Hash 896: Tunnel of Love

Why, a thinking person might ask, did I even go to the hash? My ass is sore as hell from trying to learn to squat with a barbell on my back. It’s pouring rain. The kids are having school drama. It’s 7:15pm and I’ve missed the goddamn start again. All good reasons why a sane and reasonable person would say fuck it, and stay home. Am I a sane and reasonable person? Evidently, I am not.

 

Captain Asshole

Captain Asshole

So I get to the Boardwalk Bowl, park, look for chalk (none found) look for hashers (ditto.) I check inside. No. I look again outside. There it is! The faintest tracing of chalk! The rain, I can see, is going to be a problem. On on! To the boardwalk. And look! A turkey eagle split! Maybe I have a chance to catch up with some turkeys if I hustle. Hope springs eternal.
I follow the turkey trail inside. Nothing. Through and outside. Nothing. Nothing on the boardwalk, nothing on the beach. I am puzzled. I go back outside to look a the split. It’s gone. Did I hallucinate? Possibly. I call Cum Fart Zone in an attempt to gather intel. No joy there, she is playing mini golf and has no idea where trail goes. Well, huh.

A buncha wankers

A buncha wankers

I figure the turkeys must have gone a different way than the eagles so I head towards the wharf. I get to the wharf. No trail. Did I miss it? Did the rain wash it away? I give up and come back. By now I’m both wet and warm. So that much is just as promised.
I figure what the hell, and start looking for eagle. Success! There is flour! Wow. Flour works WAY better than chalk in the rain. Ok, so at last I’m on trail, which makes me happy. I follow trail along the railroad tracks to the bridge. Huh. I must have missed a mark, because there’s no way trail went over the train bridge, right?! I take the pedestrian bridge across, and find an arrow indicating trail should depart from the tracks and come to me. DungFu, you are a crazy bastard. You laid trail across the railroad bridge in the rain. Why you try to kill us, friend?

What is even happening here?

What is even happening here?

Onward and upward I go, huzzah! Thank goodness for flour. Did I mention that it is raining? And that the chalk is pretty much washed away? I run around a bit, completely losing trail once, find it a few blocks away, and end up on the river path. At the end of the river path there are not just one but two arrows indicating I should go down into the river?! What’s with the murder trail tonight, DungFu? Is there something you wanna say? Spit it out, man!
I decline to go wading into the river. There is no more trail. I cast around and finally find a faint trace of arrow on the other side of Soquel. Yay! I’m on trail again! I encounter many wet and sad homeless people near San Lorenzo park. I cross the river on the pedestrian bridge to downtown. Downtown has some excellent gypsy fiddle busking. I stop to listen and give the fiddler some money because what the hell, there’s no way I’ll catch up with the pack at this point.

Our Biggest Wanker year after year

Our Biggest Wanker year after year

These guys look pretty happy trail is done

These guys look pretty happy trail is done

I’m able to follow trail pretty well until somewhere around Walnut and Center, where the rain suddenly increases from the previous steady downpour to a thunderous dumping of water that completely erases all traces of chalk and flour. Either that or I missed something.
At this point I decide to fuck off to religion, figuring everyone else is there already anyhow. I trot along past the cop shop, past depot park, and along the path to the underside of the railroad trestle where I find, instead of happy beer-laden degenerates, a convention of more sad, wet homeless people. We wish each other good evening and I continue on, downcast.
But look! On the path! It’s chalk! Yay, I’m back on trail! Maybe I will find religion somewhere? But no, it is not to be. Eventually I find myself back at the boardwalk bowl, with no more trail to follow. I’m about to give up and go home when I encounter a large number of warm, dry hashers boasting about their mini golf and laser tag exploits. Wow. Just wow. Losers.
I leave them to karaoke the night away and head home for some dry clothes and the exciting opportunity to harass teenage boys about their homework and bedtime.
On on,
Genital Tongs

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FACU style trail (hash 895)

I’ve purposely not signed up to be a scribe and probably never will, and here’s why. I know I’ll pick up the slop. On the way home from this weeks Hash Occasional Rapist and I discussed whether there was a scribe or not, and that I’d be willing to do it if no one else signed up. So, there you go.

In my last write-up, 2 weeks ago, I was discussing people who were not there and missed discussing two. They were there this week, but that doesn’t change any thing. First, is Dog Breath – international man of mystery. Rumor has it that whenever he is not at the Hash he is starting a war somewhere. All must have been quiet on the Western Front this week, so he made a guest appearance. The last thing I want to say about Dog Breath is that I have heard reports that more than 1 Harriet has discovered some of the Dog Breath’s mystery, including a virgin he appeared to have deflower at my house a few years ago.

Second is Banana Basher. My thoughts on Banana Basher is he flips a two headed coin with Bailas Con Burros each week as to weather can come to the hash and she gets to call the coin. This week Bailas Con Burros must have thought the promise of a FACU style trail was safe for his bulkyness and he was allowed to attend. However, I’ll note she has a very short leash as he left before down-downs.

The next Hasher of honorable mention is Thmp-Thmp. The hares had promised we might see a groundhog, and Thmp-Thmp provided the groundhog as himself in what other weeks would be considered a squirrel costume.

The last Hasher to have honorable mention is Puff The Magic Drag Queen. My last write-up was his last hash to attend. He started a new streak at 1 this week. However, as of this writing, travel outside of Santa Cruz county is perilous. So, if he makes it out on Thursday, who knows if he’ll make it back. For those that want to read about last time Puff missed a hash click here.

This weeks Hash featured one the founders of the FACU hash, Accuprick, as one of our hares. His co-hare was his (very) close friend Butt Balls. We were promised food on trail in a dry location and more food at the end. While the hares provided lies about trail, other Hashers tried to maim each other with giant Jenga blocks.

Trail started into the neighborhood on Seacliff drive.  Now, if you are going to do a short trail, there are two alternatives. The first is go down Beachgate way and take the trail to the beach. However, there is a giant sink hole on that trail right now and the trail is closed. There was a giant false right in front of that trail that somehow Dog Breath missed. He was awarded a down-down at religion for missing it. The second alternative is to double back to State Park Drive somehow, which is exactly what we did. From there it was over Highway 1, and could we be headed any place other than Butt Ball’s garage?  The FRB’s did a little clockwise loop through the cemetery and nearby neighborhood. The rest the pack made a beeline for Butt Balls house.

There we were rewarded with a supposedly vegan Curry soup courtesy of Fap Jack and chicken wings from Lil Anal Annie. The soup was quite spicy, but quite tasty. Occasional Rapist tells me she asked for the recipe, so I am hoping to sample it again soon.

After the food was gone, the hare’s asked if we wanted a trail back, or just a straight on in to religion behind Point A. A straight On-In was universally expressed.

At religion we had one significant back slider. That would be Puff. When you don’t miss a trail for nearly 15 years, 1 is a big deal.

There were also numerous anniversary celebrated. Courtesy Flush and Genital Tongs for 50 and Just Foot Pussy and Bacon Queef for 75.

There was also the lost dog/lost Hasher debacle with Just Alisha and Just Kem. First the dog was missing, but quickly discovered. Finding Just Kem was another matter.

After religion it was back to the Med for more food! This time our chef was Jizziki who provided some sort of Tofu dish and something else I cannot remember. And, the Med also featured more attempts by Hashers to maim each other with falling bricks (Jenga).

My last order of business to discuss this week’s upcoming trail. One of our hares is Dung Fu Grip, or perhaps he should be better know as the bearer of rain. We’ve had two exceptional rainy Hashes this season and Dung Grip was a hare for both. It appears he will be doing it this week. Perhaps all California needed in the past was for Dung Fu Grip to hare more often! Dung Fu’s consort for the evening is Ho To Housewife. We’ve not seen much of her of late and the last was within hoofing distance of her abode. Will she be able escape Scotts Valley on this rainy evening? The last two times these jokesters set trail  from the Boardwalk bowl it was the same trail and no one followed all of it either time. This week they are going for the three-peat.

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Hash Trash 894: Glow Hash II

“Highway 17 is shutdown, northbound and southbound, near Redwood Estates and the Santa Cruz mountain summit.


The incident began when a thief robbed a Scott Valley bank at gunpoint around 10:30 a.m. Thursday.” -SF Chronicle, 26 January 2017

    The Glow Hash is a sacred, long-held tradition of the Surf City Hash that dates back to the halcyon days of last year.  

Accuprick can see clearly now with his glow-glasses

Accuprick can see clearly now with his glow-glasses

Back at the very first glow hash, President Obama was a moral guiding light in the White House, the Cubs had the longest losing streak in professional sports, and Alan Thicke and Carrie Fisher were America’s Dad and Adopted Half-Sister Princess respectively. Our own kennel ran  drought-stricken trails, Beermeisters Rat Pussy and Deadliest Snatch kept us wet, and Puff the Magic Drag Queen had collected the money at every hash for as long as anyone could remember.  I guess it seemed like nothing would ever change.

Seems collars are in these days

Seems collars are in these days

    The pack met up at the far west side of Santa Cruz at Santa Cruz Mountain Brewing Company.  A box of glow sticks awaited hashers who donned them in various configurations: necklace, bracelet, helmet, and of course, glowing phallus.  (Photo not available)  I spent a few minutes walking around the bar holding out $7 hash cash, but I didn’t recognize anyone as Puff.  Normally Puff shows up well before me, so I just assumed I had one of those strokes that affects the part of your brain where you can’t recognize faces.  That seemed like the most plausible explanation.  Taking my new stroke into account, I just looked to hand my $7 to someone in short shorts and long socks.  I will not soon forget the look of disgust I got from that college student who was both insulted by my offer of $7 and didn’t realize being called a drag queen is term of endearment.

Even the liquor glowed!

Even the liquor glowed!

    Hares PCL, FapJack, and Baker’s Doesn’t  collected bags for the A-B trail, gave some trail instructions, and took off.  Arriving late was Ska Skank Redemption who said something about the horrendous three hours of traffic on 17.  At circle up, Pussywood asked if anyone wanted to scribe.  I volunteered without any kind of notepad because, hey, Puff is gonna take notes and have photos for me to review.  Circle up provided us with a Just Someone and Virgin Someone Else.  Someone yelled a reminder to mark the trail well for Puff.

 

  Trail largely headed to the west.  The railroad tracks were muddy.  There was a photo check.  I don’t know if anyone posted the photos to Facebook because I avoid the anxiety- provoking news in my feed.  Dung Fu got some day-old decaf coffee at the new hotel which sadly lacks a bar.  (But has a restroom in the lobby.  Cha-ching.)  Going over an old rickety railroad bridge, somebody yelled out that good thing Puff isn’t here: he’s afraid of heights.  Yeah, but he’ll be alone when he does come by, I thought. Beer check at Antonelli Pond had a little dance-party-in-the field vibe, like those commercials for Smirnoff Ice or Zima or whatever is the hip new malt beverage.  There was music, dancing, flashing colored lights, and  beverages.  I felt cool.  Briefly.  It was another 10 minute walk to Religion.

Glow Rave beer check

Glow Rave beer check

    I just saw March of the Penguins.  When the female penguins return from weeks at sea, they approach the big crowd, and run around the enormous, crowded mass of males squawking and checking each seemingly identical one for their mate.  I did that to the crowd at Religion looking for Puff, except the penguins were hashers, and only a few of them had a baby seabird under their pannuses.  I did not see Puff’s pannus.

Religion, a sad affair sans Puff

Religion, a sad affair sans Puff

   Accuprick was RA.  We had no beer fairy on account of “cold and flu season”.  I don’t remember much about religion.  Wicked Retahded got called up for running trail.  He did a dance.  Then he did the dance again.  The pack was delighted.  Moose Turd Pie was called up ostensibly for backsliding, but really because we wanted to see how drunk he was. Virgin Whatsherface tried singing the Gilligan’s Island theme song and totally failed.  (I’d say Bob Denver would be rolling in his grave, but I’m not sure if he’s still alive….okay, I just googled it, and the two surviving cast members are Mary Ann and Ginger.  I guess that question will be settled soon.  But I digress.)

    

And the hares

And the hares

Standing in the circle, I was considering wistfully that I never really got to know my biological dad (having been abducted by aliens when I was a small child) when Dung Fu called out that Analversaries to be celebrated were Wicked’s 150th hash and my 50th hash.  Besides being the two best looking hashers in the kennel, both of us have a strikingly similar Jesus-esque style.  And when Wicked flashed me that winning smiling of his, the pieces all started falling together.  Those warm times he placed a hand on my shoulder, the time he asked about my mom with a twinkle in his eye, the time he invited me to bring your son to work day.  I dunno what it all means, so I did my down-downs and went back to the circle.  Hares PCL, Fap Jack, and Bakers did their dance.

I looked around for Puff.  Nothing.

    We went to the Parish for on-on-on.  I ordered a burger expecting Puff to walk in at any minute, mud-covered from trail with his camera at the ready.  I finished my burger.  Wicked asked me if I was still hungry, and we shared his fries.   Still no Puff.  He’s got until midnight to run trail?  We can’t leave on-on-on yet.

    I know Puff made it through the previous week’s landslides on Highway 17.  I imagined him on the side of the road with a shovel singing Fleetwood Mac as he extracted his car.  He showed up to every hash when President Obama was in the White House.  He showed up at every hash through the Great Recession.  He showed up to every hash during George W. Bush’s second term as president.  He showed up to every Hash since before they invented the iPhone.  He had showed up to every hash since before they decoded the human genome.  He showed up to every hash since before George W. Bush invaded Iraq.  Many times Puff had fought Highway 17, and if not a win, there was always at least a draw.  It was streak, it was a record, it was seemingly going to stretch on into the endless future beyond any time horizon.

But all things are impermanent.

    Next week’s Hares are Accuprick and Buttballs.  Meeting place is The Mediterranean, 265 Center St in Aptos at 6:22pm.  The have happy hour 4-7 and a full bar.  Come have a drink while you still can because shit happens.

 

Love and burritos,

Courtesy Flush

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Sausage fest

This hash trash was originally supposed to be written by Occasional Rapist. The day went like this:

1:06 My legs are sore. It’s going to rain. I have to help a friend with a project. Can you write the hash trash?
1:13 Never mind, I am doing the project now.
2:46 Even though my legs are sore, I am going.
5:26 I have too much work to do. I am not going.
9:00 Did you remember you are writing the hash trash?

I should have made Occasional Rapist be the scribe any way. Not attending is no excuse. This reminds me of many moons ago when I was the On-Sec for the Long Beach Hash. Back in those days we had a weekly printed hash trash. The scribe was different every week and back in the those pre-internet days I got the write-up in all sorts of interesting manners. One of my most frequent contributors was Doggy Style. She was quite good and always made her deadline. However, one week she fucked up. I happened to be in Boston the week of that week’s hash. So, I wrote the hash trash and every third sentence was “Fuck you Doggy Style”, in an attempt at humor. Some saw the humor, others did not. I got a Pie in the face from Riff Raff over that Hash trash. We had an “On-Disk” (97-Sex) who was in charge of mailing out the hash trash to members who did not attend. She considered my write-up pornography and tore it off every Hash trash that was mailed. This was later reported back to me and I think I was supposed to be upset, but I just laughed. (BTW, I am hoping Finger Nips reads this and gets it to Doggy Style – whom I am told she and Riff Raff still know).

Hash 893 was the lowest attended hash in years. Because so few of you attended, I’m sure this is likely to be the most read hash trash in years as all those that missed are curious to know what happened.

There there 14 humans and 1 dog (Junk Puncher). There were only 3 humans of the female persuasion, and one of them only made it to the beer check (Ho To Housewife – who walked there from her house and was a pseudo hare).

There was impending rain in the forecast, but we were sparred the rain, which did not cum until a few hours later. I’m sure if this had been a Dung Fu Grip trail the rain would have been upon us. Perhaps we need to have Shallow Hole hare more often as she seemed to be able to fold off flood waters.

The most interesting topic at the start of the hash is why people were not there. Occasional Rapist and Pink Cherry Licker were reported to have work obligations. Timmy was at some fancy smancy concert. New Kids on Cock, who works just up the street from the start, was apparently still recovering from the demolition derby caused by fallen trees at his house earlier that week. Du Fu Grip reported to me a few days something like, he just wasn’t feeling up to it, or he couldn’t get a ride, or something like that. I’m imagining that Deadleast Snatch and Rat Pussy were afraid the THE Scotts Valley would might simply fill up with water and they would either be trapped there or need to swim for safety.

We’ve not seen much of Shallow Hole of recent. She seems to think her elderly dog and sometimes her blind husband (Waxi Pad) have higher priority than us. Even her initial co-hare, Cum Pumper, abandoned her. Last we saw Cum Pumper she reported she had had a date in Scotts Valley and might have reason to see us more often. I’m guessing that didn’t work out, or Cum Pumper would have some how made it to Scotts Valley for her haring obligation. Shallow Hole’s priority to the Hash was on full display tonight as the distance of the hash matched the attendance. I’m guessing she planned it on a small cocktail napkin the night before.

Our special guest star tonight was Deep Stroke. She is a street walker this days. That is, she delivers the mail and says she is on her feet 6 hours a day. In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, Deep Stroke claimed injury and was told me at the start she was not doing trail. However, somehow she made it to beer check unscathed to the mortal eye.

Across the street is a newly formed residence of Shallow Hole’s employer – Kaiser Permanente. It is also a residence of my former employer – Embarcadero Technologies. Most of people I used to work with there were laid off in the past year and I wondered if everyone who remained now worked from home. However, as we left the start I saw lights on, so it appeared someone was home. A few minutes into the hash we passed the back side and I saw people inside – so I know it’s not just a facade – people really do still work there.

The start of this hash started with a button hook through a housing complex just behind Kaiser and Embarcadero. We then hit San Augustine Way with a check. Another check was found at San Augustine Way and Hacienda. I figured Shallow Hole had to throw in a hill or two, so I checked left. However, trail continued on straight and through the only bit of shiggy of the night with short trail that connect to Sandrays Heights Rd.

In this brief section of trail I had cause to discuss a notorious Hasher in my past, Fruit of the Loom, with Thmp-Thmp.  Fruit of the Loom is kind of the Puff of the Long Beach Hash with one exception – no one likes him. When I left the Long Beach 25 some years ago, I got reports of him being punched out twice in the first 6 months I was gone. And that was 25 years ago. My children had heard me describe Fruit of Loom for years and the first time they did a Long Beach hash they picked him out of a crowd. Anyhow, somehow the discussion of staying on trail regardless of the conditions come up with Thmp-Thmp and I commented how Fruit does this religiously. His mantra is – “Try Hashing – you might like it”. I heard this a lot from him back in the day. It wasn’t too popular in a Hash were short-cutting was consider an art form.

A final check was encountered at Sandray Heights and Glenwood. Trail turned left on Glenwood, then right at the bridge that connects with Siltanen Park and beer check was found in the parking lot next to Siltanen Park. We were greeted with some sort of warm chocolaty drink that was yummy and found our hostest Ho To Housewife serving the drinks. Urban legend says that Scotts Valley has no regulations against open containers, yet Shallow Hole seemingly found one of the few places in Scotts Valley was alcohol is not allowed – because there is sign saying so as you enter the parking lot.

After all arrived, we departed for a location were alcohol was allowed for religion. That would be Siltanen part across the street. There was even an amphitheater. I recall two significant down downs of the night. First was when Princess Diarrhea led a song she couldn’t sing. I got brought forward as well as I couldn’t sing it either. The second was finally to our sausage fest when both our virgins showed their’s! Ladies – you missed it.

It was cold and the attendance was small, so down-downs were short. Afterward, many had to be directed as to where the start was and most walked back.

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Hash: 892 The Virgin trail of the Beer Wagon

As was promised, our hares Thmp thmp and Twisted Fister brought us some new bullshit. As was expected, half minds made it shittier than it had to be….

Our lazy hares

Our lazy hares

We started at the blue lounge (NOT THE FUCKING BLUE LAGOON…since it seems necessary to point that out every time). The pack basically filled the joint, and it felt like a party in there with the beats the cool ass bartenders were playing. A crazy guy walked in with an open bottle of the oh-so classy Evan Williams, and Rat Pussy almost got in a fight with him asking him to leave (Turns out he was outside and showed Thmp his bottle asking if he could bring it inside and Thmp told him to go right in (he got his down down for that))  Thmp and Twisted explained the rules of the evening which involved a giant off-roading wagon full of beer cans.

Must be early in trail, these guys still look too happy!

Must be early in trail, these guys still look too happy!

They started things out with only a 5 minute head start and we had to go catch them, the first two wankers to catch them then had to be the next set of hares. Once hares were caught we all got to drink beers and the deal was when we ran out of beers the last couple of hares had to run us back to start. Sounds simple right?

Wrong.

Beer check #1 off Point Loma

Beer check #1 off Point Loma

Motherfuckers put down a fuckload of checks, took us in all sorts of circles, and we eventually gave up despite not quite finishing the beer. To detail it all out, Thmp and Twisted took us out to Point Loma first from the Blue Lounge with at least 3 or 4 checks taking us down an alley between 3rd and 4th. We got to pass our crazy friend again and he basically told JFP to fuck off, nice guy! Our next set of hares was Dung-fu and dBased, and quickly Genital Tongs who didn’t give a fuck and didn’t give them the 5 minute head start and caught up to them.

Beer check #2: Note Accuprick

Beer check #2: Note Accuprick

They of course fucked with us hard with an initial YBF down almost over the bridge to the boardwalk and then we walked back up and we passed ocean view park thinking thats where they were taking us, so we were like hmmm wonder where we are going…well we were going to that park just after a gigantic circle jerk with checks! Dicks. The next hare pair (because god dammit there was still beer left) was Rat Pussy and Bakers Dozen’t, who we were sure would be smart and head us slowly back in the direction of the blue lounge, but nah, they also thought they would fuck with us and took us all sorts of directions just to take us back to dung-fu’s.

The final beercheck, thank god!

The final beercheck, thank god!

Finally at dung-fu’s despite not finishing all the beer, Steamy Baaahnorea took us back to the Blue Lounge where we rushed through religion because pizza!

Religion was behind the Blue Lounge with Accu and Dung-fu sort of co-RAing? It was confusing. The following is 100% plagerized from Puff: Backsliders were punished for their e-vile ways: Steamy Baanorrhea, Dung-Fu Grip, Twisted Fister, Just Foot Pussy, Bacon Queef and The Human Pube.

Stay classy Santa Cruz!

Stay classy Santa Cruz!

Steamy Baanorrhea was mocked for falling on a trail that almost no one ran any part of and barely ever left a paved surface. Steamy still managed to find a way to make a fool of himself. Pink Cherry Licker, Transcunt-n-anal, Just Foot Pussy, Bacon Queef, Jizziki, The Human Pube and Cum You Will Not were punished for having neither whistle nor bottle opener on their person. Fap Jack was convicted of not doing even a block of trail (Puff also accused PCL of such a crime but in fact she did trail!).

This photo says "Get the fuck outta my face I'm eating!"

This photo says “Get the fuck outta my face I’m eating!”

Our multitude of hares: Rat Pussy, Dung-Fu Grip, dBASED, Twisted Fister, Thmp-Thmp and Steamy Baanorrhea were then punished (rightfully so!). And we finally got to eat at Engfer’s pizza which graciously stayed open a while longer so we could eat! Next week cum’s to us from Shallow Hole and Cum Pumper, sounds like the racists will be happy about that one!

 

On on,

Pussy Wood

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Hash Trash #891 Happy New Beer!

In their trail announcement for Hash 891, Pussy Wood and Trans-cunt-n-anal promised to set the bar very low for 2017 hashes. As a tribute to their outrageous offering and how low it has set the bar, I will now do the same for hash trashes.
Wankers ready to go

Wankers ready to go

Apparently that isn’t considered sufficient and I have to actually write something that has to do with the last hash.
Hash 891: Wherin our pack took over Eastside Brewing Company(and surely made them rethink their Pro-Canine Position!)
A break in the rain, Happy Hour, and promises of a trail that wouldn’t “be too long” ensured that there would be a large turnout. As usual most hashers only had one thing on their minds, sadly this Thursday that thing was to bring their dogs on trail. The pack very quickly outnumbered the quiet Thursday crowd, and shortly thereafter the number of canines outnumbered the staff and muggles! Both hares got everyone’s attention to talk about trail, then lost it about 15 seconds into their trail talk when they said fishhooks.

LC! Screwdriver that says "Screw 2016!"

LC! Screwdriver that says “Screw 2016!”

After an appropriate amount of time, the pack gave the staff a reprieve by bravely heading outside for a quick circle in the cold. In addition to our normal motley crew we had two visitors from San Diego(Shaka and Tinkerbelch), the return of the backsliding Edgar’s Girlfriend and 6(Farley, Posey, Junk Puncher, Poon Doggy, Roxy, and Short Stack!) canines tackling trail!
Trail started out fairly simply, heading out from the parking lot and turning left onto Portola. The first check on the corner of 17th saw the pack heading North past Shoreline and running through the parking lot towards Schwan Lagoon. As the pack got close to the entrance of the Swim Center, they spotted several Sherrif’s vehicles, one carried what looked to be a vodka bottle to a car. Pieces of broken glass littered an empty parking space and the smell of tequila filled the air. The pack kept their heads down and hoped that wasn’t their liquor check!
Beer Check @ Sunny Cove

Beer Check @ Sunny Cove

Exitting the parking lot the pack took a trail, ran through some shiggy and wound up on railroad tracks to discover their fears were unfounded! The hares had left their thoughts about the previous year in liquid form. Trail continued out from Live Oak onto Brommer, detoured right onto Chanticleer and followed Kinsley to Darlene Drive. The smell of barbecue filled the air and it proved to be too much temptation for some hashers, who stopped to join the festivities!
Poon Doggy was almost stuck to Timmy's car forever

Poon Doggy was almost stuck to Timmy’s car forever

For those who were able to resist the temptation, trail continued East on Brommer until 30th, which was when the group I was with met the FRBs who had found the fishhook. Down at the former Kong’s Market! Continuing up to Portola there were some discussion(more like agreement) about shortcutting trail for Hawaiian food. So again we set off! It was around this time that Short Stack started to get short-tempered, I figured she was tired and so soon found out she was very adept at short-cutting. It definitely isn’t one of her short-comings. I’ll cut these jokes short. She has little legs.

The hares + Angered fish hookers

The hares + angered fish hookers!

Whether by Portola or by 26th, people found their way to East Cliff Drive and then to the edge of the cliffs overlooking Sunny Cove for Beer Check! After (almost)everyone gathered, the pack headed back to the start for a cold and quick Religion. We were finally all back together as dBased and Timmy had ventured out to the barbecue after beer check to pick up Occasional Rapist, Hangs Loose and Poon Doggy! There were visitors, backsliders, private parties, many verses of “Beastiality’s Best”(including Hangs Loose adding 3 verses to his own Down-Down song), and of course, down-downs for the Hare-pair. As an attempt to appease the pack, pizza was supplied inside of Eastside Brewing. Something that proved to be fruitful as the pack was safely indoors when three police cruisers drove past en route to checking out the back parking lot!

By supplying food and ensuring no one got arrested the challenge is set for Twisted Fister and Thmp-Thmp, but with “Strange Trail Techniques” promised I’m sure we’ll all regret it either way.
On-On,
Baker’s Dozen’t
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