Hash Trash 4

RH3 #1173 4th of July Hash

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

Waiting on

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 up
NFB

RH3 #1163 Old Fashioned Hash

**The Tale of the Frosty Flour Chase: An Old Fashioned Hash**

On the iciest day of the year, when most of Port Clinton, Pennsylvania, was bundled up indoors, a peculiar group of half minds laced up their sneakers—and, in a stroke of brilliance, screwed screws into their soles for extra traction—for an appropriately named "Old Fashioned Hash." Inspired by the classic cocktail, it promised a trail as bold and unconventional as the drink itself. The hares, an intrepid duo armed with bags of flour, marked the way for the pack to follow, and the snowy chaos that ensued quickly became a tale for the ages.

It all began with the first mark, a tiny smudge of flour that was no match for the fresh snowfall, vanishing almost instantly. The hares, undeterred, pressed on, leaving a trail of marks, checks, and mischievously placed flour blots that tested the resolve and wit of the half minds. Shouting “On-On" at each faint trace of the trail, they clattered and slid across icy streets, their screw-studded shoes scratching noisy patterns like unrefined percussion instruments.

The trail led upward, climbing through the snow-draped terrain, until the pack found themselves on top of a wind-whipped mountain. There, perched like a frosty beacon of hope, was the first “Beer Near!” The pack erupted in triumphant cheers, digging into the snow to uncover their reward: icy cans of beer and, to their delight, a bottle of Old Fashioneds. The group toasted to their victory, enjoying the refreshing (and chilling) treat amidst the harsh but beautiful winter landscape.

Energized but slightly tipsy, the pack launched themselves back onto the trail—or so they thought. A rogue set of footprints, likely their own from earlier, lured Packs Em completely off the trail. He stumbled and slid through the snow, shouting " checking with commendable, enthusiasm. By the time he realized the error, he regrouped and got back on track.

Eventually, the pack resumed their frosty trek. What felt like hours of slipping and shouting through the intensifying snowstorm led to the second “Beer Near!” This time, the trail wound through thick woods, where the faint flour marks teased the half minds with their elusiveness. When they finally emerged at the clearing, they found more icy cans of beer waiting for them, another reward for their persistence. Cheers erupted as they toasted to the perseverance (and questionable sanity) that hashing demanded.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of snowy adventure, the pack clink-clanked their way up the driveway of Cougerbait’s house. The hares, Cougerbait, and the ever-grinning ToeFu were cozily waiting inside, sipping on—you guessed it—Old Fashioneds. Cougerbait’s relaxed demeanor was almost infuriating to the snow-drenched half minds, who slid into the driveway shouting “Beer!” before collapsing in soggy heaps.

With drinks in hand, the group circled up for allegations and down-downs:

“I accuse the hares of perfectly pairing flour with snow for camouflage!” Many more accusations were made!

“And here’s to the hares for turning an Old Fashioned into a modern-day Arctic expedition!”

Laughter and cheers filled the room, and the feast that followed—complete with Cougerbait's Pork that he pulled by himself because he knows how to pull it best!—was the perfect capstone to a gloriously chaotic day. Outside, the snow continued to pile up, but inside, the half minds basked in camaraderie, cocktails, and the ridiculous, joyful spirit of hashing.

Thus, the Frosty Flour Chase: An Old Fashioned Hash went down in history, a story as legendary as the drink itself. 

On-on! PACKS EM! 

RH3 #1162 Groundhog Day Hash

Waiting on 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

On a windy Sunday afternoon we met at the exquisite Blue Marsh Canteen. As legend has it there was a bridal shower with two women who were quite interested in hashing. The group exchanged some stories and they were hooked. After more conversation our group had to depart as the soon to be hashers continued brunching.

We circled up and had an out of towner with us. Dr. Meat Rocket graced us with his presence coming all the way south from Buffalo (BH3). Hashers don’t always follow migratory patterns so we lucked out because it was very fun to have him join. After names were announced our hare took off to lay trail live. 

Some time had passed and then the chase was on! We entered the nearby game lands to catch our hare. Most of us listened and wore orange to alert the nearby hunters. The trail was shorter than what we had expected Crack to lay, but there was definitely enough distance to lay two shot nears with delicious pudding shots and a beer near with a variety of expiration dates all of which had been passed. 

While traversing the terrain some of the runners got caught in the shiggy, One Knee found a secret message, and the walkers even caught our hare. 

After everyone crossed the HHH we all circled up. Accusations were made, beers were drank, and songs were sung. We finished the night with pizza and pitchers of beer at BMC where it all started. 

On-On!

Just Jeremy

RH3 #1154 Sesame Street Hash

Waiting on: URBAN DICK

RH3 #1153 Hashy Halloween

On a beautiful fall day a group of half minds and misfits gathered upon the beautiful overlook of Douglassville (Birdsboro/Union Township?).  All manners of costumes had assembled. A quick game off as the local park ranger admired the brilliance of RH3. Circle formed. Introductions and hash symbols were presented. A brief explanation to one of the hares as to what one of the marks he had laid signified.  General erection led us downhill. Trail was picked up but we all quickly remarked about the spacing of the marks. Perhaps foretelling…

Will they lead us all the way down the switchbacks?  Nope false, we are led off into a roughly mowed trail many didn’t know existed. Out to the woods edge and then along the perimeter. Does trail go into the briars?  A mark and then nothing. An upside down BN is spotted. Beers and blood procured. Discussions and pointers are had about how to get the blood from the IV bags. No one could suck hard enough so gravity shots it was. 

Trail continued around the briar perimeter as many drew blood from the crudely cut shiggy.  We had rejoined the switchbacks and continued to the main SRT trail. We headed west toward Fork & Ale hoping for another beer stop. The local school children again admired the happy bunch of half wits decked out in costume.   A check as we approached the road. 

What’s this? A sign proclaiming a special event ahead!  A quick photo op is had. A parade in our honor?  A beer festival?  Nope none of that.  Marks lead us down 724 and then UP Center. We climb. On-on’s ring out from the uphill FRB's. Finally a check to the right. On one. On two from the right and straight ahead.   Then on-on from further up the hill. The on two is abandoned and we climb. And climb and climb till the H’s are upon us. One beer check?  Where was the J check?  Where are the hares?  The half wits had outsmarted the hares. 

Others arrive and the hares come barreling in pondering how we had all reached the H’s so quickly. Discussions about where they had gone wrong. Lessons learned but we were all very thirsty from the death march up the hill. Circle is formed. More compliments from a boat shoed local going on a hike. Accusations, down downs, new songs. Hares redeem them selves at the apres with a huge spread at Island.   Another great hash

On-Out

International Man of Pleezure

RH3 #1152 Suburban Sunset Sh!tshow Hash

RH3 gets a boob job!!

Got your attention, didn’t it?? In this case we just got one done. And it’s fancy so we call it a Breast! It’s the first official hash of our new GM, Breast Stroaker. He honored us by haring his inaugural trail. And because he wanted to look like a good trail master and start filling the schedule, Peeter On A Skeeter joined the hare fun. 

About a dozen or so halfminds met up at Conrad Weiser East Elementary, excited because it’s been a while since we have all been allowed within 250 feet of an elementary school. In true western Berks style a cop drove by, but for some reason we had our wits about us and didn’t have any open containers. 

Choo Choo set the tone for the chilly Monday night run around Wernersville by wearing her Fet’s Luck tshirt. Unfortunately she didn’t show her upper assets to any trains…the conductors were Sucking Fcrewed!

On we went wrapping around the streets that Peeter used to drive his sexy turquoise camaro around on back in high school. We stumbled upon a BN and two Wernersville natives who were excited to reminisce on their former hippie and “other hash” enjoying days. They were cool though. Can’t be too bad, I married their son ;)

Through more neighborhoods and shiggy and falses and checks. We got a little off trail after crossing 422 and some of us missed the special shiggy and I think a water crossing. Instead we made our way to the second BN at the good ole Penn Werner, where I’m pretty sure we were the clientele with the most brains in a long time. Pitchers of shitty golden nectar were consumed. 
You think you’re going directly back Stitzer Rd to Breast’s house?? Kidding!! We wrapped and wrapped around the neighborhood running and yelling in the pitch dark like only us crazies knew how. The H’s were found, songs were sung, dogs drank beer, orange crunchy stuff was consumed, accusations were made, then we ended up at Paradise by the Slice where not long ago Pity Titty got her lovely name!

On On folks!

Pretty When I’m Drunk ❤

 RH3 #1151 40th Analversary Hash

Being that this hash was the day after the 50th trail of the Bimbopalooza/ Optopussy era, it was a small and slightly hungover group that met at the normal intersection of Plymouth Pl and Reading Blvd. 40 years of congregating at this corner on the same date and the neighborhood still hasn’t caught on. After the stink eye and some words from said neighbors, we gathered around to get instructions from our hares: Bad Semen and Dogbreath. Before chalk talk, Bad told us the story of the original hash and passed around a xeroxed copy of a photo from that first hash. These fine hashers started what I feel is the best Kennel in the land! Them, them… fuck them!!

Trail went into Wyomissing park where we eventually found a bottle of Fireball. After some cinnamon cheer, we moved along through the park and eventually found a beer near in the alley of Ginger and Down in Front’s house. Kind of them to let us use their driveway, smart of them to not leave us a key for the house…. Trail finished in a muggle’s back yard, but luckily this muggle was related to Horn so she knew what she was getting in to. After glorious songs and accusations, one last Swing Low lead by Optopussy, now I could say I was truly “on-out” for leading circle and doing GM things! 

Apres at Mangia, was followed by returning to Opto and Too-Menanite’s house to kick the keg from the 50th the night before. Wouldn’t you know it, we were successful in that endeavor.

Thanks to those before us and cheers to those that follow us!! Happy Anal!

On- Out,

Opto