Hash Trash 3

RH3 #1103 Family Hash


The circle was at a nice pavilion for circle but with bathrooms locked, I had to send our grandson “Just Connor” to the bushes in the development for relief. Circle was quite breezy so we were quickly off and moving. With some of the kids climbing the scraggly hill first, then blindly going left and stumbling onto a mark, the FRBrats and the rest of us lemmings all missed the first beverage / photo check. Being all but the DFL one up the hill, I see Breast Stroaker detouring Left, just shy of the hill top, to intersect the group as they're now heading back down through the neighborhood I take a shortcut. As I come back onto the marked street, Much to my shame, I hear my grand daughter "Just Peyton" yelling, "Cheater". No amount of explaining or reasoning was going to change her mind.

As we seemed to somehow go up and down the same hill, yet not crossing the same path, we do find a "Beverage" check. Hugs-aka sugar water for the kids. The wild juice helped re-charge the FRBrats as the pace stepped up a bit. "Just Karin" and the kids led the rest of the way to to HHH. We had a breezy, brief circle toasting 2 of the FRBrats, Just Alexis and Just Scarlett, along with the DFL Dances with Whores with Hugs and a brew. 

Then it was off to the Hare House for a bar full of Domino's Pizzas, garlic knots and cheesy bread, plus lots of sweets. I grabbed a Hamms from the cooler and Pretty enthusiastically says, "There's much better beer in the cooler". Well yes, for the normal hasher, there was. Quite a spread... Of food and drinks from our hares Pretty When I'm Drunk and Peeter on a Skeeter.

Head Peddler





RH3 #1102 Better Off Dead Hash

Truly a sight to behold as us costumed hounds gathered at CT Supermarket awaiting to be released though we appear to blend in fairly well with local shoppers. Made my way to Beulah who proclaimed “I want my $2 hash cash.” As I did not want her hounding me throughout the hash, I paid up. The usual mingling and prelubing until called to circle and introductions were made. Hares Nasty Panties, Casting Couch, and ExCoGi provided instructions though true trail was false causing some confusion. We were released scattering every which way. Until what was that sound? Was that a horn? Indeed! Trail was found and DIF has been practicing! On one, On two, ON ON through the streets of Reading. I did my civic duty and made sure all car side mirrors were nicely folded in. Some ran, some walked, some skipped their way up to the first BN. I opted for some vodka drink that went down too easily. Then off into the woods we went. Promises of well marked trail fell short causing a few to return to road while others tried to stay on trail and still others tried to follow the advice to go “that way really fast and if something gets in your way, turn.” Somehow we all made it to the next BN/SN at Nasty’s brother abode. More beer, snacks and yummy jello headstone shots. Back on trail down the road we went. Playing some Cornhole on the run with the soon to be named Just Bill and getting rewarded for landing in the hole with a fireball shot. Trailed lead to next BN at Northeast Taproom where some thought trail ended but at last more trail was to be had. So On-on we go back following trail through the city until its final resting place at Feeny’s Funeral Home. A few of us partook in extra BN stops along the way offered by local residents. Closing circle confusion who was DFL? More Accusations. Down downs. Just Bill was called into circle and named Dry Dolly. May it be a reminder to never let his dolly be dry again! ExCoGi informed us that we would be having a tour of the funeral home. Our host stepped up and gave us a background about the oldest mansion in central park. Then he went on about his skiing adventures including picking up quarters, snorting shots and many more. Cries went out for him to be named on the spot and many suggestions provided. Snot Shot it is! And since he was also a virgin, Dry Dolly provide him with proper instructions on how to down down. Swing low was sung and the hash went in peace. We shuffled into the funeral home for more snacks, good beer and wine. More stories were told about the history of the mansion as we wandered through the various rooms. No dead people were seen. Then off to apre at Pike’s Café for more mischief. Some tricks, some treats, some great shitty trail. And good times were had by all!

Livin’ it Up, 

Just Karin




RH3 #1101 Opto's Bookends Hash


"Over the river and thru the woods to former Grandmaster's house we go"


Opto's Inaugural Grandmaster debut took place Sunday at Antietam Pool where the temps still dictated shorts and tanks and shiggy socks to be worn among the masses. As we arrived and mingled, Beulah collected $5 hash cash and then paid all of us with one of her "Don't Stop, Can't Stop" hash hugs. And who says hugs are free? ...Pre trail shitty beer was consumed as introductions were made and our Hares Foot and Schmim sent us on our way promising 2 BN, 1 SN, and no false trail- or at least that's how I remembered it. So off we went in search of flour as DIF was seen settling in with his horny brick or as the Spanish would say "Horn Y Brick". We followed On-Ones, On-Twos and Checks a Few-  until cuming to our first BN at Foot's. Lucky Streaks were drank (except for Just Mark who claimed sober status AS IF)....but who was I to judge as I clamored to find someone to share my own Lucky Juice with. I was shot down by a few including  Teacher, Couch, Excogi and even Swampy said no. Schmim suspected some beer misgivings were in play, but Peeter on a Skeeter came to my rescue and swallowed some for me.  I chugged the rest and joined the others as the On-On continued. DIF continued to toot his own horn, but barely. Cum one cum all as we ALL took turns showing DIF how to blow.. Trail led us to Nepal where we slowly but surely summited Mt. Everest. One would think we would be rewarded with some shitty beer, shitty shots (or in Just Mark's case some water) for our successful completion of a type A climb, but the outlined SN was a no-go as we later learned the cause was bamboozled by an unhappy property owner who disproved of such partakings on his parsel.  So the thirsty and dehydrated harriers and harriettes carried on in the search for liquid refreshments. We left the woods and crossed the street for more civilized flour following which shortly thereafter led us to false trail. Back to the last check and a little of this and a little of that and we found our way to the finish at Carsonia Lake where the violators were violated with shitty beer down downs and off key "Why Are We Waitings" which even kept the bugs away. Lies. All lies. The bugs ate us all. We apre'd at Foot's abode emptying our beers and emptying our minds, having good eats with juicy sauces.  The lightweight in me didn't stand a chance in consuming more than one IPA so Foot told me about the vagina in his freezer (IYKYK) and as a good guest I was all in! The labia water was a hit and I was sober in seconds!  Although the cumraderie was enjoyed and laughs were shared inevitably the day had to end. Fret not, Sunday Funday cums around once a week (probably like the rest of us), except for Peeter on a Skeeter who is out right now looking for a boat to bang Pretty When I'm Drunk on. So until next time fuckers! On-On!

Just Karla



RH3 #1100 Cougarbait's Last Dance
We gathered at a small church picnic grove off of Fritztown Rd. to bid farewell to our current GM, Cougarbait. The day was spectacular. Brilliant warm sun with just enough breeze to keep the nipples pert. 30 or so RH3ers, along with Tour de Puke from H5 and Deathwish from “What the fuck was he thinking?!” came rolling in for the festivities. We chatted and prelubed from a selection of excellent beverages provided by our hare, Cougar himself. He’d been a very busy beaver, laying trail with multiple turkey/eagle splits, smoking dead animal for our dinner and hauling everything to the On On in his massive truck.
Circle started a bit late, as after all, this WAS a social event. Introductions were made and the hounds were released. Almost immediately, trail required a slog through the adjacent creek. Those of us with a modicum of common sense just paralleled it on the nice dry road. A railroad overpass was a likely candidate for flour and sure enough, along the tracks we went. Stumbling along (those railroad ties are never the correct spacing for easy forward progress) yours truly was rewarded with a yellow jacket sting to the back of my ankle. I heard several other hashers were similarly graced. Popping out of the woods at the railroad crossing on Fritztown Rd that has trashed many a cyclist, we scampered through the cemetery and up into the woods above. There, we met our first T/E split. Knowing Cougar’s proclivity for ass-busting trail, I chose the turkey. We rumbled downward, back into the neighborhood. Things get a bit fuzzy from here. Was it the bee venom, or maybe the double IPAs prior to trail? In any event, we did have a BN behind ExCoGi’s place of biz, complemented by Bad getting a sound scolding for sitting on the steps of the adjacent hair salon. We had another BN by a creek under a bridge where Deathwish performed his patented bellyflop in 3” of scummy water lined with pointy rocks. Other T/Es were offered. Flour seemed to evaporate after that and most of us just chose to shuffle down the shoulder of Fritztown Rd. back to the grove. On In!!
Closing circle was exceptionally disorganized, possibly owing to our GM/hare drinking the entire last day of his active reign. From there, dinner and more beverages were served and the light slowly faded, along with any clinging semblance of sobriety. A few of us stuck around to help our hare clean up any evidence of our debauchery, then stumbled to our vehicles for the careful drive home. A very good day indeed…
ToeFU



RH3 #1099 The Analversary Hash Time does really fly when you are having fun especially if you are hammered for most it. RH3 is back at the corner of Plymouth and Reading for another Analversary Hash. A few pleasant surprises were in store for us as well. Beautiful weather, NOT getting harassed by the locals at the ON-ON, lots of twinning, and hash cash is only $1! Wait…is there actually going to be any beer on trail for that hefty chunk of change? We also had the pleasure of not one, but two virgins, Just Brittni and Just Fred. However, it was another trail advertised as starting at 6 pm but not actually starting until 6:15…sigh I guess I’ll grab a beer now that there actually are some available at 6:05. Our hare, Any Crack’ll Do claims he needs an extra head start and takes off while we introduce ourselves and listen to a brief history of the birth of RH3. Are we going to need these headlamps? FINALLY, we are off to romp around scenic Wyomissing. Seems like we are heading towards Wyo Park , what a surprise!! But there are checks abound to keep it interesting. After what felt like 5 miles, we finally make it to a beer stop at Van Scoy and are greeted by the lovely Ginger Snatch who joined us for the rest of trail. Off we go again in a relatively straightforward manner and it’s not too long until we hear On-In from a clump of bushes. Cougar Bait is anxious to get circle started which results in having three separate DFL’s as stragglers wander in. In retrospect this was a good call as we would have been waiting indefinitely on Foot Fairy and Swamp who got “lost” on one the better marked trails we have had and coincidentally ended up at Sly Fox instead. Just Fred redeems himself after a whole bunch of Hash etiquette faux pas by expertly pounding his beer in circle. Just Brittni does even better. Almost time to go but wait Just Jim is called into circle! Cougar Bait starts rambling about a hash from a few years ago, his boat, a desperately needed quickie. For the full story I recommend asking the newly named Peeter on a Skeeter! P.O.S. for short? His triple beer chug was pretty epic so ask to see video footage if you missed it. Speaking of video footage, the kennel is also seeking video footage of Breaststroaker supposedly running up hill. Now we can finally get out of the bushes and begin our trek back to our cars which was just as long as trail and then off to Sly Fox for a quite enjoyable Thursday evening. Also please give a warm hash welcome to the recently relocated Silence of the Goats and Sex Toys for Tots who helped us close down Sly Fox last night, not too hard to do since they kicked us out pretty early. Good luck resting your legs and livers for Saturday. Yours, XCogi (Decoy Spelling, kinda like it)



RH3 #1098 The Bash Courtesy of Swamp & Foot Hash Trash “Truth, Lies & Fiction” A good soak in kerosene for an hour or so got my old typewriter sort of working again- well enough to be able to peck out a hash trash. It’s been a while… “T’was a dark and stormy night…” well, it was. Toefu was in attendance, so This hasher expected a lovely washout, but it was not to be. It was only a bluff by the hash gods in charge of that sort of thing. Rumor has it that the lack of torrential rains pissed off Toefu so much he had to leave. Maybe it was the other way around. Anyway, a pack of 25-30 enthusiastic hashers, swelled by a bunch of Monday Night Madness riders showed up with their bikes to take on the trail. My guess the MNM’ers were curious about what flour looked like. Rumor has it they know what beer looks like. There were hybrids, old, mountain, gravel, borrowed and likely rented bikes available to throw at Swamp & Foot’s roller coaster trail (Up n Down, UUP n down, including terrifying turns). Also included was a traverse through a Hobbit forest, a tour of the ancient trolley tracks, churches and of course, a peek at the navy yard in Mohnton. A new twist on the hallowed hashing tradition of Pissing Off The Spouse was attempted by Breaststroker, who tried to lose his black & grey wedding ring by dropping it onto black & grey assfault while on trail. He failed miserably, as several hashers performed an extensive search of the drop area and found it. He may have succeeded partially though, since Ginger will be pissed that she won’t be able to sell him a new one (Ginger: “There will be a HUUUUGE markup in order to have a new one for you by tomorrow!!”)! Breast will have to think of some other way to piss off Legal Easy. It may be difficult. She has a pretty good sense of humor. Beulah and Sucky ably performed the reception duties at the On, one virgin was recognized (didn’t get his name & by the way, he needs some work on timing his down-downs) and perennial visitor Dancing Fool graced the hash with his recycling skills. Dumb n Dumber provided the shitty, trash-laden parking lot for circle festivities, whether he knew it or not. No neighbors were annoyed. Try harder next time. SHITTY HASH! On On Flamer



RH3 #1097 New Boot Hash
It was a hot night for new boots in early August. A group of seasoned hashers and one virgin gathered at the Weis Oley to take on NFB and Sinderella’s trail. There were old hashers like Swampy and Stupid Brother, newer hashers like Just Karin and Just Bill and even Grower graced us with his presence and expansion. Our GM showed up a few minutes late – something NFB never dealt with in his former occupation. Off we went upward toward Oley Valley High School past a great Monday evening concert in the fairgrounds – not quite the West VA banjo I was expecting. From here on out you I will share the smarter, not harder trail – Around the back to the high school trail was found – those of us that ride some know about the icehouse and the garage at the corner of Bertolet Mill that always has good beer. Across 73 and down the hill – no, it couldn’t be a beer check?? Yes, in perfect penmanship so we knew it was not from NFB -it was the home of former hasher Tit Mouse and Big Jim from the cycling world. What no Hamm’s? – ice cold PBR from the back of a minivan – much better; plenty of cans for Dancing Fool. Now the fun part down toward 662 up a gravel farm road and across a ridge where front running bastards Crack, Cougar, Just Curtis, and others led the pack through some more little-known gravel trails toward the middle school and finally to a creek crossing to cool off where Head Peddler called in his fellow half-minds – Couch, Dances, and many others to the HHH. All who started came together except Legal Easy? Getting more miles of course – she loves “the heat”. We circled, drank more PBR – one bald guy… blah blah blah … accusations … the new boot, trained well, handled his down down quite well. “Swing low” was sung, all the PBR was killed, and the hashers enjoyed a night swim (suits required, of course), some great tomato salad, phallic meat, and improved quality golden nectar at the home of NFB and Sin. Fun was had by all Respectfully.
Breast Stroaker  



 #1096: Cherry On Top Hash

It was a hot, humid afternoon and like-minded halfwits gathered in the shadows of Neversink. The brave (maybe), drunk (most definitely) souls that arrived early pre-lubed at the everwelcoming Reifton Fire Company. I would say it’s an establishment full of fond memories, but that would require actually remembering what happens at the fire company. Did someone say car bombs?... In the hopes of not getting too shitty, too early on a Monday night, I waited in the lot with others and we contemplated which direction our lovely hares would take us. As it was Just Karin’s first time laying trail, it was hard to guess where we would end up. For her, 10 miles is just a warm-up; hopefully co-hare Dances with Whores would keep this trail from turning into exercise. Running downhill (yay!) would mean lots of roads, but running uphill (ahem, I mean walking-–I never run uphill) would lead us to the trails of Neversink. Although there were no virgins there were a few unusual markings to look for including photo stops and little chalk asterisks*** (the hares clarified NOT anuses, when Bad Semen asked) The hares were off at 6:09, introductions made, and the rest of the pack followed. After a little meandering on the streets, it became clear that we were headed to Neversink. Yay! Soon into our adventure we came upon the first beer near, most of the pack was together at this point and we happily sipped our cheap beer and tried not to sweat to death. (It was so hot even MY boobs were sweating.) NFB, Cougar Bait, and some of the more rambunctious started up the hill in search of the next mark. They didn’t come back, so the rest of us followed but quickly came to an F. Fuck. Maybe they knew something we didn’t, but most opted to turn around and find trail, and sure enough, we found it and were on our way. We meandered, scrambled, climbed, and bushwhacked our way up and over the mountain. As a few anticipated, we made our way to the next stop–a shot near–at the Witch’s Hat. The shot was a mysterious red juice, and as Any Crack’ll Do mentioned, kinda smelled like cough syrup. It also kinda tasted like cough syrup, but it did the job. Off again in search of trail, we quickly found it and made our way back down the other side of the mountain. The fastest of the bunch marked each check and we arrived at the glorious HHHs in no time. Or I should say most of us arrived at the HHHs in no time. Cougar Bait, Nasty Panties, and Casting Couch seemed to be lost, or doing a side quest or something, but they eventually made it and were welcomed into circle. (Cougar told me what happened that caused them to get so lost, but tbh, I was little drunk and didn’t really pay attention.) Death Wish took great advantage of the time spent waiting and rinsed off in the beautiful reflecting pool. No other souls were brave enough to take a dip–although the pond being downhill from a cemetery may have had something to do with it… We circled, we swung low, and made our way to apres at Liberty Taproom. More beer was drunk, pizza was eaten, and good times were had by all. Cheers, One Knee Wonder



RH3# 1095 4th of July aka Life According to Evan Williams…

Early morning with B&E,
Beverages, fireworks, creative parking, and plenty of conversation.
Minimally invasive trail explanations and the usual introductions. Only 1 foot fairy. Surprising.
On off to parts unknown.
Mt. Biking without fear of an endo on the A except for Bukakke.
Shot near for the fearless.
Shaken not stirred.
More downhill to a swim crossing minus the water. Stink Finger took one for the team and went knee-deep for the cause. Probably not his first or last. A German by-pass and land of tremendous beer consumption to a ghostly downhill and agua trail to a beer check at a fantastic middle 20’s meat market with dark fuckable parking lots. (Temporarily closed)
Oh, now shiggy, damn. Why did I decide to follow trail. FUCK!
Listen for the whistle…… Don’t follow me.
Visions of strippers danced through my head as I progressed upwards toward heaven and an exciting apre.
Crap, just a beer check near the bamba lot. No boobs, not good.
Off to search for more white marks and the sound of fire works in the distance…..Fire Tower… on-in
Fantastic running trail.
Kudos to the hairs for a great trail.
Shitty down downs
Sun worshipers
Hare shots
More hare shots
Beer restock
Accusations
Stupidity….. but that goes without saying……
Can’t understand why they delayed getting car bombs for sooooooo long.
Critical bowel satisfactions lead to a fantastic apre and much camaraderie.
Foot Fairy spoiled the potty for everyone😂
Great fun.
On-On
NFB


RH3 #1094 Break A Leg Hash
27 half minds, give or take a few, gathered in Maidencreek on a pleasantly warm summer Monday Night, as we circled for Just Bill’s first trail. He was joined in the opening circle with co-hares Horn of Plenty and Stupid Brother. It was pretty clear from the start that the bug repellent was going to be needed, as we began to make our journey into the woods, on trails with thick ground cover.
Marks were hard to see in the thick high grass as we wound through the woods. It took a keen eye for the FRBs as we strung out, coming upon a check at the railroad tracks. Would we head up the tracks or back into the woods? Trail continued back into the woods, wrapping around once again to another check at the railroad tracks, and a false. This time, trail did head down the tracks, in a long stretch of trail that would have made Choo Choo pop (out of) her top, if only she had been there.
Back into the woods we went, as we came across a turtle on trail, before heading back to the tracks again, this time under them to a graffiti filled underpass and a Beer Near with Hamm’s Modelo? Interesting choice of hash beer for this wooded journey.
Off we went again, this time up the road in a daring game of Frogger as cars were zooming by in both directions. A true trail marking set us on the right path before we ended up back in the woods on the other side of the road. Winding through a long, uneven section of trail, it was beginning to feel like someone might actually break a leg on this hash.
Before long, the sweet sounds of “Beer Near” were in the air again, this time at a small cemetery in the middle of the woods. This BN had an ample supply of Dos Equis? Apparently Just Bill had a lot of Cinco de Mayo leftovers to burn through in his fridge.
It was just a short jaunt from this BN to the HHH. Just Bill was there to greet us, but the other hares were not. As Cougar Bait instructed us to circle up, it became evident that Just Bill used his hand truck to bring an almost empty cooler into the woods, and a loud chorus of “Why Are We Waiting” filled the air as Horn and Stupid Brother trudged through the woods with the remainder of the beer.
Our hares drank a little extra Mexican lager for not having beer at circle. Accusations were made, non-returners were welcomed, birthdays and anniversaries were celebrated, and we all swung low, before heading to Just Bill’s for the apres, and finally, some Hamm’s.
Just Jim



RH3 #1093 Memorial Weekend Hash ie. No Kegs, No Eggs, Just Hills!

Foot Fairy and Crack decided to take a well earned rest this holiday, so Cougar stepped up to fill our voids. We knew the turnout would be light, since a significant number of regular hashers were off enjoying the sun drenched beaches, crystal blue waters and hillsides of terracotta roofed houses of Croatia (if you like that sort of thing). But when only Choo Choo, Period Shits and I showed up to face off against hares Cougar, One Knee Wonder, Justs Justin and Steph, we knew we were in trouble. Then Crack rolled in, evening the odds. Bring it!
Opening circle was brief, informal and about 15 minutes late, secure in the knowledge that Bad Semen was at least an 8 hr jet ride away. Our instructions were simple enough for even a hasher to follow. “Follow the trail unless you see marks telling you not to”. And off we went, climbing toward the Appalachian Trail. The incline gradually increased, as did the precipitation. Our hares had evidently pre-laid trail because they joined us on our ascent. After about a mile, and the drizzle changing to a steady downpour, we arrived at a turkey/eagle.
Crack naturally chose the eagle, accompanied by One Knee and J Steph (lucky lucky bastard). I gallantly chose to stay with Choo Choo and PS, along with Cougar and J Justin, who was humping the beer for our BN. Slogging ever upward, past puzzled hikers descending clad in rain gear, we finally arrived at the Pinnacle. The type As were already there, having arrived via a secondary BN at the Pulpit Rock. After several photo ops on the slick as snot rocky edge, we retraced our steps back to the helipad, where the HHH awaited. Yours truly meandered across first as the bims chattered. Crack was deemed DFL, having forsaken the ending circle for a family thang elsewhere. Again, informality and brevity were the code of the day. Swinging low, we all descended together and after munching a few bites of orange crunchy protein (Utz, of course…) we headed back to Copperz in the lovely metropolis of Hamburg for the apres. There, we were treated to delightful beverages, of J Justin’s very own making, as well as delicious burgers. In addition, we learned several important facts about our fledgling hares. Just Steph thrives on a diet of ground turkey, cauliflower and other women’s prison staples and has a habit of checking if she’s turned the stove off by placing her bare hands on the burners. Just Justin, in addition to being an excellent brewer, has an active tinder account and sleeps with dogs who don’t even care when he gets up. Fascinating….I think they’ll fit in to our kennel nicely.
Respectfully submitted,
ToeFU


RH3 #1092 Roam for FOAM

On-on was in Reamstown. I was heading up 222, just outside of Denver, when the rain came. It was hard, fast, and moist. Sidebar- I’m a huge fan of the Oxford comma. Anyway, back to our story. By the time I reached the pre lube and started sipping a tasty brew, the rain had subsided, the sky started to brighten ever so slightly, and I had faith that there would not be a single mark on trail. I wasn’t concerned since it was a FOAM party. And although I had never attended such an event, I was excited as I had heard they consist of copious amounts of alcohol, inappropriate touching, and scantily clad bodies pulsating to the music (and each other) decorated in fluorescent body paint. I can’t wait. It’s gonna be lit. With black lights.
But alas….
I. Was. Wrong.
Turns out, I misread. F.O.A.M. is an acronym for Five Old Annoying Men. Instead of drinking and publicly concealed sexual encounters , we roam around the hills through …..a church campground. Complete with outdoor pews and alter. 🎶Free beer for all the hashers! Jesus saves! Jesus saves! Jesus saves!🎶 There was no foam. No inappropriate touching. No pulsating bodies covered in fluorescent paint. It was clean. Very clean. So clean, in fact, Dancing Fool found very little and I actually got to chat with him a bit. Happy birthday to his mom!! ( I believe he said 100! ) At the first beer check, I noticed Choo Choo and myself are both wearing top notch double entendre shirts that screamed for a hash flash. ( speaking of hash flash….whatever happened to Not Twat?) Off the pack goes to more uphills and down to our next beer near. We are positive the hares did not lay this trail. Is there a rent-a-hare company we weren’t told about? We then head back to the HHH, sang some songs, celebrated birthdays and analversaries, made the accused drink it down down down down, sang Swing Low, then followed up this shitty trail at Cocalico Tavern.
On-on! 👣
Casting Couch


RH3 #1091 Red Dress Hash

Red Dress, the anal event where we half-minds get together dressed in our finest red apparel to raise money for boobies! You would think that ToeFU was haring this year based on the cold rainy weather, but this great event was put together by Hot Lips, Swamp Thing, and Breast Stroaker. Despite the weather, this event was done up right, starting with pre-lube under the pavilion at Victor Emmanuel’s with good beer on tap. One of the few Reading hashes where no Hamm’s was to be had! That good beer and shitty weather inspired the day to be more of a social event than a hash, and we started circle a little later than planned. Very clear (or maybe not) directions were provided by our hares, and off we went into the rain, most of us wearing poncho’s (red of course thanks to Delicious Head for the find and body condom supply).
Flour, despite being wet, was quickly found and the group was off to the races. Only about 7 blocks in, we came to an arrow and a bunch of confusion. Despite the clear instructions from our hares in circle less than 10 minutes ago to follow the arrows (which some folks did), a large group of us half minds didn’t listen, and did what hashers do…we followed the flour! Turned out to be a great decision, because even though we were No-No, three blocks later we found ourselves at the first/last beer stop. I mean, who can go wrong with a bonus beer stop?!?!
After consuming some thirst quenching Bud Light, most of our group decided to venture back out in pursuit of trail in the correct direction. A short distance later we found where we should have been earlier and again yelled out On-On heading to our next destination. Along the way we found the brave few that went the correct way initially wandering in an alley not quite sure where they were heading and looking thirsty. With a few extra pairs of eyes scouring the alley for washed our flour it didn’t take us long to find trail leading us to our next stop, the Little Brown Jug, where buckets of icy Budweiser awaited us. Beer and music distracted us for a short while before we were off again into the rain in search of trail.
East on Lancaster Ave, a right turn up hill toward Oakbrook (but no stop there) and a few blocks later we found ourselves back at the confusing intersection from earlier on. No confusion this time as we already knew that more “delicious” Bud Light awaited us at the 501 Bar we had already visited. We arrived there to find the rest of our pack from earlier still perched inside, warm and dry and well-watered. A few pitchers of beer and some group photos later we came to the realization that there was real beer waiting on us at the pavilion and it was time to go.
We knew were we were headed and some hashers decided to take the most direct route back. Others opted to follow trail back, and for those of us who did, we got to enjoy a show put on by one of the locals and her dog. The little ankle biter decided to run out to greet the group of us hashers leaving her noticeably intoxicated owner chasing after it. Being dog lovers and not feeling in danger of being eaten, we stopped to let the owner catch the pooch which turned out to be an epic fail. The woman was walking circles around Legal Easy trying to pick up the dog while bending over, and either gravity was too much or Legal helped her out, but down the woman went like a ton of bricks onto the sidewalk. There was concern as to her wellbeing initially as she lost her sandals and all sorts of stuff, but we quickly figured out she was fine when the cigarette she was smoking during the entire event was still lit, unharmed, and continuing to be smoked as the woman tried to get back to her feet. We collected her pup and handed it to her before rolling out to the HHH.
Back to good beer under roof, all accounted for and warm food on the way. We circled up, sang songs, accused each other of doing dumb shit, celebrated the birthday of Bad Semen and the analversary of Foot Fairy and Schmamzon Prime, drank beer with some out of towners (you know it was cold out because Cause for Blindness was adding layers), and then auctioned off some great prizes to raise money for Breast Cancer. All in all, a great day!
Cheers you fucks,
Cougar Bait


RH3 #1090 Off The Rails
(aka Holy Shit, Cougar isn’t going to be the GM forever, who woulda thunk that?)

Hares: Foot, and Just Rob (aka, one of those ‘biker guys’).
Its April, which means – Monday night hashes where you don’t sweat your balls off, and the Pennsylvania state flower isn’t quite yet in bloom yet, so you don’t have to spend 20 minutes after a good shiggy run dousing yourself in nuclear-grade cleaning solution to prevent you from breaking out in a pus-weaping rash.
In the Spring, the ‘Ken-Grill Pool’ (which is known neither for a particularly famous ‘Ken’ nor for his ‘Grilling’) is home to the Mifflin Youth Baseball League – meaning the parking lot is full of minivans and the field behind the pool is full of parents watching little kids play with their balls. To add a dose of symmetry to the picture, the hashers were huddled up in the front of the property, playing with their balls and waiting on Foot and Just Rob to get us on trail before we lost too much sunlight.
Pretty good turnout for a Monday night – those biker guys are loyal to one another.
The pack circled, and received a quick introduction for our Hash Protocol Officer (as a replacement for our GM). The pack included two virgins (one named ‘T Ball’ and some dude with perfect hair who was wearing a Racist T-Shirt) and we were off in search of flour. As predicted by the hash elders, the first ½ mile was a loop back to where we started, and then we were off in the wilds of Kenhorst heading for Alvernia, where 2-In-The-Pink attempted to violate a statue of a “Golden Bear”. Which – by the way – is a shitty mascot choice. Alvernia went from ‘Crusader’ to ‘Golden Bear’. For those keeping score at home, the Golden Bear is native to that land of high priced gas, cancer-causing substances, and the Hollywood elite, and not the land of potholes, potpie, and post-industrial Hellscapes. But hey, whatever, I guess its better than ‘Crusader’ – which is like the European version of ‘Jihadi’. Can you imagine that – the “Go Jihadi’s!!!!” and like their mascot would be some dude with a bomb strapped to his chest…
Sorry.. did I get distracted? Oh right. The hash. I’m supposed to be writing about the hash. You can blame TohFoo for assigning it to me.
Umm… so after we were chased off campus by the campus police, we headed down to the roaring Angelica creek for a quick BN, then scrambled up to the Angelica water tower for a shot of Peachy Evan Williams. True to hare-f*ckery, the trail dropped down, and climbed through some private property to a 2nd water tower (for another bottle of Evan Williams) and then back down to Deerfield for some cold Coors and Miller High Life. Gonna have to give a shout-out to the hares here – it was a good combination of shiggy, views, ankle-busting gopher holes, and trail, AND they got us off the damn hill before the sun went too low.
So yeah, gonna go off on a tangent again here – and this is for those hares out there of the short, over-educated, retired, and no-f*cking-brained persuasion, that was 2 beer checks, and 2 shot checks on a trail that ended up being about 4.3 miles, and not 1 beer check 4.3 miles into the trail. Just saying.
Yeah so long story short, we came, we hashed, we conquered. Circle at the pool parking lot (perfectly timed to happen AFTER all the little kiddies and their families took off) which involved stupidity, drinking, the wrong kind of cheesy poof. Ricky Dobby – who was dressed in some sort of high-tech long underwear get-up burned my retinas forever when he took off his headgear. Some things age well – like red wine, scotch, cast iron skillets…. Other things (like Ricky Dobby) don’t. Here’s to Foot who boldly asserted “Hey so some people are uncomfortable singing negro spirituals in the circle, so let’s get people to act like Nazis and really stir the pot!”
Afterwards, we threw the trash and recycling into Fool’s trash toaster car and headed off to DeCarlos for wings, fries and beers.
Shitty Hash.
Decoy


RH3 #1089 Cheaper Than Gas

Dances With Whores evidently has more important things to do than write his hash trash for the kennel. Maybe he found a new whore??


RH3 #1088 Double Cross
Hashers gathered on a cold windy Sunday to celebrate one of our favorite couples- GingerSnatch and Down In Front. They decided to hare a trail together in honor of their analversary. After the usual greetings and salutations, we headed off into the wilds of Wyomissing.
There were the usual Type A assholes who stormed ahead. Most of us moved through the neighborhoods and some shiggy, only to discover that we were led astray by false trails. On one, on two, then nothing!!! Finally figuring out On On, we climbed a steep dusty hill and got to the top- ah, time for a Hamms!
And then we were off again. And what exactly was Bukkake wearing around his neck?? A few treasures were found along the way, but no one was willing to carry an animal skeleton or a target deer.
The next stop, we got slow and low with some Rock and Rye. Trail then took us to an abandoned old barn that was certainly haunted. We saw the shadows and the faces of those that did not get away. Bad thought it was a good idea to hide behind the chain saws and not get in the running car. Decoy was scared enough to break trail and escape to a local watering hole.
Eventually we were all together at the best site of the day, the HHH. And brrrr was it cold. Accusations were made. Beers were shared. You all know what happens in Circle.
Then the hash was treated to warm food and cold drinks at Tino’s. We also learned the sad news of the passing of a previous Grandmaster, Spawn. Kind words and memories and a moment of NOISE were shared.
Always an honor to share an afternoon with great people. Thanks to GingerSnatch and Down In Front for a fun trail and day.
Better late than pregnant,
Hot Off The Presses


RH3 #1087 Pi Day Hash
Pi day hash, a false misnomer as there was not a pie in sight. Circle began around cryptic symbols in bird seed, a hash first? Maybe.
Cougar bait stared in disbelief and accusations were being made, we hadn’t even started and already it was a shitty trail.
Brief instructions were given and a general erection was established. We began on trail, our first check, left into the pines we went, some wandered into the meadow and asked the local resident deer if they had seen anything. Meanwhile a shout could be heard….it was a false trail, an F clearly laid in bird seed on the ground, shit. Many ran past it mistaking it for a gold finch’s dinner. Stupid bird seed.
Once the correct trail was established the groupheaded into the neighborhood and were led up a small knob, more grumbles, to many bushes, to steep, but at the top was our first stop, shots, disguised as sugar free lemonade. The knob also provided sunset views of shillington, perfect for the first hash after the time change.
We continued on encountering more hills, some decided these hills should be ran, more accusations and heckling. A few more blocks and a few more turns and we reached our next stop, ice cold Hamm’s waited in the cooler, the weather was nice and spirits were high. After a few moments tasting that sweet sweet nectar someone said on on and trail resumed, we passed a local keeper of the peace as we were lead across Lancaster Ave. the group waved, we acted as normal as a group of hashers can, the ploy was bought, he continued on his way and so did we.
Shortly after we lost the trail (again) arrived in a church parking lot and asked the great hash lord for a sign, moments later from behind us we heard a “ON”, sign provided, we shall toast with a Hamm’s later.
Most of us resumed the trail and were lead down a few alleys where we arrived at our final destination, The Alley Hole, a fine Shillington establishment.
As circle began two were still missing, a short text, a response of fuck, more waiting and then Just Rob and Choo Choo could be heard coming down the alley, being the true gentleman hasher that he is Just Rob allowed Choo Choo to finish before him so she wouldn’t be DFL. Just one virgin on this hash, Just Karen. Bukkake and Just Rob took their respective spots in the middle as FRB and DFL , down downs were had and when the question of trail came up it was unanimously agreed it was a very shitty trail and longer than 3.14 miles, no one said Hashers were good with numbers.
Just Dave


RH3 #1086 Presidents Day Hash

No virgins for this shitty President's Day trail ... live hares tricky fucks ... we stood around for mere minutes till we headed out ... head who said head ... I digress ...
Out of the parking lot as Bad Semen led the pack. On asphalt and culverts and take your selfie at the selfie stop before the demented hares have you down on all four's. Yes crawl your way bitches or if you’re Nasty Panties you get a ride in a Little Tikes car about 40 yards to the other side.
What's on the other side ... BN ... genius ... time to refuel. Now a choice go Eagle or go Turkey ... there were only a few brave Eagles ... the rest of this pack pussed out and went Turkey. We are not ashamed F you! The Turkey's tunnel allowed you to remain erect. Only a few can describe what the Eagles were faced with. I wasn't one of them.
Onward to Lincoln Park to salute a couple of past presidents ... ball fields ... playgrounds ... shiggy and what's that, more refreshments. Bicycles found on trail and then the pack maneuvered their way over through a forest. Weaving in and out, over and under with a true trail leading us back from whence we came. WTF did the hare's run out of flour? Cheap bitches ... sloppy seconds BN. Back down on all fours and crawling through to the light at the end of the tunnel. Back through the stony culvert and onto asphalt back to the lot.
Once crossing the HHH that Turkey pack chilled for an hour before the few Eagles finally flew in. False accusations, announcements, and such to end this shitty trail with Swing Low on fast forward.
Cheers mother fuckers - Cums on Demand



RH3 #1085 GroundHog’s Day

Well another hash all ya fuckity fucks…. Groundhog day! Groundhog day! Circle was a cold one at the lake… brief intros, shitty somewhat erections and we were off! Orange was the new black, or white i mean.. painted spots marked the way. Climbing we went.. through shitty ice, across slippery roots, a small shot stop, over the hills and through the woods went to grandmas house, actually Polly’s cabin. There we found normal banter, shitty beer, lovely balls in the form of fake cheese, and some wonderful bourbon…. On on through the orchard and more snow filled shitty trail and climbing to the BAMBA lot for another beer stop. As I said in the start, its groundhog day, so backwards the crowd went, trudging up
That God awful driveway back to the cabin and finish… well……… three asshole newbs didnt quite follow that and went back to the lot to autohash to the cabin, just in time for circle and DFLs. Many ICE cold beers were down down’d and the young’n of the group took the most like a champ ( he did get a ride from nasty panties to foots, and she drove his car too) Anyway, thats it. It sucked, it was awesome, and it will happen again…. Because it was groundhogs day!!!!! On On
Just Mark


 RH3 #1084 The Old Fashioned Hash, pt. 3

The 3rd edition of the Old Fashioned Hash saw us gathering at Island Pizza for a necessary prelube. The place was awash with fervent, soon-to-be-disappointed Eagles fans. After a refreshing beverage or three, we carpooled up to the lot at Monocacy Hill for opening circle. Hares Cougar Bait and ToeFU gathered us by the picnic tables for circle. As instructions were given, the wind quickened and my nipples stiffened. The trail was designated as live so we watched the hares trot off as we sipped extra chilly beverages. At as close to the requested time as was customary in RH3, we set off to run down the intrepid hares. Almost immediately, trail veered upward, climbing the rocky path to the top of Monocacy Hill. There, we found the first SN, a lovely bottle of sweet bourbony goodness. Imbibing generously, I could feel the warmth spread to my stomach, then parts beyond. Picking our way down the boulders on the far side of the hill, ExCoGi and I decided our needs would be better served by following the turkey split. Warmed by the shelter of the trees and the bourbon's embrace, we gently made our way along smooth dirt trails, finally finding the second SN in a secluded glade by a soft waterfall. Huddling together, we sipped at the intoxicating beverage. We played a game to see who could secure the most cherries with their tongue. The sweet smell of shampoo from ExCoGi's hair was strangely exciting. Maybe it was the bourbon, but soon, all thoughts of trail were gone. And the rest...well, what happens on trail, stays on trail...
Deliciously,
Not Twat

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