toe) were wiped clean from the time travel, so they had a circle and then headed back to the cars.
An On-After was held at Black-Jax.
Yours In Flour,

RH3 #1072 The Float Hash
With the remnants of hurricane (Ahn-Ree) the day started off being fit only for ducks. The weather looked beautiful early in the week. Black Cox arrived home from work in the AM (she’s a lady of night) very concerned with the forecast of storms for the afternoon. I had to tell Black cox that she could wear my wet suit and the rubber would insulate her from any lightning.
Arriving in the parking lot at Jim Dietrich Park the crowd looked very dismal. The crowd included Crack, Teacher, Pooper, Cougar, Early deployment, Period shitz, Beulah, SSS, Black Cox, and myself. Guess all the others were a little concerned. Cougar was busy giving all the smaller inflatables a blow job. My inflatable was too big for pre-inflation. After a very short circle the pack was off. The pack wasn’t in much of a hurry with the tropical humidity in air. Teacher said she sweats more than a boy and I believe it.
Trail started off very much like a previous float hash from this same location. We had some confusion going on at the intersection of Pottsville Pike and Tuckerton Road, we thought this was the frogger area the hares warned about. Dark clouds loomed in the distance. Period shitz a Beulah stayed close to the pack. SSS got us back on track. We went a little too far and missed the flour into the industrial park. Going thru the industrial park near the railroad tracks brought back bad memories of being chased by railroad police during the last hash before covid shut down. Running down the very tight shoulder against traffic on Pottsville pike was sketchy, we hopped over the guardrail a few times. Beer near was across the bridge of cross keys road after the porta potty. Teacher was sure to let Crack know that she didn’t like running against traffic on the shoulder of a busy road. Cougar insisted that everyone take 2 Hamms each. Don’t think he likes to drink Hamm’s at home.
After a quick beer a wardrobe change it was down the hill to the HHH and our inflatables. I was sure to bring along an inflatable sex sheep just in case anyone needed a life saving device (You never know). As the circle formed at the water’s edge it looked like a baptism was about to happen. Luckily it was just more beer drinking and a few songs after Beulah concocted her mixed drink. Short float and many beers! Apre at PJ Whelihan’s. Last hash for Early deployment and SSS.
On On,

RH3 #1071 Oley Ghost Hash
You’ve all heard the saying – history repeats itself. This hash was advertised with all the warnings the kennel needed to stay the hell home: directions to make clear you might not even find the On-On; the legend of Ricky Dobby the Hash Elf’s last torturously long, hot trail and subsequent drunkery; the inclusion of his co-hare ToeFu to guarantee shitty, soggy weather; etc. Had I not been feeling particularly masochistic that sweltering afternoon, I probably wouldn’t have ventured into the hills of Oley to submit to the afternoon’s mayhem. The day started off well enough, as we actually located the attack-dog signage that indicated our arrival at the proper driveway (there is no dog, just a few cats). An overgrown gravel drive finally opened into a clearing where we found Ricky Dobby’s home nestled atop a hill, surrounded by butterflies. The pack was assembling in the back yard for introductions, and then ToeFU and Ricky Dobby were off with a 10-minute head start. The pack finally was off… or were we? It took us 15 minutes to find the very first mark, during which I had very seriously considered just cutting my losses and going home. Things probably weren’t going to improve from here. We dutifully followed ribbons as we bushwacked to and fro through swampy woodlands, until arriving at an opening into a field. Nasty Panties, Casting Couch, and yours truly were bringing up the rear and pleased to find the pack assembled around Dancing Fool serving us margaritas. A short stretch down the road we came upon a Turkey/Eagle split – BreastStroaker, Bad Semen, and the other wise among us turned right, while the rest embraced the giant hill ahead. Horn of Plenty and I admired Just Paul’s long gait making small work of the hill, and eventually came upon an intersection where the overachieving pack were checking for trail in all directions. After tales of Ricky Dobby’s last hash climbing a power line over a mountain, I assumed we probably were going to keep climbing, and finally found flour just around the bend heading… yep… further up the mountain. That was the last we saw of much of the Eagle pack; apparently many including Cougar Bait gave up the high ground and went back to the Turkey trail, while Stinkfinger, Horn, Just Jim, SSS and I trudged endlessly toward the sky. Despite the smiley face suggestions left in flour by our hares, we were feeling less than joyous. Thankfully after the mountain road withered to a dirt path we reached the peak, and finally got some relief as we went down, down, down, until finding a glorious beer check nestled in the shade by a creek. Just as we were about to depart, Tour de Puke re-appeared in the distance; he had heard our voices in the distance and was parallel to us over the entire mountain but couldn’t cross a gorge to actually join us. With the group back together, we plodded on along more asphalt until finding ice cold PBR which we enjoyed on a quaint iron bridge as Stink and Tour took a refreshing swim in the creek below. Just up the next lane we arrived at a park, followed the flour, and then… there was no more flour. Apparently the hares had left a love note directing the pack back to Ricky Dobby’s house, but the lovely Casting Couch had thoughtfully pocketed the note after passing through before us, leaving us aimlessly wandering. A bit of technology on trail provided us with a fresh tip on the location of the HHH, a mere 1.5 MORE miles away. Minutes later, ToeFU appeared in his trusty steed, ready to make autohashers out of the few brave souls that actually ran the entire trail that the hares so meticulously laid. Some accepted the ride, while the rest of us were determined to finish what we started. In another couple minutes, Dancing Fool pulls up in a convertible and offers us a grocery bag of miniature wine bottles. We retraced our steps from earlier in the day, and found the rest of the dimwits gathered around the keg of beer leftover from the 4th of July hash. Circle was relatively brief, with the usual accusations, and off-key singery. I accidentally told ToeFU that I actually liked the trail, and was promptly assigned to write this drivel. We all enjoyed a generous spread of cheeseburgers and meatball subs, contemplated the meaning of life, and returned to our domiciles just a bit sweatier, sleepier, and stupider.

Much love,
Legal Easy

RH3 #1070 Westward Hoes Hash
Once upon a time there was a merry band of hasher. Fleet of foot they gayly traveled far, in the faraway lands of Robesonia. Through tunnels and fields and wide paved causeways they ran calling “ON ON in encouragement to their fellow travelers when they spotted the fairy dust dots painting their way. Having run so far they became very thirsty. Many feared they would expire from thirst. But they bravely ran on. The fairy dots were now few and they feared they were lost. THIRSTY AND DEJECTED thinking they could go no further they spotted a bridge with a strange rune. What could “BN“ mean? They saw an odd pair milling about the bridge. A bearded gnome troll like creature and the tall silver hair enchantress. Before the hashers could seek their counsel the two hurried off as if late for a party, leaving the Hashers in utter confusion. Fortune was good to the hashers as a keen eyed hasher found the troll’s hidden treasure, twas beer as if provided by the gods themselves. The fleetest of foot “A” type hashers with thirst now sated, dashed off in search of more fairy dots. Some remained a while longer to finish the spoils. Others with minds set on catching the odd pair pursued the elusive pair hoping to find the party. Though the pair was not seen or heard from again the lucky hashers did find their way home following the fairy dots. Indeed there was divine jello shots along the trail and more drink at the end of their big adventure.
Humbly submitted to the archives and testifying to be truthful and accurate.
Lil Red Ridin Ho , And Eats Grammy

RH3 #1069: Summer of 69 Hash

It was a hot Saturday afternoon in July in the distant land of Chalfont… 15 or so halfminds gathered in a lot waiting for the hares to arrive. Just Jim had already been working on getting himself “right” from the previous night’s libations as others were just grabbing their first cans of nectar for the day when the 69’rs showed up in their finest hippy garb. After a brief explanation of markings for SSS’s virgin, Just Dan, the pack set off in search of flour and alcohol. We followed trail out of the commercial complex we had parked in, down some more asphalt and eventually into some woods where we found some Jell-O shots. After slurping them down we continued through a section of high weeds with lots of hidden death ditches that almost claimed the life of Analholics Anonymous. After another street crossing, some more woods, a quick cut through the back of a school and into its playing fields, the front of the pack hit a neighborhood and some confusion ensued. After finding the previously missed check, we figured out our direction and eventually came to a death march stretch of flour, or a Hyper Handjob Memorial as SSS calls it. Another check took us into more high weeds for a long snaking section sure to produce itchy rashes on all of those who frolicked through it. After emerging from the poison field we finally came to our first BN under a bridge where the front runners hung out waiting until the entire pack had reconvened. Shortly after, we all took off again with dreams of a refreshing dip in a pool running through our minds. We bushwhacked a bit out of our under the bridge Beer near, ran some more asphalt, and eventually came to our second BN tucked back in the woods of an empty for sale housing lot. We drank, we talked, we continued to try and put an end to the heat. Some singletrack lead to a hedgerow that we cut through, followed by another cut back through the same hedgerow to get into a neighborhood which led to another neighborhood where we finally found the sacred HHHs. Cold Hamms and Lagunitas awaited us along with a pool where everyone feverishly tried to scrub the “itch oils” from their legs. Circle ensued in the pool, GrandMaster Cougar Bait received a face sitting from Roid’s first lover, songs were sung, drinks were drank, and accusations were made…
Forever yours,
Any Crack’ll Do

H3 #1068 12th of July Hash
I wanted to do this in Spanish but I got pressed for time. So there we were.. Standing under a multitude of lightning rods, beerless, waiting for erections. Trail started with a Rio Grande crossing, only for a shot near to appear. Wouldn't call it a shot, but I digress. Past that, trail was pretty easy going and a nice IPA Beer Near revealed itself. ON-ON! The pack got in a groove when what shall appear not 1, but 2 turkey eagles. I can't attest to the turkey trot since I'm racist, but the eagle was a steady incline. The heat began to set in and shirts were removed.. Male only since a Boob Check wasn't laid. Trail continued up what can only be compared to Frodo, Sam, and Gollum's ascent into Mordor (I believe Bukkake was even compared to Gollum on trail). Once at the top confusion ensued. Brother turned on brother. Cougar Bait said he wasn't lost, but he was never to be seen again.. Until circle that is. When trail was rediscovered, yet another Beer Near popped up; I believe a golden ale. Some pitiful hasher got bit by a bug whilst drinking and proceeded to spill beer all over themselves as if at a Mardi Gras celebration. Once the beer was tapped, it was all downhill from there, literally. Pack came together pretty nicely and a quick circle jerk concluded trail. I wish I knew more hashers names because I would include them, but this is the best I could do being voluntold at the last minute. Triple S, residente ilegale

RH3 #1067 4th of July
God bless America. It’s July 4 so Happy Birthday, America! Well, almost. Once the sun comes up. It was a great turnout, despite the early hour, with everyone in their finest patriotic garb even if that only meant simply holding a PBR.
It was said that historically this hash started at the top and went down from there. True enough but they meant the road! That would be nice and reasonable given the terrain and especially the hour. The good old days? So where to start this one? At the end. Why? Which way? The opposite way. Up. Up? Why? Through the woods. Why? But, but, but...“we’d all rather go down!” (And all the girls smiled.)
Purple marks, green marks, white marks. Hash marks? Foot marks? Is it flour? It was suggested one “lick it.” (And all the girls smiled.)
As we traipsed through the ferns and the woods it was said the ticks were having a field day. “They suck.” "Who sucks?” "Did someone say they suck?” (And all the men smiled.)
Many a local wondered, why are those people running to the fire tower? Is it a gay parade? (Not that there is anything wrong with that.) But, why did Toh FU park there? Overnight! Draw your own conclusions. (And all the gay men smiled.)
On a related topic, thank you to the two women, our guests, who provided public displays of affection. With each other. (And all the men smiled.)
At least one virgin was welcomed. She was a virgin when she came but not when she left. Despite being a non-drinker, word is she started drinking on the way home. I suspect we’ll never see her again but virgins are always welcome. Wait...
Gulliver, set free by the Lilliputians (Nasty panties, SSS, his mom or daughter we’re not sure which?), saw the Pagoda for the first time. “What the fuck is that?”, he asked. Disoriented, he briefly thought he was in Japan. Disappointed and frightened to learn he was actually in Reading he fell into the cistern recently vacated by Flamer. Hang in there, Gulliver. You have a three day wait.
Speaking of Flamer….drinking in circle were those who did not find a false. Fair enough but why did he who laid the falses drink in circle? Yet another riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma.
And then there is Baba Ganoush. (Or is it Baba Galosh?) Regardless, we all thank you for the lessons in when and where to not wear new shoes and in waiting your turn to drink.
Lastly, congrats to all for - if not a new record number of car bombs - a new record before 9:00AM. And imagine what could have been accomplished with Breaststroker there.
Great hashing!
God bless America.
Just Paul (as Ginger Snatch...ummm...inspired him)

RH3 #1066 The Longest Day Hash
Monday evening cums upon us with the hopes of a delightful long day of sunshine. We gather round and soon the halfminds look to the sky and are confused by the dark. Introductions are made and hash symbols laid by hares Nasty Panties and Just Paul. So many markings are given we were sure to be lost in the shiggiest parts of Shillington. Who knew so many consonants could be strung together and remembered by these halfwits? It was by my surprise that indeed they did decode the HN and stood befuddled at the growing hops, unsure if Hamm's really does include them.
Hills, Hills, Hills, oh joyous hill did not end at this HN. Apparently most of the pack loved them and showed off their feats of strength by running up the hills. This left the thrupple of Suckie Suck, Just Brandon and yours truly at the rear and enjoying the wonderful mid-summer evening. The lightning began to flash in the sky. I was sure Just Brandon decided he was Dr. Frankenfurter needing to create his perfect sex boy toy. Grinder can only give you so much before even a gentleman must succumb to his own creative desires.
Back to the trail...yes there really was a trail along all those roads and hills. A playground was a delightful diversion from all the running, Period Shitz and Just Brandon as their asses almost slid off the dualing slides. I'm certain by now most had completed trail and my hunch was confirmed upon seeing JUICY cumming down another hill to see if the last three were within sight. The Thrupple had a mad dash and some sidechecking crossing the HHH.
Circle Commenced, double downed on birthdays, accusations were made (running up hill), hares running out of beer, swing low was sung all to a glorious lightening show as details of 4th of July Hash were given. When is the 4th Hash? It is to take place at 5:39am exactly when I'm not sure.
Apres is held at Nasty Panties & Stink Fingers home under the carport decorated for the occasion with teabags strung on the washline. A round of musical chairs was held between Swamp and Cougar Bait. The festive MidSummer celebration was complete by the naming of Just Brandon, under the teabag, to be forever more known as Gentleman Swallows, well for at least 2 more hashes. He is true blue and swallows like a champ!
On On Period Shitz

RH3 #1065 Quit Your Bitching Hash
With dark, stormy clouds lowering, around a dozen halfminds gathered on *gasp* a traditional summer Monday Night! In the shadows of teenagers desperately trying to learn how to parallel park behind the DMV, we circled up, before setting off on Cougar Bait’s second trail in a row.

After a 10-minute head start for our hare, we were off! We immediately headed towards the city, winding behind Goodwill and Giant, check after check after check. We quickly played frogger across Lancaster Ave, and down the McArthur Ave dead end into the woods and dry creek, to find…yep. Another check. The pack began to search the other side of the wooded bed area, unable to tell that the trail led THROUGH the drain tunnel to yet another check, and some gorgeous bucks, probably wondering what in the hell we were doing in their turf.

Navigating the woods spread the pack out quite a bit as we sprinted across Oakbrook, back to Lancaster Ave and under the train bridge. Back across Lancaster Ave, we began a climb through Millmont, wondering where the heck that BN was! We found it. Destiny (and her beer) awaited inside the 501 Lounge!

After a quick stop for PBR (Apparently they don’t serve Hamm’s), we were back out the door and looking to pick up Cougar’s scent once again.

Reaching Alvernia, trail slipped away. Not sure if it was the distraction of the eligible bachelorettes in the convent, or the darkening clouds, but a mark was missed and the search was on. After several minutes of seeing no flour anywhere, Packs headed back to the last mark, and alas, trail was on!

Following true trail across Angelica Creek, tucked in the trees, was our second BN. As the thunder rolled, the dwindling gro
up of halfminds took back off to trail, trying to find the end. Back behind Mifflin Intermediate and back into Shillington, we soon found ourselves back where we started.

We circled in the rain, songs were sung, accusations were made, birthdays were celebrated and we swung low. Everyone dried off with apres at the Alley Hole.
Just Jim

RH3 #1064 Too Much of a Good Thing Hash

Was it ever!! A dozen or so intrepid halfminds chose to brave the Saharan heat and attempt to navigate Cougar Bait’s trail around Blue Marsh Lake. 3 poor virgins were presented…sadly unaware of the fate that awaited them. After opening circle, we were left to our devices to allow our hare an incredibly generous 10 minute head start. Then…off we went!
We lumbered down Brownsville Rd. turning right on Highland and then, a well-worn trail. Then things went to shit…. A check seemed to lead no where. We searched high and low, along fields and in woods. Finally, a mark was found deep in the brush. Our hare had just padded his lead. Meandering thru deep woods, following calls from Bukkake and Crack, we gradually gobbled up the trail. Across sun-baked fields of ankle high corn…over hill and dale….WhereTF is the BN?! FINALLY…across Justa Rd and down in a little clearing, complete with a muddy stream…BEER! Many were so parched, they chose…uuugh…water.
Then, back on trail, best suited for rodents. More mud, more sweat, more shiggy. Traversing a worn bridge, we were met with an interested spectator…a nearly 2 ft. Copperhead! The FRBs evidently rolled by without noticing him but Packs shouted a warning and after the serpent refused to move on his own, ToeFU convinced him to try the cool water below with a gentle nudge from a long stick. Harriettes yet to cross seemed relieved. On On. Wearable technology started questioning our sanity. 4 miles…5 miles…what did I sign on for?? Another BN..thank you!
Thirst temporarily quenched, on we went. At last, Justa Rd. (again), then back off, and just behind some trees…the HHH. Circle was somewhat sparing…due to the desiccated nature of the pack. Songs were sung, virgins were indoctrinated and we swung low. FRB types began the half mile trip back to the On On, while those of us with any remnant of common sense climbed in Cougar’s dusty truck for the journey back.
Due to the intimate size of the group, Cougar invited us to apres at his compound. Pizza, beer, pool…not necessarily in that order. Sorry Pooper!


RH3 #1063 Kegs and Eggs
Cheers to the ~ pleasure ~ of having hash trash once again... maybe this time I won’t lose this one. Kegs & eggs began as a lovely warm summer day, perfect weather to hash. One brave virgin, just Mealz, came out to enjoy the perfectly dry weather, not moist at all.... ew
Pack was off to enjoy a very exciting run around exciting loops of the liberal pristine neighborhood of wyo with the accompaniment of the scary white creeper van blaring “straight out of reading music.” I’m sure he enjoyed the passing of “girls on the run” event when he mysteriously disappeared. The creek crossing caused a delay until the wyo park truck decided to leave us alone. Crossing the creek was a slip and slide with a refreshing beverage on the other end. On-on to the trail continued up a muddy slide where many hashers fell and alcohol abuse !!!!! On to the trail to the cemetery circled around dead babies tombstones. To conclude this hash was best described in the wise words of Cardi B as a WAP ... WET A$$ PU$$Y
Just Jordan
Footnote… By my recollection, we started behind the Beer Wall, it was raining and cold as f$@# and the creeper van was being driven by our own Bukkake. Apres was at Mimo’s and there was egg pizza to be had. Whatever Just Jordan was/is smoking…I want some!


RH3 #1062 Not Your Grandma's Hash
It was a dark and stormy night when three Hashers decided to lay a trail that would be so infamous that just the mere mention of it will bring fear to the those who would brave it. They called it Hash #1062 Not Your Grandma’s Hash. Suckie, Choo Choo, and Just Brandon planned out a mighty trail through the hills and trees of Mohns Hill and threw in a stream or two.
When Cougar convened circle word must have gotten around as only a few brave souls dared to conquer this trail. No flour was wasted in circle as the Hares explained they had laid out 3 whole bags to mark our way. After quick introductions, a promise of no falses’ we were set to find our way to the nectar of the God’s Hamm’s and Hamm’s Light. After a quick jog through the local cemetery trail was found and the Hash was a foot. We found a steady incline up the local road even talked to some locals that promised cold beer in the backyard if interested.
We then reached the first BN, hydrated and excited for what lay in front of us we pressed on into the woods. However unbeknownst the pack as they pressed on two hashers had not reached the BN before leaving. Those two Nasty and visiting hasher Tor pressed forward and despite the abundance of flour got lost but found trail anyway and managed to skip the real fun of trail.
The rest of the pack continued up the trails with deafening steps as they cracked the dead fall of the woods. The woods trembled in our wake as trees fell just as our passing. The pack climbed in the heat of the day lucky to have the shade of the remaining trees. Level ground greeted us as well as a steep decline, then we came to the first of two SN. Just Brandon had his special Hand Made Cum Shot for the thirsty pack all from his special bottle. After the pack had left Just Brandon took what was left of his Hand Made Cum Shot and downed it unfortunately a little bit spilled out onto his outfit. Trail led us to our next obstacle another hill this time however we had no cover from the sun to cool us down. Once at the top we found another BN to replace the fluids lost on the climb up, and to find out that Nasty and Tor had already reached HHH.
Once the packs batteries were charged, we set off on the last part of the adventure. Going through the game lands and alongside a few private property signs we soon found the last SN. A little MD 50/50 to ensure we had that last bit of raucous energy to get to HHH. A few more uphill climbs before hitting pavement and diving back into the tree line and hopping a stream led the pack to the promised land, and the Hamm’s. In circle Just Brandon looking a little like Monica Lewinsky leaving the Oval Office handed out gift bags to all the hashers and special prizes for FRB (a bag of Eat A Dick Candy) and the best dressed he gracefully removed himself from the running and presented to Crack and Bukkake (they tied) and One Knee who received special trophies and leigh. Following that accusations were made beverages were drunk and circle was closed with a promise of a Hash in the next 6 days.
Submitted Frankly On-On
Rapid Deployment

RH3 #1061 Red Dress Hash
After more than a year of no reason to dress up, it finally arrived!! The Red Dress Hash! On an absolutely beautiful spring day, the hashers showed up in their finest red. Everyone was dressed to impress. Although a few of us were disappointed to see that Breast choose to wear shorts under his dress ( google Sexy red dress for plus size). The Reading kennel was happy to see out of towners and non returners show up for this amazing fundraiser. Our hares gave us some technical instructions. “Just go straight”. Despite that-a few of us got lost (Schmamazon, Legal, Old news and hotp) and relied on technology on trail to find our way. There’s no way the first stop is this far away! Old News got all the cat calls from passerbys. His dress was a perfect fit! Finally-beer near! We gathered in West Reading among crowds of people enjoying Penn Ave. Probably not our best choice to sing happy birthday hasher style with parents and strollers standing there!
After a few beers and a group pic, off we go! On 1. On 2. On On! Could it be???? Yes-next stop is The Little Brown Jug!!! Who doesn’t love some cold beer at a local dive bar. The best part was seeing Ginger and Just Paul running towards us from out of nowhere!!
Off we go again. We know we are close to the end with the promise of food and beer. But our wonderful hares had a final stop-pudding shots! Thanks to Willow! Those of us at the end of the pack had to do our part and make sure they were all finished.
Circle up. Did we ever find out if Dances’ mom made it to 99? And then! The moment we’ve all been waiting for! Swamp and the auction. It did not disappoint! Dick on a stick out bid everyone for those boobie socks. Triple S was also a big winner with a box of old porn rags! And the artistic masterpiece by Crack was a big success!
Another fabulous Red Dress in the books. Until next time, friends!!!
Hot Off the Presses

RH3 #1060  The Stupid Bad Birthday Hash

Go hashing, they said.  It’ll be fun, they said.  But bring a dry bag, they said.  So I did. 

At the start, I was duly informed this Birthday Hash was no A to A.  The accommodations provided by the back parking lot of Gallen Insurance in Shillington would simply not do for such a celebration.  No no: This is an A to B.  Put all your shit in Bad Semen’s car, they said.  So I did. 

No flour was wasted in chalk talk.  Who needs chalk talk?  And true to their word, before I could finish my deliciously thirst quenching Hamm’s, the hares gave their general erection at 6:07 and we were off. 

A scraggly pack of hashers must have made quite a sight for the muggles in the Dunkin Donuts and Arby’s drive-throughs as we started out as one.  We started to spread out as a check at the edge of Ollie’s took us up our first hill through a prim and proper residential neighborhood. 

Another check!  More hills!  This time, trail took us over the mountain and through the woods where hashers of a more intrepid disposition summited hunting stands.  On down and to the left over the familiar (even to me!) Wyomissing crick, trail led us along its soft, beautiful bank to the first BN behind RUseeN.  As I approached the BN, I saw a muggle talking to the front runners, assumed he was angry, and jumped into the mighty Wyomissing to avoid detection.  False alarm, he was friendly. 

At the BN, more hashers trickled in!  Among them, we had a travel hasher from Phithladelphia who now knows that RH3 starts when it says it starts.

It wasn’t long before the front running horn got bored and started off in search of flour.  To our discredit, the pack followed him up and to the left.  But the horn was not on flour.  This is when my night started to fall apart. 

Trying to be a hero, I went right in an attempt to find trail.  Only I did not find trail.  And when I turned around, the pack was gone.  Nary a trace of them.  Not an on on to be heard. 

But hope sprang anew when my eyes spied the one and only Crack!  Apparently also late to start, Crack had a few followers and we all fanned out searching for trail.  I went back down to the BN to see if trail continued along the mighty crick.  It did not.  And when I re-emerged, Crack’s pack was gone.   

And then I was alone. Truly alone.

After about twenty minutes of circling the neighborhood along South Wyomissing Ave—during which time it started pouring rain, I was proposed to with a “marry me!!” cat call by a muggle and I nearly stuck my finger in a pile of vomit thinking it may have been flour—I decided to head back to the cars.  Not knowing I was only a few blocks away from Gallen Insurance, I raided the BN for the last two remaining Hamm’s and backtracked on trail for 2 miles.         

Where did trail really go?  In the only erection I didn’t look, of course:  Straight.  Up Madison Street, through the cemetery, up and around Shillington Park and down to Stupid Brother’s house.  But I didn’t know that, yet.    

Once back at the cars, I had ample time to deeply regret several things.  Chiefly, parting with my dry bag, putting my phone and keys in my dry bag, and not having a contingency plan in the event I got thirsty for more beer.

I too eventually made it to Stupid Brother’s house thanks to the generosity of spirit that keeps me cumming back (i.e. my ass was saved when Cougar and Deathwish decided to look for me at the cars). 

I hope that at 67 I have half the good looks and brains of Stupid Brother and Bad Semen.  But since I am marital material for random muggle street walkers and couldn’t find trail like all the other half-minds, the future isn’t looking so good for Sir-Lance-A-Squat. 

Thanks for the Shitty Trail!  Hashy Beerday you Fucking Fucks!!!  On-On!!!  

❤️ Squats

RH3 # 1059 I Want to Talk to a Manager

What’s worse than experiencing a Karen in her natural habitat? Try three of them.
Today was the day. Stores within earshot of “ON ON” boarded their windows and doors shut. Managers called off “sick”, and ALL coupons were sure to be accepted on this day. It was the I Want to Talk to a Manager Hash #1059, and after 6 years of foreplay, Suckie Sucker finally made “Just Brandon” cum.
We met behind some citrus ideology and quickly circled around (as quickly as AARP VIPs can move). I listened to the rules and saw the signs and it opened up my eyes to what a huge waste of cocaine it is to lay trail. Karen 1 (Horn of Plenty), their manager, handed a spiderman ball to Breast Stroker, but I was quickly confused whether she found it laying trail or she just passed it herself (one never knows with a Karen). ON ON happened and we were OFF OFF scaring the shit out of the innocent sober people shopping all the way down the strip. Between our naked faces, our sheer number, and cardio there was something for everybody to be scared of. Like a herd of gazelles we leaped over the fence and into the field of all natural organic dildos cornfield. We ran through the shiggers, and some of us picked up some free loaders. Cash, Grass, or Ass was the rule, but the ticks could not suck up to our standards. Fuck them ticks.
We ran through some neighborhood until we made it to our first beer stop at Breast Stroker’s sisters’ (maybe she smacks them?). Hot Lips certainly did NOT take a shortcut, but her name is very alarming for virgins. “Which Lips? Why are they hot? Does she need ointment? Maybe she got hot wings on them?” Honorable mention: at this point I forgot about Karen 1 giving Breast Stroker the ball, so imagine my relief when I found out the bulge in his pants was a fake.
There was more running, more walking, eventually we made it to a wall. Couldn’t go over it, couldn’t go under it, couldn’t go through it, so we went around it. Then it was the final circle time. “Just Brandon” showed the kennel how far one can go with an open throat and a splash of alcoholism with his alternative drink. It was pink, so it was fun, but it was more fun to learn of the breeder culture of Reading. Apparently, what doesn’t go inside you goes all over you, just like a good blowjob. I offered my view on the subject, but there was evidently a language barrier. Karen 2 (Optopussy) quickly sought out advice, but hopefully she just was trying to sharpen her foresight. A demonstration was requested by ToeFU, but the ticks ousted our sucking quota for the day.
Circle time ended with the hashers demanding a manager as Karen 3 (Black Cox Matter) committed alcohol abuse by neglecting half of her beer before she threw it from the glass right onto Any Crack’ll Do. Another Masterclass was performed as the virgin taught Karen 3 the art of “swallowing.”
With the cans cleaned up, the hashers full of booze, and Just Brandon’s cherry popped, the complaint department was officially CLOSED.
Just Brandon

RH3 #1058 The ResErection Hash

It was the first Monday night Hash for 2021, and a good number of halfwits came out to run trail.  Circle was formed and in the center was a pair of nasty panties.  Perhaps someone wanted to go Commando or was not in the mood to have their ass flossed while they ran.  There was some speculation as to whom they belonged to, maybe Nasty herself put them there?

Anyway, chalk talk, introductions and a general erection were given and off we went through the creek in search of trail.  

A record number of laws were broken including pedestrians on a 4-lane highway, trespassing through private property and perverts/alcoholics/drug users (whatever you want to fill in here) on school property while students were present not to mention open container laws on family filled suburban streets! 

Homeowners screamed obscenities but no weapons were pulled!

I assumed the Hares, Foot Fairy and Old News, were anxious to get us back to circle quickly because there were so many directional arrows that even Joe Biden could have found his way!

Circle had its usual accusations and down downs but the announcement of the recent surprise nuptials of Old News and Hot off the Press gave everyone a reason to down/down.  Congratulations!

This was an A to B Hash so of course we were loaded into vans like illegal migrant workers on their way to Wal-Mart!  Fun times were had by all!

Respectfully submitted!  Ginger Snatch

RH3 #1057 The Old Fashioned Hash, Part Deux

It had been several long months since we last gathered (thanks, COVID), and I was very much looking forward to the old-fashioned hash. I was not...disappointed...but surprised when I showed up and realized that “old-fashioned” was in reference to an alcoholic drink and NOT a hand job. (Thanks, South Park, for leading me astray.)

Anyway….I left my lubriderm in the car and grabbed my dry bag, ready to get started. After some brief catching up (it’s not a social event, btw), and explanation from our hares, ToeFU and Cougar Bait, we took off across the muddy terrain looking for ASS. 

Never in my life have I gone to such distances to get ass. Ass is something I’ve never had a shortage of, and if I want some ass, I don’t have to look far to get some. But that was not the case on trail today. We slipped and trudged over the waterlogged fields and played our best game of frogger crossing 422 until finally at the top of the powerline we found some ass in an old freezer. (Usually I would be a little anxious about lurking around an abandoned freezer in a field, but fortunately, the only skull we found was non-humanoid.) 

After some delicious Hamm’s and old-fashioneds, (drinks, not hand jobs) we took off again. Up until this point, trail was relatively enjoyable--a little muddy and slippery, but considering it was a Toe-hared hash, I expected the weather to be much worse. However, as trail continued, it became clear that we’d have to cross a creek. Immediately, I had flashbacks to the nightmare that was swimming the Schulykill to paint the rocks, but it turned out to not be that bad. Optopussy discovered using a walking stick to cross made it much easier, and Roids used his super strength to carry Black Cox Matter across the raging river. At this point I think some of the pack turned around to find dryer ground, but the more resilient (or more foolish?) forged on and were rewarded at a stop with more Hamms and old-fashioneds. From there we made our way across a golf course (not the drunkest I’ve ever been on a fairway but definitely the most enjoyable), and once again we had to cross yet another creek. Because of my years of experience playing Oregon Trail, I could tell it would be easy to ford this river and got across in no time. 

Just when I thought we were through the most difficult part, it appeared that we would have to scale a monstrous cliff at a 90 degree angle. It turned out Any Crack’ll Do just wanted to put his climbing skills to use. The rest of us were able to find a slightly more manageable route and after one more short hill, we found the glorious HHHs. 

Several hours later, we circled up. (There was good reason for the delay, as Casting Couch was generously giving the out-of-towners a tour of the beautiful Reading suburbs.) We sang some songs, made some accusations, drank some Hamm’s and old-fashioneds (still not hand jobs). At first there was no orange crunchy stuff but then there was. We put wieners in our mouths. 

Overall it was a good day, though not as much rain as I hoped for. Thanks Toe and Cougar! 

May we never have such a long drought between meeting with our fellow half-minds again!!!

-One Knee Wonder


Actually, ALL Fridays matter, but this last one especially so, as hares Horn of Plenty and Foot Fairy take the Reading H3 on a fun-filled romp through the streets, allies and retail outlets of Wyomissing.

The OnOn was the parking lot behind Sly Fox Taphouse. A couple dozen Reading hashers (along with a couple out of town guests) prepared for an urban assault against the expected hordes of pre-holiday Black Friday shoppers. As it turned out not much preparation was needed, as the shopping crowds were very light for what is normally the busiest shopping day of the year. But more on that later.

As I roamed the parking lot looking for some beer (Beulah had it stashed away) I came across Just Libby vehemently arguing that no, the pristine shoes she wore were NOT in fact new shoes, but had been worn before. A quick inspection by HPO Foot determined that yes, they were new shoes, and at the appropriate time she would be drinking out of them. To which she replied, “pound sand” (or the Gen Z equivalent for that expression).  But more on that later.  And for her insolence HPO Foot assigned her a sound bar box to carry with her for the duration of the hash.

Introductions were made, instructions were given and the pack was off. The first beer check was up on Granite Point (or do you say Pointe?). Cougar and Pooper bushwhacked up the hill (and actually stayed on trail), while the rest of the pack, in an effort to avoid local law enforcement took a more circuitous route. From the beer check the pack was off to (and through) Berkshire Mall. Let me pause here to reflect on something for a moment: so what has happened to our ‘mall hashing’ experience? We have hashed through various malls many times over the years and never failed to get our share of puzzled looks, laughter or finger-pointing. Not so now. The few shoppers that were there seemed to be so caught up in their own heads (or smartphones) that no one even seemed to notice the hash. Plus, with Covid it has gotten a lot more confusing. Swamp and I lingered several minutes by a couple checks near the calendar kiosk waiting for the rest of the pack before we realized the Xs were social distancing marks on the floor. Duh.

On out and down to the next beer check behind a dumpster near Jo-Ann Fabrics. This time the entire pack was there (with the exception of Swamp and Bad, who were kicking hash butt and looking for their first hash “win”). From the beer check towards the Shoppes at Wyomissing, where the pack soon encountered a ‘back check 7’. Then across the ball field and up towards what would be the On-In (or at least the circle).

On our way to the circle, we discovered an old Reading hasher out working in the yard. Nair was persuaded to follow us to the circle and did a down-down for being a non-returner (we figured at least 20 years since his last hash). Swamp and Bad, despite being WAY out in front near the finish, ended up as DFLs, and Just Libby, despite her earlier mentioned protests, ended up doing TWO down-downs (she was so excited to drink from her shoe that she jumped the gun and had to do a second one).

The après moved from fashionable Wyomissing to not so fashionable downtown Reading. Reading Distillery welcomed us with open arms where we enjoyed beverages of our choice along with Coney dogs from the Forest Inn. A good time was had by all, although I’m still trying to figure out what “tongues out, guns out” is all about.

Shitty Hash. Thanks Foot and HOP.

Bad Seman

#1055 The Bad Decoy Hash

What better way for a hash to begin than to pull into the parking lot to see a police officer greeting the group before even one “On on” was yelled?  There isn’t a better way of course, and don’t worry, they were being tended to by....oh wait, shit, it’s Deathwish. Never mind. Well, I thought, I’m here anyway so let’s go see what’s happening. It turns out that Deathwish talked to the nice police officer and let him know we were just a good natured running group out for some exercise. What a guy he is. Your safety is his primary concern. The officer left and circle commenced with pleasantries and introductions. Great to see so many H5ers and Deathwish in the house! After discussing whether or not we should mess up the parking lot, it was decided to just explain the marks and get going. An erection was given and pack went to the left and How Long went to the right. That was the last I saw him until the H’s. The rest of us went behind the school through the field into the short path into the area that led over some creeks, weeds, shiggy and back toward Nolde. Opto hurt her shoulder jumping across a water crossing but, the trooper that she is, pressed on till the end. What a fierce competitor! We went across 625 a couple of times and were led toward the Thun Trail, then toward Nolde but we didn’t end up in either. Those tricky, tricky hares. Dare I say there were some “bad decoy” trails? Anyone? Anyone? Swamp? Anyone? Whatever, I don’t need you guys. I’m hilarious. Okay. Getting back to it. So, there were some road sections, it wasn’t horrible I guess. NOT ENOUGH ROAD! as they say. But the road led us to a fun little private property crossing. The pack picked it up a little at this point to avoid a gun being shoved where it didn’t belong. I know I saw One Knee Wonder kick it into high gear to get out of there. You’d have thought it was Legal Easy trying to avoid it, but it got everyone moving a bit quicker. I know I saw Puft There It Is or whatever Just Matt’s weird new name is, kick it up a notch. Thank goodness we have Dancing Fool to cover for us. Our recycling warrior spoke to the owners and worked his magic to explain that no one meant any harm and that the liars that spoke to him earlier were not part of this wholesome group. He must have been some philandering weirdo. Thanks Fool!!!! We followed marks through the green space and a beautiful neighborhood (more road...ugh) to our first beer near. Ahhhhhhhhh. Everyone took a break from all of that damn road and enjoyed a beverage with half mind conversation at Dumb and Dumber’s house. It was really swell, as Bad would say. I love that word. Back to it....so the group set out once again, Cougar leading the way. We headed back through the hood and up the hill...I think I saw a few of them racists I keep hearing about running up said hill. Accusations would take care of that later. Down the hill and through Overbrook to the secret path taking you behind the houses, across the street, and into Shillington Park through the trails to our shot near at the pavilion reserved strictly for Boy Scouts. I don’t know what those two had to do to the Boy Scout leaders to get that pavilion reserved in the Boy Scout name and I don’t want to know. Did someone say Weeblow? After some Wild Turkey and popcorn at the shot near, we were back to the hoods. A little jaunt following marks on the pavement brought us back to the pavilion and the HHH’s where we finally saw How Long and everyone’s favorite girl Couch made it back alive. Yay!!! Warm clothes, pizza, orange crunchy things, Hamm’s, circle, down downs, accusations (I told you those racists would get it), a song by Tour, swing low, and a hot pile of trash blowing around into people. What a day H3. What a day. Thanks Bad and Decoy! Love to you all! 

Hot for Teacher

#1054 Type B Hash

Hares: Hot Lips, Brest Straoker, Papussy

In case you were wondering, type B’s tend to be calm, relaxed, empathic and assertive, open to social relationships, and have a tendency toward emotional well-being. They’re aware of their limitations and are not generally hostile…except during election years.

As I stood at the one and only ‘beer here’ stop observing several female hashers casually removing layers of clothing (One Knee Wonder received honorable mention for stripping down to her tank) and listening to several of the male hashers discussing flaccid penises and associated remedies, Toh Foo crosses the poorly shaped circle and casually tells me to pay attention as I am assigned the ‘hash trash’. “What the fuck?” I think to myself. This is my second hash (3rd if you count the bike hash). While I am proud to have picked up on three or maybe four hash names, in general, I suck at names. For a brief moment I think about how disastrous this hash trash is going to turn out and quickly resign to the fact that this must be some sort of rite of passage. In the words of the almighty Yoda “Carry on, I must!” It’s on-on we go, back the way we came as we were all just ‘Super Fucked’. What is Super Fucked, you might ask? Just wait for it.

About a mile and a quarter earlier, our wonderful host with the most, Brest pulled into the parking area and very enthusiastically greeted the fashionably early arrivers through the interior of his oversized jeep. You know what they say about guys and their jeeps? After exiting his vehicle and opening his tailgate, Brest offered a variety of adult beverages: Hamm’s and Hamm’s Light - an appropriate option for those watching their girlish and dad-bodish figures.

While I decide to save my alcohol consumption for the run and activities thereafter, I congregated with the others in the area around the cooler. Bad Seamen looked down at the ground and back up at Brest with a slight smile across his face. Switching his gaze to me, Bad inquired, “Hey, those sneakers look new. Are they new?” I proudly look down at my newish white Adidas joggers and tell him they are. Immediately, their reactions told me I was screwed…and not in a good way. Someone (because I suck at names) shared that I would later have to drink from one of those shoes. My immediate thought was ‘not if I can help it’.

Circle time commenced with introductions followed by Hot Lips walking through the trail markings. We are introduced to the SF (Super Fuck) and learned that it is essentially code for “maybe you are on trail or maybe you need to go back the way you came”. As an aside, Optopussy decided to bring ‘Just Toby’ along whose tongue is uncomfortably disproportionate to its head. While Just Toby made his rounds throughout the circle for strokes, he decided to pause at Foot Fairy’s legs to baptize his new and nicely pleated shorts with his tongue. By the smile on his face, I have to wonder if this is the most action Foot’s leg has received in a while.

And it’s off we go with Stink Finger having led the charge with his fast legs and horn blowing abilities. As we made our way through the trail, Toh Foo did a little baptizing himself by stomping through puddles as we crossed over the narrow water-laden bridge from the earlier downpour. While I am not sure if the later ‘flaccid penis’ conversation was targeted at Toh Foo, at least we can all vouch for his ability to make others wet. Likewise, the earlier rain made a casualty out of Ginger Snatch who succumbed to the fungus covered, slippery when wet, wooden walkway. Ginger, I hope you have recovered!

After confirmation of our SF and trailing back the way we came, trail markings led us up a small hill and back to the parking lot where most logged a little less than 3 miles on this Type B hash kind of day. Papussy was there to great us and handed us all a slip of paper with our next steps. Circle time would be had about ¾ of a mile up the road at Westy Bar and Grill. Although this was supposed to be leisurely Type B hash, several individuals of the type A variety decided to run to the bar. Fuck all the high achievers!

Circle time began with some celebratory down-downs (when one hare drinks, all hares drink) and Just Liz (that’s me) paying the price for wearing her newish shoes. In a poor attempt to avoid my consequence, I decided to switch out my shoes before going into the bar for which Bad called me out. As some sensed my hesitation to drink from my shoe, I was shown an alternative option which turned out not to be not much of a substitute for a somewhat conservative, sober individual. But I had one other trick up my sleeve. As I stood in the circle with my shoe and cup of beer in hand, I placed the cup in my shoe and put the shoe up to my mouth ready to drink. That obviously would not fly. I am bombarded by fellow hashes that quickly came into my personal space, removed my cup and poured its contents along with theirs into my shoe. I drank. My shoe, which still reeks of beer, is a gentle reminder to never make that mistake again.

After circle time, the RH3 socializes with a variety of pizza, wings (awesome wings, I might add), beer, and, for some, an Irish Car Bomb (compliments of Brest). A great ending to a fun hash!

Just Liz

#1053 Halloween Family Friendly Hash

On a perfect rainy hash weather day, several hashers and small future hashers showed to see the wonderful trail Pooper and Teacher had laid. Grand “Cock” Master went through circle proceedings with several excited future hashers tried to start without introduction taking place. Definitely knew which future hashers would be scouting trail for the rest of us. After introductions and marks explained, the group of hashers were off. Down the middle of the street the little ones went. What is the saying safety 3rd???

With the small hashers leading, the pack pretty much stayed together or in sight of each other. As we passed the playground, Cougar, How Long, Toh, and 3S’s could not resist playing on the monkey bars. Of course, the kids didn’t stop to play they continue to scout for trail. Who is teaching these kids to be FRBs???

The pack arrived at the 1st of many DN (drink near)/TN (treat near). The hares went all out with a very festive tent and goodies. After drinks/treats were consumed, the pack was off again scouting for more marks.

As the kids filled their goody bag at a TN in the Shillington neighborhood, 3S’s decided it would be a perfect time to water a tree behind his beer costume and coverage assist from Cougar in his Cock costume. How ironic a “Cock” providing cock coverage. LOL…

At the next DN, instead of consuming beer several hashers made the shed a watering spot. Hope the neighbors got a great peep show.

After experiencing déjà vu with a TN at Decoys and Opto’s place of business the pack crossed the HHH outside Crack and Teachers place. Circle shenanigans included doing down downs with pvc pipe on your arm. LOL! Of course I got out of doing it by offering up my first born Just Alex instead. Watch the video for a good laugh. I must say someone must be teaching Just Brady well because he consumed liquid with pvc pipe on his arm like a pro. Crack and 3S’s tried to outdo Just Brady skills, they were very close but Just Brady rocked. Good times! Good times!

On On Suckie!

#1052 The Mystery Hare Hash

It was a cloudy Sunday afternoon as 30 or so hashers and harriettes gathered in the Quarry Parking Lot in Shillington. A couple fresh faces required Cougar to explain the marks as the hare(s) remained a mystery. After some brief chalk talk and introductions, the pack was off. Into the park we headed, through the Ewok forest towards the now traditional Analversary Circle location, then up the hill through the weird Halloween porn shoot in the upper pines, and finally down the bike track to the first beer near. Swill was consumed by us, we were consumed by the relentless gnats, and we were off after more flour. 

Continuing through the park to the other side of the creek, out to Museum Road, and State Street toward the former residence of one of the most loved and adored Reading Grandmasters of all time... but I digress. We hooked a lefty and headed towards Birdland. The next check caused some confusion and Fleshy and I ended up doing some hill repeats before re-finding trail and regrouping at an the song check at one of Reading’s “much older and semi-well received” Grandmaster’s house... but I digress. Anyways, an impromptu beer near had been thrown out on the walkway as He knew to distract us with beer or his house would once again be decorated with shit paper while we serenaded his neighbors with our sweet singing voices.

After leaving, we made it only a few more blocks before finding the next planned BN at Optós eye laboratory. We drank, we chatted, and we moved along... across Lancaster Avenue, through the Governor Mifflin campus and Shillington Borough parking lot, and into the neighborhood across 625. After some more checks and meandering the Shillington Streets, we finally happened upon the HHH behind Gallen Insurance where circle ensued. The mystery hares were revealed as none other than Optopussy and a long lost Reading Grandmaster (from not as far back as the previously mentioned “just OK” Grandmaster, but not as recent as the other “most loved and adored” Grandmaster mentioned before that)... but I digress. 

Songs were sang, accusations were made, and down downs were consumed. 

Peace and love,

Any Crack’ll Do

#1051 Analversary Hash

RH3’s 36th Analversary Hash was held on September 22, 2020 at approximately 6:15 pm as scheduled. Many hashers were in attendance, way too many to name. However among the assholes were 8 GM’s past and present which was of note. The kennel gathered at the intersection of Reading Blvd and Plymouth Place, excited to participate in the first trail of the new regime. After a few expected complaints from the neighbors, all of the cars were parked facing the correct direction and circle began. Any Crack Will Do was off for a solo live haring jaunt, introductions were made, Flamer and Horn spoke briefly of RH3 history. Next the pack was off to enjoy a beautiful evening, stampeding though Old Wyomissing. Trail was relatively short and the pack reunited in a small wooded area to enjoy circle led by their newly anointed GM, Cougar Bait. The kennel learned that this was intended to be a reenactment of Cougar’s very first hash, however a piñata was sadly missing. The requisite down-downs were drank and announcements were made. The next scheduled trail is a family friendly (ughhh) Halloween themed event on Sunday, October 25th, 2020. However Trail Master Optopussy would like if someone could find it in their heart to hare a trail Sunday, October 11th. It was also requested that wankers planning to attend trail should mark “going” on the Facebook event, even if it is day of. Although this unlikely to happen, it would be most helpful in planning apres during times where it is unlikely to be at a proper bar. Speaking of apres, the pack was then off to Mervine’s garage for more shitty beer, pizza, and merriment. Overall, things seem to be looking up for RH3. Hash trash was assigned and delivered in a timely manner. At least four photos were taken. There is another trail on the schedule and the Hash Horn has reappeared.



#1050 Crack A Cold One For Crack!!

Not sure which wank was assigned this trash, but they utterly failed to perform.  A GM's 50th trail should never  go unrecorded...so here goes. 

We gathered on the last Sunday in August to bid a fond farewell to the lastest unfortunate soul nominated to the tortured status of RH3 GM...Any Crack'll Do. In addition to the usual herding of drunken cats and  settling  of dysfunctional personality disputes, he had the dubious honor of leading our rag tag bunch during the now infamous Covid 19 Lockdown era. For months on end..Zoom alcoholism was the order of the day. 

But anyway..we gathered above Mohnton, on a property rumored to be owned by a "business associate" of at least one kennel member. The forecast called for cool and wet, but hot and moist was the theme of the day. An excellent turnout of miscreants rolled in to bid adieu to our intrepid leader. A tasty keg of nectar flowed freely and we anxiously awaited trail instructions. As usual, our hare (the Crackster himself) was laying a live trail. 

A crack of the pistol and off we went...

 We scurried up onto Wyomissing Blvd. and began the long pavement slog downhill. Sounds of slapping feet (and other body parts) echoed off the local domiciles. The trail seemed to peter out, before we realized it doubled back up a creek. There, we found a properly chilled BN. Properly quenched, we continued on downward, finally veering off pavement to a second creekside BN. A group of 5th graders anxiously eyed both our beverages and our bimbos. From here, things got interesting. We scrambled up a loose, sheer mini-mountain, finally cresting and turning back toward the start. Up and down we rolled. Finally, sensing an end to our sweaty journey, we rumbled back up Wyomissing Ave. and stumbled to the end. Circle transpired in our usual "we can't sing worth a fuck" fashion.  

Still more delicious beer was consumed, until the keg, which had been tapped the night before, kicked. Our leader scurried off and returned with replacement provisions, post haste. Long lost RH3er Deathwish arrived, graciously transporting the apres supplies. These were eagerly devoured and games and conversation (drunken, at best) continued. I had a follow on drinking engagement and will end my recantation here... 

On On,


#1049 Da Bookends Bash

What luck! No rain for the Bookend Bash! This is going to be better than I thought... or maybe not! Foot Fairy and Opto were our Hares this evening. We started out from Trooper Thorns area, circled up for introductions and instructions and welcomed 3 new virgins! Fudgie and Inu arrived from Connecticut, and several hashers from other kennels were also there.
Virgins Beware! Instructions were thrown into the grass where no one could see them, and very little was explained to them! General erection was toward the Thun trail....so we’re off! Well, most of us...just Melissa got about 100’ towards the trail, lost control of her bike, and flipped over the handlebars to face plant herself in the ground! Her friend (another virgin) promptly took her to the hospital for facial injuries!
On we went towards Reading. Too Fu and I had a wonderful view of Breast Strokers ass crack for a while (pull your shorts up Dude!). We then passed under bridge to a homeless village complete with tents and folding chairs. NFB sailed by us on his mini youth bike, and says “I know where we’re going!” NOT! Our first beer near is under another bridge. A suspicious looking garbage bag awaits... is it leftovers from a homeless party goer? No, it’s our beer! Good thing Hashers aren’t picky, we’ll drink anything from anywhere! We proceeded towards Canal street, where I promptly fell over on some hidden railroad tracks!
We finally found trail again, and headed through Reading. I was a little nervous when people started branching off to look for trail, and didn’t come back!! We finally arrived at our next beer stop under cover in a parking garage in town (don’t ask me where, I was completely lost by this time)! We had to wait a while for everyone to show up (no stragglers left behind in the city). While waiting, Beulah started to ride off out of the entrance, and fell right over on the cement! This is turning out to be a crash and burn event!
We headed off down the alleyways and backroads of Reading, when another hasher falls over coming to a stop right behind me, and smacks her knee on the pavement. She “shakes it off” and keeps going, but I see blood!
It’s starting to get dark now. Some of the injured and those of us that had no bike lights decide to head back to the beginning lest something more ominous happens to one of us! We return safely, and wonder if everyone else made it out of the city alive.
Praying Man Tits, Just Liz and Swamp tell us that the circle will be held under yet another scary bridge near West Reading, so we all head over! After about 20 minutes, the rest of the hashers that were able to follow the actual trail arrive. Horn O’ Plenty says “it wasn’t that bad!”. It’s completely dark by now, but we have a great not socially distant circle, and drink beer out of our own cans instead of cups (way too easy on the Virgins that are left)! We had so many falls, all of us that fell had to drink in circle to celebrate. I heard just Melissa fractured h
r cervical spine, hope she cums back for a second try!

ON On Hogrider

#1048 The Gary Coleman Hash

#1047 4th Of July Sunrise Hash @ Dawn

#1046 The Phased and Confused Hash

#1045 Escape the Quarantine Hash

#1044.7 Zoom Hash by Toe Fu

In a virtual galaxy far far away 15 half minds put their brains together and figured out how to make a computer work. Some were in the dark, some in the light, others on the road because when isn't there auto hashing involved, many on mute, and those that must proclaim feedback is an act of God.

The virtual trail began, on one on two on-on up and around town we went. Someone "drew" red lines all over the trail, said someone had better get to a doctor if that is what is cuming out of them they need some medication. We went left, then right, up and up to the witches hat! No social distancing was had at the beer stop. At this point Foot was getting pretty friendly with his virtual background lady friend. I think we lost him on trail at one point, as those legs wrapped him up tight and wouldn't let him escape the witches hat.

On On we went down the hill to the Reifsnyder Hall for the apres…we all rushed in so quickly who really knows where we actually ended up on this trail. Some were even said to feel quite at home, not unlike pre Covid-19 times, difference being some alcohol selections were limited in comparison. So cocktails were mixed, Blue Moon and Vermouth who would have guessed how tasty that mix really is?

Oh to the early days of the stay at home order, all the recent Facebook quizzes were discussed. What is your Covid-19 color swatch of choice, What bottle of Alcohol will last the longest, Is there enough alcohol to really survive this? The most important quiz was how long will your stash of toilet paper last? Thank goodness that our Hare Toe Fu left his credit card at the virtual bar once again, really will he ever learn? Endless minutes were given to us along with two namings! So you must always be careful with your usage of TP supplies as described by Stank Finger and account for an extra roll to accommodate the Period Shitz.

By this point in the evening I say we must have went very off the rails, where's a Railroad Cop when you need one? Seriously Balls, we could have used some direction at this point. So I will wrap this up as that is about the same time when my mind went blank.

On On Bitches!

Period Shitz

#1044 The Just Nasty Balls Hash (Green Edition)

Beware the Ides of March.

Who knew it was the last time we’d ever hash. Ever. Geez, I miss a lot of hashes (just because, y’know, keepin’ the peace in the family and shit), but the fact that there are LITERALLY no hashes to actually miss right now hits me right HERE (use your imagination to picture me pounding my chest in the area of where my heart should theoretically be, but who knows because I was a liberal arts major and unless it’s a TellTale Heart, or a Heart of Darkness, I’ve got no fucking clue).

Sorry. Where were we? Oh right. Hashing. It was March the (something or other, all the fucking days are running into one another) and it was the Just Nasty Cock or something hash. Wait, it was the “Just Nasty Balls Hash” – which combined Nasty, her little boy toy, and OneB/TwoB/RedB/BlueB – can I just call him OBTB? Fuck it, I am. And if someone has a problem, they can come over to my house and kick the ever living shit out of me. Please. Please. Please SOMEONE COME OVER. I’m fucking dying over here, with my kids playing fucking SmashBros, and my wife literally yelling at her Zoom screens with her book club / booze club.

Anyway, we started at a Cul-de-sac (get it….balls….sack…. ballsack…?). Ran along some dogshit stained trail for a while, and then found ourselves in some industrial zone. We crossed some RR Tracks, looking for flour. Crack decided to get himself enmeshed in some shiggy on the far side of the tracks, when all of a sudden Clarence the Fucking Train Conductor came up and ripped us a new one for violating his tracks. There were threats of calling the police, and discussion (mostly by me) of the fact that the steel was spauling on the siding, which was definitely a danger to all involved, and then we politely got the fuck off Clarence’s tracks. So…. Without trail to follow, we hi-ed on up to the road, annoying passing motorists who were all racing to get that last roll of toilet paper, (because COVID attacks toiletpaper factories in particular, doncha know). We found trail yet again on the fucking tracks, but being properly cowed by the invective that young Clarence had thrown our way (particularly his frequent use of the word ‘cops’), we kinda stayed OFF the tracks. All except for Tour de’ Puke who decided that rules are like panties (they just get in the way of a good time), who headed down to look for trail on the holy train tracks. We all stood there looking pretty dumb, and milling about like a herd of sheep waiting for Tour to give us the thumbs up, when …who should appear? Fucking Clarence, and his buddy Ernie the Engineer. Well, they pulled their little Thomas the Tank Engine between us and Tour, and like the loyal friends that we are …with the fucking “Leave No Hasher Behind” mentality, we got the FUCK out of Dodge. Fuck you Tour! That’ll teach you to hash in Reading, you Keystone Hack! (Just kidding, I love the shit out of Tour, he’s a total mensch…but I aint going to jail for the fucker).

So, what followed was a lot of fucking road. Like a LOT of fucking road. I was dragging a bit, never quite catching the front of the pack and never quite getting close enough to Horny Hands for him to infect me with his CovidCreepers. So, beercheck, then more fucking road, then a beercheck down by the old broken dam. Then some more fucking road, and some more fucking road. And then….. Then the fucking cops showed up (just as presaged by Clarence…that tattle-tale motherfucker. Way to fuck up the beginning of the pandemic, CLARENCE, you double-time getting train moving asswipe).

Well, the cops asked us if we were fucking with the trains, and we said… well, kinda, but not really. Interestingly, the cop bought it, and seemed ready to jump right in with us. And while it would have been fucking AWESOME to have someone in the circle with a taser, pepperspray, and a Glock 9mm, we told Deputy Dawg that he’d have to party some other time. Little did we know (at that point) that Deputy Dawg (who was pretending to be our friend) was ratting us out to the dreaded RailRoad Police. Yes. The police department who have a territority 1000 miles long, and 40 ft wide.

So, by the time we get back to circle, we were joined by some very VERY official looking police-type folks who wanted to have a serious talk with OBTB. Then, we realized that they were railroad cops, and they were just a) killing our buzz; b) stalling our circle; and c) operating waaaaay outside their authority.

Anyway, after OBTB talked with them for a bit, our own hash ambassador NFB jumped into the mix to share his witty quips and offer to fellate them. The railroad police (oooh, it just SCARES ME TO TYPE IT) finally left, we drank, Horny Hands tried to feel everyone up, pizza was served.

So thanks to our hares (Nastys Boy Toy, Nasty, and OBTB) for serving up the last hash before the end of the world. I’d like to type more, but I’ve got some looting to do.

On On Decoy

#1043 The Bimbos’ Birthday Hash on ‘Roids

#1042 Groundhogs Day Hash

#1041 The Cabinet Moths De-Flowered My Flour

#1040 New Years Day Hash

The day started with a group of hashers gathered at Hampden Park trying to keep warm while waiting for our Grandmaster Crack to begin circle, Hares for this trail were Beulah, Sucky, and Hotp, during circle we learned we would be divided into 3 teams which we later learned this was a complete farce and was intended to keep the pack together for the trail, we received our instructions and then off then off into the woods we went. Arriving at the first BN the pack was treated to Beuhlahs NYE leftover pudding and jello shots (yum)..also appearing at this location was everyone's favorite recycle guy Dancing Fool...still amazed by how he along with his flip phone always is able to find us!! After a short game of charades we learned our next destination would be Engelmans park, no trail to follow...just get there. Arriving at this next BN where we find Hotp would be treating us with lemon squares to be washed down with some tasty lemon vodka, again yum. After another brief game of charades in which with an awsome acting job where teacher was able to act out a Jackass, her schools mascot...lol...we found out our next location would be 18th and Muhlenberg, again no trail just get there!! At this BN there would be no need to play charades as we learned we would be following chalk again which took us through the Alleys of East Reading and to our final stop at some abandoned parking lot where we found the HHH, circle commenced..the Frb for trail was Couch and Dfl was Packs, backwards I know...who would of thought it....good job Couch on recording your first ever Frb, Apres was held at the long storied Nick's Cafe where the pack was treated to Dogs and kraut, rolling rock and also got to hangout with some of East Readings finest residents, good job and thanks hares, all in all another great day ringing in the new year!!!

On On, Old News

#1039 Little White Dickie Hash

28 Hashers found their way to the well regarded corner of 6th & Greenwich. Our hares, Horn of Plenty, Optopussy and Bad Semen, promised us little white dickies, some were jealous of the black dickies as they appeared larger than dickies of past. Circle commenced with the promise of the most trash ever seen on trail.

So off the half minds went, proving that they can cross a road and promptly became confused by a parking lot and a dumpster. Is this the first beer near, they wondered? Nope not so lucky, up the hill and around a fence they went. On One On Two over the railroad tracks we go, thus the confusion ramped up as Legal Easy vanished into thin air, surely taking others on the alternate route.

Our group of halfminds, true to form, all found their way back together at the BN. They could sense the proximity, although finding it proved all collective brain power was needed. Finally the beer was found, a photo on the stairs was taken, drinks were enjoyed! On On, across the bridge they went, taking in the holiday sights…house that collapsed and the poor kitty was confused as to why his house was gone, the festive Genesee Cream Ale cans decorating the street, heroine needles like little broken light bulbs they wished they were.

The hares once again confused the half minds, some went up the underside of the bridge, while others went elsewhere. Roids was found breaking into a lovely bedroom and his little white dickie had a romp on the mattress. Bushwacker was astounded and felt the hash should have brought a fruit basket to the home we crashed, as that is the polite thing to do during the Christmas season.

So to the top of the bridge, confusion reined supreme, there was much touching of telephone poles, long discussions of what is flour and what is spray paint. Where oh where is the other half of our 28 half minds? Eventually the trail was found by all and toxic colored mud as well.

Loud noises in the distance, is that more holiday cheer or gun shots? Thank goodness a roaming festive beer near was the origin of the gunshots, pretty balloons. By this point the warmth of the day deemed the LWD useful as headbands. Just Stacy's LBD looked like a Nun's habit, thus many stories of First Holy Communions and other childhood trauma caused by the church were swapped. Up the stairs or through the shiggy all were off back towards the city. At this point all had an opinion of where the Apres will be. Some were eager to get there whilst others basically said fuck this shit, decided to walk, why is this trail so long?

Arriving at Chill then Grill, the Apres was held. Apparently our singing needed some help as the DJ brought out a speaker. Our 29th Halfmind, Toe Fu, appeared so a solid group of cheery hashers enjoyed food, drink and music. Just Kelly, Casting Couch and Nasty Pantys had a go at the dance floor, while Swamp and Shrinkage had a hard time keeping their tongues off the floor.

On On to Super Shitty Trail and happiest of Little White Dickies!

On On Just Stacy

#1038 Boilo Hash

Twas the week before Christmas when all through the Hash,

We all froze our asses off and threw in our cash, the hashers were hung like cold little dicks.

In hopes of finding alcohol and even hot chicks.

The hashers set out to find trail on the ground

but the snow-covered streets allowed nothing to be found.

We searched and we searched and even got railed

When Old News called out this hash is a fail.

Horn of Plenty emptied her blatter, when the rails came alive it made such a clatter.

We turned off our lamps and climbed under some trains,

But couldn’t find an exit and it drove us insane.

Finally, we found an exit, where we all did wonder,

Was a shot stop here sometime last summer?”

Off to the tap room up hill quite far,

Couch was waiting at our favorite bar.

It was warm and dry, we drank the whole stock.

Then Crack laid on the ground and showed his big cock.

When it was time we auto hashed back to Mike’s,

To chug lots of boilo, we were really psyched.

On On Just Jordan

#1037 Santa Fucks the Hash

The hash started out on a cool, but not freezing day with a prelube at the Forest Inn. Would’ve been cool if the bartender paid us any attention at all to get us a beer but apparently he only had eyes for Flamer, Bad Semen and the other old farts. Even the beautiful HOP was unserved. So, we were off to have a beer with the rest of the half-minds in the parking lot at City Park. We had some out-of-towners and a virgin along with the rest of the crew all dressed in their holiday best. Usual circle nonsense and a general erection were given by the hares and the gang was off. Just then is when Roids and Just Karen showed up....this act of tardiness did not impress our timekeeper, Bad Semen. We went off down Penn Street looking for flour, which wasn’t hard with marks in red and green. Thank goodness the pack had Beetlegizz’s dick staff to follow. Phhhewwwww! On down Penn we went past the tree where we all posed for a pic with one of Reading’s finest. Down past RACC and under the bridge we went to our first BN. Some shitty refreshment for all! After that trail was hard to pick up. There was much confusion about where to go next. Had we known there would be no imagination whatsoever put into this trail, we would have headed right back where we came from, but instead we spent a shit ton of time looking on the bridge for marks. Finally, HOP or someone else with more than a half-mind, probably Legal, led us back where we came. Collectively, we all headed back up Penn and into the Forrest Inn past the HHH to our final destination. Beer was drank, accusations were called out, circle was stretched out and more beer was drank until we could get to the apres at DeCarlos for the 12 days of hashmas, naughty gifts from Santa, drinks on the hares and a partridge in a peartree.

On on and love from Teacher!

#1036 Let's Rock Gibraltar

Let's Rock Gibraltar - ToeFU and Just Kelly

It was a wild and woolly Sunday. Rain, Snow, howling winds. The little hasherettes looked out their windows and happily settled down with their blow up dolls and dildos - no need to go Hashing today! Noon arrived and the rain stopped, the snow went away - the wind was still blowing. The little hasherettes looked out their windows and sadly put away their toys of sexual gratification and lubed up to go Hashing. Sigh.

Just Kelly and ToeFU gathered the reluctant hasherettes in a quick chilly circle, elbowed them in the general direction, and off we all went down the road. It’s always entertaining watching Hashers trying to cross a road. This was no exception. Roids did check, but the wrong way - booming “ All Clear”, the hasherettes crabbed and scampered across Gibraltar Rd. Luckily the lovely woman in the SUV must have special needs kids because as everyone ran straight in front of her car she chose not to drive them over.,

Off down the Exeter River Trail until a backcheck of 14. Luckily not only can Not Twat run, but she can count - I think she is the only one. The rest of us just turned around and lumbered after her back down the road and back across the river. At some point with Not Twat waving her arms about, we decided the tall grass looked inviting and wandered off into it. Eventually someone found flour and off we all went.

Some back alleys and a check right by the Allegheny Aqueduct. What is that, you ask? This lovely historical structure built in 1824 to carry the canal boats above the Allegheny Creek was part of the Schullykill Canal. You KNOW that ToeFU and Just Kelly intended for us to visit this lovely historical structure! So up we climbed, and became slightly more culturefied as we explored the historic landmark. A few checks later and a possible False - or had ToeFU taken a dump in the flour? Hmmmm hard to tell. We meandered across a boggy field to another historical landmark. Will the learning never cease????

This time it was the Beidler House - built in 1783, and the Beidler Mill - built in 1766. You could almost hear the little hasherettes tiny brains exploding with all the learning. Enough of that shit! Off down the road for our next adventure. After an incessant amount of running - at least 5 minutes, the little Hasherettes came on an old Hashing haunt. Naomi’s. Much history has happened there, but since he was getting married that weekend we will not speak ill of him. I digress.

Seeing a BN - we entered said establishment. It was vastly changed. It looked nice. Perhaps we had the wrong place. HOP and I bellied up to the bar to enquire if we were allowed in. The other Hashers I think were looking for the toilets, but since they couldn’t find them, it really just looked like they were casing the joint.

Are you expecting a group of people?” enquired HOP

You need at least 5 people to get a pitcher” responded Delores ( not her real name)

HOP and I were thoroughly confused, but we did indeed have at least 5 people so lets get a pitcher of beer.

What beers are we allowed to have O sweet Delores “ asked HOP

Anything you want, and I have wine as well”

Oh,” said I, “ Sweet Delores, we are poor wandering Hashers with no money, what has been paid for?”

Anything , he left his credit card with me”


I distinctly remember Nasty’s head suddenly popping up over the bar at this point, and there was the gentle sound of negative pressure all around the room, as the little Hasherettes blinked themselves to the bar.

Then the very very best Hash ever started.

Once everyone was ensconced with their favourite beer and wine, in the cozy warm wooded room, Dolores became even more friendly. More wine, more beer. How about the apple pie moonshine shots, they were very tasty. Well why not.

The first round was yummy, the second round was even better. The singing started, the stories of Hashing days gone by. It was finally determined that Dolores had been told by TOFU that we needed at least 5 people in a picture ( not a pitcher ). No worries, we can do that. So we took lots of pictures. We needed to show ToeFU how much we were enjoying his credit card. Who cares about the Apres, call ToeFU, we were staying.

Then like all good sexual fantasies, this one too ended. Awwwwwwww.

I’m not sure who the first person was to leave, but sadly the little Hasherettes unglued themselves, and wandered back outside into the freezing cold.

Still not sure why

At this point your narrator is quite drunk. So we will keep this simple. There was quite a bit of running. We got close to a winery, and tried to go in it, but unfortunately no credit card for us. Dammit. Crossed a road and down some steps to a Shot Near with Bird Dog. Running, running , endless amounts of running on the stupid Schykill RIver Trail. What does “PC” mean? Panty check? Photo Check - lets take some pictures. More running. Did I say that there was quite a bit of running? No - well there was. All this perfectly good shrubbery and we were running down a river trail. Eventually the running stopped, and we were back to the HHH.

I really cannot bring myself to say it was a shitty hash,. It was almost the best Hash ever. If only we had never left Dolores and someone could have come and picked my drunken arse up.

I’m shallow like that

On, On - Bushwhacker

#1035 The Type B Hash Part Duex/Dos/Zwei

nipply cool Sunday afternoon waiting for ginger snatch and casting couch to find the correct on on location..... Breastroaker leads circle and off we go. Hash starts out going through many a pricker bushes up the mountain. Up up up we continue to go through more pricker bushes. After many pricks we hit a BN and partake in a variety of beverage. After all hashers have arrived we take off again.... up, up, and more up we go until we hit a SN where colorful syringes of Jell-O shots are offered. Next stop was a BN where Legal Easy arrives with a new friend she calls inchy the inchworm. As we take off for one last time we continue through the woods to a driveway that leads us to final destination of HHH. Definitely true B trail as I myself was FRB. Hashers gathered in circle for down down lead by a choir of Choo Choo, Beulah and Casting Couch. Afternoon of many prickers and climbing finished off with food and beer by a bonfire. Great type B hash by Hot Lips and Breaststroaker... no popo this year!!

On On, Gone Colioni

#1034 The Hash That Doesn't Suckie

The “Hash That Doesn't Suck” was the working title to this all-estrogen homage to Sucky Sucker's vaginal extravasation anniversary. Stay tuned to see if the hares were just blowing sunshine up our <insert orifice of choice>.

The Pre was somewhat sparsely attended...only Old News and I indulged in the splendid list at Barley Mow. Had we known what drink options lay ahead, we would never have left. Off to the lot by RACC we went. On On refreshments consisted of some ill-defined red stuff, which supposedly contained something “whipped”. We then gathered under the Penn Street bridge, as trolls are apt to do, to circle. The weather was perfect. As the clouds pissed, we received instructions from our hares. Sucky soon learned that a fine layer of construction dust was not the best medium for spray paint chalk talk. GM du jour, Foot Fairy, looked on bemused, then had us identify ourselves for later forensics. With that, it was On On...

Trail started, paralleling the banks of the crystal clear Schuylkill River, past buoys that probably had an actual purpose at their original location. Across the proclaimed “rape bridge” and onto the bank adjacent to Rt. 422. Slipping and sliding on jizz-covered rocks, I fully expected to be struck in the back of the head by one of Bad Semen's knee implants, as it forcefully extruded from it's intending location. Trail continued along the river until we encountered a tributary with waist deep, fecal-colored water. Some of our intrepid band balked at crossing initially, so I scaled the loose, slippery bank above it, using ferns and other trustworthy handholds, to find an alternate route. By the time I had descended the other side, all had traversed but Penny For Your Twat, who was graciously escorted by our visiting Green Peacer, Dancing Fool. We regrouped and continued on what became increasingly like a foray through rural Viet Nam. Passing the perennial homeless encampment under the Bingamen Street Bridge, we emerged onto the bridge itself...sadly without signs detailing our homeless plight and need for sustenance ie. beer money. Descending steps mid-bridge, we found a shot stop...well, sorta. We were treated to some fruitish “sangria” substance, which made even the most hardened hasher palate pucker.

Back to trail. Leaving our hares alone to deal with the lurking homeless person and his umbrella, we plunged off into the mist. We traveled the rusty underbelly of the mostly defunct Reading industrial region, plucked at by barbwire, sipping and discarding another rancid shot and trying not to plunge into the murky depths of the river. Past another encampment, we encountered an obvious blue sprayed “F”. The hares denied it's existence later, but we saw what we saw... Then, on to the rope...the string...the floss. With a tensile strength of roughly half a microPascal, even hashers knew not to rely on it to help ascend the slippery, steep hillside. Miraculously, we all made it to the top, to emerge onto a perennial favorite...railroad tracks! Lumbering along, we soon spotted Cougar Bait, doing the hares a solid by reinforcing the marks. A quick right and there was Beulah with yet another gut-wrenching beverage. Heaving as we trundled past the old Reading Brewery, we dodged left, then right...all the while marveling at the house with the rowboat yard décor. A few more blocks, over a tetanus-encrusted fence, and we crossed the HHH.

Fool and Penny were still unaccounted for, but in typical “fuck them” fashion, Circle commenced. We were all given another mushy cup of orange or red-colored swill and toasted Sucky's birthday in proper hash fashion. By this point, Foot Fairy appeared to be succumbing to the beer DTs, so the rest of the format was tossed out the window and we swung low. Apres was held at the newly remodeled Saucony Creek, which reportedly has resulted in a 50% decrease in the local prostitution employment rate. Food and drink was enjoyed by all. Several cakes were presented and promptly ignored because every hasher knows the the only good carb...is a beer carb.

Presented with the utmost reverence and deepest attention to detail and truth...


#1033 Alcohol Combat Hash

Beer wars! Hash # no clue

Monday Evening we all gathered at the NE Taproom for some swill and circle. Foot and Opto are the hares of the beer wars and if you’ve never gone to one before…You’re gonna be druuuunk. Cool fun fact this year: we were promised a plane! Whoop! Opto handed out poker chips, some red and some white with blue on them for some flare. Don’t you dare ask for a different chip because I’ve seen it firsthand…the mom stare... Poor Toby...or Packs. Anyhow, Grandmaster Crack does circle and everyone says their name for the most part. Hares give some rules and then the teams were split up, red and white (go red!) In true Foot fashion the plane he promised us was steel city beer , I believe…a very large one. Teams must finish it before they can go to their first destination.

Both teams were off…and onto Tophers! Both teams drank whiskey and beer…Red team finished and bought the White team shots, white team threw a hissy fit about the shots but some actually stayed and did some (go you guys!)

On to the next destination, red team was told hillside or something like that. Pink thinks Nasty messed up (ha!) but we improvised and met up with the white team at Buelah’s house for a super fun game of find your beer in the darkness of the evening and pouring down rain. I’m not quite sure how everything went down but I did hear a lot of this: You’re a cheater! You threw my beer! That’s my beer you get this beer! Why do you have a flashlight?! You guys cheat! Stop looking at me swan !

Onward to Hillside and up 83.5 steps of wet slippery death in the dark to Foot! This stop put a beer for every hasher (10) in a large red bucket…Whatever doesn’t go in you goes on you. This had proven to be true watching everyone chug the beer and the head! Who said head? Red team finishes before the white team and makes their way down the slippery steps of death back to NE Taproom, in the distance I can hear someone screaming about keys…wasn’t the red team…On-On! Back to NE Taproom and Not Twats keys were safe and sound and everyone headed back in. Foot confirmed we were done so some of us ordered beer until everyone came in. I’m not sure at what point I’ll stop believing Foot but last night wasn’t the night.

In the back room as Couch sat on the couch the teams competed in a game where they sucked beer out of an ice cube tray with a straw. Sounds silly but get a bunch of RH3ers together that swear they aren’t type A be very very Type A. Back to-You’re cheating!, you didn’t finish your beer, Cheater cheater Cheater! Old news was asked on multiple occasions to take his tampon out. Anyhow, from what I remember Red team won. Fudgie and Inu had a suck off, and there were an abundance of beers in circle thanks to Pink turning into the next AC/DC of accusations. Circle ended, people ate and drank more. Thanks Foot and Opto for a Soaking Wet shit show of competitive type A not type A cheater fun!


#1032 Lucifer is Gonna Boogie Hash

#1031 35th Analversary Hash

Oooof...it’s 8:47 Sunday night, my laptop battery is critically low and I am critically drunk. I tried resetting my facebook password four different times and each time it said “fuck you.” (Oh well, facebook is only used by geriatrics and Russian spies anyway (sorry, too soon???))

On-on to today’s hash….. I thought about putting a sarcastic twist on it and saying the weather couldn’t get much more beautiful, blah blah blah, but I figured that’s been done before and we’d ALL know it was a lie.
Sooooo tbh, after about two solid weeks of amazing fall weather....the weather today was shit. I had boob sweat before I even began the run, which in itself is impressive because I proudly rock a flat-chested pair of A’s. We all trooped (trudged) through the hash to *finally* make it to West Reading and drink some cold beers at Sly Fox. (I would like to note that Sly Fox is one of my favorite breweries, but picking a favorite would be akin to picking a favorite child so I probably shouldn’t do it…..)
After leaving Sly Fox, the hash took quite a difficult path to find the next beer check (although I’m sure to the amusement of the GM’s), only to stop at Barley Moe’s. In true fashion, I drank a beer solely based on what the can looked like because I’m a sucker for a nifty design and--- I’ll try anything once. From there we all made the long trek (run/walk) back to our cars before finally circling up at Canal Street Pub for some good food and more good beers. *PS. I’ve never read hash trash before, so if this sucks, sorry, fuck you.
Just Kelly
***Edit: I did write this Sunday night when I was still drunk, but apparently trying to reset my Facebook password and ultimately trying to make a new account was deemed “suspicious,” so I spent 2 days on Facebook probation…I guess they determined I’m not a shady identity thief, so feel free to send me a friend request.***

#1030 The Family Hash

#1029 Fudgie and Inu Last Hurrah Hash

#1028 Him and Schmimm

#1027 Bad's Analversary Hash

Behind stouts past horses, up hill through the forest with slightly buggy, trail-y trails to a sign that said “POSTED. HASHER PROPERTY. TRESPASSERS WILL GET BEER” or something along those lines where we found hop and grandmaster crack (DAS BOOT!) copping a squat and jamming to a speaker full of classic rock, waiting patiently for the pack to arrive. And arrive we did, and consumed Hamms, the nectar of the hash gods, before heading out and “slightly right” to resume our quest. Down the path through a cemetery where we heard a story of babies eaten by dingos and foot prints in the soil or not in the soil, I forget. Wait here may not have been dingos involved. That was another story. Down the streets of Adamstown (were I’m sure the city dog is a boxer.) uphill through a ball park past some kids NOT playing baseball. Having a meeting of sorts. (Perhaps solving crimes Scooby Doo style) around the pool up the path and TADA! HHH! Short and sweet! Circle was had. Sneakers became drinking vessels. Non returners were: Everyday Asshole, Just Steve, and a veteran Harriet returning after a 20 year hiatus, Zola Budnip! For apres we returned to Reinhold’s Inn- the sight of apres a mere 30 years ago. Where we watched videos of hashes gone by (or gone wild), where strippers, pornstaches, big hair and mullets were everywhere.

Casting Couch

#1026 The Hump Hash

So, it was hot....really hot.
Hashers filtered in like moths to a flame, knowing their demise was in their future.
Live hares are fun to chase. 
Crack would have been an easy target especially with the ankle boot.
Cougar stepped up and proved to be a challenge.
Pack was off and across the river(we use the bridge) No more dead bodies please
Looped back through Wyo via a Brewers BC.
Off to Wyo park to get crissed-crossed thought the creek.
A cleaver hare slugged up through the center of the creek to cool everyone down.... okay, almost everyone...
Back through Oakbrook to raise the shooting risk then back to the cars....ish
Circle, stupid shit, then off to the Gms house (thanks teacher) for food and social stuff.
Great shitty trail


#1025 Float Hash

It was a smoldering Sunday afternoon when all of us degenerates met up for what would be a day to remember (or maybe not). When we gathered for circle to pay homage to the beer gods.

As we learn the rules for all the virgins, we finally load all our floats into the trailer (for no damn reason at all). After proper prelubrication and circle, we all scurry about. And into the woods we go, to lose ourselves and find our soul. With all the old heads showing the way for the virgins to climb through the bush, we all made it to the other side, with only a few scratches and minor tears. No plastic surgery needed.

The rat race continues. Winding through the park, we find our first beer break. Thank god for teacher bringing the hamms. On-On!

As we run in an out, and up and down the neighborhood roads, we realize the civilians are gazing and gaulking as we drink our beers while running. Thank God Old News was paying attention to where we're supposed to be heading towards. He was the leader of us slow pokes in the back! We wouldn't have made it without him!

Flip flop crew was pulling in the rear. Next time they will remember......all aboard the shoe leather express!

We all somehow made it back to the park! Old news, just Nancy, and myself found a poor innocent civilian passerby in a convertible who was nice enough to not run the stop sign and allowed me to hop over the side of his convertible door and right onto the top of his lunch. Where I smashed his sandwich with my nice sweaty ass, and gave us a ride back to the park. Our tubes were no longer in the trailer we loaded for no reason at all....and there we had more lubrication! Well deserved and well needed! Even though some of us found a ride! ;)

We all drunkenly stumbled into the river.

Cougar pulling the slow fucks with his kayak to catch up with the rest of the flock.

Most of the degenerates in the group had regular round flotation devices. Others had floating poop, an ice cream cone, a magical Unicorn, old school black tubes from the 80's and an Avacado! At one point or another, someone was floating by passed out on an air mattress! I'm pretty sure I also saw someone riding a Cock! I think the rooster won that battle!

Circle continued in the river.

Songs were sung. InU took blackmail pics ;)

My own mother, just Nancy, was the biggest drunk of all as her son in law had to carry her out of the river like a damsel in distress. She must really love nature because she seemed to want to dance with the rocks in the water as she stumbled around falling over. It looked pretty romantic. Apparently she's been a virgin all this time which is strange to me because my existence seems questionable now.

Foot fairie didn't pop his cherry (I mean alvarado seed) like he was hoping.

Bukkake doesn't remember anything as he stumbles away to puke all over himself.

We all drunkenly stumble out of the river to regather our belongings and dignity, like leaving after a one night stand.

Post-lube was spent at margaritas with car bombs and ass slaps! Thanks to breast stroke and packs it in the rear!

Old News and Hot off the Presses drove just Nancy home. Thank God because I was in no shape to do so.

I shoulda paid more attention I guess had I known I'd have to write this trash!


Just Carol.

#1024 Old Fashion 4th Hash (Merica!)

And so, for the 33rd time – July 4thwas celebrated by RH3 oddly enough on the 4th…….
Our band of Brothers (Hares) for this annual gala were the well-seasoned Flamer, the ever-youthful Decoy, the very proper (cough, cough) Toh Foh and the Hasher’s Hasher Foot Fairy.
Upon arrival and a giant bear hug from Beulah (love those bone crushing hugs) we were welcomed with an extravagant Continental Breakfast of Rolling Rock, Donuts and Fireworks and not to be forgotten Optopussy airing it out in the middle of circle having her hair braided – was that included in the price of admission?
Grandmaster – “Any Crack Will Do” got things started in Circle welcoming 3 Virgins – Two in the Pink’s Brotha (Just AJ) the newest addition to the Family Scroat (Just Alex) and another new young Reading Hash Harriet.
So off we went (the customary 10 min. head start not required – these old timers must have laid the trail last weekend) down the steps and to left we went only to find out that right wasn’t wrong it was right. The annual merry mountain Hash was on for the 50 Half Minds in attendance. In no time we found ourselves negotiating a rather sketchy downhill “Butt Scootin’ Doggie” decent. Some looked like they shit their pants and others probably did.
It was only fitting that our first B.N. was located at the old Reading Premium Brewery, 9th & Laurel. Our Nuclear Half Wits – Deathwish and AC/DC did some explorin’ and destruction to the second level of the rustic remains. When all were noticeably gathered the pack was off again – up, up and climbing we went with a number of Racist Hashers running the steep uphill. Little Scroat (fruit of my loins) was amongst the pack, he likes to drink. Another B.N. at the Mansion House (a Moron property) – a Trash Can, Fireworks and Beer what could go wrong – a wake up service for all of Moron’s renters surely appreciated it.
After a Tour of Pennsylvania’s 4th Poorest City we made it to the other side and meandered through the Flour Defaced (Pray for Me) Cemetery leading us up through some pretty rough Shiggy to the next Mountain climb and a few new Mtn. Bike Trails ultimately ending at the Witches Hat and welcomed by another Fireworks Show and found HHH.
After Crack successfully negotiated a Circle War Stand Off with those in the Witches Hat (We really can get along) we were blessed with the arrival of the remaining members of the Family Scroat – Baaaddd Teacher (Colorado Springs) and Just Alex (Reading’s newest Virgin).
Deathwish performed 2 of his famous Hash Hymns, AC/DC pants’d Two in the Pink, someone else pants’d AC/DC. Numerous Accusations and Down downs were assigned including the Witches Hat Hold Outs. The Best Line of the Day – when Bukkake was called into circle and Decoy called out “And All Other Boy Band Members in Circle”. A spirited “Swing Low Sweet Chariot” was followed by “Spring Roll” performed by the Colorado Scroats – Little Scroat & Baaaddd Teacher.
A little jaunt 1-1/2 miles down the mountain we arrived at our favorite July 4th Apres “The Reiffton Fire Company”. Sam Adams IPA flowed, a bountiful breakfast (2 scoops of each-no matter you only asked for one) Sausage, Bacon, Hash Browns, Eggs and Fresh Fruit and apparently Irish Car Bombs for Dessert!
I leave you with a song:
I'm not half the man I used to be,
Every time I cough things just fall off of me,
Oh I believe in leprosy.
Thanks - RH3!

Big Scroat

#1023 Lion King Hash

I am sitting at the bar (where elsewhere would I be?) waiting for my late friends so I thought I would bang this out so people stop harassing me. I knew I should have written this right after the run but I was hungover.  My memory for this trail is a little spotty, but here it goes.

A fairly large group of hashers gathered in the parking lot of Liberty Taproom on a moist and sticky summer evening, like 3 months ago. We took off through the streets of Anteitam and up the mountain.  I think there was beer stops and a liquor to the rear perhaps?

I do remember we finished at Foot’s house and due to nasty neighbors, we were forced to circle in the kitchen.  I am glad I didn’t have to clean up that mess.

After was at liberty, of course.  After “just one more”x4.  I stumbled home hence the hangover.

Sorry guys, thats all I got. See ya next time. 


Not Twat

#1022 Da Hash

Bash Hash #1022, Ok this trash goes way back to a beautiful sunny day in June, well at least it was by the time we gathered in City Park, I kinda recall it raining all day right up until it was time for us hashers to unload our bikes for one of our so much fun Bashes, the highlight of circle was our hare for this trail Foot Fairy letting Teenbeat know he was not gonna be allowed to take part in this evenings activities without his helmet...so much for our saying there are no rules in hashing, lol.. hey but at least Tohs vehicle would not be harmed on this night!! So off the pack goes winding down through the city arriving at our first BN the Penn Tavern, after consuming beers the pack was off again to our next stop which took us to NE Readings famed dive bar Jack's Pub, more beers were consumed before the pack headed out again and going south on 10th where eventually we wound up at not our next BN but actually stopping at Taqueria Jalisco where us riders were treated to just about an all you could eat tacos buffet, after consuming many tacos the pack was getting quite thirsty by now, thankfully we only needed a short ride to our next BN Tophers where we were able to wash down all those tacos with more beers. Then the pack was off for another short ride where trail ended with the finding of the HHH markings at Skips Forrest Inn, coney burgers, dogs and more beers were enjoyed by all. Thanks Foot for the awsome tour of some of our Citys finest dive bars, definitely was another great Bash!!

On On, Old News

#1021 Eggs & Kegs Hash

What better way to kick off Memorial Day weekend than ramble through the sleeping streets of Reading with a belly full of beer on a sweltering Saturday morning? In what is fast becoming an anal RH3 tradition, the pack gathered at a dusty bar on 10th St., Jack’s Pub, for proper lubrication. Several semi-coherent local patrons gazed in wonderment at the growing bevy of bims, with more great asses, perky breasts and full sets of teeth than this establishment had seen in the entire last decade. The spunky, grey-haired bartender was doling out double vodka and cranberries to all who asked.

Our hares, Foot Fairy and Crack arrived, seemingly pleased at the robust turnout, which was quite good considering the exact details of the On On were made available some 15 minutes earlier... GM Crack held his usual extensive 45 second beginning Circle and the pack was off.

Through the glass-encrusted and urine-drenched alleyways, we went. Flour was fairly apparent initially. Within several blocks, I Want a Fucking Refund proclaimed she was going to puke. Victim of one too many vodka/crans or too little recent hashing...you decide.

We made our way to the first BN, La Rienda and were treated to Mexico’s only welcome immigrant...Corona. Then, back afoot and down Oley Street where trail magically disappeared. Several hashers ran up 6th St. toward Cafe Waldorf and “found nothing”. Others circled the Rite Aid, before heading uphill toward City Park. At this point, the pack fragmented. A half dozen of us seemed to think checking out the allegedly closed Sofrito’s was a good idea. Meh..not so much. Grill Then Chill was equally a bust.

At this point, a rare moment of common sense took hold. Since the Apres was on Penn Ave., why not head in that direction? We made it as far as Penn St. when logic again failed and we popped into our favorite “Do I really belong here?” bar, the Penn St. Tavern. Breaststroaker and friends were happily ensconced here, with a line of tequila shots at the ready.

Having killed any remaining brain cells, we left to head across the Penn St. Bridge and end this debacle. But wait....a call from Foot Fairy ....encouraging us to head along the trail by the river. He assured us the next BN was “just a bit farther”. A photo stop and an encounter with muggles in the park later, we still hadn’t found the BN. Then...a true trail arrow...pointed across the Tulpehocken Creek. We waded/swam across to find the hares in the drainage tunnel on the other side...beaming at having cajoled us into further self-abuse. A cold beer and all was forgiven.

The final leg of the trail took us through the ankle-breaking flood runoff trench from the mall and back toward Penn Ave. We entered the Beer Wall through the backdoor (Amelia?) and were treated to a fantastic breakfast buffet. I don’t recall where or if we had Circle. I was far too fascinated by the abundance of serve-yourself taps. Having been properly fed and beered, fellowship was shared, all to the smell of bacon, sweat and the lingering odor of the Tulpehocken.

Excellently shitty trail, Foot and Crack!

On On,

#1020 The Medicare Hash

It was a beautiful Monday evening. With no plans, I checked the calendar. Oh, there is a hash tonight. It’s close by! Sounds like a good bad idea. Got ready, headed off toward the on-out. Thought I saw something about 6:15, I shouldn’t have any problems making it in time.

As I roll into the lot, Bad Semen is getting antsy. “Dances, you need to get parked! Pack is about ready to leave! You can’t be late!” I’m wondering what the big fuss is, aren’t these geezers retired? Don’t they have all kinds of time on their hands? I get the car parked, throw some hash cash at the hares and off we go.

The pack finds trail heading out of the parking lot towards the new Sheetz. Maybe they have some Geritol. No Geritol stop, off we go into the Highlands. How appropriate, a retirement community.

We end up at the front door, wondering what the deal is. The hares show up with further instructions, we are to board the 6:22 bus and get off at the second stop. We will find marks once we get off the bus. Sounds way too complicated for a bunch of half-minds. The bus arrives, financial transactions are negotiated and the pack gets on. The few other passengers look on in quiet bewilderment.

The bus arrives at what was probably the first stop. No one was waiting to get on, no one was looking to get off, so the bus continues on. At the second stop, a few a the pack got off, but the hive mind prevailed and got them back on, after all, the bus didn’t really stop at the first stop.

At the third stop, the pack gets off. No flour is found anywhere nearby. A few not quite half-minds decided to head back toward the previous stop, and found flour. The pack continued on toward the museum park area.

Trail could have gone right once we got to the park, but that would have been too easy, and flour was found heading off toward the West Reading pool. The pack crossed 5th street, and headed along the North side of the creek. It would have made more sense to cross the creek where we had a bridge, since the South side would have been more appropriate for the direction we needed to go, but we were already one bus ride into this fiasco, so what else could the hares have up their sleeve?

Trail led us to where the other bridge used to be. Imagine that. The pack proceeded to cross the creek, although a few enterprising members had taken the southern route and avoided the crossing.

Flour led us to Jungle’s place and a shot stop. The reenergized pack then headed off toward the Thun trail. But alas, flour did not take us to the trail, there was some lovely shiggy to be found in back of Berks Catholic. The pack emerged on the other side, following trail to Lancaster avenue and across, ending up at Mott’s for a bear near.

Flour then led us down through the nastiest parts of Shillington, finally ending up at RUSeen for the on-in. Pizza was already there, and everyone started to dig in. Eventually we were able to get a circle going, where accusations were made, songs were sung and down-downs were consumed.

Swing Low ended circle and the hash went off looking for a piece.

For the kennel,

#1019 Red Dress Hash

Whoever DIDN'T write this trash should be shot! Red Dress hashes are extraordinary events, well worth retelling...

#1018 Whip it Good!!! Totally 80’s Hash

It was lovely day at the end of April; sunny, no hot, and no rain (perfect). The kennel was treated to “Whip it Good” hash shirts from the hares before circling up in the parking lot of Ollie’s. The 80’s theme was a hit mostly everyone was able bust out some of their 80’s style clothes (bright colors, and short shorts). Fudge Packer, Big Scroat, and Roids even came rocked out 80’s hair style. Two in the Pink was the tall a Richard Simmons look alike. And Hare Today Cums Tomorrow wore pantyhose on his head, glad the cops didn’t think he was trying to rob a bank 80’s style.

The hares, Hot Lip, Casting Couch, and Hares Today Cums Tomorrow, were called into circle for chalk talk. Casting Couch pasted out four different color scrunchies to everyone, while Hot Lip explained the kennel was split up in to teams based on the color scruchies and every team member had to be present at each stop to start the challenge before the team would be able to move on. (Sounds like a good bad idea!) As the halfminds took off, several of the hashers were taking head counts for the number of hashers in their group. (Boy what a competitive group! )

At the 1st stop, we were treated to several different flavors of Mad Dog and a Rubric Cub Challenge. The challenge was to get one side with all one color; that sounded better than getting all the sides. All the teams were working hard at the challenge by the time I got there except my “orange” team which were glad I finally showed up. Just Karen was not worried she has this challenge under control, in a matter of two minutes she complete the challenge for our team. Go Orange Team! The team next to us decided the challenge was a little too much, so they started cheating by peeling the color stickers. The “orange” team felt bad for them so we gave them our cub as we took off. The hares allowed the rest of the teams to take off.

The hashers ran a little ways to crossed over the creek to get to the stop, Hamm’s and Break Dance Challenge. Each team picked one hasher to break dance. Blue team picked Breast Stroker, Orange team picked Roids, Yellow team picked NFB, and last team picked Two In the Pink. Some the warm ups were extremely funny to watch especially Two In to Pink. I can’t even remember what he and NFB did beside it made me laugh my ass off. (Some pictures were posted.) After Breast Stroker did several moves some hashers remembered the moves from his routine in the Berks County Dancing with the Stars, he even wore the same outfit. Even with all of Breast Strokers well practice moves the hash favorite was Roids with his break dance moves. Go Orange Team!

Off the pack went to a Turkey/Eagle slip, Eagle went right down around the park while the Turkey went right to the next challenge behind RUSeen. The Hares went all out with B&J wine coolers for the stop with Simon Says Challenge. By this time several hashers decided to switch teams before getting to the stop. The half minds demonstrated even after several beers and shot stop they can play a wicked game of Simon Says Challenge. Refund, Orange team, showed off her memory skills by taking down two teams but Toh, Blue team, revealed his extremely impressive memory skills and won the challenge. Alright, Go Blue Team!

The pack was off to find the HHH behind Skateway. We circled, we sang, down down were consumed, finished all the mad dogs and had a fucking blast with accusations. The Apres were at Skateway were hashers could show of the rolling skills from the 80’s while being slightly intoxicated.

On On!


#1017 So long, Swamp

Sitting in some pub wedged between a mountain and a stream, sucking down a Diet Coke, watching all the smarter people drinking Car Bombs. I feel 2 hands slip seductively around my waist – things are looking up!

“ Hey Bushy, it’s your turn to write the Trash”. Suddenly the Diet Coke is looking so much more exciting.

Lets start with some disclaimers. I cannot remember anyone’s names – real ones or Hash ones. So I am just going to make them up. Good luck working out who you are.

SWAMPS FAREWELL HASH or the Hash That Everyone Gradually Farewelled Themselves From – including the Hares.

It was a moist warm afternoon as the pack started to form. Money changed hands, a few sexual favours were given or hoped for. It continued to be moist and warm, and continued and continued. After about 20 minutes the hounds became bored, and started to remove clothing, search cars for possible dregs of alcohol. The afternoon remained warm and moist …………… aaaagh, and finally the hares showed up. It was a close thing the local pubs were looking enticing. Flour was waved around, instructions about finding alcohol and then taking it all the way to the back of the pack were given – won’t that cause spillage? Elbows were waved in a general direction and about 2/3 rds of the pack waddled off. The other 1/3 including the farewell boy, disappeared and were never seen until much later. Who knew there was this much shiggy and wet ditches to crawl through in suburbia?. The pack happily meandered around winding streets, glass strewn undergrowth, boggy swamps until the 1st beer stop. A brief discussion, and I mean brief, was had on the size of Fudgy’s penis , and we all moved off. A few busy roads which in true Hasher fashion we scuttled across without looking left or right, the weak will die, more beer for the rest of us. Entering the cemetery, about 10 Hashers decided to farewell themselves and short cut to the Apres. Hashers meandered around the cemetery carefully avoiding certain grave markers while peeing on cursing on top of others. Eventually the trail lead down to the Tunnel. Apparently there was a shot stop, but no-one could find the bloody bottle. It took about 10 minutes for the hounds to give up on the search, however this gave Verna time to appear over the hill she had been exploring and rejoin the pack. Fun and joy subsequently disappeared as the foot race down the Exeter River Trail began. Did I mention it was a warm moist day? The fast people took off, and the slow people just took off all their clothing and huffed and puffed down the trail. More bottles were found, but as it was difficult to determine where the back of the pack was, since again we had lost more people, we just drank in place. ACDC could be heard screaming up on the railway track, (interestingly it appeared he was running in both direction at once ), however we ignored him. At the True Trail heading straight into a large muddy drop off, Fudgy, Inu, Trash unhitched themselves from the pack and disappeared. Now down to about 12 Hashers the rest of us stopped for beer and water at Tofu’s vehicle. Tofu proudly absolved himself of any responsibility for the trail – I thought he was a doctor not a lawyer. Apparently he just delegated where it should be dropped. I don’t think that counts. Whatever – your trail sucks and apparently all the Hashers except the idiots at the beer check know where it is going and have already gone there.
Off we go, down some gravel road, and then for something different up onto the railway track. I love watching Hashers run on the tracks. It’s like a cross between a drunk who is having a stroke. The next part was a piece of genius. The trail leaves the railway for a steep shiggy covered descent into a shiggy covered bog. This is where intelligence is determined. At least 6 Hashers made the appropriate – Fuck that, response and continued on the track. However, 6 of us, myself included, threw themselves gainfully over the edge of the cliff. I will treasure the angry screams of Opto as she impaled herself like a fly on every available thorny branch on the way down. It is a true talent. I myself found no shiggy and was a mere 12 inches away from her. How does she do it? Down into the bog and back onto…………..oh my god, the Exeter River Trail, will the torture never end? The next absolute and complete stroke of genius came at the end of the Exeter River Trail. Parked probably within eyesight but not on trail was a Beer Check. However the 5 dumbest Hashers ( myself included ) stayed on trail, past the parked car, into the overgrowth where we then thrashed and crashed our way BACK to the car. Again the angry screams and cursing of Opto could be heard for miles as she once again impaled herself on every available thorn.. By this time the railway stroke people had come down from their IQ challenge and were confused by all the drama and blood at the beer check.
Lets wrap this oversized thesis up. A group of Hashers, who realise they are the only idiots not at the Apres. We have accepted that we are morons, but no more! We are going to run straight to this pub, where ever it may be. Does anyone know where it is? No, not really. Well let us demonstrate our intelligence and just run randomly anyway. Eventually we find ourselves at the HHH. However every other Hasher is already inside the pub drinking beer and refusing to come out. For some reason we wait, we wait and wait. Eventually the smart Hashers come out of pub and join us. We continue to wait. Oh, even the Hare with all the beer does not want to be here. Eventually Not Twat rolls up with the beer and the drinking and accusations commence.

#1016 The Honeymoon Hash

Love was in the air. The Hash Gods smiled down on RH3. 2 Hashers found love. Yes, with each other. Angels smiled down on the glorious day when they headed to wed. Birds sang, flowers bloomed, and the sun beamed down. What a wonderful day!

Then the next morning they woke up and decided they would like a Threesome. So Pooperlicious and Cougar Bait decided to ask Optopussy to join them in laying down some trail to remember. Can anyone remember it? I know we met at a park in a development in Sinking Spring. I’m quite certain that all those fast paced Hashers took off and found beer.

I found myself on trail with our own Greek God, Bad Semen, Suckie Sucker, Beulah Balbricker, and Penny for your Twat. We wondered thru some developments and some back country roads getting farther and farther away from where we started. Eventually one of the FRB’s called Beulah to check on the 5 of us and instructed us to head to Paradise by the Slice in Wernersville. Because every threesome should end at Paradise!

When we arrived we found a lone Hare (Cougar) and some other hashers who preferred Drinking to Running, waiting for us with some fine Hash Nectar. We all loaded up into a pickup truck. There were probably 15 of us. Inside and in the back. Safety Third. We headed to the home of the Newlyweds.

Circle was held. Orange food was eaten. Down Downs were drunk. Accusations were made. Silly songs were sung. People changed their clothing in the yard. Family and Neighbors were amused. Dogs got drunk. Typical Honeymoon Hash.

On On,


#1015 Nothing but Crack Hash

Flash back to Crack’s “Nothing Butt-Crack Hash”

The hashers had to contact their dealer to discover the secret location for the hash. The official Hash schedule said location TBD. What the f is TBD, is that like soup of the day. With the help of Zuckerberg himself the location was announced about an hour before the start, ostensibly to keep the cops from finding out the super secrete location at the “Tennis Court by the Army Reserve”. Ok so this was the first Monday night hash of the year. Daylight saving my ass – Snow covered the ground but Crack, Fudgie and a great, great , great ,great past grand master and Cougar showed up in shorts, dumb asses it was nearly dark by the time the hounds were released and the frozen kennel scampered off. Lil Red Riding Ho was in good form and sprinted off the front with Eats Grammy in close pursuit. Soon the front running bastards were out of sight of the rest. NFB took off in a random direction yelling follow me, follow me, follow meeeeeee waving his arm frantically. No one took notice and nor saw him again until the circle. The sun finally came out at the top of Yellowstone park in Shillington where we held the circle. Then the sun set plunging us into near total darkness. We shivered and shacked and sent up rescue flares so the DFL’s could find us in the pitch darkness. In the mean time we drank the 6 pack the that the hares brought to the top by donkey. The beer bitch managed to save a few cups for down downs, then sweet chariot was song. A grizzly bear was spotted and everyone sprinted back to the lot. Lil Red Riding Ho, made it safely as did most of the rest but EATS Grammy got eaten.

Anyway, that’s the way we remember it.

Respectfully submitted:

Lil Red Riding Ho and Eats Grammy

#1014 An Old Fashion Hash

The hash group met up at Deer Lake Pub and Restaurant for Hash #1014.  Beers were had and items were purchased in the bathroom for the Après.  Circle was done at the pub, where paying attention during circle was important for later in the hash, which I was not paying attention.  Hairs were Cougar Bait and Toe Fu. 

We were off, fashionably late.  Down the road we go, heading towards a lake, knowing this was not a Rogue North Trail, I knew would not be crossing the lake. Then came our first Turkey-Eagle.  I chose eagle.  NFB, Swamp and I ran back down route 61, across a bridge and onto our first crick.  This was an easy crick to cross.  Around the fire company that was having a tent party, back down the other side of the lake.  Still running all on road, pondering why I have trail sneakers on.  

And now to the check that would take us through the marshy swamp.  Navigating this swamp will be easier than what is to come. After this marsh, we had our first Beer Near, or was it!  If I would have been paying attention, in circle (story of my life) I would have known it was a Beverage Near.  Packs Um handed me a Hamm’s out of the bag, and I drank. So, I missed out on the Old Fashioned.  While enjoying our beverages, we watched the bald eagle in the trees.

Off we go to our second crick. This one was a little bigger and one foot was going to get wet.  Now we are hashing along a chain link fence going through a boggy creek, no way to save your shoes now.  Now I'm glad I have my trail shoes on. Come out of that to a parking lot back onto the road where the Turkey-Eagle were meeting up. NFP did backtrack a little on the Turkey trail. Then we are at our second Beer Near, me still not realizing there's old fashioned in the bag.

Off we go again immediately to another Turkey-Eagle.  Swamp, NFB and I go Eagle again.  I ran the road, some crossed a cornfield, we all met up at the same place, at a Check.  Pretty sure most hashers went up the 20-foot mud wall that was a deer trail, which led to nowhere.  After hunting for trail on top of the hill, it was decided to go back to the road and go the other direction.  Swamp, NFB and I continue down a road to a true trail marking.  

Swamp and NFB went straight down the road, I decided to follow the true trail.  True trail went immediately to a rather large crick or small river.  Looking around, there was no bridge in sight.  Could not find any logs to MacGyver a bridge to get across.  So, I stepped on in.  Halfway across, I'm balls deep in this thing, I now regret this.  At least I had my necklace with enough beads, that if I was going to drowned, I was hoping it would float me to safety (Thank You In U).  Almost across and the fear of going blind from hypothermia is in the back of my mind.  I'm out of the water and I can still see, I'm not blind nor am I shaking uncontrollably, as I have a history of this, and I am back on trail.  

Ran one block and there was the HHH in the grass alongside of house.  FRB was yours truly, DFL was NFB, with POE not finishing and returning back to the pub. 

Thank you
One Ball, Two Ball, Red Ball, Blue Ball

#1013 V Day Hash

Someone probably got VD...

#1012 Ground Hog's Day Hash

And so… like the swallows returning to Capistrano, the pack assembled for yet another Groundhog day Hash. And so… like the swallows returning to Capistrano, the pack assembled for yet another Groundhog day Hash. And so… like the swallows returning to Capistrano, the pack assembled for yet another Groundhog day Hash. Yeah, that was like three times. And so… like the swallows returning to Capistrano, the pack assembled for yet another Groundhog day Hash. There it is again. And so… like the swallows returning to Capistrano, the pack assembled for yet another Groundhog day Hash. And so… like the swallows returning to Capistrano, the pack assembled for yet another Groundhog day Hash. Seriously, I could do this shit all day folks. It NEVER. GETS. OLD. And so… like the swallows returning to Capistrano, the pack assembled for yet another Groundhog day Hash. You see? There it goes again, and lets just give it one more And so… like the swallows returning to Capistrano, the pack assembled for yet another Groundhog day Hash. You’d think I would have learned my lesson after the last few GHDH experiences. I KNEW what I was getting myself into – heck, we ALL knew, yet we showed up anyway. For those of you who haven’t experienced a GHD, Reading-style, Hills, U-Hauls, Hamms, Shots, BAMBA Lot, Trail. That about sums it up, but for those of you dying to know how this hash ACTUALLY went, well…. After a brief game of musical vehicles (designed to minimize our auto-footprint at the new and improved Antietam Lake parking lot) the illustrious Horn-O-Plenty sent a pack of about 35 off into the woods with all sorts of spray-painted directions, to which none of us really paid attention, and then we were off… get this UP hill. I know, shocker right? Trail zig-zagged up the mountain in the general direction of Rotary Park (and quite possibly Kugler’s Roost if you listened to the old-heads who thought they were “in the know”). Instead, we found ourselves at the BAMBA lot, downed some orange food, and hopped in the U-Haul driven by Bad (I’m only a Teamster) Semen. I positioned myself strategically in the UHaul – hoping to cop a feel from Choo-Choo (hey, I’m not looking for the Supreme Court nomination anytime soon, what do I have to lose?), and when the back door slammed shut, I braced myself with one hand firmly on the wall, and the other went explorin’. When we arrived at the drop-off-zone, the door went up, and I – to my embarrassed surprise – found myself faceto-face with Swamp who had apparently been the small spoon to my big spoon for the entire ride. I’ll be honest – I threw up a bit in my mouth at that point – but in 21 years of hashing, that’s not the WORST thing that’s happened by far. The pack alit upon another trail – this one taking us (surprise surprise) through a shot check, skirting behind some private property and (wait for it…) back to the BAMBA lot. Dude. I did NOT see that coming (and neither did Swamp as mentioned in the previous paragraph, but I digress). After fueling up on more Hamms and Orange Food, it was back into the Auschwitz transport, for a trip down the other side of the Hill. Trail started across from Rotary Park, passing yet another shot check (thanks hares!), and then back on some pavement for a trip up the motherfucking double-black diamond ski trail known as Polly’s driveway. More Hamms, more shots, and then some instructions from the hare to go back down the fucking ski slope driveway, turn left go for a while and “look for orange markings, and head-in.” Yeah so, ha ha ha the orange markings were on the fucking UHaul, so another ride in the UHaul, and another Baatan deathmarch up Polly’s FUCKING DRIVEWAY. Circle commenced once all were in, and while the rest of us were freezing our little tails off, Crack decided to take his time – I don’t know if he was trying to be funny, or if he was starting to experience the early effects of frostbite, but the little fucker seemed like he couldn’t remember the who/what/why/when of the circle. Liqour-Box from LVH3 seemed to be the easiest target, consuming a half a case of Hamms on her own (with a big smile on her face to boot), and then Trailer Trash was called in for wearing new shoes, making for a cold and miserable downdown for her. Then it was back down the hill. Being the experienced hasher, I made a beeline for Swamp’s car (Because FUCCCK walking down that fucking driveway again) – and we managed to fit 14 hashers into his poor little Mazda for the trip back to the cars. Apres was held at Foots’ mancave/swingin’ bachelor pad. Great chili, some tasty cookies, GroundHog Day Movie playing on Foot’s TV, and a fine assortment of beers. Shitty Hash—Shitty Trail – Shitty Apres.

On On,  Decoy

#1011 Hot Crack-olicious

Don't remember the trail number but it was starting to snow. We start trail and I end up falling behind. There was ice. Walking up a hill, ice everywhere. Getting lost happened. Didn't see any signs of where I was going. Followed a set of what I thought was one of the hashers dog footprints. It got colder and colder. Walking up the hill full of snow and ice. No marks in sight. I went my own way. Getting lost in trail is my thing that happens on accident. Kept walking till I saw NFB and tried to run on snow. Me and snow do not get along well. I was told I went on my own trail and didn't follow a hasher dog foot prints.

On On, A Penny for Your Twat

#1010 Swampsicle

It was cold...the end. 

#1009 The New Years Day Hash

It was a mild New Years Day as 20 or so half minds stumbled into City Park to try and clear their bodies of the poison from the night before... or give it a second dose. We also had two new boots in the group, Just Jason and Just Clare. The hares, three beloved RH3 bims had something a little different planned for the pack. We divided into groups and were given an address on a paper and the groups were off with their celebratory NYD leis and noise makers. First address led us to the SouthEast Branch Library were we sucked down some shots, got a selfie of our whole group, and then received our next direction. Back across city park and on out to Hampden Park for more shots with Beulah, another selfie, and our next destination. On out further up Hampden Blvd towards Excogi’s Brady Bunch Home, but we found the fruited whiskeys and screwdrivers at a closer residence (HotP’s parent’s house I think). Now, here’s where the trail got turned up a few notches and we really started sweating out the booze... time to head up the mountain. The several shots prior had the pack looking a little sluggish as they put one foot in front of the other up the rocky slope, some hashers sticking to the trail and others straight bushwhacking up up up. Finally upon arrival at the top, we were greeted with more libations at the Pagoda before turning us back around to go back down the switchbacks to our final destination, Wanner Mansion (Beulah’s abode). We circled, we accused, we sang, we swung low. Apres ensued in the mansion where with traditional New Year’s Day pork and kraut, and a successfully stuffing of every hasher present into one of the smallest kitchens ever. Good times!!

~Any Crack’ll Do

#1008 Day before Day Before Hash 😜

Sung to the tune of 12 days of Christmas
12 pricks a poking
11 wanks a prancing
10 shoes a drowning
9 streams a crossing
8 virgin tears
7 holes of mini golf
6 greasy pizzas
5 trailers rockin'
FORE golf balls
3 drink stops
2 deer carcases 
and a hasher who got named Trailer Trash.
Yours truly, 
Johnson Gets Paid for Oral on the Spot

#1007  Boilo Hash

Picture it….Reading, PA 2018

A bunch of us gathered outside at Mike’s wearing our finest headlamps – Breast Stroaker, Choo Choo, Dances with Whores, Exploited College Girl, Hot Lips, Nasty Panties, Not Twat, Sinderella, Suckie Sucker, Tongue Ya G-Spot and two of Santa’s helpers – Just Joe & Jungle Blow. There was a quick appearance by Beulah Breaker, who took all our money and beat feet. We got instructions from our hare, Any Crack’ll Do before he headed out with the pack to follow a few minutes later. 
After a couple jaunts up and down the same fucking street we finally found trail that led somewhere and were on our way. We came upon the shot stop in the corner of a parking lot…but RPD was there first. Most of us just kept on walking, but not Suckie! She grabbed that bottle and carried it off while Hot Lips distracted the cop with her….hot lips of course (and a friendly “Hi”). ON-ON!
Our trail led us past some G rated blow up figures…lame! Clearly none of these homes were those of hashers. 
Beer Near!  We found Old News and Bukkake sitting at the bar at Sofrito. On the way out Suckie grabbed the bottle she stashed outside in the bushes and we made our own shot stop as we sipped from bottle just outside the door before continuing back to Mike’s to find out what this boilo stuff is all about.
HHH and circle was in the parking lot across from Mike’s. Which we found out after some of us went into Mike’s and looked around for HHH in there. After all, we are half minds! 

< Nasty Panties >

#1006 Santa Fucks the Hash

Hashers in there most festive outfits gathered in one of Readings parking lots taking in the amazing views while we awaited the arrival of our GM or more importantly the arrival of our beloved Hamms!! Crack looking like a walking advertisement for Miller Lite called for circle to begin, after receiving directions from one of Santa's Elfs which to the enjoyment of the hashers there actually was gonna include a BN on trail this year....the pack was off for maybe a block or two before all the hashers were stumped for a bit searching for any sign of flour, eventually the pack was on trail which went over the river and through West Reading to a wind up at a bunch of railroad tracks, eventually finding the BN on top of a rather large sized hill with much better views then the on on lot, for some less fortunate hashers there path to the BN was impeded by a passing freight train but at least a considerate hasher did manage to toss a beer over the passing train into the awaiting hands of legal...well actually she was the first to pick it up off the ground!! HHH was found by most where from what I hear a rather pretty swift moving circle was held, probably due to the fact that FF was way off trail and wasnt present with all his normal interruptions, off to the on after at one of our  favorite establishments (probably the only place that would put up with our shenanigans) Decarlos where we were treated to wings, fries, and a whole bunch of great liquid refreshments   And this my fellow hashers is where this story is gonna end due to fact that myself and Hotp had to leave the Apres early due to a prior engagement....Thanks Santa for another great day of Hashing!!!

On On, Old News!!

#1005 Always Sunny in Exeter Hash

Little Big Dick wass assigned this trash...guess he couldn't rise to the occasion. Little Big Dick was assigned this...guess he had couldn't rise to the occasion. 

The pack met near Trout Run dump after a pre-lube at Liberty. Fudge and I were the hares, so naturally...it was cold and rainy. BNs were consumed. Liquor backs were ignored. Apres at Reifton Fire Company. 


#1004 Pretryptophan Hash

AC/DC sucks and failed to submit hash trash...

#1003 The Stupidly Bad Hash
So, after death threats and nasty looks from Sucky Sucker I decided to write something. Hope I can remember some details. This event happened over a month ago. I try to flush these stupid events from my memory so I have room for more important things. It was a dark and stormy night. (woops wrong story) It was the FLASH- Stupidly Bad night hash. Hared by two RH3 seniors Bad Semen & Stupid Brother. Many of pack gathered at Paolo’s for the prelube. It was surprising how many people made it on time. I guess they all remembered to set there clocks back. The drive to the start was short. looked like a funeral procession going up the narrow winding driveway to parking. Crack was very anxious for the pack to leave and ran a very quick circle. I missed the circle and the pack leaving. It wasn’t hard to follow the flashlights and various reflective wear in the woods. It looked like a confused pack of lightning bugs in search of a sweet brew nectar. I must have read the trail details incorrectly as I was the only one dressed as a FLASH Hasher. Innuendo and just-Karen had pick the pricker’s of my pecker a few times during the run. I wasn’t complaining! Eventually we made it to Stupid brothers to enjoy a beer on the back deck along with a farm aroma. Stupid brother didn’t allow anyone to get comfortable and promptly kicked the pack out from the beer check. We traveled across the road and were confronted with a long winding uphill hike. Over the river and thru the woods we went leading to a residence with a small fire pit at the back patio. It was a smorgasbord beer selection including Colt 45, Labatt ICE and the usual Hamm’s. Crack tried to delay running circle because of a bunch of missing hashers. There was talk of a hasher having a heart attack on trail somewhere. The pack was getting irritable as usual and Crack decided to run circle. Colt 45 was the down-down beer choice. Stupid brother gave several paid advertisements for cracks uncle’s paving company. Missing hashers still hadn’t arrived by the end of circle. Now a hash Seal Team was assembling to run the trial backwards. The missing included Flamer and Dancing Fool. Between those two I think they should have plenty of survival gear to spend a night in the woods. At least one trash bag and a flame source. While doing car backs word arrived that the missing where located. Off to Jimi’s Thing for the on after!

#1002 Squat-o-ween --- a Halloween hash trash adventure begins.......
So... there I was-minding my own biz-while I was so distinctly made aware that Old News nominatined myself for this chronical....so old news--FU. It was a circle with impending drizzle, hashers in their finest "weekend activity" or "side job" attire.....a chalk talk with way too many instructions and chatter...and then a 5min (or 4) live hare start. Being told to "pay attention" for this installment of trash was hard....let me try to remember...there was flour.....and about a half mile of running...and a back check of 11.....who the hell counted 11? So followed back to 11 and some went off trail by the creek....like myself. It was a nice creek....a little high, a little muddy, a little aggressive.......a little.....no one cares..got it. Back to trail.....passed some walkers to catch up on this report sightings...there was a shot/beer stop behind a stone building. Hashers were happy, hydrated, and damp. Over the bridge we go.....hash hash hash. Through streets of left, right, check......soooo much pavement......and a 2 mile incline of complete suckery. Wtf. I found the only shiggy on trail with a bloody quad (I'm okay....did not need stitches 😂) there was much rejoicing as back to an amazing decline led to more City pavement and a hare that was seen and almost snagged by the notorious NFB. Squats hhh'd at Black Forest brewing...circled back at the lot....what did we learn? That costumes and over 6 miles of trail leads to chaffing, beverage consumption, and a Halloween hash enjoyed by all. Have a great weekend, effers!!!!!!!

#1001 Beer wars - The Empire drinks Jack.
Hares - the Beautiful OcotoPussy and Foot Fairy.
After the hares explained the very complicated details of today’s hash which was something about poker in the rear chips and having to drink beer 3 times at each bar, plus the possibility of a very generous Breast Stroker buying shots for the oth-er team, because he wants to play for the other team, two team leaders were picked. Only because they were dressed the same, NFB and the Fudge Packer.
Sung to We are the Champions
I've paid my hash dues
Time after time
I've done my trespassing
But committed no crime
And bad mistakes
I've made a few
I've had my share of down-downs in my face
But I've come through
We are the champions, the Fudge Packers
And we'll keep on drinking 'til the end
We are the champions
We are the champions
No time for losers (Team NFB)
'Cause we are the champions of the HASH world
I've taken my beers
And my hash name calls
You brought me fame and fortune and everything that goes with it
I thank you all
But it's been no bed of roses
No pleasure run
I consider it a challenge before the whole human race
And I ain't gonna lose to Team NFB
We are the champions, the Fudge Packers
And we'll keep on fighting 'til the end
Fudge Packers are the champions
Fudge Packers are the champions
No time for losers (Team NFB)
'Cause we are the champions of the HASH world
We are the champions, my hash friends
And we'll keep on Drinking 'til the end
Fudge Packers are the champions
Fudge Packers are the champions
No time for losers (Team NFB)
'Cause we are the champions of RH3.
SO if you are not sure who won, well you’re stupid, you’re stupid, you’re really fucking dumb…
Other details of tonight’s shenanigans. The Fudge Packers were first assigned to Skips Forest Inn, the whole team is type A (except me) who ran uphill (really was a slight incline) to the bar. Thankfully, they all ran a huge type A event this weekend and were too tired, so I managed to keep pace with some of them.
At Skips, we forced ourselves to drink our beers as quickly as possible. Thank God the trash can to my right was kind enough to help me out. Before departing we left a token of shots for the losers.
Next stop Brewers, seriously too fucking far for me. Thankfully, it was mostly downhill until the bridge, where we crossed paths with the Losers. Again, drink an-other beer quickly. I might just puke on the next leg of the run. Ocotopussy’s beer magically filled up. Yummy.
Next stop, Tavern on Penn. Where we were greeted by horn blowing Boo-Boo Kaki. Another full beer and bad tequila shots. The losing team joined us after we won, of course, followed by much rejoicing. Only Foot Fairy would have the Hash consume this much alcohol on a school night.
Circle up was hysterical all around. Casting Couch, our beer bitch, was already plastered, Foot was bantering with Grand Master Crack, In U end oh has a birthday coming up, Eats Granny saves the Octopussy’s Ballon, and everyone was feeling intoxicated.
To the Apre to sober-up with some food and more beer. When Suckie and Old News announce that I have hash trash. Fuck you, ya fucking fucks!
Love my hash bitches!
Suckie Suckerton (aka Choo-choo)

 #1000 – the 34DD Campout 2018
So, the slobbering pack met up at the Olivet Blue Mountain Camp in the middle of fucking nowhere, Hamburg, PA on a pleasant, cloudy, 70-ish degree afternoon of Saturday, September 22, 2018 AD for RH3’s celebration of the 50th trail of GM, ToeFU, the 34th analversary of RH3 and the 1000th trail.
Hashers who may or may not have shown-up at some point or other included ToeFU, Any Crack’ll Do, Beulah Ballbreaker, Cause for Blindness, Bitch Tits, Brag a Deer General, Dan Marine-Ho, Decoitous Interruptus, Hot Lips, Food Fairy, Jewel of duh-Nile, Pooperlicious, Roadkill, Sex-A-Sketch, Sister Maria, Skratch n Stiff, Analholics Anonymous, Dog, Bad Semen, Dick On A Stick, Breast Stroker, Dave the Mason, Bukkake, Dances with Whores, Casting Couch, Cums With the Turf, Cauchafukin, Clampounder, Cougar Bait, Jungle Blow, Inuendo, Horn of Plenty, Eats Grammy, Exploited College Girl, Everyday Asshole, In the Bush, Hot for Teacher, Indian Quieff, Flamer, Fudgepacker, Hogrider, Gone Colloni, Glass Ass, Fuzzbuster, G.I., Gilligan the Skipper Too, Glad He Ate Her, Jungle Blow, Partial Erection, Papoosy, Octopussy, Packs em in the rear, One More Hole, Not TWAT!, Old News, NFB, Just Amy, Just Brett, Legal Easy, Lil Red Riding Ho, Just Mike, Just Sarah, Just Tara, Mary Fucking Poppins, Nasty Panties, NecroPheelMeUp, PubeHeAteHer, Praying Man Tits, Pulls Out Early, Wants It Bad, Unlike a Virgin, Two Finder 2sday, Tour de Puke, Tongue Job, Roids, She’s Mine I Saw Her First, Shrinkage, Sinderella, Suckie Sucker, Stiff On Toe Poke Her, Sir Lince-A-Squat, Spermit, Dancing Fool and . . .?
Our hares for today were No Fucking Brains, who was to blame for the runner’s trail, and Hot Lips, Suckie Sucker and Beullah Ballbreaker, who were to blame for the walker’s trail. ToeFU attempted to get the pack to pay some attention to chalk-talk by wielding a bullhorn, but most of us were already buzzing by now and continued to sip on Reading’s champagne of beers, Hamm’s whilst the hares explained that we might want to look for marks or risk getting hopelessly lost and left for dead, mauled by a wild animal or raped by Big Foot on the mountain. The runners were told to follow white flour, while the walkers were told to follow red flour and eventually the two would meet up, but all we really cared to hear was that there would be beer and shots and some more beer. And so, once everyone in circle had introduced themselves from kennels near and far, we moseyed over to the chapel area of camp to call down a blessing for the sinners amongst us and pay homage to RH3’s ancestors. And after much pomp and cir-CUM-stance it was time to go explore the woods and the metropolis of Hamburg, so…
The runner’s trail started with everyone looking for marks aimlessly for a while until On-On was called and we head-ed up and down many hills, through varying degrees of shiggy, through a tunnel and down a creek, which depending on how far you ventured might have had you in balls-deep or twat-chilling water. We only got fucked-up a few times, one being in a park with a kids’ soccer game going on where we confused some locals who thought we might be luring their children away, but eventually we back-tracked around a pond and through some people’s backyards before they were able to call the cops. Then we came upon the Beer Near in the middle of a walking path and were surprised with a cooler of Hamm’s beer…rare in these parts. We even offered some to the locals passing by, but apparently they had standards and started walking faster, trying not to make eye contact. More for us!
So back on trail we went and head-ed down, down, down further into the town of Hamburg. We got fucked-up at another check, which had a few FRB’s crossing some water unnecessarily, while some other wanks found trail going into town, where marks ran-out, but a few insiders were in the know that we were head-ed to 1787 Brewery for the next Beer Near. And so, those who actually did the whole trail to this point were relegated to the back of the beer line where they belonged and we all enjoyed some fine, tasty beverages and got some souvenir cups out of the whole deal.
At this point, trail went to all red marks, so we followed it through a cemetery where a bottle of Fireball was waiting for us on the gravestone of a family member of one of the hares. Some wanks had inadvertently blown-by this spot, but not to worry…more shots awaited further up in the form of colorful jello-shot syringes. And so, we shot-up for a while to fuel us for the rest of trail, which wound around the hilly neighborhoods until at last, we discovered the On-In back at camp.
One everyone had returned, the games commenced prior to circle starting. First-up was the paddleboat race across the lake. Unfortunately for the participants, and fortunately for everyone else, only one of the paddleboats was in working order. The other two took-on water and had to be towed-in by Gilligan and some other sympathetic hashers while the rest of us drank our beers, pointed and laughed. It gets better. One of the paddleboats ended up flipped and submerged while a bunch of wanks tried to pull the other one onto the floating dock, which somehow started floating away. Those on the floating dock attempted to swim themselves in while the rest of us continued to drink, point and laugh harder. And so, Foot Fairy declared that this would become a swimming race instead, so a bunch of brave souls doggie-paddled across the lake while the rest of us continued the drinking, laughing and pointing.
Then came the Double-D bra race in which two wanks had to strap one arm into the bra, wear the cups like hats and race the other team across a field and back. Not sure if a winner was declared, but no boobs were harmed in the chaotic fray, as far as I could tell.
Circle was eventually held so we could sing some songs are hurl some insults at each other. The hares were berated for their shitty trail. I have no idea who was first in, but Cause was probably last…and she still can’t make no accusation. Bukkake was recognized for being the only hasher to do trail in a wheelchair. Mary Fucking Poppins was called-out for doing hill-repeats this week as training for the trail. A virgin was introduced to hashing. The out-of-towners drank for managing to find this place. All GM’s drank and then former Reading GM’s. More accusations were thrown around while we drained some more Hamm’s and shot-up some more jello. And eventually, we ended with an arousing rendition of “Swing Low” and the hash got a piece.
Following circle, we were treated to a most tasty spread of beef brisket, pulled pork, turkey, cole slaw and some bangin’ mac and cheese. We danced into the night around the DJ booth and drank around the fire till eventually it was time for the midnight naked run…at 11pm. As far as I could tell, no one ran into a tree or got penetrated in any way. And the revelry continued until the wee-wee hours until most of us retired to our dorm rooms, cabins, tents, floor or patch of dirt on the ground.
The next morning we were able to treat our hang-overs with bloody mary’s, mimosas and more beer, more beer, more beer. Our lovely RH3 hosts made a fantastic breakfast of eggs, potatoes, sausage and bagels to soak up all that alcohol.
And Any Crack’ll Do hared the Fatboy trail, which had us hiking uphill for a while, then cutting through some shiggy parts of camp till we ended up at the pavilion where there was plenty more Hamm’s available at the Beer Near and we enjoyed a few games of garbage barrel beer pong.
And all-in-all, it was another shitty trail. Thank you, RH3 for hosting a most fantastic weekend and for showing us wanks a great time!

#999 The Bookends Hash
I didn’t see the sign in sheet to know the exact number, but Horn of Plenty said that there were there forty some halfminds circled in the same location as the previous 33 years for RH3’s 34th Anniversary Hash. After some words from our founding father, the normal chalk talk from our lovely hares, collectively known as SuChoHo and some introductions, the pack set off in search of flour, beer, and a good time. We wound through the streets of Wyomissing until we found the hares nestled behind a garage in an alley with plenty of refreshing Hamm’s and a bunch of cards with answers to RH3 Grandmaster trivia. Didn’t the hares know that in addition to being halfminds, a lot of us were still in diapers during “the early days”. After several rounds (of beer and trivia questions), waves of hashers started checking back in search of the 34th mark to figure out in which direction to HEAD next. I, of course, followed Swamp which led me to a series of wrong turns, but I digress...All the way back to the start we went, and then across the same drainage field that last years Anniversary Hash crossed... going in the direction of Willy Stay Slim’s old house (refer to last years Anniversary Hash Trash). A great thought, but wrong. We turned the opposite way after the field and continued exploring the streets until we found ourselves running past the cotton top’s homes in the Highlands. This is where the pack became split. It was beginning to get dark and the majority of the group (pretty much everyone except Crack), headed towards the cluster of pines where we’ve circled so many times. After no hares were found, the pack started wandering in the direction from which we had originally started...back toward the road, where we traveled uphill, all walking of course not to Type A in it in anyway, until we stumbled upon the hare’s cars parked along a different, yet very similar cluster of pines. Crack eventually joined the pack after running the rest of trail, followed by a few stragglers and the DFL: Fudgie. Songs were sung, down downs were had, and then the tired and slightly less sober pack wandered back to their cars to get cleaned up and start the party that would ensue for the next 40 or so hours. Happy Birthday RH3!! We are all awesome!
Hot For Teacher (with a little help from Crack)

#998 The Family Hash
Here goes nothing...
It was a fine warm September Sunday morning the sun was shining bright and the hash families,dressed in their Sunday’s finest, converged on the pavilion at Egelman’s park after their respective worship services. Luckily the area was swept of child predators by our hares, all that remained was one lonely old soul in a van waiting for a male companion. When ACDC failed to show for the family hash he took off. Lots of healthy youngsters made their way to circle to hear all about hashing. Our GM filled their young minds with fast directions and fun hash facts for the second time in his reign. Gonna make a great grandpa someday soon. The families joyfully took off toward the sun and the bone dry trail. It was very flat, smooth, and easy find. Lots of flour and a nice stairway with large railings led us the the only landmark left in Reading that is not totally infested with drugs and crime ... the Pagoda. Old news gracefully helped Benny up the steps with care. We all gathered for some juice. After a long break in the heat and humidity we started up the road to lots more flour. Some of the smart little ones and their families saw the turkey and headed down the hill following Legal Easy. No one yelled “on on”. It was a very quiet hash until we ended a long dry flat leg to the popsicle stop and grandpa Toe’s SUV. Uncle Fudgie froze the popsicles so much they wouldn’t melt even in the blazing heat. Some little hashers jumped into the car to get to the HHH. The rest of us followed Kilee Borden down the hill past some new vans and into Egelman’s with veteran hashers like Pink ( who is that you ask?), Sucky and family, Crack and Kona, Teacher, Glad, one more hole, Foot, Refund (who you ask?), DH( this was the last pink brought with two little girls), swampy, flamer, just Matt, just Amy, Beulah, nasty, couch,Decoy among others who love kids and a beautiful Sunday afternoon. The circle was very lengthy, children paid close attention to all of grandpa Toes instructions. We sang many many songs. Food was consumed more juice. Finally the piñata was tapped. Hamms for all with a few whacks of a large tree branch. Everyone had a wonderful time. Thanks to our hares, mismanagement, and all other adults like Just Amy’s daughters that kept all the angels corralled. I hope no one got a sunburn like I did that day.
Moral of the story to our young hashers ... don’t tell fibs or you’ll have to write more hash trash
Yours in jest
Breast Stroaker

#997 Lucifer On Wheels
Well this is my first time at writing this trash but I’ll give it a try. We finally had our you dry Monday in a long time from this waterlogged state of Pennsylvania and I was excited to do A bike Hash once again. The Devil Musta made a deal with mother nature to let us have a nice evening even though it was very hot and humid just like his place down below where Lucifer is from. We all showed up at this tiny park in Sinking Spring and Lucifer was nowhere to be found but his co-hairs/Demons Partial Erection and just Mitchell were there to greet us and looked a bit confused since the devil and I have had a few bouts over the years I’ve volunteered to collect the hash cash to get things moving along. We all circled up and the Demons gave us a Direction to follow but no Lucifer so we just stood around and then like a bat out of hell Lucifer showed up on a Harley dressed like a flower child from the 70s. We all followed him down the road for about a half a mile and then he disappeared into the sunset and we continued following flower through the swamp land of sinking Spring. Our first stop was at someone’s house where I made a shortstop and spotted that Head Peddler was leaving early living up to his name and of course Cums on Demand was right behind him so I thought I would get a Head start and follow them out. We winded through Wyomissing Hills where I thought I would try to be like NFB and take a shortcut to avoid a hill. Well I ended up waiting and no one was around I think the devil made me do it, then I herd some screaming in the hills which I hoped was Lucifer sacrificing a maiden, and chased after him and found three hareletts driving around in a circle lost like me so we spotted some flour that lead us out to the highway and looked up in the heavens and there was Lucifer and one of his Demons just Cody above all that hustle and bustle of the highway we had a quick shot and he pointed us towards Wyomissing and we took off from there we wondered around Wyomissing and headed back to the bike park where it all started we had more delicious Hams beer and pizza had the circle and got eaten by mosquitoes so it got dark and Lucifer faded out with the sun set never to be found again or will he?? If you don’t like this Hash trash too bad the GM made me do it and he’s no longer the GM
Praying Mantits
I said it once and I'll say it again. Punctuation saves lives.
Spelling correctly doesn't hurt either... ToeFU

#996 The Jorts Hash
Started from park road behind what use to be was VF. NFB , Swamp, Sinderella & myself , stupid brother kinda follow trail , but never did. The End
Stupid Brother
I'll I can say is...aptly named.. ToeFU

#995 Totally Legal Hash.

Why are we waiting??? It’s the better late than never hash trash for Barely Legal # 995. 
This has been a long time cumming-and some of you know that is very distressing for me!
We gathered on a steamy summer night, starting the hash hot and sweaty. Legal ran thru the rules (what rules?) and off she went to lay the course solo. Just John, the virgin, was welcomed and adorned with a collar and dog tag in case he wandered too far off course. The pack started off together which lasted about 30 seconds. Who needs marks, right? And who doesn’t love crossing the 5th street highway 6 times? We sensed we were close to a beer near despite the marks being swept away by an open fire hydrant. Just Jamie took advantage of this and decided to bathe. Indian Quief and Papussy hosted our first beer stop. There was even a water rescue. AL braved the reservoir and the city trash to save a duck decoy. From there we zig-zagged thru Laureldale looking for the trail. Yada yada yada we ended at Grumpy’s for beer stop #2. The pack continued on/off the trail down alleys and thru the cemetery and around the school until we saw the beautiful HHH back at Big Lots. Legal was able to convince the security guard we meant no harm with our gathering. The highlight of the night was the naming of my dear friend, Just Michelle. She will now be known as Nasty Panties for her collection of crusties in her car. And then a good time was had by all at Johnny and Hon’s. Another perfect hash with a great group of people.

Submitted respectfully by "Current News" Just Amy.

#994 The Float Hash
Had I known I was going to be Hash Trash, I may have paid attention to what was going on all day, but alas, I was not forewarned, SO------> A small group of us pre-lubed at Island Pizza then headed into Birdsboro to some parking lot behind some building. (Don't ask me, I never know where we are) I asked Crack if he still had a life vest in his car that I might borrow, but he got a new car and apparently sold it with the old one so, in true hasher style, I put safety third...I'm going in bare. My shirt clearly stated "not to be used as a floation device". I guess I'll take my chances. After some minor confusion as to what needed to be loaded up for before/after the float portion of our adventure, we finally circled up. Hares Any Crack'll Do, Cougar Bait, and Breast Stroker took the stage and Cougar showed us some crazy barrage of dots. My guess is he wanted to use up the rest of the flour in his sack. Or confuse us. Or both. We did our intros and we notice we have only one "Just" in our midst, Just Michelle. Remember that name, I'll get back to her later.
After a general erection was given, we were off. Roids brought along some air-headed chick who was not only missing a pastie, but apparently missed her waxing appointment, as well. Hey, maybe he's in to that, to each his own. Ok, now it gets fuzzy.....I know we went across a lot, and down a path, and across a creek, and through a 'hood, and around a bend, and down a trail, where a great pic of ExCoGi, Gone Colioni, and Casting Couch was taken as they ran towards the BN. We stopped and drank while sweat poured from our bodies. At 97% humidity, we were very moist. We cheered on a group of muggles as they passed us with quizzical glances wondering who this band of half minds are. A few minutes later and we were off again until we reached another lot filled with tubes, kayaks, a giant rubber ducky and a Cadillac float, complete with lounge area and cooler.
We loaded coolers, aired up and headed down to the river and off we went. The kayakers' job was to corral the rest of us and keep us centered and as on course as possible. No one crashed. They did well. Bukkai was riding solo in a two man float. That is until we suddenly hear a splash and a shark came out of no where...oh, wait. No, not a shark. It's Breast Stroker, swimming at a furious pace, clearly attracted to Bukkaki's sexy red lingerie like a shark to chum. He hopped aboard and they floated along blissfully the rest of the trip. Horn Of Plenty made her way around the pack on an ice cream cone float which lacked a cup holder and made beer drinking a bit of a challenge, but she's a badass and no blow up dessert is gonna stop her from sipping the Nectar of the Hash Gods. Well Done, Horn! We floated along through rain, and sun, and fun conversation.
Speaking of fun conversation, remember Just Michelle? Now, I don't know the whole story because I was holding onto Dances with Whores (who eventually broke free and joined us in the Caddy), but apparently she keeps her crusty britches in her car. I have no idea what that's all about, you'll have to ask her. We reach our exit (hard left, just past the dock with the brightly colored chairs) and pullout, deflate, change clothes, and circle up (you all know that deal..hashers, songs, down-downs, repeat). After we sang Swing Low, we went back to our cars and headed to Hidden River for apres. (Note to self...never leave your phone unattended) When I left i went to grab my tube from Cougar's trailer but to my surprise he had already left....and I'll be buying back my own stuff at the AGM. May the Hash get a piece.
On-On! Casting Couch

#993 The Bash.
F*#k, I hate writing, thanks Choo-Choo! 😫
Well here it is, Pre lubing started at Canal Street Pub. The pack gathered for hares NFB and Foot Fairy to instruct their prepared pedal powered urban assault through Reading with 28 pounds of flour marking trail. The bash attracted a bunch of new virgins, mostly the BAMBA boys and girls, and for the record, I had nothing to do with making them cum! The instructions were given and the two wheeled kennel was off. We got to see lots of alleys and streets I’m sure I never knew existed. A bunch of the hounds on Cotton street ran into the same police car a few times. Wonder what was going through his mind. Up thru Pendora Park to the Pagoda. The BN was at Topher’s (not sure I got the spelling right). Cold beer, how bad can that be? So after the beers off again to find trail, oh look a mini van throwing flour out the window, must be trail! Follow that soccer mom. Even the local neighbors were helping point where trail was going. Down through Reading to RACC trail back to the HHH, if you found it. A quick circle up, sang some songs. “Shitty Trail” was my favorite, just saying. Then back to the Pub for more Liquid lubrication.
Partial Erection
#992 America, What a Country!

I ran hungover with a bunch of sexy people. Did a shot that made me want to vomit. Had some beer, kinda was in love with everyone!

Just Felicia

Short Addendum by ToeFU....

Dozens of bleary-eyed hashers stumbled across the parking lot of the Mt. Penn Fire Tower for sunrise circle this past 4th of July. In addition to the usual fare of donuts and Hamms, ExCoGi ( who was far too persnickety for such pedestrian offerings) set up a table of Mimosas and bagels. Gone Colioni contributed tasty mini brownies. The traditional music track blared in the background.

As sunrise neared, Circle commenced. Introductions were made and the hares explained trail. A few confused virgins were brought into circle to add to their growing discomfort. And then, the pack was off...

Trail was located, first paralleling Skyline Drive, then crossing it. Down over the crumbling stone wall and a treacherously steep bank where an SN was found. More “Mimosas”....or were they? Trail continued downward, loose rocks plentiful, finally arriving at the tennis courts of Reading High. Around them and down into the hood of Northeast Reading. Wait...familiar territory! A few blocks down and the first BN...the Northeast Taproom, old time hash stomping grounds.

After some more liquid breakfast, back on trail...which became even more suspect as it took the pack down to the neighborhood by the river. Alas, the drug dealers had called it a night and the streets were relatively quiet. Back toward Penn Street to the next stop, the Penn Street Tavern. But what’s this?? Hare Decoy is sitting on the front stoop. Hares were promised they would be open by 7, but the pack was fleetfooted, and the bartender tied one on last night, resulting in an unexpected dip in everyone’s blood alcohol level til things were made right by a nasty shot.

The 3rd section of trail travelled upward thru the city, checks on every corner. The occasional parking garage was visited. Finally up thru City Park and up Walnut St. to the parking lot behind Beulah Ballbreaker’s crib. More Hamms...yum! But then a strange new flour marking....a Cooler Check! First hashers there had to hump the coolers to the HHH...which was located just below the Peace Rock. They grudgingly complied and a well-deserved Hamms was their reward. A blast from the past, Lick My Trunk, lumbered in....any Hasher with Advanced Lifesaving certification avoiding eye contact. Circle commenced, songs were sung, down downs awarded and an announcement.....TidyBowl and Little Man in the Boat are tying the knot!! Good luck to you two.

Circle ended with Swing Low and the out-of-towners asked...”Ummm, where are our cars”. An elbow was extended upward. You gotta climb back to them. To the left of the Peace Rock and keep going up!!

Apres was once again held at the Reifton Fire Company where a delicious breakfast buffet was provided to soak up the morning’s imbibation. And with that, the pack stumbled off to pools, picnics and a possible nap.

On On!

# 991 Who’s Your Daddy

Well here we go I'll try and remember what the hell happened. For the record I drink a fucking lot and I don't remember shit. So if you ask me to write the hash trash don't expect it in a timely fashion. I have to be reminded 57 times before i remember to do it.

 I also despise writing. In fact, the only time in my life I had to attend summer school was my senior year for English class. I simply refused to write any papers all year. I had better shit to do.  Who would have thought they were just preparing me for my adult alcoholic club. 😉

   So from what I can remember, hairs Decoy, Hog Rider, and Man Tits rounded us up at a car wash across the street from a school. Some lady showed up to wash her car and  wondered why there was a whole band of assholes hanging out in the parking lot. Anyway, we had our chalk talk and off we went, running across school property. A great place for a bunch of drunks. So we ran, and ran some more. Crossed the creek once maybe twice and ended up behind some warehouse at a beer check. I think there were shots too. We enjoyed some booze and away we went. Trail took us under a bridge and into a creek. I think I'm about the only one who actually went into the creek. The smart ones went over the bridge. Which was probably a smart move as my feet got messed up from running the rest of trail in wet sneakers. So we ran through Robesonia and ended up on some stone lane  It went on and on seemed like it was taking us to our demise at the end of some rednecks shotgun. But alas everyone survived and we arrived at another beer check, but not before arriving at a boob check. Unfortunately a few of our hashers declined to do their Duty at the boob check. But we did get to see a couple pairs of tits and there was much rejoicing. So we drank our beers down and looming in the distance was the sounds of an approaching thunderstorm. It was so God damn hot I could only wish that we would get rained upon. But of course that never happened. So off we went, sweating some more following flour that eventually took us to railroad tracks. At this point I never saw flour again. I searched for a while and finally thought fuck it and just headed off down the tracks.  Supposedly there was flour somewhere along the railroad tracks but I never saw it. So I blindly ran down the railroad tracks hoping a speeding frsight train might end my misery. I spotted some other hashers running up ahead and followed them back to the car wash where the HHH was on the ground. A few of us then gathered for a topless photo shoot while enjoying some cold beer. Then we were all off to the apres at the Robbie House. Circle commenced, many drank, and I do believe hog rider drank out of sucky suckers sneaker. We sang songs while the local bar flies tried to figure out what the hell was going on. We then enjoyed some chicken wings, french fries and cold beer and eventually everyone made their way home one way or another.

Yours Truly,

#990 June 11th Hash
After a long cold winter, I decided it was time to come out of hibernation. The June 11th hash began after a long Monday work day. When I arrived at circle, I discovered it would be a live trail laid by CB, Crack, and Couch...... Wtf was I thinking coming back to a hash with these 3! I should have just stayed home and drank.
Our GM formed us in a circle, looked around at a bunch of non-returning bitches, me included, and no virgins present, smart people. He called the hares out, they gave us the basic directions and even laid a turkey/eagle trail which I never did find, bastards, and off the hares went. Shocking as this may sound, I had no intentions of catching them.

The wait was over and it was time to stretch our legs. Off and up we ran, well maybe jog for me. It started off through the Home Depot parking lot, and continued as a typical hash following random spots of flour to our first beer near at Crack's crib I pulled up a patio chair and enjoyed a delicious Hamm's while you fuckers ran around to find the trail for me.

On-On was heard and it was time to get my fat ass out of the chair. Through more random streets of Berks county, where everyone knew where they were except for me. SN was found with some typical cheap whiskey. A descent down a set a rickety set of wooden steps where a bunch of you broads were hesitant to go down them. If it didn't break while I was going down them, it wasn't breaking for anyone else in this band of misfits. From there we hopped the tracks. Sucky and Hot Lips were acting out their own rendition of Stand By Me playing chicken with a dammed train! Like hashing trail isn't dangerous enough, a train had to be thrown in there.

We followed some more random dots of flour to promptly lose all trail at 422. This is where a branch off band of misfits created our own trail. Broads, Bimbos, and princesses had me walking, yes walking, through a mall parking lot until Fleshy dragged us into the woods on the#989 Why the Hell Do We Have to Name Every Hash??
The pack gathered in the Cabela’s parking lot. While some pre-lubed at Pappy T’s, others chose to enjoy the wonderments of Cabelas and shop for manly man stuff instead. Marks were explained and the virgin- Just Norm- got his dog tags (we are kindler and gentler and apparently the GM even cares that the man virgins make it back). 
We then piled in vans like prisoners and rode through the lush countryside way outside of our normal stomping grounds. Instead of being chased by unkind city folk, Reading was now in the land of the Skooks. We counted our teeth realizing that every male hasher was now a “10” in these lands... 
Off the pack went to the first beer check. From there it was straight uphill... wtf?!? This isn’t Keystone!! At the top was a shot check and a Turkey/Eagle. Of course the type A’s had already left on the Eagle. The pack divided and eagle went down the hill and back up the hill to a beer check. After meeting cougar baits Dad ( mister bait/ master bait) the pack divided among another turkey/ eagle. More trail and mostly bushwhacking but this time back down to the on-in. 
ToeFU led another glorious circle and we packed back into the vans like illegals trying to cross back over the Berks county border. We were treated with apres at the new brewery in Hamburg, 1787. Awesome beer that is way too good for us hashers but that’s the only way the hares were going to erase our memories of how many times we ran up and down that Mountain.
Hashily ever after- Optopussy (who was not assigned to do this but isn’t sure if Packs em in the rear knows how to read or write so she did it for him..)
 side of the road. Finally, circle, give me a fucking beer!

The non-returners were called and called into circle. Many down-downs and our GM forcing I Love Boobies socks and registration for 34DD Camp Out down our throats.

Thanks to our hares for such a shitty trail. I'll remember not to be a non-returner on your trails. Until next time fuckers....

TINY and Bim.

#989 Why the Hell Do We Have to Name Every Hash??

The pack gathered in the Cabela’s parking lot. While some pre-lubed at Pappy T’s, others chose to enjoy the wonderments of Cabelas and shop for manly man stuff instead. Marks were explained and the virgin- Just Norm- got his dog tags (we are kindler and gentler and apparently the GM even cares that the man virgins make it back). 
We then piled in vans like prisoners and rode through the lush countryside way outside of our normal stomping grounds. Instead of being chased by unkind city folk, Reading was now in the land of the Skooks. We counted our teeth realizing that every male hasher was now a “10” in these lands... 
Off the pack went to the first beer check. From there it was straight uphill... wtf?!? This isn’t Keystone!! At the top was a shot check and a Turkey/Eagle. Of course the type A’s had already left on the Eagle. The pack divided and eagle went down the hill and back up the hill to a beer check. After meeting cougar baits Dad ( mister bait/ master bait) the pack divided among another turkey/ eagle. More trail and mostly bushwhacking but this time back down to the on-in. 
ToeFU led another glorious circle and we packed back into the vans like illegals trying to cross back over the Berks county border. We were treated with apres at the new brewery in Hamburg, 1787. Awesome beer that is way too good for us hashers but that’s the only way the hares were going to erase our memories of how many times we ran up and down that Mountain.
Hashily ever after- Optopussy (who was not assigned to do this but isn’t sure if Packs em in the rear knows how to read or write so she did it for him..)

# 988 Kegs and Eggs Hash
Sorry - I’m a little late on submitting this hash trash, but I do believe I’ve heard someone say “better late than pregnant” and that’s real talk.So here it goes...
Our Kegs and Eggs hash started with the PreLube at Liberty Taproom. After a lady hasher left her stamp in the bathroom, we all piled into cars and headed to the lot at Francesca’s to circle up for the On On...and some fresher air. Side note: Damn that was a lot of people stuffed into a jeep! Quick circle, no virgins and into the woods we went…Everyone stuck together on trail for a bit in the beginning but some were a little more eager to go down and finish so we split.Everyone missed the Brass Monkey at the first beer check. That’s unfortunate. A little bit of that could have been in each and every one of our mouths!We came out of the woods on Hill Road just in time to yell “sorry ‘bout your penis!” to a passing motorist who was clearly over compensating. After getting back on trail in the woods, we descended this ridiculous busted set of steps. Steps that only I have feet tiny enough to get proper footing on. Have no fear, shots were near! We came across the half full bottle of what I assume was vodka & oj. It was at this point that we realized the other group had cum through already. For some reason we all took turns drinking from the same damn cup, even though we had 4…sharing is caring! Back out of the woods and into the city with OJ bottle in hand!Apparently, there was a popsicle check: some got some, some didn’t. I heard someone couldn’t “handle the big one”.We ran down random streets, through a sketchy homeless camp – complete with a dude napping, down more random streets and arrived at Sofrito's. A circle was formed, tacos were eaten, beer was chugged, songs were sung, and good times were had.Thanks for the trail, Foot Fairy and Crack!
Just Michelle

#987 Whores N More
Our esteemed hare Dances with Whores started off on his trek to live hare this trail as we began introductions. We gave the hare about 69 additional seconds and then off we went. The flour led us up the hill into the park and behind the abandoned tennis courts, down the Thun trail. We could alomost taste the beer as we proceeded to run right past a favorite local watering hole, Trooper Thorns, without a single BN in sight. We continued to run through the beautiful nature center at Angelica park, but still no beer. Then we came upon a mountain that we were apparently expected to summit in our quest for beer. At the top of the this mountain was a cache of our finest hash swill. In the meantime the walkers were treated to their own cache of swill at the bottom of the hill. Then we continued down the other side of the hill, proceeded through the campus of Alvernia, without encountering a single wayward nun. After several blocks on the road we came to Oakbrook brewing company where we were treated to some of the best hash beer many of us have ever encountered and several harriets attempted to pick up a few studly firefighters. We continued on our way when some half-minds were asked by a local why we were running and responded "for beer" she tried to hand her baby off to someone else so she could join in the fun. The trail led back to the the parking lot where we had all left our iron-chariots. We quickly hustled the beer into the woods while screaming make way for the beer to remain inconspicuous to any law enforcement that may be in the area. We found the prefect syringe-laden, tick-infested, poison ivy free clearing in the woods to hold circle. Circle finally commenced and 69% of the kennel was made to drink for lack of boobie sock ownership. The entire kennel seemed to have difficulty with the concept of wearing headgear in circle because the offenses were numerous. Accusations were made, and down-downs were consumed. The details of the #1000 campout were shared once again. We sang our farewell song and proceeded to the Apres at Mimmo's.


#986 Red Dress Hash
On August 7, 1987, a young lady flew from Tucson Arizona to Southern California to visit an old friend. When the plane landed she found her luggage lost, and there she was -- in a red dress and heels. Undaunted, she and her SoCal friend headed off to meet up with his fellow runners -- a group called “hashers”. Upon arrival in Long Beach, one hasher, noting her gender and attire, suggested she “Just Wait In the Truck”. Not one to play by the rules, she headed off on trail in red dress and heels and ran into history. A year later, the San Diego Hash got together, paid for another round-trip ticket for her, and the Red Dress Hash was born!.
Thirty (30) years later, and thanks to inspiration from a couple oldbies a few years ago (I’m looking at YOU, Sack-O-Shit & Tuna) Reading’s Red Dress Hash was revived, and as sure as the ticks return to the forests of PA in March, the Red Dress Hash occurs like clockwork every May.
This year, the pack once again started from the NorthEnd Rod & Gun Club -- where the staff is friendly, the beers are cold, and the locals are frightened.
After a brief check-in beer, our hares sent us off on a journey through the North Side of Reading. And you know, what’s safer than running through some rather sketchy neighborhoods wearing a red dress? (Well… i guess NOT running through those same neighborhoods at all). And when the civilians, capturing your winning stride on their cellphone cameras ask what you’re up to… you can choose from “Running For Beer” and “Running For Boobs” as your stock response.
The first stop for the pack was the Cafe Waldorf -- where an etched glass window of a topless mermaid gave my red dress a decided bulge. Meanwhile the locals posed for pics with the bimbos, praying to God above that they ACTUALLY were posing with a woman, and not one of them ‘gender-fluid’ types. A jaunt across the CenterPark neighborhood brought us to the “Grill Then Chill” Bar. Which...Okay, so what the hell was with the raised dias with chairs, and what’s with the Grill THEN Chill. What if I need to chill first, so I don’t have digestive problems when I decide to Grill?
Finally -- our little band of red-dressed warriors sasheyed over to my favorite place, La Rienda Mexicano (which -- when my great-grandfather used to walk home from working at the Reading Company back in the early 1900’s was likely called “Shamus’s Harp” or “Kelly’s” or some shit like that). What more can I say about La Rienda, but -- Mexican fucking cowboys, smoke machines, deer heads, and a fucking laser show. If this doesn’t become our new casa away from casa, what well ever be? We just need to get the Modelo replaced with Hamms, and make sure there’s a mug with Foot’s name engraved in it, and we’re Good.To.Go.
After posing for pictures on the street with the bars owners (and taking in a couple calls from some of the locals of “Putas, ese es mi rincón. Despejar antes de llamar a mi proxeneta!” ) we kept on moving up 9th Street to return to Dips. Foot, Bad, Jungle & Buelah flagged down a passing motorist and compelled him (with the threat of a look up Bad’s dress) to give them a chevy-shortcut back to the On-ON.
Meanwhile back at the farm, we circled up, had a kick-ass auction, and then a quick naming (Just Kim is now ‘Gone Colioni’ )!
Thanks to the hares, the patient folks at Dips, and all those people who posted pics of us on social media across Latin America.


#985 Cunto de Mayo

Cunto de Mayo... se conoce formalmente como Cinco de Mayo, el día de la independencia mexicana... o quizás no. Su día de la independencia es el 16 de septiembre, pero bueno nos da los norteamericanos un día para celebrar nuestra herencia americana-mexicana. Sabes, las contribuciones realmente importantes como tequila, corona, gran culo sombreros sombreros llamados y no nos olviden de tacos. Tacos de pescado por supuesto ser el mejor. Así como todos los americanos en este día México celebramos con un hash. Nos reunimos en la torre del fuego donde algunos afortunados hashers recibieron el don del vuelo. La ventaja fue evidente como deslizaba a lo largo mientras que el resto luchaba por mantener el ritmo. Lamentablemente, una pequeña hada se perdió pero encontró su camino a casa. Después de asegurarse de todas tienes baño maravillosas naturalezas, tuvimos círculo en un sótano y lo más maravilloso ha pasado... ¡Fue nombrado NOT TWAT! Un par de hashes demostró su habilidad de supervivencia en la que nos muestra cómo hacer líquido fuera un cactus. Alimentos fue devorado y bebidas vertieron nuestras gargantas como un final para una gran celebración y hash.

Now....in English...

Cunto de Mayo..... formally known as Cinco de Mayo, the Mexican Independence Day...or maybe not. Their Independence Day is September 16, but HEY it gives us Americans a day to celebrate our American-Mexican heritage. You know, the really really important contributions like tequila, corona, big ass hats called sombreros, and let’s not forget tacos. Fish tacos of course being the best. So like every American on this Mexican day we celebrated with a hash. We gathered at the fire tower where some lucky hashers were given the gift of flight. The advantage was obvious as they glided over the course while the rest struggled to keep pace. Sadly, one little fairy got lost but he found his way home. After making sure we all got natures wonderful bath, we had circle in a basement and the most wonderful thing happened.... NOT TWAT was named!!!!!!!! A couple of hashes demonstrated their survival skill in showing us how to get liquid out of a cactus. Food was devoured and drinks poured down our throats as an ending to a great celebration and hash.

Johnson OTS

#984 The Type AA Hash
Apparently I'm hash trash. Oh! And I'm supposed to write something about hashing. Here goes...
It all started in the middle of the woods, next to a mountain, with an overabundance of good beer and an AA...kind of like every Keystone H3 trail. Luckily, unlike Keystone, there were more than 2 of us ready to chase Cougar Bait and AA up the mountain. I imagine it had something to do with not having to wake up at dawn.
Anyway we were informed that there were three beer checks, a J check and a special Foot Fairy check that would ensure him some of the lovely craft beer provided by our hares. The hares set off into the trees throwing flour into the air and that was the last we saw of them until the on in. (Type AAs.) After a few minutes, the pack was off. We followed the little white dots while dodging briars, hurdling downed trees and branches and generally trying not to lose an eye or be impaled by the various sticks and debris flying from all directions.
Everyone made it to the first beer check without much trouble. (Don't worry. The blood and pain is coming.) We were made to down those good beers and w*ter far too fast as some overachievers decided to leave without so much as a sip. And so we were off again, with many an "RU?" and now some steeper climbs.
The trail would inevitably continue to go up and start us on a death march to the top of the ridge. I heard someone lament that they were not looking forward to going down. You type As are strange creatures. I love going down!
On this hellish hill, we ran into the J check which was happily run back down the hill to the DFL by a lightly prancing Kitten Mittens. Somewhere after that a "rule breaker" named NFB found Foot Fairy's special check. I'm pretty sure that FF didn't get his beloved beer, but I was too busy dying of thirst and burning thighs to pay attention.
At the top of the ridge is where the shenanigans truly began. A good portion of the pack took an easy trail down the other side while 10 or so brave souls actually followed flour to the second beer check. The rest of us picked up trail at the bottom as our hares had excessively floured the trees in the distance.
More shiggy, more hills, more barely runnable terrain until we came to the third beer check at the base of a hobo's rock lair. The hares met us there and, sadly, we learned we'd missed some beverages. All of that was quickly forgotten as we dug into a cooler of ice cold Troeg's.
Little did we know that this would also be where the HHHs would be laid. In fact, the hares drew more blood and confusion as we all stumbled off to find the trail back to the cars. I managed to end up in a thicket of briars as an amused AA and Cougar Bait looked out over the chaos from their lofty perch.
Finally, the majority of the pack managed to figure out that the HHHs were back at the rocks and proceeded to prelube for circle as we waited for the dedicated few who actually follow trail.
After a wonky circle on a bunch of slanted rocks, we were forced to walk back to our cars over, you guessed it, another hill. At the on after, booze and wings were amply supplied at the Railroad Tavern...or whatever the name was...I had partaken in too many IPAs.
Thanks, Cougar Bait and AA, for a great trail and for not making me drink Hamms! Thanks to Reading for, as always, the hospitality and great company!
(Come play with us at the Keystone in May! I hear it's another Type AA trail. 🙂 )
Gilligan, the Skipper Too

#983 Type B Hash
So today I get nominated for hash trash....like I have any idea what the hell I’m doing on trail much less writing about it... well here goes..
It all started on a shitty, cold dreary day on Marlin Ave. Kennel takes off toward Penn Ave to find a “SF” in the old Golden parking lot. As we all meander around aimlessly for a bit, we decide to head back toward the On On. Around back and through the yards we go, to be confronted by a disgrundled neighbor. (Although disgrundled may be an understatement). For those of us on the back end, we had to go around for fear we would piss him off even more. By the time we reached the first beer stop, the kennel was ready to move on. On we go behind the Jesuit Center and up toward the cemetery to be met by the PO PO. Mr. Disgrundled called the Po Po so they came hunting us down in the cemetery. ToeFU spoke his wisdom to assure the officer we were all upstanding citizens running for a cause. So off through the cemetery we continue back toward the On On. By this time, there were 3 Po Po cars and the disgrundled neighbor following us, watching our every move. Hashers split up around the development to look for trail while some headed black to the On On to partake in beverage. Circle convened, shots were downed, 3 virgins lost their cherries, songs were sung and ToeFU was bukkakied.
Shitty weather, shitty trail but fun had by all. (Well, maybe not the neighbor)
Thanks Breast and Hot lips.
Just Kim

#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

No comments:

Post a Comment