Hockessin Hash House Harriers History

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Hash Details
Hash Number:1149
What:Hockessin Hash #1149
When:Aug. 17, 2016
Where:2220 Shipley Rd, Wilmington, DE
Hares:Butthead
Message
What:  Hockessin Hash #1149, School's back soon, so its time to park here while we can.  Get your ticks before Fall strikes and they go into hibernation.  Get your Zika before the skeeter die off.  Get your pizza before the summer poolside specials expire.
When:  Wednesday, August 17, 2016 at 6:30 pm, HST 
Where:  Springer Middle school.  2220 Shipley Rd, Wilmington, DE 19803.  This is what my feeble planning allowed for.  If it doesn't work out, we'll try something else next time we start from around here.
Who Hare:  Butthead
Friendlies:  Trail, ??.  Apres, no. 
D'erections:  From I-95, take the Rt. 202 North exit, stay right onto Rt. 261 (Faulk Road), go for 1 mile or so, left on Shipley Road, 1/2 mile, left into Springer Middle School.  Park in Lot in front, to left of entrance.  Special Instructions:  Don't drink in the parking lot and get arrested.
Hashers
Asshopper
Bunion Butt
Butt Lite
Butthead
Cause for Blindness
Circle Jerk
Closing Time
Cock a Doodle Don't
Cousin It
Digital Dick
Do Me On the Beach
F6
Hare Today Cum Tomorrow
Jewel of Duh-Nile
Kum On Inn
Lost Boy
Magic Carpet Ride
NecroPheelMeUp
Perfect Woman
Pickle Dick
PubeHeAteHer
Skidmarks
The International House of Virgins
Tinsel Tits
Tits of Steel
Toxic Shock
Wet Lay
Wishboneher
Woody Woodpecker
Hash Trash
Trash for Hockessin Hash #1149
So, the slobbering pack met in the parking lot of Springer Middle School in north Wilmington, DE for the “school’s back soon, so get your ticks and Zika before fall strikes” hash on a warm, slightly humid, 80-something degree evening of August 17th, 2016 AD.  Hashers I remember encountering at some point or other included: and ...?
Our hare for the day was none other than Butthead, who also goes by the name of Bad Lay from time to time so it was pretty much guaranteed that we were in for an interesting, most-likely elusive trail.  As we confused and blocked-in some civilians in the parking lot who were apparently anxious for school to start, we “discretely” sipped our beers (as discretely as hashers always do) while we watched Butthead staggering around wielding his bag of flour and multi-colored chalk like he had actually done some marking at some point in the last hour or so.  At last, our RA WishBoneHer yelled us together for chalk talk so Butthead could explain the mostly pink chalk marks he had thrown down that may or may not be there.  Marks consisted of the standard checks, Fuck-you’s, a Check-Back, some flour here and there and the all-important Beer Near, which hopefully would be there.  Since Pickle Dick seemed a little too eager to get started this evening, he was awarded the hash shit to carry, while WishBoneHer was given the sleeve of beer since she has had an affinity for “borrowing” beers from the sleeve over the last several weeks.  At last, it was time to follow the true trail arrow and also Butthead’s trailing-off instructions to “uuh ... you’re gonna wanna turn left, then right, then into a field ...” or something ... 
On-On!
Asshopper and Cousin It were leading the way and for some reason, we all followed though no marks were seen anywhere (which would prove to be the theme of the day).  Through the peaceful night air, the droning voice of Butthead could be hear, “Go right ... go straight ...!” So, as we zig-zagged through a ball field, low-and-behold, some flour marks were located along the tree line, which soon ran out.  Fuck 5 was the sharp knife in the drawer who soon discovered that marks led into a shiggy, woodsy area behind the school, so into the rough we ventured. 
On-On!
We were able to identify some flour marks on trees as well as many layers of poison ivy and other hazardous plant life as we attempted to make our way until we came to a creek where the marks ran out again.  About half the pack went across hoping that marks would appear out of nowhere until Pube discovered what appeared to be flour going up the creek.  Again the marks ran dry and we were left gawking at nothing until “On-On” could be heard headed back the way we came.  And so, we chased our own and each other’s asses until we were led out of the park and into a neighborhood where the flour marks turned to chalk and became more and more sparse the further and further we went. 
On-On!
Eventually we came to a check and could not tell if the blue lines in the road were for us or for some other random group of idiots running round and round the neighborhood for no apparent reason.  Woody came upon a False marked the other way and some flour marks leading into a park where we spotted the hare’s orange toaster of a vehicle and nearly kept going until Butthead appeared out of nowhere barking, “You missed the beer stop ya jackasses, you’re supposed to be on Concord Ave.!”  That made a ton of sense to those of us who had no idea the name of the street we were even on.  So, back the other way we went until we met up with the other group of wankers who were looking around for marks that weren’t there.  Finally, Butthead drove by, so the FRB’s did their best to sprint ahead and keep his car in sight, hoping this would lead us to the beer.  We did indeed come upon two houses, one with a BN in front of it crossed out and one with a BN you might be able to read with a flashlight and a pair of strong prescription glasses.  Fortunately, one of these houses did have beer and the homeowners, friends of Butthead and Magic Carpet Ride (who had know where the beer stop was the whole time) graciously invited us to loiter in their backyard for a while as we shared tales of our round-about ways of arriving there.  We slowly drowned our recent trials and tribulations away in the cheap, shitty swill we were provided until we realized that we had better high-tail it back on trail because at the rate we were going, we were sure to need a compass, smoke signals, and some blind luck before long. 
On-On!
We wound our way through the neighborhood and back to Shellpot Park where we had seen the other marks that we were not supposed to have seen yet.  Further into the park we went until we came upon a Check-Back 7 (well played, hare) that meant all that running through the park had been for naught.  So, out to the road and across Shipley we were led with pink chalk marks that were actually fairly visible, except to a few wankers who decided to just run back to the cars from there.  There were a few more checks, then Cousin It and Perfect Woman popping out of some shiggy from who the hell knows where, and at last the school and cars were in sight and we were joined by the auto-hashing Kum On Inn, Butt Lite and Digital Dick as well as the late-cumming Skidmarks who did a bang-up job of deciphering Butthead’s version of trail all on his own. 
On-In!  
Once everyone had wandered back in, it was decided that the Beer Near location might make for a better place to circle than the school parking lot, so we all headed there with some of us still getting lost along the way. By the light of the full moon (actual moon, thankfully), the crazies circled-up and the shit-show commenced.  Many of us thought that Butthead should do all the down-downs, but instead he was only made to drink for his shitty trail, being a bad lay and simply a Butthead overall.  Pube was again FRB, while there was some sharing of the DFL honors since Skid had cum late and it was assumed that Cause for Blindness was probably, most-likely at least near last.  Cause took this opportunity to properly introduce herself to the homeowners by removing her top.  Magic drank for having insider information about the beer stop and Cause, Tits of Steel, and several others drank for leaving blood on trail, but not hash-crashing.  Some interuptuses drank, including the hare as well as the auto-hashers for saving themselves some frustration this evening.  Just Sarah was accused of technology on trail, i.e., making beautiful music with her pussy and WishBoneHer was accused of outrageously filling the beer sleeve with bottles of water.  Butthead, WishBoneHer and Do Me On the Beach drank for hashing since the beginning of time and at last Woody delivered a rather soft-spoken version of the benediction, “May the hash go in peace,” so we could leave our gracious hosts in peace.  
Following circle, we strolled up the road to McLaren’s Pub where we enjoyed many Season’s pizzas and many, many more beers whilst enjoying some arousing games of darts and more or less claiming the bar as our own. All in all it was another shitty trail. Stay tuned for Hockessin Hash #1150 this Wednesday.On-On!NecroPheelMeUp