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Do you need a silencer if you are going to shoot a mime?
"Cool hash page"
December 2002

Halve Mein Hash 171 - The Double Penetration Hash - Cohoes, NY

When: September 23, 2006
Where: Mary Olde F*cker & Tiny Twat's Riverside Retreat, Cohoes, NY
Hares: Prickly Bush, Mary Olde F*cker
Pack: Pigf*cker, Dirtbag, Willy Wanker, Sperm Bank, Poptop, Tubslut, Krusty, Link Hardknob, Nice Snatch, Amazon.Cum, Dr. Queer, Astro Homo, Just Nicki, Urinal Biscuit (Burlington)
Scribe: P*gF*ck*r

In a uncanny celestial occurence, we had pretty much the same grey day, freshly rained on, cloudy weather that we had the last time we attempted a Prickly Bush run. What is it with this girl and the weather? I suspect that the hash gods are punishing her because she doesn't show her tits quite enough. The usual rabble gathered together well ahead of the announced hash time of 1PM, knowing that we would have at least an hour to drink beer from the cornocopia of coolers presented to us. We were right. The blond headed hare was bustling about, pretending (badly) that trail hadn't already been completely set. They even went so far as to load up a vehicle with the two hares and our hostess-with-the-mostest, Tiny Twat, and driving off in a furtive attempt to convince us that there was some challenge to this dead lay. We continued to contentedly drink and wait out Dr. Queer's late arrival (only one bag of clams? You bastard!) and were off on trail at the heathly hour of 2:15PM. Astro Homo was in charge of lugging the hashit on trail (and he only put it down once, whereupon Urinal Biscuit was on it like flies on shit. We were able to wrestle it back), and Link Hardknob bravely carried the FRB anchor.

The hare went right, barely pretending to even lay flour as she went. The pack was onto her sneaky ways, pretending to follow her, and went left to find true trail through a surprisingly seedy trailer park. At this early hour, they had not yet awakened from their Budweiser comas, so we passed unscathed through the rusty ruins of cars and metal porch roofs. We hadn't gone a full mile when we encountered a BN just inside some scrub brushes near Route 9. The 13 of us shared 6 Miller Lights or Coors, or whatever the hell they were, and 3 micro bottles of water. To Astro Homo's dismay, we then left shiggy territory and crossed Route 9 and found road. Nothing but roads. The pack was hopeful, but every checkpoint failed to veer from the tar and asphalt of the ROAD. We would check left, towards the river, to find nothing. We would check right, towards the dump, only to be sadly turned away. It was straight ahead for the pack, down that old lonesome road. We got a nice view of the falls, but no beer was there to reward our labor. Only the road, reaching for our hearts and tired legs with cold black arms.

Numerous hash halts and song checks (on a dead trail, too!) helped to keep the poor walking tribe (Astro Homo and Tubslut were apparently having a go with Snatch's sister) with the runners, lagging by only a half mile at most points. Astro, faced with nothing but straight, angular, unchallenging trail, must have assuredly been cursing the rain, having been both his excuse and opportunity to come out and play with us. You've heard of fair weathered friends? Well, he is a suck ass weather friend. Trail continually crossed and recrossed the bloody god forsaken road at seemingly random points. It became clear to us that we were on a nature hike, of sorts, as the cross points put us periously close to various road kills, in various states of decompostion. At one point, Sperm Bank lobbed a possum at Krusty and Nice Snatch. Reports are that they screamed like little girls as the furry missle landed between them.

Finally, we came across the hare and Dirtbag, who being pre-op for a sex change operation (they apparently have a new technique that can surgically give him some) decided to drive around rather than limping through this death march. The important thing is, there was beer at this check. We celebrated in the only way we know how. We sang some songs, drank our swill, dressed Dr Queer up in an infant jumpsuit, and annoyed numerous dog walking members of the public. By now, the pack was eager to get back to the estate and the coolers of decent beer that tickled our collective palate only hours before. We ignored the obvious YBF to the east and ran up the old train tracks, now a fairly nice bike path all the way to Route 9. Not exercising good judgement, we failed to simply turn right on Route 9 and proceed the half mile to the On-In via easy to traverse road, but rather we chose shiggy, crossing 9, toward the river. Shiggy we finally got. Following pink tape and orange spray paint, we skirted bewildered farmers, alfalfa patches, and some pretty nice looking pigs in a sty. Trail in was the trail out the last time we were here, and the wet saw grass, pricker bushes, standing mud puddles, and low bushes did their worst to us in a very short period of time. Urinal Biscuit and P*gF*ck*r, enjoying the advantage of height, were able to spot the trail from long distances. P*gF*ck*r also had the opportunity to have run this section of trail 4 times, from when he went searching for lost and beerless hashers the last time we were here.

The On-In mark was marked "Pants Optional." Being hashers, the pants came off as we came trotting up to the house, where all of Tiny Twats friends were seated, ready for the show. Well, a show they got, as I am proud to say most Halve Meins came around the corner sans bottom wear.


Hares: Prickly Bush, Mary Olde Fucker, along with kitchen bitches Tiny Twat and Wee Twat.

FRB Pigf*cker, joined by overachiever Urinal Biscuit.

Environmental down down was awarded to Sperm Bank, who apparently treats the world as his toilet.

DAL Tubslut

Bloody Trail/End of the Month: Sperm Bank, Astro Homo, P*gF*ck*r, Willy Wanker

Analversaries Link Hardknob (10), P*gF*ck*r (150), Amazon.Cum (10)

Willy, Dr Queer, and Sperm Bank all drank for something at this point. Something about a Brittany? Meh. I can't read this. Was I drunk when I wrote it? God, I hope so...

Wearing childrens underwear: Dr Queer

Taking the underwear from a child so that Dr Queer could wear it: Sperm Bank

Backsliders: Astro Homo, Sperm Bank, Dr. Queer

Hashit Nominations: Snatch was nominated again for desecrating our beloved, and now quite bemourned, Hash-it with his ass hair. Sperm Bank was nominated for ruminating while in a hot tub "I wish a had a foreeskin to play with." Snatch and Krusty were nominated for screaming like little girls when the possum was flung at them, and Sperm Bank was renominated for flinging said possum.

Sperm Bank was the winner by acclaim, and drank from our original hashit (which we have to use again, seeing how we donated our ass hair ridden hashit to the Happy Vally wankers.)

We had a special "Age Off" between Tubslut and Link Hardknob. Link won, and they both drank for being dusty old fucks.

Circle was closed with "Today is Monday!" and the pack fed and played flip cup.


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