This week we all schlepped it on over to Santa Cruz Mountain Brewing to rev up the old livers. We had a big pack this week, with visitors from overseas, even! Ralph U. Crammed-In somehow returned to show his face which is now blue, green, black, and red. Poor guy. Shiny Snail Trail made a re-appearance after dealing with way too many sober Thursdays. This was a great place to make a comeback because SCMB has a ginormous beer selection now. Our pals from Okinawa–SCOUT (She Cums On Ur Tits) and Fuck My Face, I’m Bored–got sampler platters of beers that practically came with more flavors than Baskin-Robbins. We all hoped hare TIMMY!!! would lay a shorter trail than usual because one of the few things this brewery wasn’t serving tonight was his usual martini go-go juice.

Accuprick busted out a new hashit at the circle-up. It was some kind of floppy foam noodle that was a failed physical therapy device. Looked more like a failed marital aid. Not only did Accuprick bring the flaccid hashit, he also brought his spawn, No Pole. Are we starting to see a pattern of limpness here? Maybe they can have some of TIMMY!!!’s Viagra because he brags that he only uses it to jack up his car. Rod Lover was the lucky wiener who was chosen to fondle the hashit throughout the evening’s trail.

Speaking of trail, Cum Lord was off like a shot, taking us up Swift St. and across Mission. We passed along the border of a little park on Grandview and into a wooded arroyo. Well, we found the first YBF there and then spent a very long time looking for the terribly, horribly, just barely marked trail that led right back to Grandview. The next stretch took us across speeding Hwy. 1 traffic (DANGER!). After we busted ass dodging cars, Deep Stroke said that if she’d seen us get hit by a car, she would’ve been sad…at most for a few minutes. Trail went down Shaffer Rd. then into the land of ankle-wrenching gopher holes around Antonelli Pond. We were all kind of surprised to find a picturesque Fireball liquor check there instead of a heroin check in the bushes.

We kept on heading beach-wards and into the lagoon of Natural Bridges. When we hit the sand, Dung Fu Grip and Virgin Travis took a quick sunset skinny dip in the ocean. Hippies! Have I mentioned yet that Virgin Travis did trail barefoot with a bloody toe? Dirty hippie!! After our moment with nature, trail markings got very sketchy again. We ended up on West Cliff for about a minute and turned down Swanton Blvd. back to the railroad tracks.

Beer check was behind the Santa Cruz Naturals/Threshold building. Way back in the day, it used to be the Lipton building where they packed teabags and those envelope packets of crappy instant chicken noodle soup. Across the tracks was Wrigley’s. Kids used to dumpster dive for the gum rejects. There was always a whole lotta sketchy black market Hubba Bubba getting passed around our schoolyard. Abundance was not happening tonight, though. The beer went fast, leaving Smirnoff Ice consolation prizes for walkers The Human Pube and Just Laura. Cumcerto got the good stuff because she beat Deep Stroke and was being all braggadocious about it. Thmp-Thmp found a piece of cardboard that was once a sheath for a saw and stuck it on Rod Lover’s hashit dong like a boner cozy. As Ghetto Man was attending to his massive sweat situation, I attended to my massive wedgie situation. I think I may be due for a re-naming because Ghetto Man called my ass a lablancadonk.

We went back to trail’s start behind the brewery for religion. Accu RA’d and Shiny Snail Trail was beer fairy. Backsliders stepped up with their excuses: Just Sara was busy fucking, No Pole was busy taking over the world and Just Laura was in China eating pizza (true story). We all hailed and flailed our visitors from CAN’d and Okinawa. I was very distracted at this time because I was swatting 6 mosquitoes off my red ON-ON sox. Those bastards were biting right through our clothes. They did not give a fuck whatsoever. Virgin Travis exposed his bunz and I was hoping the mosquitoes would take to his tender virgin butt bait and leave us alone. There was a special down-down for the stoners. Reefer and beer, man! I swatted some XL mosquitoes off TIMMY!!!’s back. Just Jane told a joke that almost got her named Ass Rammer right on the spot. Cumcerto was blown away by the fact that Wicked Retahted passed her on trail. He was indeed hauling tonight. I thought I saw a light blood stain from mosquito squashing on the page of my Princess Diarrhea, but thankfully it was just a smudge of cheesy poof dust. Cuff My Muff claimed she “won the hash”, but Deep Stroke protested that we’re all wieners. Speaking of wieners, we all realized that Rod Lover bailed out of religion. I was awarded a 75 r*ns patch AND 15 mosquito bites! SCOUT and Fuck Face showed some real class by bringing some hash swag to share. The guys had to race for it. No Pole came up the rear to win it! Harriettes had to show skin to win. Yes, we saw Hugh Heifer’s ta-ta tattoo AGAIN.

On on on was at burger. where Deep Stroke tried the Marky Mark–a hot dog with strawberry jam and swiss cheese. Not too bad. Hey, pretty much anything will do after a hash, am I right? Rod Lover came back for on on on after getting busted for sneaking out of religion. We dedicate this song from Okinawa to Rod Lover because, “Rod Lover is a fucking wanker because he snuck back like a back door bitch.”

This is my hashit
My only hashit
For being stupid
On trail today
I will hold it
Until I pass it
Someone take my hashit away…

Who will take the hashit this week? Cum to dBASED’s house on Lindsay Lane in Soquel to find out!

On on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

The Rush Inn let us lowlifes back into their joint his year. They even fed us and kept our glasses full. Thank you, Rush Inn! The red pack was large. About half were visiting from CAN’d, SVH3 and beyond. Surprising that so many hashers came together for a good cause, considering we’re never up to any good at all otherwise. All proceeds went to WomenCARE. We hope the Lady in Red was smiling down on us that day.

While we debated whether Bloody Wanker (in a lovely red cheetah print) had the tightest ass, Cuff My Muff’s car was getting a ticket from a meter maid outside. Cuff has connections to the law, so she may be able to charm her way out of it. Yes, she has exactly one ounce of charm and saves it only for these kinds of occasions. The crimson pack grew to around 50 and gathered outside. Boner Malfunction lived up to his name while he flashed the circle. I offered up a stick of anti-chafe for nipples and naughty bits because last time I red dressed with CAN’d there was some serious chafing going on.

Occasional Rapist and Shallow Hole hared a trail for r*nners and Hugh Heifer hared a bar crawl trail for walkers. I followed the r*nners down River St., where a left turn took us up to Holy Cross. We crossed over Hwy. 1 and found liquor check #1 near Mission Hill Middle School at Dirty Dolmas’s place. It was a fruity and tasty selection of jello shots and peach chardonnay (labeled “A Fine Wine Product”. Ha!). We were all fooled by the green shots. They were MINT, which kinda brought back sad memories trying to drink mouthwash for a buzz. Trail headed across Mission St. and took a looong haul down California St. Deep Stroke did some garage sale shopping along the way and bought Hashy Smurf, a virgin to join her on trail as she blew by all the other hounds on her endless quest to WIN.

The day was getting too damn hot for synthetics. We were all wearing different styles of the same ol’ polyester red dress from The Goodwill. Trail cut through the circles and through Lighthouse Field. We found liquor check #2 at Its Beach near the lighthouse. The ocean breeze was nice and sweet, just like the sex on the beach that Waxi Pad was serving up. He also had sangria and cold water on hand. Ahhh…refreshments…

The rest of trail gave our visitors an eyeful of SC beauty as we strolled along West Cliff. Puff the Magic Drag Queen was wishing he’d brought an extra pair of red OPs to put on the surfer statue as we passed. There’s always next year! The last booze stop on our journey was beer check at Ideal Bar & Grill for margaritas, mai tais and beers.

We were still ¾ of a mile away from the religion spot. Here is where my trail notes simply say, “Oh shit. The trolley ride.” We stuffed the trolley with red dresses and booze-itude. Luckily, the driver loved us and wished he could join us! Not so much for the other passengers. Minors and tourists be damned as Arabian Goggler led us in Today is Monday, followed by Free Beer for All the Hashers. Now I understand why Goggler’s Liver is his own hasher. He’s a stuffed critter, just like Hashy Smurf. Goggler’s liver has definitely earned its own mascot.

Religion was held at the Silver Bullet (Oswald) garage. News was traveling fast that Ralph U. Crammed-In had an accident. Not the wet himself kind, but the trip-and-full-on-faceplant kind. Man down! We heard he was bleeding from the face area but refused medical treatment and headed back to Rush Inn instead.

Accuprick and dBASED co-RA’d and Tonya Hardon was beer fairy. We cele-berated the analversaries of Occasional Rapist: 100! and Hugh Heifer: 269! The virgins were also given their moment of glory. Deep Stroke made Hashy Smurf come, but he had absolutely no joke nor junk to offer. Just some crappy lalalalalala song. Shallow Hole made Ann come. She told that stale old fucking goofy joke. My Little Bony enlisted some random couple from the parking lot to join our red shit show. After getting a good guzzle of warm Hamm’s, Aaron and Megan wisely backed away slowly then ran. Just Sierra was named Cumz Like a Dog. Bestiality’s best, boy! Dirty Dolmas hosted a liquor check but didn’t do any trail. That’s fine for our drinking club, but we’re beginning to suspect she does not have a running problem. The lovely harriette trio was revered but mostly reviled.

On on on was back at the Rush Inn. There was a ‘sketti feed for our bellies and more booze to fuel our hangovers. Ralphie’s face had been patched up someone at the bar but he was still looking tore up from the neck up. Ouch!

We all agreed that a doing our Red Dress R*n on a Saturday is the way to go. Debauchery galore! It was redder and better than ever! Let’s hope the Rush Inn will be foolish enough to have us back again next year.

 On on,

Princess Di(arrhea)

And now for something completely different…an UNhash! Hugh Heifer chose us, her closest (actually, just most degenerate) friends, to spend her 50^th birthday with. There was no trail to be found–this was strictly a booze cruz. Every lazy bastard hasher who caught wind of this week’s unhash hopped off their dive bar stool or couch and got gussied up to kick-off Hugh’s 50th at The Red.  I could almost say that everybody cleaned up real nice and purty. The charming bartender, Aaron, offered Hugh a birthday blow job but she opted for some D.P. instead (a flaming Dr. Pepper).

Next stop was down on the first floor at the Red Room. All this red was getting us fired up for Saturday’s Red Dress R*n. Speaking of fired up, in the back of the bar Hairy Fuck 2.5 and I hotly debated whether it’s called a Dutch “rudder” or a Dutch “runner”. I submit my evidence here.  I’ll bet Dog Breath totally knows for sure. I think he’s a Dutch boy since his home hash is The Hague, but he denies it and claims to be totally from Hawaii, brah. Until we see that birth certificate, let’s just call him an Interhashional Man of Mystery.

After Red Room, we headed down to Rosie McCann’s. I can’t believe they let us back in after Green Dress! The Guinness Girls were there to pass out some swag. No hasher can resist blinky beer swag, right? When all of Rosie’s was happy to see us finally go out the door, we moooved along to Motiv. We all grabbed a round and headed up the back stairs to our own little private ultralounge. VIP, bitches!!

The time had come to sop up the booze with some food, so the gang split for Tampico. Thmp-Thmp and I split for home because we have dumb jobs and a stupid alarm that goes off at 5:30am. You’ll have to get the rest of the story from Puff’s flash, but I’m pretty sure it ended a little something like this:

Happy Birthday to Hugh!!! Cheers to 50 more years and 50 more beers!

On out,

Princess Di(arrhea)