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So, two people is a Twosome and three people is a Threesome. Now I understand why people call you "handsome"
"Cool hash page"
December 2002

Halve Mein Hash #500 – Sextembeer 12th, 2015 - Frear Park, Troy, NY

What: 500th Run
Where: Frear Park, Troy, NY
Who: Wooley Mammaries, Willy Wanker, Moans Aloan, Edgewhiner, Whodafuq (Just James), Big Piles, Jizz hands, Jizzney Gland, Hymen DickedOver, Poptop, Virgin Robert, Decibelle, Archie, Little Wang Theory, Sperm Bank, F3, Tap Dat Ass, Red Tail Swallows, SuperFlaggot, Mount My Hams, Seizeher Cooch, 6.9, Hounds: STFU, RAOD
Hare: Dirtbag / Piggy

There are two versions of this hash trash. Version A , from Little Wang Theory, from the front of the pack, and version B, from Moans, from the back of the pack.

Trail # 500 (Trash A – Front of Pack)


This trail started with whale-sized expectation. A rego? Granted, not huge numbers on the rego, but a rego nonetheless. We were all excited for some major shenanigans – on trail and off. We grouped up at Park pub at about 1:69 and immediately I thought "great…some old, rich, white folks are gonna see my dick." But as I entered, I saw that the bar was filled with Dirt-Pig, some people that were gonna see my dick, and a "Draught List" chalkboard that falsely stated that it had Smithwick's (my favourite beer).

We drank things and hugged each other (Piggy and Archie pretended not to know me, I pretended to give a fiddler's fuck). Sperm Bank talked about how I should come party with him on Thursdays at Vapor nightclub in Saratoga to pick up MIPLTFIIWSAs (for those uneducated, that stands for “mom I'd probably like to fuck if I was Spermbank's age”). We got wonderful toe tags from Jizzney Gland, who I'm convinced doesn't do anything at work except engrave plastic things for various purposes. Just kidding man. All you navy (and air force….won't forget you Archie + Dirtbag) people, thanks for your service to our country, and your constant fondling of each others nutsacks which augments bar-room humour. All the regulars showed up except for Assman Cumeth, (who we should rename Ayman Comedoaspartanrace) and talked about the regular things.

Then Moans performed a feat I can only describe as magic. She yelled “sixteen minutes to chalk talk!”, or some number that caused people to think “oh awesome! Just enough time for one more pint”. So everybody went to the bar to get another one. She then moved through the crowd slowly, cozying up with her comforting nips and gentle voice, playfully asking “hey, whatcha drinkin'?” to which everyone said what they were drinking, and then tilted their pint glasses toward her, thinking she would sniff, or take a Chihuahua-sized lap of their beer. Instead, she took two biker chick –sized gulps. And then she repeated this process with ALL THE DUDES IN THE GROUP. She basically got a free beer out of it. And then she yelled “CHALK TALK BITCHES”, and everyone was like fuck I just started this beer, so they drank what they could and gave the rest to her. Turns out tits and a brain can basically get you two free beers. Thanks, Moans.

Anyway then I followed Hymen to chalk talk. Whoops – nope – turns out a whole gaggle of hashers (including myself), followed Hymen to her car for no reason at all. We got there and she's like “guys why did you follow me, chalk talk is not here”. It was hilarious. Then we were herded back up the hill for chalk talk.

Chalk talk was standard. Standard marks. One vegan. Poptop's vegan.


Trail was actually pretty awesome. Up and down through different densities of forest. Me and the Jizz family lead most of the way. Then we came to a ravine where it looked like god had said "y'know what, this river isn't gonna have water, instead it's gonna have random shit that's fallen off people's cars…who live in troy”. Which was kinda gross but it allowed me to go all Pocahontas around the riverbend. We're not going to talk about how I tried to hang on a tree (a sapling), which snapped, causing me to plummet at least fifteen feet to the bottom of the ravine and dislocate my shoulder...we could...but that's just not the type of scribe that I am. Jizzney flagpoled out on a tree, and that looked awesome. We sang. Trail continued.

So I'm a smart person with a physics degree but I'm a dumb man with no memory, I don't know in what order these things happened, but I'll tell you about them anyway...

First, at one of the beer checks, Jizz Hands was giving me shit for some shit-giving worthy thing, so I decided to playfully spit my sip of beer on him, thinking it would hit him on the shoulder. But right as I did it, he turned to face me so my beer stream hit him square in the mouth. It was adorable.

The rest of beer check proceeded as normal, with standard hashing antics occurring that I cannot remember. I think some subset of Moans and Archie took dumps on trail. Then we heard the story of what was called "a stage 5 code brown" that caused Archie to carry baby wipes wherever he goes. Gross

Then at another one of the beer checks we found a heroin needle.....really it was just an unused insulin syringe with the cap still on but we're calling it a heroin needle because we were in (/near?) Troy and that's what you do in Troy.

We drank, trail continued, we pretended to be Steve Irwin type nature educators as we commentated on the emergence of female breasteses from the bushes and the inside of tastefully-donned running tops. And then at some point the hares laid a song check in a cemetery. Next to the circle was chalked the words "who said" and then an arrow pointing to our favourite fallen hasher, Mr. Head. It was hilarious.

Anyway, with Jizzney and I out in front, we emerged from a residential neighborhood to a running trail that we knew would take us right back to the bar. And because one should always hash smarter not harder, and the fastest way to beer is the correct way, we followed it and intercepted Piggy from behind. Giggitty.

The rest of the pack trickled in a few minutes later. and we all planned our exodus to the Swinebush.


Circle took place at the fire pit behind the swinebush, with rain threatening. The hares drank for the shitty trail they laid, while I secretly thought to myself "that trail was pretty fucking awesome" and I know I'm not the only one. Got ya back hares. The rest of circle was pretty rushed because it started pouring. And then Decibelle (god bless her heart) brought us all umbrellas. Which would have been a great idea except then Jizzney (or someone else, but it sounds just like a Jizzney thing to do) decided to tilt his umbrella to soak everybody that was in circle. When god started watering down on us with the anger of a thousand earths for forsaking the sabbath, we promptly swung low and went inside. Where circle continued in abbreviated form.

We started by naming Decibelle's cousin. I'm sure he's a great guy but he just hasn't done anything dumb enough to be named by a bunch of hashers. So we started asking him all the standard questions. Nothing. Hasn't been naked in front of his company, hasn't copulated with a barnyard animal, not even a kegstand in a tutu. so while mulling over what his name could/should be, after finally learning that he's banged his sister or something, F3 starts asking (loudly) "well who the fuck is this guy". we all sort of giggled and then went "well fuck, let's name him that!". So after some voting, we actually named the poor bastard "Who da fuq is dis guy". congrats, Whodafuq, you're one of us now.

Anyway, then we started listing the years we started hashing. Piggy and Dirtbag are old, Halve Mein is mostly young whippersnappers + Spermbank's libido. We get it.

THEN some chick showed up that we could have been somebody's mom. Not sure if it was. Then the term "fag hag" got tossed about. Not really sure what that means but I figured I'd mention it because it would make some people laugh. So dirtbag alouetted her as he does and she left.

Anyway then we all started drinking like was the end of the world and the next thing I knew, it was Sunday afternoon.

Great fucking day.

Anyway, email me if I missed something. or don't because...I won't do anything because what I say is the scientific truth.

Yours Fictionally,
-Little Wang Theory

Trail # 500 (Trash B – Back of the Pack)

As I sit here, tired, dirty, sore, dripping mulch on the carpet and scratching at the poison ivy rash all over my legs (no, believe it or not I did not just get back from Hash 501!) I can't help but think back to better days and Hash 500. The run started with a parade of "haven't seen in ages, didn't know you still live around here, what's the problem - are we too good for you?" hashers. Apparently they only like even numbers with lots of zeros. So we introduced Wooley Mammories, Pop Top (and his virgin - this guy will be noted later so pay attention), Red Tail (that tail still looks great after 3 sets of twins doesn't it?) to all of our newish hashers and our numbers swelled (yeah, swelled) in the cozy bar of the golf club where everyone but us was wearing collared shirts. Where the hell was Tubby???? Then the call to circle came and Moans got caught at one of her favorite games. Pay attention Harriettes - this is how it's done, congrats to Archie for figuring it out! You need perfect timing here, when several Hashers have just ordered fresh pints you "help" the RA's call everyone to circle. Of course the hashers aren't going to rush off leaving their beers but those done drinking for now will move away leaving you more room to work. You move from Hasher to Hasher letting them know everyone is already waiting for them in circle, then you use a casual line like "What are you drinking? IPA?! Can I try it?....... Thats good! Thanks" If there are enough people still drinking you can chug a full pint before circle without anyone feeling cheated! Yep - Archie's right, it's good to have boobs.

Oh yeah, there was a run! So circle, circle, circle, same marks as always, sing sing sing, what was that version of Father Birmingham anyway??

And we were off! Through the park and the 5 year olds birthday party, across the road where a patrol car from Troy Police Dept actually stopped traffic so the first half of the pack could cross! Apparently regular shootings and arson have made hashers look reasonable to them - sweet! Then the shiggy, the awesome kind of wet but not too much, trails up and down hills, not too many bugs, slightly overcast but warm, perfect hasher shiggy. Being toward the back of the main pack is always my favorite. You get to see a lot of hasher tail, it keeps you motivated to keep up however not too motivated to catch up. We sang, we screwed up Bumm Titty Bumm Titty Bumm pretty badly, Jizzny Gland showed off his super human navy muscles and made him self into a flag on a small tree, Little Wang tried to dive into the stream but there was only two inches of water, no worries, he didn't get hurt. He's tough from playing that Wizzard Cricket game that is kind of like rugby.

Lets stop here for 10 seconds and remember how beautiful the beginning of trail and the shiggy was, for the next segment of trail took us through gorges that could have rivalled Ithaca if not for the two feet deep garbage. I have never seen so many discarded tires in my life, not even stacked on top of huge manure piles at farms! There were shopping carts and toys and a tire pump and more tires. I think maybe a Walmart got sick and barfed at the top of the stream and all the crap just ran down the ravine! Finally we had a wonderfully acoustic song check in a big metal culvert and the garbage was behind us. As we ran through peaceful woods I could hear On-On ahead and I followed with Sperm Bank gleefully bouncing like white tail deer on a spring afternoon. Then it hit, sharp pain building, I let SB go on ahead and looking around for a maple leaf of any kind I unleashed an evil in the woods that will mystify dog owners on that trail for a month or more. OK - my gut having emptied I was on my way running to catch up with the fading voices. Anyone thirsty? Great - Beer Near is right here! Complete with heroin needles and more garbage. Mount my Hams picked up a slightly used crutch, you never know.........

Into a cemetery with great statues, really old headstones, some guy smoking crack in his beat up Chevy S10, it was quite peaceful! We could hear cheering from below (everyone loves hashers), we saw a flying ant hatching with hundreds of them crawling about, we were in hash heaven! Then a pang, deep breath, a cramp, slow down......OMG, the evil had not left me completely! As I found a grove of sumac to crouch in I watched as 6.9 past me by hoping the noises I was making would not actually wake the dead! Once again put back together I set out to catch the last of the pack. What I found was SeizeHer covered in crispy nettles from head band to toes. We picked enough off so she could move her legs back and forth to walk and kept on looking for beer, thankfully it was close! At beer check I looked for sympathy from fellow hashers and my nemesis from the bar became my dearest friend. Guess what Archie has under that kilt?? He also has baby wipes in a plastic bag! The soothing cool of that wipe on my tender butt hole was nothing short of miraculous!

The rest of trail was filled with good conversation, some pavement, some uphill, some down hill, some more golf course, it was pretty awesome - you should have been there - it was only $5.

Short drive, then Circle. Mother Nature loves the hash, she also has a good sense of humor. It started sprinkling, then a light rain as circle began. With each song we sang it rained harder (helped by Jizzney Gland directing his umbrellas run off down the back of whomever happened to be in circle) No thunder, no lightening, just a driving rain that began to put out the very sturdy hot coals of the fire that we surrounded until we finally decided we could take no more. Soaking wet we retired inside. Someone decided at this point that we had to name Just James because he just wasn't going to do anything more noteworthy than we have seen thus far. We threw out names, nothing special and all of the sudden F3 awoke from a 10 minute black out and yelled "Who the f**k is this guy?" More names were offered, voting ensued, and now we have a new hasher named "Who the F**K is this guy?" More singing? Of course!

Then some of us noticed an older woman standing near Pop Top's virgin (told you he would come up again). She listened while we sang. Occasionally she would make a face like a Disney cartoon character signing carols with a perfect O where her mouth was and then quickly she would recover and smile widely. Was she the virgin's mother? Grandmother? Nope - turns out she is just his fag hag and when questioned about whether we had offended her she replied "Of course not, everyone needs a place where they can express themselves and feel safe" AHHHHHHHH The Hash is HOME - she nailed it.

I feel like that should end it but it is important to note that there was more drinking, a make shift band, foose ball, strip foose ball, spankings as you crawled under the foose ball table and DB sucking on my nipple but you didn't cum or stay so why should you get to hear about those stories! Can't wait until Hashtobeer!!!! Time to go get in a hot shower and Moan a little, oh please, who doesn't like a little "me time" in a hot shower?

Yours Ridiculously,
Moans Aloan

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