Hitting save is very important... database sync isn't working and I am lazy
|What:||Hockessin Hash #1154 - Trail 3 for the Menage-a-Skidmarks -- the New Jersey Trial or Cowtown Rodeo Trail|
|When:||Sept. 17, 2016|
|Where:||780 Harding Hwy, Pilesgrove, NJ|
|What: Hockessin Hash #1154, Trail 3 for the Menage-a-Skidmarks -- the New Jersey Trial or Cowtown Rodeo Trail|
When: Saturday, September 17, 2016 at 4 pm, NOTE THE TIME, 4pm NOT 3pm!!! The Rodeo starts at 7:30 pm. That is why we are starting late.
Where: Cowtown Rodeo Parking Lot,780 Harding Hwy. (Route 40), Pilesgrove, NJ 08098.
Who Hare: Skidmarks, Groper, Rug Burn, possible mystery hare!
Why: From da hare, "Skidmarks is an idiot and H4 needs a Saturday trail ... and as I sit here writing this my legs are in recovery from the Crab Hash, which includes countless chigger bites. At least I hope it is that and not PI. But I can't think about the past and must look to the future of hashing!"
Friendlies: Kids -- yes, dogs -- no.
What Else: It's a rodeo hash, while not required, you might want to wear your best cowboy or cowgirl outfit at the apres or on trail if you want. Bring a chair! The rodeo will open after the apres for anyone who wants to attend. The Rodeo is optional. Hash cash is still $5.
The Rodeo is $20 or if we get at least 20 PEOPLE to attend the Rodeo, $12.50, and children age 3 to 12, $10.00. You can bring a cooler (with alcohol, hash beer, if you want) into the Rodeo, but it is limited to what can fit into 12" x 12" crate. So bring a SMALL cooler. No dogs or glass bottles allowed. For those of you who would like to go shopping first, the Cowtown Flea Market is open that day from 8am to 4pm.
Questions / Comments / Lost - call or texted Skidmarks
D'erections: Get yourself to the Delaware Memorial Bridge and see above link. If you live in Zoo Jersey, you know where it is.
Cock a Doodle Don't
Desperately Seeking Pussy
Dirty Wet Pussy
Do Me On the Beach
Does It All
Hands Up Don't Shoot
Jewel of Duh-Nile
Magic Carpet Ride
Other Peoples Pussy
The International House of Virgins
Tits of Steel
What What Mud in the Butt
|Trash for Hockessin Hash #1154: The 3rd Week of the Month of Skidmarks Hash, aka the Rodeo Hash|
So, the slobbering pack ventured across the bridge and met at the Cowtown Rodeo parking lot in Pilesgrove, New Jersey for the third hash in the month of Skidmarks in the third state in the third week of September on a sunny, low 80-ish degree afternoon of September 17th, 2016 AD. Hashers I remember encountering at some point or other included: Jewel of Duh-Nile, PubeHeAteHer, NecroPheelMeUp, Skidmarks, Lost Penis, Dirty Wet Pussy, Magic Carpet Ride, Wet Lay, Bunion Butt, Groper, Do Me On the Beach, Circle Jerk, Cousin It with Famous Jack, Cockadoodledon’t, International House of Virgins, Tits of Steel, Rug Burn, Does It All, Dead End, Other People’s Pussy, Desperately Seeking Pussy, So Horny Beaver (aka What-What Mud In The Butt), Just Kaleb, Hands Up Don’t Shoot, Just Steve, Lurch, Panty File, Public Maceration, Dr. Dick Little, Just Jill and ...?
Our hare for the day was the three-times-a-charming Skidmarks, with a little ass-istance from the dirty Jersey contingency, aka Groper and Rug Burn for trail #3 of the month of Skid-tember. Our starting point looked like a scene straight out of Frontier Land as we found ourselves surrounded by horse trailers, herds of cattle, a lot of plaid and denim, 10-gallon hats and the Cowtown flea market where Dirty Wet Pussy and Lost Penis had found some affordably-priced western gear and other ass-orted colorful local flair. Speaking of ass, the smell in this part of the state sort-of masked the usual Jersey aroma, though the pack of hashers was sure to ripen the atmosphere after a couple miles on the dusty trail. And so, after being asked to circle our wagons, aka move our cars and chairs a few times as if there were other people trying to enter the parking lot or something, Skidmarks threw down some marks for chalk-talk. There were, of course the usual flour blobs with some checks, fuck-you’s, and the all-important Beer Near. Additionally, there were 6 Jolly-J’s in which the FRB was to find the two shooters marked with pink ribbon and share them with the DFL, to which Wet Lay smiled with glee at the near certainty that she would be drunk very soon. And “oh yeah,” our hare nearly failed to mention that there was a Turkey/Eagle, aka tough/easy split on trail somewhere which would give some a Tour de Jersey and others a tour around each other’s asses. There were several visitors present who were native to this foreign land as well as points near (aka Philly) and not so near (aka Boston) who were introduced and identified just in case they were never heard from again, because you never know what may happen on trail. Then without further ado, we were instructed to get-along-little-doggies, hop-along-cassidy and moooo-ve our asses out.
Marks were soon identified leading us down a long, dusty road where Pube-He-Ate-Her, yours truly and Jewel-of-Duh-Nile were abruptly turned-around at 3 back-to-back Jolly J’s which were happily shared with Magic Carpet Ride, Wet Lay, and Cousin It. Trail then had us leaping over some rather large cow pies and banging left across a “Be Very Careful” road crossing where we passed a field of ginormous balls, I mean bulls, who eyed us up suspiciously and came scarily close to the fence (perhaps it was Just Kaleb’s red shirt that got them all riled-up). We came upon a check and called Dr. Dick Little back from the right, but turns out OPP had blown through a false, so right we were.
Speaking of blowing through things, Dr. Dick Little, Lurch, and Panty File inadvertently blew through the next Jolly-J, so Pube happily picked-up another one. No matter, because Lurch and Panty File found the next ones and were sent back while trail led us through some guy’s back yard junk pile and past a garage with a rather large, sad-looking soaked teddy bear sitting on the ground. There was no time for the Yogi Bear song, for we were next led into a shiggified area where much poison ivy, stinging nettles, thorns and man-eating plant life awaited. The average passer-by may have thought, “Who is torturing that little girl?” but it was only the high-pitched yells of Jewel-of-Duh-Nile that could be heard as we navigated across a rather precarious, somewhat rotted bridge of boards and up an overgrown stairway to nowhere and into more and more shiggy.
At last we were rewarded with a Beer Near, though half the pack who were hanging with the hares managed to hash smarter and avoid a bulk of the shiggy. The Beer Near was in a lovely spot under a gazebo on some guys’s privates (property), that we were told Groper had been given permission for us to invade (in exchange for what, we won’t ask). So after we had lingered with our refreshments long enough and Cousin It and Famous Jack had eventually wandered in, back on trail we went for the journey home.
Our journey was to be two-fold as we shortly came upon the Turkey/Eagle split. The Eagles enjoyed a series of deer trails, which were made for short deer as we found ourselves ducking under obstacles and meandering around a hillside until we were eventually reunited with the Turkeys (who according to Groper had enjoyed a more scenic route) on a paved road. Said road had a dead end (not be confused with a certain cigar-smoking hasher), aka cemetery where we were thwarted by a few checks until we came upon the familiar happy trail leading us out into the sunset, aka Frontier Land, the cars and the On In.
Once everyone had arrived back at hashy ranch, we circled up and rustled up some songs, insults and other assorted bullshit. OPP drank for managing to squeak ahead of Pube at the end for FRB while Famous Jack stood aside and let Cousin It drink for DFL. OPP got to drink again with Pube for “race”-ist behaviors (racing each other at the end). Interuptuses drank for being lost in the wild, wild west too long and our visitors drank for crashing the party. Just Jill drank for being a virgin and somehow cumming late to trail, claiming that she saw us running by and that she was the cousin of Panty File, so we sang her the “Face Down Ass Up” song because after all, “your cousin says you’re ugly.” The Jersey-ites drank for their shitty state while Skidmarks, Groper, and Rug Burn drank for their shitty trail. And last but not least, Skidmarks and Lost Penis presented Rug Burn’s Winnebago with a banner forever dubbing it “Chuckwagon.” The hash then went in peace and claimed a large piece of parking lot land for the apres.
Following circle, the slobs gathered at the ol’ newly-dubbed Chuckwagon where Rug Burn treated us to some hearty vittles, including hot sausage in chili, pasta, and Caesar salad and plenty more beer. Several of us attended the Cowtown Rodeo afterward where we got to bring in all the hash beer we could drink and cheer for the cows until they came home. All in all it was another shitty trail. Stay tuned for Hockessin Hash #1155 this Saturday, the final month of Skidmarks hash.On-On!NecroPheelMeUp