RH3 #1186 The Horny Ginger Hash
It was a dark and stormy night…okay, maybe just a little overcast and nipply. Not quite clown hat cold but getting there.
I was a little concerned wheeling into the parking lot and not a hasher was in sight. Okay, Flamer was there but I didn’t count him. He gets lost a lot. WTF? Did I read the time wrong? Diffferent parking lot? Lions and tigers and bears oh my. Suddenly from across the street, a band of beer soaked sots stumble through the parking lot as trail time approached. This could explain why the walkers outnumbered the runners.
Really sketchy instructions were given (HOP really needs to work on her penmanship skills) and the hares were off. They asked for a 10 minute head start. Two minutes would have been just fine. Trying to find, let alone follow the trail was difficult to say the least.
Being away from the hash for a while dulled my Spidy senses but some of it was down right awful. The pack was saved many times by the glimpses of walkers as they short cut with confidence.
A beer check appeared under a heavily secured, camera laden pavilion. Legal Easy got into the swing of things as the group slowly consumed adult beverages.
Now it was time for the shoe sucking mud field. Must have added a good 20 lbs per shoe as we trudged across farm fields to a cul-de-sac. Once again…saved by the walkers. The pack simply followed the trail of muddy footprints through the neighborhood. Excoooogie demonstrated her racest behavior by running up hill for a false. (Welcome to the club) Eventually the group wandered into another beer check where we were greeted by none other than the walkers.
Exit stage right to an extended jaunt through yet another muddy field (by some of the group) Yours truly ran up the road in time to see the walkers emerge from a short cut. Another misguided trail through some woods to a roaring fire with beer and snacks…HHH.
A smoky circle, many down-downs, and a big thanks to our hosts.
SANTA HASH 12/13/2025…1:30PM….SEE THE CALENDAR.
You’re suppose to wait for Santa to fuck you but these hares did it anyway. “Your dry bags are in the car. You can run back to the parking lot. It’s only about a mile back down hill.” FU!
Apre at Paradise by the Slice. A time was had by all. Go Steelers.
NFB & SIN
RH3 #1185 Reading H3's Boozy Vacation Hash
Waiting on Sex Toys for Tots
RH3 #1184 Reading H3's Boozy Vacation Hash
READING HASH HOUSE HARRIERS
(11-15-25)
#1184 Boozy Vacation
HARES: Any Crack Will Do, Dry Dolly, Hot for Teacher ON-IN: Revelation (Rehoboth, DE)
BEERS IN THE PINES or IF YOU OFFER A HAMM'S, THEY WILL COME
Picture this: thirty-some half-wits from Reading invading Rehoboth, Delaware, dressed in the usual mix of technical gear, bad decisions, and questionable shirts with pigs on them. We circled in a grass field while the hares promised a
'nice flat, coastal trail' - and for once, they weren't entirely lying. There were no hills, no sand dunes, just a mix of pines and ass-falt and the kind of surprisingly pleasant weather that makes you briefly forget you signed up for this on purpose. The sun was shining, spirits were high, and excuses for later complaining were already being rehearsed.
We left the comfort of the field and were sent OFF ON-OUT through the pines and along the roads. Within minutes, half the pack was already commenting on their knees, their shoes, or the traffic, because if hashers can't complain, are they really hashing? Checks appeared, marks disappeared, and the phrase 'Are you sure
this is ON-ON?' was heard more often than anyone cared to admit.
At the first beer stop, any expectations of a mighty take-out cooler were quickly adjusted when the beer was revealed to be cleverly concealed in a backpack. Our portable oasis was unzipped, and the sacred cans were handed like contraband. As half the pack admired the low-profile setup, a random runner guy materialized on trail. He had a proper running watch, clean shoes, and that look of someone who thought he was out for a normal jog. Foot Fairy, being naturally helpful in the way only a hasher can be, called out, ‘Hey, do you want a beer?' Instead of fleeing, the man shrugged and said, 'Sure, what do you have?' A Hamm's was produced from the backpack, accepted, and downed. From that moment on, the random runner guy ran the rest of trail with us half-wits. proving that all it takes to join the hash is poor judgment and a cheap beer.
Deeper into the pines and along yet more stretches of road, we were coincidentally found by Dick on the Table - 'DOT' - out for a walk in the woods with his bimbo. Clearly a bloodhound for a cooler, he zeroed in on the second beer stop like it had been calling his name.
Eventually, after enough checks and road bits to satisfy even the most sadistic trail master,
the ON-IN appeared and the pack made a beeline for Revelation like hashers spotting free beer. Cold beer, good company, and the familiar smell of sweaty hashers filled the field. Breast Stroker called circle, and we raised our beers to honor the veterans among us and everywhere, drinking to their service in proper hash fashion. The random runner guy even joined in and sang 'Swing Low' louder and more enthusiastically than some of the rest of us who should know better by now. The après was full of good times and lots of pizza to counterbalance the weekend of alcohol poisoning that we were all about to endure.
Hares Any Crack Will Do, Dry Dolly, and Hot for Teacher were thanked (sort of) for providing a trail full of pine needles, ass-falt, and just enough beer to nake us forget the distance. Rehoboth may never fully understand what hit it, but the Reading Hash will certainly remember the day a random runner guy took a Hamms from a backpack amd followed us into the pines.
QUOTE OF THE WEEK:
"I only ran for one beer. I stayed for the rest." - a random runner guy
RUNNERS UP:
"DOT still owes hash cash for that pizza."
"Pink, share the orange crunchy shit”
One of the measures of a good Hash is the ratio between the number of drinking hours and the number of 'running' hours (the greater difference, the better the event). The #1184 Boozy vacation came in at a 4.25 to 1, making it an event worth remembering.
"You people are exhausting"
• Schmmmamazon Prime
RH3 #1183 Kindler, Gentler Hash
This will be shorter than sweet, Dances, did an okay job, solo, trail had too many checks & not enough false, rain hampered the circle, the blue ribbon extra was a good choice on trail, the end
Stupid Brother
RH3 #1182 Meet Me at the D Hash
Waiting on Optopussy
RH3 #1181 Andre The Giant Hash
The man, the myth, the GIANT! This hash was held to honor Andre “The Eighth Wonder of the World” Roussimoff and his legacy. Pre-lube felt extra special knowing how many beers we would all need to consume to contend with this absolute beast of a man.
Circle began on the outskirts of Schlegel Park and after the rules of engagement were explained to the group, which included a decent number of travelers and a lone virgin, the hares raced off to lay a live trail. After a short while we departed as well… we felt like sitting ducks with all of the police cars circling us.
We began our trek with hills aplenty. Some of us ran uphill (and rightfully drank for it), but we had out eyes set on the first beverage stop. Before we got there Crack was hit with the first of many J-checks that afternoon. We found our way on the Schuylkill River Trail where we very quickly found our first shot near located under a bridge. The greedy runners decided to drink the lion’s share of the beverage leaving mere drops for the walkers. We traveled a bit more before running into the much anticipated T/E split. The turkey trail sounded like a good time, but our tour guide Macho Man Randy Savage led the brave souls on the Eagle path screaming wrestling gibberish and flexing his muscles. We continued along the SRT until we ran into our first BN. We sipped the sweet nectar and before we knew it we were off chasing our hares again.
We left the trail and ended up in the city of Reading running down the streets and weaving through the parking garages. We arrived at the infamous Abe Lincoln and sang a song for Andre - “Give me an A!”. Trail treasure was found in lieu of another J-check. The individual who swiped our booze left a Jesus pamphlet in return. The shot turned out to be Malort so they were probably praying even harder after drinking that.
We arrived at our next beer near when it was mentioned that we had some stragglers. Crack valiantly searched for them while the rest of us continued to the triple H’s. We got a head count of the hashers and were only missing a few. Much better than the 90% Skeeter had hoped for. The most notable of our missing party was a Rogue North member who went by Lone Ranger? Rager? Stranger? At any rate, despite the helping hand of several members this hasher found himself massively lost. Rumor has it Santa is looking to get this man a GPS for Christmas.
We circled up where accusations and down-downs took place. Apres were moved to Pagoda City Brewing where, to the pleasure of our hares, the rest of our 127 beers were consumed. Fezzik would be proud! In closing, our hares Sex Toys for Toys and Peeter on a Skeeter did a fantastic job of recreating the debauchery Andre caused so many years ago in our beloved city of Reading.
Yours truly,
Cums with Children
RH3 #1180 Analversary Hash
As tradition requires, a large group of not very sober hashers gathered at the intersection of Plymouth Pl and Reading Blvd, for the 41st Analversary Hash. We eagerly looked around and made a bit of noise, trying to provoke our favorite friendly neighbor to come outside to tell us to get off his lawn. But, he was nowhere to be found… Just like our hare, Crack.Apparently, a hare does not shit in the woods!
After a history lesson from Bad, we were off! The ever-growing walking group was the majority for this one, but a few brave runners did take off. ExCoGi was out in front, checking left, right, up, down. While yelling for her fellow hashers that she was ‘on one’ a small child promptly asked her to stop yelling. Damn hashers, ruining the neighborhood. Shortly after, Teacher nearly got hit by a vehicle, then proceeded to profusely apologize to the driver. Damn hashers!
We came to our beer near, which was Down in Back of Down in Fronts house. We joked, we laughed, we chugged beers, and then off we went. We made our way to Wyo park, where a shot near awaited us. Daylight was quickly fading, so a quick sip and we were moving again. Somehow, 2 young ladies joined our group through the trails, and it seemed they were mildly concerned how our totally normal looking and responsible acting group surrounded them as we all made our way down the trail.
With daylight getting increasingly scarce, we pulled out phones for flashlights, and stumbled our way through the dark park to the HHH’s. Songs were sang, accusations were made, and we quickly closed circle. At which point we realized we lost Tour. Oh well. To Crack and Teachers abode we went, for après. Tour made it there, so no hashers were lost that night. Pizza and beer, cheese balls and good times. The way an Analversary should be.
On-Out
Too-Men-A-Nite
RH3 #1179 The Family Hash
On a beautiful, mid-September Sunday Afternoon, the hasher aptly named to hare the Family Hash, Cums With Children, and his better half Just Erin, greeted just 4 brave souls at their lovely Birdsboro home. Joined by Just Haley and Just Henry, all four of our hares shared the marks that we would find on our adventure, including some peculiar looking “special marks” to make sure we followed the proper True Trail marks. Off we went, as yours truly took off in search of flour. ToeFU, Pretty When I’m Drunk and Just Alexis trailed behind at a brisk walking pace, allowing me to check every check in every direction to help them out. We went through an entire housing development before encountering one of the special marks. Definitely on the right path.
Trail went to a freshly sealed walking path in the heart of a suburban neighborhood. After getting sufficiently high off the fumes, a sight up ahead! It’s our hares, and a BN, at the swing sets of the park. A true family hash experience. After some swinging and spinning on the Merry-Go-Round, we were sufficiently dizzy and hydrated. A walking shortcut was offered, none of us chose to take it.
Off we went out into the neighborhood. We found a straight neighborhood road, and every intersection had a check. And at every intersection, we checked up the hill, only to find no marks. Onwards trail continued. After some confusion when we ran out of options at the final intersection, Pretty when down the hill and found a mark. Off we went, up and down large hills. Pretty found some trail treasure curb side, and we continued until we found a new check. Trail seemed to go down an old, overgrown hiking trail and deep into the woods we went. Soon, we could hear the sounds of our smallest hares splashing in a creek. Although the hares in the water tried to encourage us to get into the water, we chose to partake in the BN provided.
After a break, off we were into the woods. Following flour until we couldn’t find flour. Backtracking, turning, looking everywhere, we couldn’t figure out where trail went. Then, from deeper into the thick brush, we hear Just Alexis call out “On 1!” Flour has been found! Soon after, we climbed up a trail and out of the woods back into the neighborhood. Continuing past Halloween decorations and more marks, we finally end up back at the HHH.
After some brief, child friendly songs, our hosts provided quite a food spread of burgers, hot dogs, wings, potato salad, Mexican corn salad and quality IPAs. A fantastic time was had by all!
On-On
Peeter On A Skeeter
RH3 #1178 The Pivot Hash
First, we had a hare. Then we didn’t. Panic set in. Mismanagement did the usual, offered to “help” by either finding the missing hare or just pretending to be useful. After a brief “WTF/Is he dead?” debate, we learned he was ok. Thanks for the heart palpitations, buddy.
Enter Legal Easy, who, on short notice pulled together a fun trail. Live haring faster than a virgin at her first down-down. With minimal prep, she cranked out a trail that had us sweating, swearing, and secretly impressed. We launched from Railroad House Bar, and within minutes we neared the tracks—hesitating just long enough to remember she’s a lawyer before we said “f*ck it” and trespassed anyway.
Seventeen half-minds showed up, and off we went through the neighborhoods of West Lawn. At one apartment complex, a wild “Karen” appeared, furiously watering down our flour like she was cleansing the world of sin. “It’”s disgusting!” she shrieked. Lady, please—do we look like people who’d waste cocaine on a Monday night?
First stop: the GM’s niece’s house Just Jordan, where Jell-O shots were served and her Rottweiler eyed us like we were the snack menu. Second stop: Fleshy’s garage, featuring cold beers and a german shepherd who may or may not have judged us for our life choices.
Meanwhile, the local mailman rolled up mid-route, clocked us instantly as hashers, and casually asked, “Where’s circle tonight?” When the USPS can spot degenerates on sight, you know you’ve made it as a kennel. Rain, sleet, snow, or beer—our reputation delivers.
Circle up was at Excogi’s place of business, proving yet again that hashers will drink literally anywhere. Plowville claimed his title as FRB (Front Running Bastard), because apparently, he must have run uphill or shortcutted. Accusations were plentiful, beer was sacrificed, and dignity was—as always—optional.
On-On! 🍻
Ginger Snatch
RH3 #1177 The FloatHash
The float has started like any other hash does, with a bunch of half minds showing up with no idea what they’re doing. Luckily, Crack had it all under control for the good of the group. We all met in Brentwood and loaded our floats up in Cougar‘s trailer. Marks were laid and introductions were made and the group headed out. Before he took off to lay it live, as he always does, Crack was sniffed all over by Just Sasha, best friend to Bloody Pads. After he was thoroughly groped, crack was off. He headed out down across Route 10 towards Oak Brook, but no beer stopped there. The pack kept continuing on and headed toward get another bar, to go to city. But again, no beer there either. We kept heading towards Schlegel Park and found our first beer check. There was some questionable patio furniture with promises of tetanus and some of the half wits risked their a good puncture wound by sitting. Refreshing hams was enjoyed, and the pack went on their way, following flower down the trail towards the city. We crossed over by the dump and headed towards rack. Just Sasha sniffed her heart out and helped the pack to stay on course. We arrived in one of the RACC parking lots near the river where we would soon float.
There were the hares pumping up all of our floats and getting ready to send us downstream. Everybody changed and we made our way to the tree line to enter the river. Finding the river, though, proved to be very difficult. Urban Dick led the charge down the hill, making his way through the shiggy, when the shiggy took over and showed us who was boss. It Tony Danza’d us and popped some floats. Some floats didn’t make it. Some had to bail, but caught up with us later down river, which was awesome. Just Rob, however, didn’t let not having a float bother him. We’ll get back to that soon. The pack headed up river to where we could get in a little bit more easily. Everyone climbed in and we attached our floats to one another. Not just Rob though, he clung like a barnacle to all of the other floats as we made our way down the river. The float was great. It was a beautiful day with sun, beer, the dirty Schuylkill, a floating barnacle, more beer, an elusive blue heron, some local drink floaters, and a very jumpy wet dog. It was great!
We finally arrived at the rock where Foot and Schmamazon Prime were waiting with a few beers and our empty canvas ready to be painted. While the rest of us mounted the rock, a wet More Balls Than Brains escaped to the shore, as he was running late for a hot date with his girlfriend. Crack and Foot led the charge to put our RH3 insignia on top of the lame paint job that the young high schoolers scribbled on previously. One Knee, Plowville, and Crack did most of the spraying while the rest of us barked orders and admired their hard work. Little did they know that their dedication would be painted over in the next couple of days, but a valiant effort was put in at the time. As they painted, the hashers drank, ate orange crunchy things, and tried to stop Just Sasha from jumping off the rock. When the painting was done, the group floated a bit more down the river where we got out and deflated our floats. Circle was had, songs were sung, and the group headed off to the apres at Pagoda Brewing with pizzas outside in the sun. Cheers to another fun day with a rowdy bunch of fuckers I love to spend time with.
On On~ Hot for Teacher
RH3 #1176 The Bash Hash
It happened once again, a Hash for the half wits who prefer rolling to running. A beer fueled, gear changing (well except for one particular alpha-brained idiot, you know who you are!), half-road, half-back alley, half-trail, half-parking garage, good time know as a Bash!
We met “discreetly” at the former site of the cANAL Street Pub, where our esteemed hare, one Foot Fairy, poorly described Bash protocol to our lone virgin and kindly let him know that his safety and comfort were not of our concern, if you get lost and or hurt, just go back to your car, that easy. We quickly finished our pre-beers and hit the trail.
As we weaved our way trough needle filled alleyways and busy city streets, a check and our first mistake. Foot would not dare send us down Court Street the wrong way, right? Well, after a very long no-no we discovered, yes, he did. Up next, dirty looks from Reading’s finest, a parking attendant who epitomized “I don’t paid enough for this shit!”, and a nice narrow handicap ramp that almost managed to take a few hashers out. At the top of a parking garage, all was forgiven. Beer Near! And with a view!
Next, we literally went over the river and through the woods, but no grandma’s house for us, another BN, this time at The Little Brown Jug. Super hydrated and a little buzzed, we followed the white powder strait through Alvernia’s campus, down a too-steep grass hill followed by a way-too-steep grass hill and soon found the sign we had been looking for, Shot Near. After ingesting what can only be described as Robitussin for drunks, we wobbled our way back to the city for H’s, down-downs, accusations, and good tunes. Aprés at The Brick House Pub and once again our kinda-yearly Bash came to a close, ON-ON! Plowville
RH3 #1175 We're Not Dead Yet Hash
Waiting on Just Mark
RH3 #1174 Tall Hot Ginger Summer Hash
When Skeeter had the idea to make the logo for this trail similar to that of Wet Hot American Summer, he accurately predicted our evening. It was wet. It was hot. And most of us half minds had just celebrated ‘Merica at the last hash, so, ya know, the American box can be checked.
Down in Front and Ginger Snatch kindly requested our presence at the partially renovated, mattress fort filled, former home of Goodnights Lounge, Crown Plaza. They braved the elements to set a great trail, smartly incorporating orange plastic ties to help lead us along. A few threw us for loops and there was many times heard an “R U” with shrugging shoulders in response.
We wound through the Shoppes at Wyomissing (RIP Tilted Kilt), Penn State Berks (I thought it would have been ballsy to have a beer near at the college, but that was just this PSU alumni longing for days of old), and finally found the white vehicle with its trunk up that gave us liquid refreshment.
At that point, soaked to the bone, we made our way back to the Crown Plaza for the H’s. We lost ToeFu on our way, but assumed he made a smart decision to go home and dry off.
One song was sung (she’s a little sexpot!), a few accusations, and the usual closing shenanigans. The sun popped out and reminded us that it still exists in Berks County despite 369 consecutive days of rain. We apres’d at Mission BBQ (RIP Hooters) where many of us learned of their BYOB policy.
Not the wettest or least safe I’ve felt on trail this year (flashbacks of the Pretty Balls hash) but still a very fun Monday night. Thanks DiF and GS!!
Yours,
Pretty When I’m Drunk
RH3 #1173 4th of July Hash
July 4th Special: The Field of Mosquitos Edition
Because of our dedication to the hash-and Cums on Demand’s undying love of fire company breakfasts—we dragged ourselves out of bed at 4:30 AM for the 4th of July hash. How swell it was to park in the old Captain’s Cove, now transformed into a nicely mowed “Field of Mosquitos”.
While swatting away bugs, the first thing I noticed was Crack, who looked like the poster boy for a tattoo shop that should probably go out of business. At least the tats were patriotic—so, he gets points for theme.
Before I could even yawn for the third time, Hot for Teacher ambushed me like a student in need of extra credit. “I need a sucker-can you do the hash trash?” she blurted out, then disappeared faster than a bad date on Tinder. And just like that, I was voluntold.
Circle time - Decoy’s instructions were foggy at best, especially when it came to the “E” and “T” trails. I could have sworn the “T” stood for Tough… or Twat… maybe Titillating? Either way, when “On-On” was called, I was all in for some good ol’ “T.”
Shockingly, most of the usual Type A’s headed for the “E”asy trail. Cowards.
Our “T” group, made of the finest hash stock (minus good vision), charged up Spook Ln. At one point, everyone strolled right past a check. Sure, the marks were iffy—with an “X” on the other side of the road—but the lemmings marched on. My excuse? My mind had already moved past breakfast and on to dessert- As I followed Cums on D’s shorts up a-head. Head, who said head?
Then came the B-check. Ah yes, my FAVORITE part of hashing: standing around getting eaten alive by mosquitos while the “sippers” casually finished their beers. I swear I turned 60 before we finally moved on, descending down a roller coaster ride of grassy trail.
Next up: the M&CC-check - (Mimosas, Crackers, and Cheese) at Foot’s parents’ house. Worth every step. At this point, I was very glad I took the T trail.
From there, we bounced down the steps, passed a nitwit mowing his lawn at 6:50 AM, and arrived at Foot’s house for the classic, low budget, beer-in-a-trunk check. Clearly, he learned nothing from his mother’s hospitality.
Final stop-The mystery shot check, featuring a bottle that looked like it had been pulled straight out of a landfill. Then, back to the circle for songs, beers, and merriment—plus the usual cast of odd birds only a hash could summon.
And of course, breakfast at Reifton Fire Co. before heading back to bed, covered in bug bites, slightly buzzed, and happy we didn’t sleep in.
RH3 #1172 Gateway to Summer Hash
In the 14th Century, Dante wrote Inferno and for the past 700 years, it has been the undeniable blueprint of hell and what awaits those who don’t atone–that is until a group of unsuspecting souls gathered on a sweltering Monday evening and awaited instructions.
The journey started off innocently enough. No sacrificial virgins in attendance, as they had the good sense to avoid the debauchery and 90+ degree temperatures. Our devilish hares, Dances With Whores and Took My Mom To Plowville, explained the basic marks and the pack was off.
Very quickly, the pilgrimage went downhill, both literally and figuratively. Heat shimmered off the pavement but marks were easy enough to follow until the pack came to a somewhat rare but easily recognizable stain upon the ground. T or E?
Much like Dante, the pack was forced to choose: would they be turkeys or would they be eagles? None could be uncommitted. Nine intrepid souls chose to follow the path of the eagle and continued their descent. (Or more likely, we were already suffering from heatstroke, as no sensible being would have taken this path.) The turkeys trotted off blissfully unaware and were never seen again. Some say they went straight to Paradise, while others say they lingered in Purgatory before finding salvation, either way our stories diverge at this point.
Down, down, down the brave souls descended into the deepest pits of Mohnton. Flour guided them and trail was easy to follow, aside from the infernal and unrelenting heat. Alas, we found marks that would bring reprieve–BN! Like gluttons, we slurped the cool, refreshing water provided, not by Virgil but Plowville. (Beer was there, too, but it was so hot, no one partook.) Deliriously, More Balls Than Brains searched for sidewalk cake but only found poison ivy. After a quick stop, we realized this wasn’t an oasis in the desert; it was tainted by the mark of the beast–a cursed back check 6(66). What had these poor souls done to deserve such a cruel punishment?!
The decline in both elevation and spirits continued but the wayward souls trudged on. Plowville took pity on the fools that had chosen this passage and provided more water at the SN. Peach Birddog did not quench the thirst but did make the journey more tolerable.
After more wandering, the group managed to find a true oasis with not only cool and tasty beverages but a cool and refreshing creek to play in. Much time and energy was spent trying to catch the little beasties in the stream. Crack insisted that taking your shirt off was a surefire way to catch the prey, but no one fell for his trickery. The pack did not want to leave this fountain of hope, but Plowville dashed our optimism–we had reached the deepest depths of Mohnton, but the only way out of the forsaken pit was to ascend by the power of our weary, exhausted legs.
At this point the pack was in shambles. Apparently Hot for Teacher and Legal Easy had each found another way, and I’m glad they were able to escape. Those that remained began the climb. And climbed. And climbed some more. (Did I mention it was 90+ degrees?) At the apex, we found another BN but at this point, morale was low and we were ready for the glorious HHHs. Without much time wasted, Any Crack’ll Do took off and the remaining pilgrims marched onward into the sunset.
Finally, after eight arduous miles, we found the HHHs and were greeted by welcoming arms and cold beer. We rejoiced at the reunion of our turkey brethren, who we thought were surely lost. Later our generous hares provided beer and pizza and all was forgiven.
May we all emerge to see the beer again,
One Knee Wonder
RH3 #1171 Mile'd and Hungover Hash
Hot for Teacher chose to test my aging memory by asking for trash on this long forgotten trail. (Yes, it was only a few weeks ago, but ask me what I ate for breakfast. ???)
A plucky crew gathered at the abode of Crack and Teacher for a foray into the wilds that is suburban Shillington. Immediately, a number of us decided that speed wasn’t an option…leaving such pursuits to the young and foolish. After the usual instructions in front of their property, dodging only the occasional annoyed local, we set out. Immediately, we headed east. Were we going to scale the hills of Shillington Park? No! Instead we ascended the adjacent New Castle Drive…arriving at the residence of Opto’s progenitor, Dr. Rule senior. Him being somewhat of a connoisseur of whiskey, we were somewhat surprised to see him offering (and tasting) Malort! If you’ve never experienced this midwestern spirit, imagine vomiting into a stainless vat and then distilling it. That gets you in the neighborhood of its taste profile. The eagles arrived just in time for we “moderate” pacers to enjoy their expression as each sampled it. 1,2,3…”Oh God, what is that?!”
Following our vomitous SN, we descended whence we came, with even a few of us turtle pacers opting for having both feet airborne simultaneously. We wound through the elementary and intermediate school properties, some of us with maturities to match, and eventually ended up out on the New Holland Road. The overly ambitious crowd searched fervently for a BN near a swampy area as the less driven folk meandered on…eventually arriving at the Brick House, where the hares had thoughtfully provided sustenance. We sipped nectar on the front porch, feeling sorry for those poor individuals hunched over a coke and a Happy Meal while staring at the evening news at home. Refreshed, we competed our journey back to Crack and Teacher’s place where pizza, more beer and orange crunchy stuff awaited.
While this recollection may or may not be entirely accurate…what do you expect from a senior citizen who drinks to excess??
On On,
ToeFU
RH3 #1170 This Isn't My First Rodeo Hash
Giddy up, my fellow Hashers, because this week’s escapade was a wild ride up and down the mountain, brought to you by Hares, Urban Dicktionary and One Knee Wonder. We kicked things off at the Antietam parking lot, where I was greeted by a sea of familiar faces and a whole lot of forgotten names. I couldn’t stop saying Nerd names and I drank for it later. I knew I should’ve gone with “Just Kat Condor.”
Now, Urban Dicktionary… That Hare looked like Lil Wayne had a baby with post Malone on a Double H Ranch he did his hellos and he couldn't stop rambling about scented chlamydia. Or was it syphilis? Either way, it was a real conversation starter. His better half One knee Wonder was rocking her cowboy attire and ready to hoe down.
As we were getting our act together, a lady with two dogs had a meltdown upon spotting NFB, Just Tilda, and Foot just chilling. She lost her mind, tossing one dog in the car while hanging on to the other like it was a piñata. No worries though—the dangling dog managed to free itself and sprinted over to Just Tilda and Foot. I could see the owner was sweating bullets, so I reassured her that Foot was a good boy. Good boy, Foot! You’ve earned yourself a Hamms.
Once we circled up, I got to witness Breast Stroker running the circle for the first time. He crushed it! The trail wasn’t live, but One Knee Wonder gave us a “general erection” straight up a freakin’ hill. And let me tell you, a bunch of Type A assholes took off like rockets. As I huffed and puffed my way up, I watched everyone shrink into little dots (Sin kept me company) and I could hear the laughter of my fellow Hashers behind me but I wasn’t sure if they were on trail, it was a tease!
The Hares left us a lovely stash of peanut butter whiskey at the first shot stop, but I saw no sign of life, so I pressed on for another mile to the next beer stop. This is where I found my people, stories were shared, beers were cracked open and shared and we were living our best lives. And I was simply surviving.
Excogi kept me company for the next leg of the run, where ankles were twisted and chit chat was had. We hit up a picturesque beer stop at a pond, and guess who showed up? My long-lost lover, Pink, rocking a cowboy hat and tiny shorts. And then Horn!! Yeehaw! We drank some beers,laughed land then it was back on the trail to hunt for the HHH that couldn’t come soon enough for me.
One Knee Wonder was sweating bullets about the park ranger’s timing, so we circled up quickly with barely enough beer to fuel our shenanigans. We toasted to the non-returners, nerd names ,Type A behavior, face tattoos, analversaries/birthdays and hats. I also got my first glimpse of One Knee Wonder’s teapot dance—apparenly it’s a thing now…and I’m here for it!
Finally, we made our way to Apre at Urban Dicktionary and One Knee Wonder’s house, where pizza, barbecue, and even a tattoo station awaited us. Great times were had.
So, peace out, fuckers! Just a heads up—if you ghost RH3 for two years, you’ll get stuck writing the hash trash. Let that be a lesson to you all: show up, or you’ll face the wrath of the Dry Dolly.
RH3 #1169 Red Dress Hash
Waiting on Phoof There It Is
RH3 #1168 The Eras Trail (Hashers Version) Hash
I was so excited to learn more about Taylor Swift at this hash. Too bad that didn't happen because I got very lost with Just Rob so I wasn't able to appreciate all of the hard work and research that Casting Couch, Excogi, and Nasty Panties put into this romp through, Taylor's former place of residence...beautiful Wyomissing. We started behind Austin's in a former bank parking lot. Circle began with the three hares blasting Tay Tay's hits and passing out some trunk beers while we socialized and then saw the typical marks in circe. There were a couple of novel marks like that of a photo that was to be taken as a group shot at a location to be seen later.
After introductions, the pack took off across Van Reed Rd where we were on marks and then we quickly were not. If I recall correctly, One Knee found marks down the street that led the group up, up, up the hill to the top. Some of us went up it twice (UGH) and then the pack split up again. Those damn marks were hard to find! The group eventually found trail off to the left that led them toward Taylor Swift's childhood home. I have no idea what happened there because Just Rob and I were searching for marks at the bottom of the big hill. We lost everyone completely, so we tried to catch them by running to the left on the bottom of the hill and then up again. Too bad that didn't take us where we thought and were now very behind. FUCK!
Eventually, we went back to the top and searched all over again. Finally, Just Rob found the marks to the left and we started heading toward Taylor's house. When we got there we saw the photo mark but neither of is carry phones, so we blew past it down the very long road (Not Enough Road!!!!!!). The road finally ended and we found trail down a really cool secret staircase that was super fun to run down. This led us back into another cool neighborhood that eventually took us to Sandra's house. That lucky lady spends time with out very own 50 Cent Coitus (I really miss that guy) and the harriettes were there with some fun drink choices. I had some kind of a tea that was very tasty.
The group had waited for Just Rob and I for a while, so they were ready to head out just after we arrived. We headed back into the neighborhood and in search of more trail. Marks took us to Wilshire Pool where the girls were waiting with loud Taylor Swift tunes and more drinks to be had as well as some glittery jello shots. We hung out there for a while since it was such a beautiful day and then eventually headed back out toward our starting point. Once everyone arrived back in the lot, songs were sang, accusations were made, beers were drank, and we swung low before heading back to Excogi's house for good and beverage. It was a good day RH3. Thanks to Taylor's squad, Excogi, Nasty Panties, and Casting Couch. Well done!
On On~ Hot for Teacher
RH3 #1167 Rogue North H3 #83 JOINT TRAIL Hash
It was a warm spring afternoon in the town of Kutztown. A very small crowd gathered in the game lands lot. Most didn’t show up until close to 1pm after a stop at Saucony Creek Brewery.
After quick chalk talk the hares where off to lay. The pack waited and applied layers of bug spray for the bad tick season. The ticks probably wouldn’t even latch on to anyone in this group with all the alcohol in the blood stream. NFB and What What Mud In The Butt brought their bitches and they had to get to know each other before heading out.
The pack was off to find trail in the open field after passing around the gate. Not far in was the 1st BN. The cooler had a nice selection of liquids. Even a Sierra Navada Hazy IPA. While the pack consumed the 1st liquid refreshment a bitch fight broke out. What What broke up the fight by allowing her bitch to smell her pussy. That trick work nicely! A water crossing followed soon after the stop. Luckily the water wasn’t very deep to worry about shrinkage. Soon after the water was a climb up a steep loose rock hill to the road. The 1st Turkey/Eagle split was on the road.
Those that chose the Eagle had more climbing up steep loose rock. The turkeys had a meander down the road to a smaller climb. After some time, the two packs started to merge back together. Later, after talking to some that did the Eagle, I found out that it was just a false at the top and they had to trek back down. It was a downhill back to the same location we were just in. The hares Jeep was parked near a fully functioning bridge, but many decided to go thru the water instead of over for the next BN under the bridge. It was short trek to the HHH location. 2.8 miles of running in a circle. Dancing Fool showed up late, to collect the many empty beer cans. During circle What What’s bitch consumed lots of orange food. That bitch even ate directly from the jug! The slobber coating didn’t stop Legal from throwing them back. Sex-A -Sketch was working his way around the circle for the baseball hall of fame card collection. At the end of circle Dancing fool presented 3- Balls with a bottle of alcohol that we all signed, and a birthday cake that he found- Who knows where.
On On to Kutztown Pub!
Roids
RH3 #1166 Pretty Balls Hash
Waiting on Dances With Whores
RH3 #1165 Where Da Gold At? Hash
Waiting on Just Rob
RH3 #1164 Sure to be a Sh!t Show Hash
Rolling into the parking lot at 1:55pm, Tilda looks at me and says “Rut Row Rorge”, as there were only 3 visible individuals at the on-on. Maybe the shit show comment scared folks off? That fear was quickly discarded as the parking lot filled with anxious hashers. Crack gave a single flour mark at circle, the dreaded J check.Off he ran with an 8 minute head-start on a live trail. He didn’t need 8 minutes. A huge circle jerk around Boscov’s provided ample time for his escape. Thanks Alvie for making the building so big. The group was lead like sheep into the shiggy and delayed by a beer check, a mere 50’ from 422. And the fun began. Down In Front became the first victim of a J check. A strategically placed second J check, less than 100 yds from the first claimed yours truly and Tilda. Off we trekked back to the end of the pack to disperse the Fireball treats. AA was the third victim and Teacher was number 4. All the J checks were within a 400 yd stretch. UGH! Worst part, they were the 16.5 % not the 33’s. Out of the woods and on to asphalt through the neighborhood. Started to thick Crack was smokin some the way the trail meandered. Damn, Klaperthal. Here we go, witches hat. NOT!Some of the steepest and shiggy filled trails I have experienced in a very long time. It was good that Tilda had 4 paw drive. A second beer check was place at the top of the first vertical challenge. I was waiting to hear banjo music and pig squealing. Following deer trails, tree slapped flour marks and wandering hashers, the trail brought us down to West Neversink road near the Fire Company. A very long, straight road venture took us back to the cars and the HHH. After Legal finished stretching in her trunk, the group circled and Breast Stroker did his best to keep control of the half-minds with an excellent Commander and Chief impression. Down-downs were done and swing low ended the day. I’m sure Bruno’s was a festive apre locale. I took Tilda home for a bath and her dinner. A truly shitty trail Crack. Thumbs upNFB
RH3 #1163 Old Fashioned Hash
**The Tale of the Frosty Flour Chase: An Old Fashioned Hash**
RH3 #1162 Groundhog Day Hash
Casting Couch Presents:
“Groundhog Day Hash: The Hamm’s-Powered Hell Loop”
by Casting Couch, allegedly sober
It was colder than a polar bear’s butthole, and windier than a pack of hashers after dollar taco night. But despite the frigid air and the kind of wind that could exfoliate your eyeballs, the Reading Hash House Harriersassembled at Pendora Parkfor what was promised to be a "simple" Groundhog’s Day trail.
Naturally, that was a lie.
I showed up already questioning my life choices, as did most of the half minds. Someone had duct-taped hand warmers to their nipples. Another had replaced their water bottle with a pre-mixed gin & tonic slushie. The hare, of course, looked entirely too pleased with themselves.
They muttered something about “trail’s clearly marked” and “trust the flour,” then disappeared like common sense at a beer mile.
And so, we were off.
We stumbled past the skate park graveyard, a place so desolate and sketchy it felt like Tony Hawk’s final resting place. A ghostly Razor scooter clattered in the wind. Someone screamed, “Is that a check or a crime scene?” We didn’t stop to find out.
Soon, the incline began. Oh yes. That Pagodawas waiting for us like a smug stone middle finger from the mountain. The wind picked up. Snow bit our faces. Our lungs burned. The virgins were crying. The rest of us were just burping up Fireball.
But then — sweet salvation. A cooler emerged like the Ark of the Covenant. And inside?
Hamm’s.
Yes, Hamm’s.
Because nothing says “class” like beer that tastes like it gave up halfway through being beer.
We cheered. We drank. We shivered. Someone tried to warm a can in their armpit. Another said, “Hey, at least we’re going downhillfrom here.”
That’s when the hare laughed. Out loud. Like an actual cartoon villain.
We found trail and indeed went downhill. Glorious. Until — BAM — the trail curved. Then climbed. Then went right the hell backto the Pagoda.
And guess what?
Another beer stop.
More Hamm’s.
Confusion set in. “Didn’t we just drink here?” someone asked, holding up a half-crushed can with mittened fingers. “Was this leftover from the first stop? Or... is this just the same stop?”
The hare just giggled and pointed vaguely at some trees.
So down we went again.
Then back up.
Then — oh look! Another beer stop.
Still Hamm’s. Still Pagoda. Still misery.
By the thirdtime up that bastard hill, we stopped asking questions. By the fifth, we were broken. Our legs were mush. Our souls were as frozen as our snot. The beer had gotten warmer than the wind, which somehow made it worse.
“Are we dead?” someone asked. “Is this hashing purgatory?”
“Yes,” I replied. “We died somewhere back at the skate park and now we’re trapped in a Hamm’s-fueled time loop.”
Each trip up the hill became more surreal. One hasher tried to marry a tree. Another just sat on the Pagoda steps whispering, “On-on” into a Hamm’s can like a conch shell.
Eventually — mercifully— we found trail that did notlead back to the Pagoda. A collective cheer went up, followed by someone farting so hard it echoed.
And then, finally: the HHH.
The On-In was a frozen patch of grass and shame, and we loved it. The circle was called. Down-downs were awarded. The hare was given a full Hamm’s bath for crimes against trail sanity. A song was sung about a penguin and his butt. The Groundhog never showed up. Can’t blame him.
Moral of the Story?
Don’t trust a trail on Groundhog’s Day.
Don’t trust a hare who grins during chalk talk.
And never — never— trust a cooler full of Hamm’s.
On-On, ya beautiful degenerates.
– Casting Couch
RH3 #1161 The Gary Coleman Hash
Waiting on Black Cox Matter
RH3 #1160 A View of the Red Roof Inn Hash
Waiting on Nut Nibbler
RH3 #1159 Holiday Death Wishes Hash
We gathered at Zia Maria’s in Adamstown on an unusually warm late December day. We had been promised rain, but instead got an overcast, breezy but “dry” day. Along with the usual suspects, a couple of West Coast hashers and their local sister were present. Another virgin, complete with large backpack and numerous weapon tattoos, was also introduced in circle. Hares Deathwish and Fire in the Hole explained markings and then set off to mark live. Moments later and properly lubricated, we followed. We exited out the back of Zia’s lot and immediately noticed that while it wasn’t raining any more, it was very very squishy. Between the 3-6” of standing water in the fields and the hares’ insistence on crossing every creek 6 times, dry feet were an impossibility. Several of us got separated from the group by a retention pond. No problem..we’ll just go around and meet them on the other side. Nope. Solid shiggy even a deer would have trouble pushing thru. Backtracking a bit, we were able to rejoin the pack, just in time to find our first BN. It was down off the shoulder of the highway and while cars couldn’t see us, tractor trailer drivers could peer down and witness our hydration. Heading out across yet another creek, we wove thru viney underbrush, finally breaking out into the open field paralleling the PA Turnpike. Were we in fact going to play a human version of Frogger?! Nope. Our hares had found a handy drainage tunnel under the heavily traveled road. Flowing water, 4’ ceiling, but no screeching tires and “splat!”. Emerging out the other side, trail turned back east. Reportedly, we missed a BN at a dilapidated bridge near there, but no one saw it, despite several hash crashes in the area. We reached Rt. 273 which crossed over the turnpike and followed markings to a False…uugh. Retracing our steps, trail was located and we paralleled 272 behind the diners and shops and back to our waiting hares at the HHH. Beverages were had, songs were sung (to the evident amusement of our virgins) and following the traditional “Swing Low”, we retired to Zia’s for more beer, pizza and annoyance of the locals. On On,ToeFU
RH3 #1158 The Boilo Hash
‘Twas the week before Christmas, when through the hash house,
Not a harrier was stirring, not even Tit Mouse;
The trail had been laid through rainy alleys with care,
In hopes that some hashers soon would be there;
Most hashers were home jerking off in their beds,
While memories from Santa Hash still danced in their heads;
Breast Stroaker, our hare, was thinking “oh snap”,
“Not a single one of those fuckers is showing up in this crap!”
But then three cars arrived, despite the dark pitter-patter,
and each hasher grabbed a Hamm’s, preparing to scatter;
Suddenly Breast felt his loins begin to thrash…
For it was all sexy ladies that had come to play at his hash!
The moon was not out, as the flour turned to dough,
But by the light of One Knee, the trail was kept aglow.
Hot for Teacher and Legal, into alleys did disappear,
Seeking to find white marks… where is the beer near?
Playing frogger on 61, the fog was getting thick;
Maybe we should pray for beer, perhaps to St. Nick?
Finally in the distance, a Jeep into focus came,
With Hamm’s and Breast Stroaker, awaiting his dames.
“Now One Knee! Now Teacher! Now Legal, my vixen!
On On, my bitches, I hope my dick fits in!
To the next check go find, to the HHH’s go crawl,
Now hash away, hash away, hash away all!”
But just as the harriettes were about to off fly,
A distant light bounced, hovering low in the sky…
The beacon grew closer, ‘twas a gait we all knew,
To all of our surprise, it was Any Crack’ll Do!
And then in an instant, they were off with a poof,
More frogger, some train tracks, a False, what a spoof!
Through CarTech and alleys, our feet they did pound,
For Crack and One Knee, little flour they found.
We zigged and we zagged, dodging locals and blow,
Through the city of Reading, our kennel, our home.
Another Jeep sighting, more beer for the pack,
We’re fucking wet and tired, it’s time to head back.
The HHHs we found, the hashers how merry,
For next would come Boilo, with spices and cherry!
Circle was short, into Mike’s Tavern we did flow,
For the Skook’s finest beverage was soon ready to go.
More hashers arrived, warm, dry, and thirsty,
Music beer boilo, oh fuck tomorrow’s Thursday.
With a wink of her eye and a twist of her head,
Legal looked at her watch, with remorse and deep dread.
This night has been fun, but tomorrow we work;
For beer money we labor, lest our duties we shirk.
Through raindrops still falling, the hashers did dart,
On the way to their cars, we must now depart.
But Breast heard them exclaim as he drove out of sight –
“Happy Boilo to all, and to all a good night!”
Legal Easy
RH3 #1157 Santa Fucks the Hash
Santa Fu*ks the Hash#1157 Schlegel Park December 14th. Hares Dog Breath and no fucking brains. Gm Breast stroker Twas the day of the Santa Fucks the Hash. Hares Dog breath and NFB wasted no time grabbing $20 a pop from about 40 some. Mostly all Christmas decorated. Bah Humbug to those who were not. Roll call was taken. Only 1 virgin. Poor guy turned as red as Santa’s sleigh when asked,who made you cum?oh well, only a virgin once. Some flour was thrown about and off we went. The sound of sleigh bells in the air. Soon to be followed by on-on. The pack quickly broke apart into 2 groups. You guessed it, front runners and walkers/runners. I believe our GM Breast stroker dressed as Santa, lead the charge on for the walkers. The only beer stop was very close to the finish. For gods sake, we could have dehydrated!Oh well let’s move right on-on to the HHH circle, atop a hill overlooking our fine city of Reading. Always a good idea to view from a safe distance. Our Gm did the best he could to fly thru all down-downs, accusations etc. knowing we wanted to be on our merry way. Down the hill to Pagoda City Brewery,where Santa,great beer and food would be. 12 days of Christmas (hasher version of course) was sung with beers hoisted high. Santa handed out gifts to all the very-very bad hashers and probably told the goody goodie’s to try harder next year. Happy New Year Ducky🦆
RH3 #1156 The Jimmy Buffet Hash
It started on a cold blustery very punctual circle, which doesn’t happen much in C-anal Street parking lot. General erections were given and we zigzag through the south side of the city to eventually come to southside cemetery where i was greeted with most of my deceased family from the 1800s. we found Boat drinks in an old burial vault/neglected graveside. More zigzag through Reading streets where Vanna blackout conversed openly with all the Español speaking residents of the city. Then we ran up the dangerous alley of broken dreams. Yes, there were knives, live wires, neglected pitbull‘s , bike parts, a lot of broken TVs and somebody’s complete wardrobe thrown in the alley. We finally managed to find the walkers who were happily drinking margaritas in a warm cozy parking garage on Chestnut Street. As we waited for the margarita van to pull up Opto struggled to parallel park. God knows how she got her license ! after our very fulfilling Margaritas we headed down chestnut street to the Open acres of vacant lots followed by heading over to Penske Beach. The most sought after beach in Berks County. We froze our asses on Penske Beach. A lot of us relieve our bladders waiting for Legals arrival, DFL, she finally appeared after we were half frozen. down downs were had, songs were sung, followed by 2 mile run back to the cars at C-anal Street Parking lot.Love u long time bitches!Choo-choo 🚂🚂
RH3 #1155 The Stir-Up Sunday Hash
RH3 #1154 Sesame Street Hash
Waiting on: URBAN DICK
RH3 #1153 Hashy Halloween
RH3 #1152 Suburban Sunset Sh!tshow Hash
RH3 #1151 40th Analversary Hash
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