Hash Trash 3

RH3 #1126 39th Analversary Hash

The residents at the corner of Plymouth Place and Reading Boulevard were once again blessed with a group of drunk idiots assembling in front of their homes. “Must be anal time!”, they thought, probably. Not a single virgin in sight, apparently they are scared of anal? After a not-brief-enough history lesson from Bad Semen (which included some photos that he printed out of his fax machine), Any Crack’ll Do was out of site and the rest of the degens decided it was time to go find him. On-On!  One would think 39 years of stumbling through the same area would yield efficient results. But, as the checks appeared, the group split up more and more, as if they didn’t know where this was going. A few brave souls entered a tunnel, while the less-dumber folks patiently waited for them to inevitably turn around and re-emerge minutes or days later, with permanent spine misalignment. Carrying on through Wyo, drunk and confused, the group worked together in the hopes of finding a happy ending. Finally, a beer near! It only required stepping over a tiny creek. Not surprisingly, more than one uncoordinated half-wit managed to face plant themselves in the three inches of mighty Wyo whitewater rapids, showing up to the BN dripping in Reading waste water runoff and shame. After mocking one another over a fine beverage, we proceeded on to finish this shit show. Through the dense and uninhabitable forest, we were finally “rewarded” with the H’s. The reward part was questionable, as there were no beers in site. You had one job Crack… Anyway, more hashers trickled in, beer eventually showed up, and a circle was formed after a bit of discussion about leaving Bad Semen wondering out in the woods like a senile old man. Since that’s what he does every other day anyway, the circle commenced. Optopussy threatened the FRB with a drug test yet again (maybe someone should drug test HER?) Two of our finest members were named, Just Mark became Screams Like a Bitch, and Just Curtis became 50 Cent Coitus. Songs were sung mostly correctly, and the group departed the woods, only to regather at Oakbrook Brewing after cleaning themselves up from the evenings shameful activities. ‘Til next year, Plymouth & Reading!

Just Justin

RH3 #1125 Life’s A Beach Hash

The group of degenerates gather at Brentwood for Just Mark’s virgin haring with the help of Nasty Panties.  Directions were given. The hares made sure we knew that, although Tofu wasn’t haring, the rain gods still wreaked their havoc and they had to lay trail twice. The group split up as soon as we parted ways. So much for thinking that being laid twice in one day would make the trail easier than a fifth street whore.  We wrapped through Alvernia. I’m not sure if Dances and Crack were looking for beer or coeds as they blew past a few checks and passed the first beer near. The rest of us found the delicious beer of Jaws… Narragansett. Did I mention Just Mark almost became shark chum the previous week due to a surf board incident?  After whetting our whistles we were off again. Next beer near was in Schlegel park where the FRB pack could watch the walkers all roll in like zombies in search of beer. Back to the SRT for a nice flat finish to circle. A few type A’s (Nut Nibbler- no surprise there and Breaststroker- under duress of the possibility of Legal whipping him if he doesn’t get his daily steps) walked past circle to complete their daily mileage. Songs were paired with a beautiful sunset. Short and sweet before we were left in the dark and told to head to Paolo’s for Apres. 


RH3 #1124 RIBBED…For Your Pleasure Hash

The band of degens circled up in front of Excitement Video. No virgins in sight, typical of Shillington.  A dick-off broke out, Vanna had the shortest and was handsomely rewarded. Decoy appeared to give directions, however, no-one could hear him over his music.

Some assholes were eager to go, but Opto reigned them in for introductions. On-On, we gone.

Soon a creek crossing, a jungle like path, checks a plenty.  Then in a random back alley, yells of “beer near, shot near”.  Finally a cold Hamm’s!  What could be better?  How about a blowjob, some cheesy meat, salty balls and dangerous flames.

Then another creek crossing and hills.  Us “local legends” from the glorious decades of the ’80’s and ’90’s yearned for a delicious meal from Dempsey’s (AKA Dumpster’s”).  Instead, we got more f’ing hills.

Finally we circled up in the beautiful Fawn Hill hop yard, many thanks to honorary new members Just Jeff and Just Destiny.  Songs, shiny headed men, accusations, a drug test, GM’s and down-downs.  An almost angelic rendering of Swing Low, then off to Paolo’s for pizza, wings and beer.

On-On, Just Shawn

RH3 #1123 The Cougar’s Breast Crack Float Hash

The fabulous hash Float! The on-on began on a strange street, with lots of curious neighbors, peeking out their windows, and pretending to pull weeds as they stared us down. We circled up on this  strange street to start #1123 ironically at 11:23. Weird.
 We started our jaunt roaming around some streets. Heading  through some old trails that we hashed once before had a beer stop at a  beer stop that we had before. I know original, right. We ran some more and then we arrived at a parking lot, where Cougar was so nice to give us all blow jobs.
With most of our inflatables, nice and hard, we circled up. Songs were sung, drinks were drank, two people were called out for sitting down at the hash circle, imagine that. Then we all headed towards the water. The glorious water, on a glorious day!  the float ❤️ just so worth it. Our little flotilla stayed together, drinks we enjoyed. Vanna’s smoke  kept the insects away. Just Jeremy raided an island party to curb his munchies. Foot, Schmamazon and Breast had a threesome. Choo choo  worked her herding skills. Cougar Baited a ton of fish. We couldn’t ask for a better day. 
We all exited up a bushy slope that was over grown and thick like the snatch of yesteryear. When a bush was a bush. 
We gathered at the Apres  for more beer, more beer, more beer and a lil bit of pizza,
As always the float NEVER disappoints.
Love u longtime !
Choo Choo

RH3 #1122 The Dog Days of Summer Hash


The evening started out pleasant enough, the temperature was mild, the humidity non-existent, there were dogs to pet, fellow hashers to chat and of course beer to guzzle. Just Brittni and Nut Nibbler led off introductions, unfortunately there were no virgins in attendance. The Hares proceeded to explain the trail markers, and right away we could tell something was up with the flour. There were rumors floating around that an expensive rice flour was used, more on that later. Off went the half wits blazing through the backyards of Blandon. On one, one two, ON-ON was cried out into the sweet summer air. Trail was easy enough to follow until it all went to shit. Half of the group was split up by an oncoming locomotive on the Reading railroad. This would lay the groundwork for the confusion that ensued. After the train passed the group continued on, much to our surprise the group ahead of the train was not able locate trail, what the hell. On and on we went searching for the coveted BN. Somehow, probably by miss reading a check, we stumbled on Nut Nibbler hunkered down in the bushes with a cooler of adult beverages. We were offered beers and we took them. Down in Front sounded the horn, and so we waited for our fellow hashers to join us for libations . However, our fellow hashers were no where to be seen! Zip, zilch, nada. The only souls that responded to the sound of the horn were some horses chilling on the farm across the street, they must have been old derby horses or something. From there the “elite 8” as the group was dubbed, continued to press on, much to our dismay we had a difficult time locating the trail, that was until a late arrival pointed us in the right direction of true trail, thank you brother! Most of the pack believed the expensive rice flour was to blame, it could have been, or could have just been the beer talking. Anyways, the trail led us into a creek, and everyone rejoiced when SN was spotted in the distance underneath the bridge. Pickle-jalapeño whiskey shots and peach ring gummy bear shots were enjoyed by the aforementioned elite 8. Being the half wits we are we did not realize we had to mix the whiskey in with the pickle juice, oh lord! However, we were successful on the second shot attempt. After shots were consumed, we found the trail leading us out of the creek and back to civilization. We started to get the impression that the other group of hashers had created their own trail back to HHH. Seriously not a bad idea. Up the hill we walked and as we passed the Blandon water tower we knew we were near the end, thank god because my beer buzz was starting to fade. We arrived back to Just Brittni’s house for HHH and the circle jerk. Songs were sung, accusations were made and bald guys drank. Everyone enjoyed the remainder of the evening relaxing in the back yard, drinking IPA’s, Hamm’s, homemade margaritas and eating square pizza. Some of the luckier ones even left with a bushel of vegetables from Just Brittni’s impressive garden. 

Just Pat

RH3 #1121 Down In Ginger Snatch Hash

All the halfwits gathered on a hot, humid Monday evening in the parking lot of the former Gold’s gym for Trail #1121 (almost half way Opto). A nice crowd for a Monday evening hash. Two virgins graced us with their presence – Just J female and Just J male (I don’t recall their actual names but I do remember their initial – car bomb’s do things to one’s memory center in the brain). After tennis ball bouncing instructions and introductions of the pack went. Cougar and NFB vying for the lead. From this point forward I have no idea where the pack went or how things turned because I was very hot and sore from the Rogue North (Dancing Fool) hash the day prior, thus I hashed smarter with Foot, Schmamazon, Just Mims, and Swamp at a much more “Ginger” pace. We arrived at the lot of Van Scoy (address 1121 – coincidence? Conspiracy? What does 1121 mean?) after a treacherous 0.1 mile uphill climb to wait for all the running folk for Beer Near #1. PBR’s flowed; lots of water was drank – I guess people were sweating a lot. We were not. Off the pack went. This time the runners beat us to the garage at Down in Front Ginger homestead in the beautiful borough of Wyomissing. Even the alleys are nice there. Back to Ginger’s place again for HHH and circle. Beer bitch duties were “partially” done by Partial Erection or partially shitty. Lots of good songs from Tour, plenty of PBR, bald guys, GM’s, and Opto got swing low correct – what a great circle. Where is the apres? THE HOOD!!! Decarlo’s – our diverse friends missed us from Penn St. Tavern at Red Dress and Santa in December. Ginger and Down in Front were gracious hosts with wings, fries, and green stuff for the healthy folks. Plenty of beer. Foot had some green drink with a red bull -this made Schmamazon happy until …. Car Bombs then she was ecstatic. Great to see Shrinkage, Cougar, Dumb and Dumber as well as all the drunks that regularly attend these events to take us away from real life. Thank you to Ginger and Down in Front for your trail, short-cut, and the generous apres. See you drunk bastards at the next sauna fest – don’t forget the float coming up!!

We missed you Horn and Bad
Breast Stroaker

RH3 #1120 July 4th Hash

Hares: Decoy, Toefu, Foot Fairy, Flamer

430 am alarm goes off and groans of hashers can be heard all over Berks… why am I getting up sooo early?!?  Well because it’s one of the best days of the year for a Reading hasher!! The Fourth of July Hash! We all managed to find the new start location since gate closures and blow jobs rendered our previous fire tower start unusable. So behind the old Captains Cove we welcomed four virgins (just Ethan, just sheri, just jeremy? And just someone else). We circled to sweet sounds of prideful American songs while we sipped PBRs, all as the sun was rising.  On- on: Of course we hit the fire tower where there were no blow jobs but a cooler of sweet PBR.  Then on to the Pagoda for a champagne near which was more like an orange juice near because Flamer thought two bottles of champagne would be enough for 50 people.  Finally we wound down past the Liederkrantz and apparently missed a shot near.  Probably due to a good mixture of part drunk and part still asleep. We finally circled back at the cove parking lot. Virgins were called out. Accusations were made: ruckasacking type A shit, Flamers inability to buy enough champagne, blood on trail, bald things, grandmasters, “Karen’s”. We took a moment to honor our veterans with a down down and even then Foot said circle needed to go longer. So how does a GM extend circle??? You ask Deathwish to sing a song.  Soo about an hour later we made it to Reifton Fire Company for apres. 🚗💣, breakfast and beers all before 9 am. How, as a hasher, can you not love this day?  



RH3 #1119 The Pink Horn Hash

This edition of hash trash was written by a robot. Only names were changed by One Knee Wonder to incriminate the identities of the guilty. Cheers!
Once upon a time in a peculiar town called Reading that had a knack for eccentricities, there existed a running group known as RH3. They were an odd bunch, fueled by both their passion for running and their love for a particular golden elixir – beer. This merry band of runners gathered every week, combining their love for fitness and indulgence in a way only they understood.
Led by an enigmatic character named Optopussy, and with the help of Horn of Plenty and Two in the Pink,  the hashers embarked on runs like no other. They would assemble at the edge of a dense forest, staring into the wilderness with a mixture of curiosity and excitement. You see, they didn't have a pre-planned route. Instead, they relied on a trail of flour scattered by a mysterious hare, whose identity was forever concealed.
With a boisterous cry of "On-On!" echoing through the trees, the hashers would venture into the unknown. They navigated the labyrinth of foliage, following the white trails of flour as if it were a lifeline, guiding them deeper into the heart of nature's embrace.
However, they were not without their quirks. Among them were a few hashers who possessed an uncanny ability to locate shortcuts, which often resulted in mixed outcomes. Some hailed these hashers as geniuses, while others questioned their sanity. These self-proclaimed intellectual adventurers believed they could outsmart the trail and reach the beer quicker.
And so it happened, on a fateful run, the smartest (or perhaps the dumbest) of these hashers discovered a secret path through the undergrowth. They sprinted, cutting their distance in half, convinced they had outwitted both the hare and their fellow halfwits. But as they emerged onto a clearing, they realized their mistake. They had only found half the beer.
Confused and slightly disappointed, the hashers regrouped in a circle known as the "circle of trust." They formed a bond forged by their shared adventures, cracking jokes, swapping tales, and indulging in a peculiar tradition. Each hasher munched on orange crunchy snacks, a symbol of camaraderie, while raising their beer-filled vessels for down-downs. Laughter and merriment filled the air as they toasted their endeavors.
After their ritual was complete, they migrated to a local watering hole affectionately called Bertie's, or sometimes referred to as "bird titties" in their own whimsical slang. It was a haven where stories were woven like intricate tapestries, where both truth and fiction intermingled freely.
Inside Bertie's, they gathered around a table, their eyes wide with anticipation, ready to listen to the tales shared by their eccentric compatriots. On that particular night, a peculiar story was whispered, originating from an outsider known only as the Wanderer. With a twinkle in his eye and an air of mystery, he spoke of forbidden desires and grand obsessions. In hushed tones, he divulged the enigmatic tale of "Bad Semen" and his insatiable longing for a monumental symbol, an overwhelming desire for a "big cock" that surpassed even the fear of death itself.
As the night unfolded, the hashers reveled in the absurdity of the tale, finding solace in the fact that their running escapades were not the only oddities in this whimsical world they called home. And so, with laughter echoing through the walls of Bertie's, they embraced the quirkiness that bound them together, their running group intertwined with the spirit of forever chasing trails, laughter, and the promise of beer.

One Knee Wonder

RH3 #1118 The Love Hash

Was a splendid night for a gathering of RH3’s finest as well as some out of towners and two virgins. While we waited for our hares, Hot for Teacher and Any Crack’ll Do to cum, we were awed by the creativity of some halfwit who utilized every last brain cell to lay out the remnants of previous hashes into a beautiful “1118” in the dusty lot. Finally, our hares arrived, and we circled up as Decoy led the way. Evidently, our GM decided she would rather not associate with this heinous crew and was unacceptably absent from the festivities. Introductions were made, Crack provided instructions and we were on our way.

The motley crew meandered through the Flying Hills Village searching for the white stuff. Alas we were “On-on.” Our hares had us chasing each other in circles as we searched for the 1st BN. Across the golf course we galloped with unsuspecting spectators witnessing the spectacle. As sweat, or the previous night’s endeavors seeped from our pores, we trudged up the hill to a welcome sight…BN! We gathered in the woods momentarily to down, down some of the “good” stuff. After a few moments of jovial convening, we were on our way again. 

We followed the trail through woods and fields to reach the next BN or maybe BF (beer far). As the crew trudged up the hill, through the high grass (and what may have been saw blades), the black backpack full of liquid delightfulness was in sight. The only thing better than the view from the top of the mountain was listening to Vanna exclaim her disdain for her less than stellar sucking skills. 

Back down the hill, through the field of screams and On to trail. Next task at hand was following the powder across Philadelphia Ave. while our sphincters puckered as speeding cars barreled past. Initial thought was our hares were trying to thin the RH3 herd. Being that 80% of the herd never made it to this point, our hares were unsuccessful in their endeavors. As we stumbled over the unsuspecting homeless under the bridge, we reached the H’s. Many beers were drank waiting for the rest of the half minds to arrive at circle. “Why are we waiting!!!” Their less-than-ideal decision-making skills hampered by over consumption at the 2nd BN, had them make a right on trail, instead of a left and ended up going back to their cars. 

Once the derelicts returned in their vehicles, circle was formed, songs were sung, down downs were had, announcements were made, and everyone swung low. It was then on to Teacher and Crack’s place for further festivities.


Just Mark

RH3 #1117: Summer of ’69’ Hash

69'd to the finish line. Started off packed with beers and celebrating messed up Mondays with a cheer! Everyone went Hamm, some deciding to run up hill not fearing the unknown. Wobbly rocky terrain with no pain no gain. The thirsty goers were quenched with 3 boobies near (BN). Seeing the squirting water tower. But it was no match for Cougar Bait, as he slayed the climb to get on top. 4 virgins were sacrificed to the lambs. Just Jeremy, Just Lea, Just Jule and Just Mike. No PN stop but that doesn't stop the unlimited PN locations for alone time. Ending with a nice slide home right inside Swampy. Testing endurance, stamina and the orgastic adventures of life. Until the next cum sesh.

Vanna Blackout

RH3 #1116: Red Dress

A very good turnout of at least 50 Hashers showed up for this years Red Dress Run (Save the Boobies Fundraiser) being held back at West Reading Fire Department Social Quarters.

We were greeted by Beulah serving up some tasty prelube beverages. It's an especially great start to this hash with Papussy & Indian Queef in attendance and not to mention Fudgy & In U end O being able to make the long trek back to Reading for this event.

Next up was a short walk to where Circle was going to be held, our ball sack showing hare, Breast, giving the detalls of what flour markings we would be searching for. Opto, our beautiful GM, called the lone virgin Just Colton into Circle for some last final instructions. The introductions were made and then we were off search for trail. 

Once found, trail led us across the Buttonwood Street Bridge and into the city searching for our first BN located at Grill then Chill, but what's this, our very first BN false. Im guessing this was due to the fact that Grill then Chill wasn't even open at this time of the day. Nice research hares.

The pack continued on, but was slightly derailed for a few minutes due to what appeared to be some local having an adverse reaction to some previously ingested drugs. Two ambulances showed up to deal with this poor fellow, which allowed the hashers to continue on trail where our first legit BN was found, which pretty much just happened to be in the middle of the 8th and Oley intersection. At least we had beer this time. Beers were drank, a few photos were taken before the pack was back on the move again. 

After just a few short blocks on trail beers were flowing again at our next BN stop Puerta del Sol. Pretty sure this was everyones first visit to this fine establishment. Next up, trail brought us to the Penn Street Tavern, where we celebrated, along with their great regular patrons, the grand opening of their brand new outdoor patio. A few lucky hashers actually even came away with some beautiful plastic flowers. 

Next it was back across the river, where trail led us to the HHHs, located underneath the billboard entering West Reading. Down Downs were drank a few accusations were made, Stink Finger proceeded to climb the billboard for one

last photo and then it was off to the Apres. 

This year’s auction was held with Swamp being assisted by the very entertaining Just Chris, who, at the conclusion, earned her the aptly naming of Vanna


Another great Red Dress Run is in the books, Thanks to Beulah and Rainbow for getting us just a little boozed up and to the hares Breast, Swamp and Hotlips for putting on such a great hash event!!



OLD News

RH3 #1115 Cheaper By The Dozen Bakery Bash

  We gathered under leaden skies in a gravel lot in Blandon. A curious blend of chocolate chip cookie and mushroom shit permeated the air. Hares Stupid Brother and Dry Dolly had been working diligently, laying a trail consisting of tiny pinches of a powdery substance. Since our GM was absent (skewed priorities…in my opinion), the Queen of the Hash, Horn A’Plenty graced us with her divine leadership. The usual assortment of reprobates struggled in vain to assemble anything approximating a circle. Instructions were given, introductions made and we saddled up.

  Our first challenge was to cross Park Rd alive, which to the best of my knowledge, we all accomplished. We wove between houses, then ended up traversing a series of backyards. Thanks to the weekend downpours, it was like riding on loose sand, punctuated by dodging the occasional boggy sinkhole. Terre eventually firmed up and we scurried through neighborhood byways, ending up at our first driveway BN of the night. As we approached our stop, the skies felt it was high time to urinate on our Motley Crew. Temporarily quenched, we rolled by rows of perfectly edged lawns and the occasional garden gnome until marks grew puzzling. They were ON…we were ON?? Who cares…2nd BN! There, we were treated to a viewing of Breast’s technicolor ass, compliments of a recent cycling reacquaintment with Mother Earth.  

  Ponying up…the usual FCBs led us thru several more roadkill zones and back to the blessed HHHs. 

  Circle was mercifully short…owing to the fact that we old GM fucks have forgotten most of the songs and shit. Well…that, and we just wanted to drink. 

  We adjourned to the Panderia (that’s bakery to all of you unilingual folks) for pizza, cookies, beer…and more beer.  

Cycle On, Garth!


RH3 #1114 The Flours of Narnia Hash

A larger than expected group of half minds gathered near The Highlands on our first Monday night of the season, not to turn in our early reservations for future diaper changing care, but to pound a quick Hamm’s and listen to Swamp relive his glory days of being GM in circle. It was finally time for Just Curtis to put down his training wheels and lay some trail with the best sidekick out there, Peeter on a Skeeter! (I may be slightly biased!)
After slightly introducing the virgin to marks and allowing our hares about 36.9 minutes to get a head start, we set out to catch those bastards. Wyomissing Park played a beautiful backdrop for our adventure. I don’t know that I’ve heard it called Narnia before, but it certainly was a night for lions, witches and matching Cougar’s 50th hash wardrobes from our twinning hares. 
Compared to many hashes there was ample flour laid and the number of checks made me take my shoes off to use my toes to help count. There was a creek crossing that some of us in the back successfully avoided while others trudged their way through it on the way to BN #1.  
Trail had a striking backwards resemblance to a recent analversary with BN #2 safely tucked off the side of 222 where the sound barriers kept us safe from the imminent danger of Reading drivers. 
As dusk quickly approached we all circled up on the hill in the woods behind the school bus lot. We declared the shittiness of the trail, scared the virgin with questions and, wait for it, made Foot drink for RUNNING UP HILL!  Like Halley’s Comet, it’s an event we probably won’t see for another 76 years. Sorry to those who missed such a sight!! 
Aprés was pizza and brews at Paolo’s where Decoy and Stink graced our presence and made guest appearances. 

Hashfully yours,
Pretty When I’m Drunk

RH3 #1113 Erin Go Bragh-less Hash

On one of the last winter mornings we all gathered by a patch of trees just beyond a quarry of despair.   Car back rang out over and over.  

Circle was formed.  Hot for Teacher's virgin was introduced having been convinced to come out after a night of drinking.  Smart choices! 

The hares Stink Finger and Ricky Dobby gave us instructions (well some) and off we went.  We all quickly ignored the clear false and On-On rang out along the valley.  After a quick jaunt through a field we quickly reached the Beer-Shot-Near.  Irish Car Bombs were drunk minus the curdling.  

Trail was quickly picked up as we fought off Mother Natures brutal bid to blow us.  After a bit of road pounding we were pleased to find Beer Near.  The contents of a trash bag in the creek were procured.  Old beer was drank and discussions of bad hash habits levied.  

Onward into Mother Natures stiff breeze.  Whats this?  Two True Trail markings, no just too much to drink the night before.  The Turkey and Eagle split was upon us.  Most decided to console their previous nights actions by taking Turkey.  A quick venture through the neighborhood.  Four too drunk to read souls took to Eagle.   The local neighbors yelled out encouragement and praise of their stupidity.  A false was checked and Eagle quickly joined back up with Turkey.

More roads but this time with the wind at our assholes.  Is that HHH in the distance?  No one wanting to be DFL a slow sprint ensued.  All were pleasantly rewarded with a suckle of Roids nipple.  Circle was formed.  The virgin was asked if she had learned anything, she had not.  Her teacher was slacking.   Many accusations  were formed as too much beer (not enough?) was poured.  Songs were sung and the hash came to an end.


Just David

RH3 #1112: Your Comfort Is Our Primary Concern Hash

The Hash gathered on the shores of beautiful Antietam lake with some proudly displaying new hab that was not at all trademark infringement of a local brewery. Decoytis Interruptus provided instructions, we only half listened. Flamer and Roadkill assured us that the trail had been designed for our comfort and safety. Quickly we dispersed, and after several minutes of general confusion and silence “ON ONE” rang through the woods and off we went, the trail only went one way…Up, then up and then up some more.

Soon we found reprieve with the sound of “Beer Near” and  fortified ourselves with glorious room temperature PBR. Off we went again and soon left the trail and found some shiggy, then shiggy with rocks, then shiggy in a swamp, then uphill and then uphill with shiggy and rocks. Some of us nearly lost shoes, others were beginning to lose our nerve when ‘Shot near’ was called out! We stood in the shadow of the mythical Mt. Penn beer vault (unsealed contrary to local news reporting) and drank comforting shots that would fuel us on the rest of our journey. 

Some false trails were followed, but eventually we found the glorious HHH.  Our reward was hoagies and more beer (some of which was brewed during the first Obama administration). We attempted to make a circle but were hindered by still more shiggy. Songs were song, accusations were had, announcements were made, and everyone swung low.

On Out

Just Brittni

RH3 #1111: Living on Easy Stroke Hash

A beautiful, pleasantly warm February afternoon greeted the half minds, as they met behind a Middle School in Western Berks County, meeting up with the hares, a doctor and a lawyer. It had all the ingredients for a wonderful afternoon.

Under the watchful eye of the school security cameras, about 30 half minds circled up, including Casting Couch’s virgin, to see the marks the hares had laid for us…on their Christmas tree board, so as to not leave any marks on school property.  We were soon given a general erection out of the school property and into the neighborhood.  After a short jaunt, the pack came around a corner, to find the hares, waiting for us, and the open back gate of a U-Haul. The pack all obediently climbed into the truck, and not one person asked a question about what exactly was happening.

Our dark ride quickly gave way to the reality that we were headed uphill. Long, winding turns led to a bumpy conclusion.  As the door flew open, we exited the truck like migrants on a long journey to freedom.  We found ourselves in the middle of the woods with a “Good Luck”, we were off.

We quickly came to a Turkey/Eagle split.  The pack split into two, almost equal halves.  The turkey trail was a short-ish, roughly 1/2 mile loop in the woods, returning us back to that fateful truck, where we were greeted with a beer, and some good news/bad news.  While the turkey trail was shorter, we would load back into the truck and be dropped off farther down the trail. The turkey truck drop off led us right to the shot stop, where we were treated to a very festive holiday whiskey libation from Breast’s stash of goodies.

Meanwhile, on the Eagle trail we ran about a mile on a wooded trail and were quickly rewarded for our hard work with a nice cold beer. Had we made good choices? Then, down we went through some pretty fun trails and past a small body of water. We found a SN near a creek crossing but after hours of searching with no avail we finally moved on parched. We were met with some more ups and downs and then finally a paved road! It felt like we might have run all the way to Womelsdorf! But no we were back “safely” in Robesonia and saw some of our Turkey cohorts as we passed them on the way to Falco’s. 

After trekking into the Robesonia borough limits, the Turkey group was first to arrive at the finest drinking establishment on 422, Falco’s Tavern, where cold pitchers of PBR and Miller Lite awaited.  But this was only a BN, as the hares decided to wait for us there, and allow the entire pack to once again roam together.  

A few minutes later, the Eagles began to arrive. The mystery of the missing SN was solved, as it was mistakenly taken with the Turkey tribe, so prevent any non-hashers from consuming the treasure.

After what seemed like an eternity, Legal Easy set out to finish the live haring of the trail.  Meandering through alleys and side streets, we ended circle in the backyard of one of the hare’s friends. It takes a good friend to allow a large pack of half minds to consume beer and orange crunchy stuff, and sing vulgar songs on their property. And that’s just what we did!


Peeter On A Skeeter and the Eagle-running ExCoGi

RH3 #1110: History Repeats Itself Hash

After an eventful morning full of accusation undertones of Type A runners marking a course on supposedly “fresh trails”, the Reading Hash House Harriers gathered in local MTB cruising spot…Bamba Lot. 30+ strong took time to introduce themselves as themselves or others and some pre-lube beers were finished and Hash Hab pint koozies were stored as hares, Foot Fairy and Horn Of Plenty, directed the group to general erection. 

Quickly, everyone spread out searching for the first mark. On 1, On 2, and On 3 were called and the hunt for further trail was ON. A short distance later and the first BN was found as the group gathered on the side of the road. Beers were shared, stories were told, and on-out was had again. Through the woods and avoiding said fresh trails was successfully accomplished…who said hashers don’t listen? Round and round and round we went through twisting, winding, muddy, and quite frankly pointless trails. Where was the shiggy and the straight lines through the woods…on the plus side, we did find a SN of some sort of cinnamon whiskey. After watching Just Curtis and Stupid Brother hit the earth harder than Bukkake on a Saturday night, we made our way to Antietam Lake avoiding cars, hikers, and seemingly many other hashers who were to be found at the next BN. Up the worst driveway in Berks we went to Polly Has Tits’ house. Again, beers were shared, stories were told, and everyone took time to recover.

Down the driveway we went to the world’s largest Check. Up and up and up the road we traveled (many ran), until we reached the exaggerated HHH, marking the final resting spot of the 8th? annual Groundhog’s Day Hash. Songs were song, accusations were had, announcements were made, and everyone swung low.


Stink Finger

RH3 #1109 Swipe Right Hash

Circling up, we learned that our hares One Knee Wonder and Just Mark met via a “right swipe”.  Instructions were given, warnings levied and off we went.  Deciphering week old flower from fresh powder the majority of the group followed the trail through Albright campus and up the hill to the base of Mt Penn where it wasn’t long until a very “Reading” cooler filled with refreshing Hamms. Pushing on we came upon very large flower arrows pointing up the hill into the woods. Comments were made about “they really wanted us to go this way” very quickly the trail disappeared. It is rumored that Deathwish may or may not have been the voice of reason to return to the last know check.  It will continue to be debated but soon we were back on the white powder trail.  Back into town we soon ended up along the tracks where a mixture of a white substance was now falling from the skies and a second black trash bag cache was located along with our hares. Pressing on we encountered a young security guard “just doing his duty” and a few hashers who had opted to hash the trail from a Marie’s barstool. “Smarter not harder” is a phrase that comes to mind.  HHH’s were found; circle formed songs were sung & accusations made.  The skies showered us with a wet ending.  Off to Shirley’s for food and drinks.

Just Curtis

RH3 #1108 Farewell to the Taproom Hash

When I was but a lad of 12, my parents took me on a ride on one of the last passenger rail rides from Reading to Philadelphia.   I couldn’t appreciate it at the time, but they were encouraging me to experience a part of what it meant to live in Reading – something iconic, but also something soon to be a thing of the past.

For those who have lived and worked in Reading for the past 40 years, the NorthEast Tap Room was a similar iconic experience that is – unfortunately -- also now a thing of the past.   

Everyone has their own Tap Room story, and we could make this trash all about those… but let’s talk about what the Tap Room meant to the hash.   For those of you old enough to remember what an answering machine is/was, the back closet at the Tap Room once hosted the “Hash Hotline”.  Instead of receiving an email or a Facebook notification about the where/when of the next hash, you’d call a phone number, and in the week prior to the hash, the hare (or trailmaster) would visit the Tap Room and record the who/what/where/when of the next hash event.

In those years (let’s call them the ‘Pete’ years) you could find a framed printed hash trash written by our very own Bad Semen for the “Hill Street Brews” hash – the hash where Dogbreath (aka ‘Santa Dog’) was named.   The Tap Room was host to various Hash events – from beer checks and apres to (in recent years) Mis-Spelling bees and Beer Wars.

And all the while, the beat of time went on, and the Tap Room didn’t much change as evolve over time.  Unfortunately the era of neighborhood bars has changed – A bar that has a well-stocked cooler and eclectic beers on tap is not the oddity that it was 25 years ago, and patrons are more concerned with where they’re going to find a secure parking spot than a pint of Old Peculiar or a bottle of Corsendonk.   

And so it was on a cold and blustery afternoon that the hash met to give the old girl a proper sending off.   Our hares, Casting Couch, ExCoGi, and Bukkake met us in the parking lot of Northeast Middle School with fresh 30-packs of Hamms.   A pack of (eventually) about 28 hashers joined them including a visitor from Pittsburgh and a new boot, and then headed off into the city for a hashy good time.  

The hares promised some new checks -including a leapfrog check, a salmon check, and a naughty check.  Those were all dispensed of in/around the Albright campus, before we headed up through the rapey woods behind the campus in search of beer, shiggy, and whatever detritus we could find.   Crossing Hampden by the old Elks Club, we found instead the hares with a beer check.   From there the pack headed South– some mistakenly went up the hill into the woods to find the circle at a pavilion paved with glass shards and used condoms.   

The wise among us headed back down to our cars and made for the warm confines of the Tap Room.  There we found some of the olds (Swamp, Flamer) who were too wise to hash when a warm room with cold beer was an option, and we were joined by some autohashers and bike hashers all there to honor the last day of the Tap Room.   The hares were kind enough to buy us 13 pizzas, plus some apps and cupcakes.   Glasses were raised, stories were told, and cash went flying across the bartop with the rapidity of the Los Angeles River sucking trash into the ocean.

So.   Goodbye to the Tap Room. Goodbye to an institution that has been there for generations.   We now focus on what’s next.   Maybe not what’s next for the NETR, but what’s next for Reading, and the Hashers that call it home.    We will have our downtown divebars (Tophers, Nicks etc) and we still have our suburban hash houses (Liberty, etc) but where do we find a place that’s as warm and comfortable as the Tap Room.   Not sure that place is out there quite yet, but we have a good model to start from.

Thanks to the hares (Couch, Excogi, and Bukkake) for a good trail and for great memories.



RH3 #1107 New Year’s Hash

Out with 2022 and in with 2023.  Started out a beautiful warm day and as soon as it was time to hash it became cold and breezy. But at least no rain, way to go toh! Opto started circle and thennnn Just Karin and Toh were hares so off they went to do their live trail while we froze our underdressed asses off. I remember went through some neighborhoods then up a stupidly long winding up hill with some goats to the witches hat where we were blessed with champagne, I had two glasses because champagne is my jam. But I hate jam… anyway, from there we ran some trails to the bottom where we found the HHH! Down downs were had, some accusations were made, it was a small and quaint mellow circle likely due to festivities the evening prior. Thennnn we were off to Apre at Liberty taproom and here they had a neighborhood discount on shots… Beer and pizza were had and  eagles were watched andddd our very own hare Just Karin became forever known as Nut Nibbler as she downed some kind of strong beer/cider thing like a champ. She was feeling herself that day.  Happy new years fuckers. Better late than never… 


Delicious Head

RH3 #1106 / Rogue North #61

Trinity and Beulah came together to offer a Rogue North/ Reading HHH trail. It was a day meant for laying on the couch and tending to the hangover that Santa delivered the night before at the Santa Fucks the Hash. Instead a few of us eager beavers put our hangover aside and showed up ready to damage the liver all over again. And damage the liver we did. Did I mention it was cold and wet. It seemed like Tofu should have been haring. 

After chalk talk, where three marks were familiar to RH3 and 84 other marks were Rogue North approved, trail set off towards the hospital. 

The type A who wanted to warm up took the eagle trail. The Turkey trail went right down Penn Ave to the row of warm bars and restaurants.  After hitting a back check 3,069 the Eagle group found the turkeys in Barley Mow. This wasn’t even a beer near, but just the first bar that trail ventured near, the first of several that we hit along Penn Ave. There were photo stops, fire company stops and sightings of little Fudgie at the Spruce, another non BN that necessitated a stop.  Eventually we found our way back to the Sly Fox parking lot for circle. Fun and hilarity ensued.  Thanks to the North for the hand warmers and company of Yolanda!! 


RH3 #1105 Santa F*cks The Hash

After pissing on us the night before, Santa returned for our annual f*cking, courtesy of NFB and Dog Breath.  A large group of half minds gathered on a bright, sunny, brisk December day, at the vast field next to Trooper Thorns.  We had some visitors from the North in town for a triple header weekend. And our hare provided us with some great new cranium hab for the occasion.  After a few quick instructions, we were off!

It only took a block for the entire pack to struggle to find marks, but we soon stumbled upon a check, sending us down towards the railroad tracks and Alvernia.  Passing through the baseball field, the pack arrived at a parking lot and everyone searching for marks. An indoor track meet inside the building, led to track participants milling about outside the door, encouraging the half minds to “get after it” and “keep going”, completely unaware of the debauchery.  Each successive check led to more aimless searching as we wound our way through the Alvernia campus, the flour changing colors with each check.  As we continued through Saint Mary Cemetery and headed towards Oakbrook, the pack began to stir.  Would we be stopping at the Little Brown Jug for a much needed BN?  As the pack approached, a young lady employed by the fine establishment was outside the door, prompting Decoy to ask “Are you expecting us?”  The wide-eyed look on her face told us everything we needed to know.  We continued on, headed towards Berks Catholic High School.  Trail took us down the power lines, and into thick shiggy, right to a vertical drop onto the railroad tracks below.  The pack slowly descended down the steep slippery hillside.  Hash horns went flying.  The hash brick came careening down the hill, after an urgent “Look out!” shouted by Down In Front.  I didn’t have “getting hit by a flying brick” on my hash bingo card for the day, but every hare loves when there’s some blood on their trail.  After crossing the tracks, we stumbled upon (finally) a Beverage Near, with some warm, spiked apple cider.  After warming up and gathering the pack, we headed straight back the SRT to our beginning point, where we circled up and did our down downs and our songs, before heading to DeCarlo’s, for Santa’s arrival. Laps were sat on, gayly wrapped gifts were open, car bombs were ordered and much to the horror of the birthday party booked on the other side of the bar, songs were sung. 

Merry Hashmas!

Peeter on a Skeeter

RH3 #1104 Here Pisses Santa Hash

A jolly group of hashers gathered in the Hafer Petroleum/SRT Trailhead parking lot on a dark chilly December night. Equipped with headlamps to see and beers to get jollier, the pack circled and the hares (Bad Semen & Horn O Plenty) explained the reflective marks that would lead the pack through the night. After explanations and introductions, the group was off in search of trail and beer. Down the SRT and onto the base of Gibraltar Hill was where we headed, through shiggy and onto an ankle biter of a trail. After a mile or so we hit the access road marked with a disco ball and new sweet nectar was near. We headed back down to the SRT and found one of our Hares at the parking area with a cooler full of beer. As we regrouped and got merrier, NFB began looking for our next move… rail trail towards Birdsboro or back towards Reading? Neither!! Bad pointed us back up the road from where we had just cum. Onto the power line and full back across the base of the hill again. Where would our next watering hole be? Through some more shiggy and back to the trail towards the parking lot from which we started… but trail didn’t stop there. Up the hill and under the bridge is where we found some more sudds as well as the Hares and our H’s. Circle commenced, songs were sung, accusations were made, fun was had! Shades of Green hosted us for some barbecue and beer and watched in wonder as we gambled on how many cheesy poofs were left in the container… oh the stupidity.

On on,
Any Crack’ll Do

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 Pedaler

RH3 #1002 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!
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! 

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…

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
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.

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,

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.

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...
Not Twat

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