Saturday January 29, 2000 1:00 p.m.
Park in Miesenbach
Hares: .Cum and Willie Come Home

29 Jan 00, Sembach H3's third hash of this pre-millenium year:
Started at some damn park in Miesenbach.  Hared by Willy Come Home and a founding harrier .Cum . Little Yellow Piece of Shit (the missing third hare wannabe) showed his yellow ass after the on-out then hung out with Come out My Nose and Speaks In Tongues. A welcomed large turn-out with Ramstein H3 and Bitburg H3 bostages in attendance.  After blessing the nervous wabbits (believe .Cum wizzled himself at the sight of the thin leotard-clad FRB types; or was it due to the cold blessing materials?) we Father Abraham'd the hounds and chalk-talked two virgins.  Trail was well laid at the beginning--FRBs and AECs were regrouped at the first intersection.  Trail continued through shiggy high and low with the howling pack confused from intersection to intersection.  Regrouping at the beer stop aided the damn rodents as they laid plentiful BTs and CBs--though occaisionally lain parallel to the trail!  Hounding our way along, the pack stretched out after libating the bounty. Alternating between volks trail and shiggy there was little need for that damn expensive chalk the AAFES charges us so much for!  The Bitbergers (my spell) led their virgins from the beer stop, started shortcutting way the hell off trail, got lost, then finally showed an hour after the main pack made the on-in, almost missing the start of the on-in circle.  Most of the hashers were freezing their hinys off because hashers are stupid and don't think to bring warm clothes while waiting for ingrates who can't follow a trail....... Trail ended (surprise) back in the damn park we started from.  The circle started with much down-downs for Hares, FRB, AEC, Virgins, Visit'n Hashers, Violations.....  Honorable (10th) skull attire was bestowed upon Teacher's Pet and Oral Instructor whereby they demonstrated the 69-method of retrieval for the hash.  They took a long time rumaging through each others antbodies (no mispelling) finding the headbands.  Oral I. wrily smiled and wiped her chin with the strip as she removed from Teachers Pet's face.  Teachers P. commented on the eggual flavor of his retrieved cloth.  Go figure.  Willy Come Home earned a bell for his 15th without choking on it.  And of GREAT? significance, Just Jay was named Cock-ration-her. SH3 honored the first departing hasher (Little Yellow Piece of Shit) with a traditional filtered shoe-full of holy material.  Her A Cum 10 provided THE filter of many a Hasher's (and some of our Harriettes) dreams for the piece of shit; then she ended up violating the "pointing tradition", twice!  (think about it).  Gispert bless LYPoS and may he do well in his repatriation effort.  SH3 fears for the hashes in Florida that this piece of shit may visit--be afraid; very...!

Saturday June 24, 2000 4:00 p.m.
Frankenstein Hash
Hares: Teacher's Pet and Willie Come Home
(submitted by Yeasty Boy)

Hares Willey Come Home and Teachers Pet blazed trail through much wooded/hilly paths, a little vertical shiggy, and three beer/wine stops; only to end at Frankies' Castle. Trail began reminiscent of the previous Bitch hash with a long, slow moving pack up a grade with a checkback 10 (only the FRBs could count this time!); then up a motengator of a hill that slowed the pack to a crawl. After much winding and weaving the BN symbol suggested a thirst might be quenched soon, but no; an intersection followed the mark (how heinous) and the pack had to continue the search for bier. Five-hundred meters up another graded path (always uphill when TP is haring) the bag of brew was found.
Beyond BN the strung out pack came to the NYC (naughty yodel check) whereby it drank fine wine and proceeded to foul the fair valley with calls of yelping hounds as one waited to be wacked on the bum before proceeding. Through a mass of mixed trails and someone's bricked cabin in the woods the pack lagered.  Over a creek and up a road then up yet another hilly trail to another winekeep under a cliff. How long could this go on! The wine was fine but the pack was thirsty for another fermented beverage of choice not packaged in Idaho by Willy's cousins who don't wash their feet before mashing the grapes........ Oops, back to the trail: much more winding and weaving paths finally, finally led the pack to Frankenstein Castle (built I believe in the 12th century but not renovated for modern times). The lead part of the pack was arriving, but there were no hares and NO BEER! HUMINT (Hash Support) reported the hares arrived at about the 1:30 mark and had descended to the retrieve the beer. They had to carry it up the hill to the castle. Honorable but inexcusable to the pack--always, but always have beer.... Believe the FRB was about 1:45 for arriving the On-In; the AEC(s) about 3:00. Of course the bimbos came drunkenly walking in snortin on wine and each other from the last stop. Much, much honoring occurred along with traditions as the SH3 circle formed and beat the hell out of the hares. The circle drank, hypothermized, relionized, then some decended to Hare Willy's and Frau Her-A-Cum's lofted patio for shish-ka-bobs and more beer. A terrific(ly
horrifying?) trail. Up, always go up.

Saturday August 5, 2000 4:00 p.m. - "Looking for clues"
Somewhere near Otterberg - not even the Hare knows
Hare: Yeasty Boy
(submitted by Teacher's Pet)

Our first warning to the impending disaster should have been the messed up directions to the Hash start, which took place on some god-forsaken forest road noteworthy only for having an "emergency telephone". Yeasty…phone home, we found the On-In!! The second warning was when our illustrious Hare took off with map and compass in hand, frantically examining both closely as he ran off! Not a good sign. Note to GM: please enroll all hares in a basic map reading course. Note to Hares: Figure out where you are going BEFORE you start. None the wiser, the small but enthusiastic pack proceeded with the festivities while waiting for the allotted ten minutes to pass. After a stirring rendition of Father Abraham led by Tinkle Balls, we gathered our empties and prepared to set off until Just Oliver informed us that Yeasty had asked for a 15-minute head start! "What utter nonsense!" the pack replied, but Just Oliver was insistent. In the interest of international relations, and in the interest of polishing off another brew or two, the pack remained leashed for five more minutes. The trail started off nice and flat, through the usual forest and brush…but even this proved too much for Just Juice who, complaining of a long night of gratuitous brew quaffing, promptly let loose a veritable Technicolor torrent of vomit on the sacred trail. In true hash spirit he simply wiped his chin and kept going! A few intersections later the pack was all strung out and wading through very deep shiggy on a convoluted but so far well marked trail. Up to their thighs in stinging nettles, tripping over roots and swampy funk, the frustrated hounds howled curses heavenward. Our curses were answered with the appearance of a small goat path…and a skull! Yours truly, Teacher's Pet, not realizing the ominous sign represented by the animal skull, proceeded to carry it over hill and dale, impaled on the end of a long stick. The Hash Gods must have been offended by TP's desecration of what must have been a pagan ritual site… (Note to all pagans…this is NOT the Stars and Stripes editorial section…please do not send angry letters here!) for within a kilometer the pack began to sense all was not well on the trail, and TP began to sense oncoming intestinal "distress". After a long battle with shiggy while running along a ridge line we descended into a valley and…completely lost trail. To the left nothing, to the right nothing, straight ahead, deep shiggy, and a steep uphill, but not a single hash in sight except a lone intersection mark. At this point Tinkle Balls, sensing opportunity, took of on his usual quixotic search for a shortcut…and as usual, he was not to be seen again for hours. TP, now sensing immediate intestinal disaster, ditched the offending skull, covertly slid behind the pack and secreted himself in the forest for relief. The remaining pack, ably led by Shrink Wrapped Sausage, BPP, and Shlobum Shlobus somehow found True Trail and scrambled up the hill, disappearing into a mass of Jurassic Park like shiggy. TP, finding relief a mere tree stump and some leaves away, searched mightily for the True Trail, hearing the pack's whistles receding rapidly into the deep forest. After an eternity of searching TP stumbled upon Just Bettina and Just Juice ambling along, who pointed him off in the right direction. Meanwhile, the main pack entered the beautiful environs of Otterberg after passing some neat looking houses and a mysterious driving school with mock intersections, traffic lights and so on. By this time, the pack was running on intuition only, since whatever hash markings found were seemingly scattered at random, far apart from one another, and more closely resembled the droppings of a small pet chickadee than a "hash". Next time Yeasty Boy hares a magnifying glass should be mandatory issue. The pack meandered aimlessly through the streets of Otterberg, attracting the admiring glances of some of the local hotties, while in search of something, anything, resembling a trail mark - until finally discovering yet another lonely "intersection". Frustrated, tired and certainly thirsty after 1&1/2 hours on trail w/out a f#*%ing bier, the pack decided it was every hound for himself. Forget the trail, cuz there isn't one, just get to the On-In! Piss Piggy, recognizing the road as the one we drove to the start on, took off to the probable On-In location. Problem was, it was at least another 3 K via the road to the parking area. Screw this! Piss Piggy and TP , looking frantically for a short cut, decided to run through a camping area where we were shooed off by some cantankerous old witch…it was probably her pagan ritual skull we found. Coming across a billboard size map of the trails in the area Piss Piggy and TP could only scratch their respective noggins like some slack jawed yokels and wonder, "where the hell are we?" Finding a trail we hoofed it for a helluva long time through the forest until -Good Lawd!- what do we see in the middle of nowhere - a true trail arrow! Taking this as a portentous sign that the Hare was still alive, we anxiously followed the increasingly microscopic splashes of bird doo (er…hash) to the On-In. But another surprise awaited us, as Cock-ration-her there already pouring down a cold one. This was a surprise cuz Cock-ration-her wasn't even at the start! Turns out the intrepid young hasher was 40 minutes late, tried to follow trail anyway - leaving his companions Just Becky and Just Ramah to guard the beer- and to illustrate just how messed up the trail was, stumbled through the forest enough to find his way to the On-In minutes ahead of the pack! Bottom line - there wasn't a true trail, just a random series of "dots" that if represented on paper could probably entertain a hyperactive 10 year old on a cross country road trip for hours while trying to connect 'em. The strung out pack slowly stumbled in, including Tinkle Balls who spent two hours who knows where doing who knows what. A search party was sent out for several missing hounds while much bier was consumed. Hats off to our new Biermiester Shrink Wrapped Sausage for an excellent selection of bier and goodies. The circle was a complete fiasco since we failed to elect an RA in the last Erection. TP was "volunteered" to be stand in RA, which was fine since he did such a horrible job he won't ever have to worry about doing it again! Cock-rationer-her was FRB, BPP (Who's down wit' BPP - Yea! You know me!) was AEC. Violations noted for Just Juice recycling his breakfast to feed the squirrels, Yeasty for proving that a map and compass are dangerous weapons in the hands of an untrained monkey, Yeasty losing his cache of flour, and Yeasty for providing no beer on trail. It looked like Yeasty was a shoo in for the Hash-Shit award but in an unprecedented development it was awarded to the not even present Oral Instructor for her poor judgment in deciding to go shopping in Poland instead of cuming to the Hash. What could she have been thinking?!
Ratings: Gratuitous shiggy fu, gratuitous hill fu, stinging nettle fu, skull on trail, vomit on trail, dump on trail, dried leaves fu - if you know what I mean, and I think you do. No breasts (Just Amanda please cum back!), four erect nipples, imitation Llama fu, lost Hare, lost Hounds, lost hash reserve, no beer on trail, good selection of munchies and beer, TP says three stars!