Monthly Archives: September 2013

The Torch is passed

(Note: No Hash Flash as this written. Look for added pictures later in the week.)

I have often felt that every year there needs to be one screwed up trail. We’ve had it.

The day started out ominously. Occasional Rapist had spend 4 days on her back and wanted one more, so asked that I scribe for her. I left her on her back watching the Breaking Bad marathon. I’m sure most that attended this debacle wished that they had followed her lead.

The Hares outing started ominously. Pink Cherry Licker was licking her chops waiting for Dung Fu Grip to arrive. She said, there’s not going to be any trail without him. I said there could be a trail, just it would be different. Don’t we all wish she hadn’t waited for Dung Fu Grip? I was in the corner watching the Football game as the hares left and barely heard what they had to say. Something about 2 beer checks and Liquor check for the Eagles.

The pack outing started ominously. I was still in the corner, when apparently circled up happened, as I never heard it. With 12 seconds to go in the half, I looked up, and where had the Hashers gone? I walked outside and saw the pack trying to solve the first check. Everyone was actually coming back from an on-something which was down Murray drive towards The Boardwalk.. I was asked, did I check over there, which was the other way.

The selection of the Hares was ominous. One week previous, Six of Nine had said “I’ll be the hare – if nothing else better comes up better”, and Hangs Loose agreed to accompany him. Getting Six of Nine to commit to something, is like suggesting to your teenagers that perhaps they should get earlier on the weekends. When no trail announcement was delivered Monday morning, Dung Fu Grip jumped on the opportunity and declared himself the hare.

Dung Fu must have a death wish, or at least a bad memory. Each of his trails has become longer and longer. He started with a pretty long romp through Pogonip. Half the people to that trail were visitors, so his legend had less of a local audience than normal. His second trail, merely 2 weeks ago, was a 5 mile march though the hills and darkness of UCSC which brought out the hazmat team (and the wrath of first responder Dr. Nappy Headed Ho). I thought that trail was on the edge of sanity. Where was the lynch mob after this debacle? The last time the Surf City Hash had a 7 mile trail, the hares knew they had fucked up so badly, they didn’t show their faces to the end!

I used be the most feared hare in the Surf City Hash, but that torch has now been passed to Dung Fu Grip. Being a feared Hare is not something easy to live down. I remember the first most feared hares I learned about. They were the Bator Brothers. The Bator Brothers were from Orange County and were a 2 brother team of MinorBator and MeisterBater. They were weekend warriors to the hilt. Their peak was when the were featured on a week long adventure race called the Eco-challenge in the early 90’s. By the way, the third person on the team (who was required to be a woman), was a Go Go Dancer. Another historical feared Hare I remember in my storied history was Marci De Sade. I still remember the rope I climbed down to a false in the dark.

Now on to the story of this travesty. The second check was innocent enough – it was at five corners. It lead to a YBF somewhere down Darwin street, around 3 1/2 blocks away. This is where I caught up with the FRB’s as they were coming back from the YBF. As best as I could figure, none of the FRB’s went all the way back to the check at 5 corners, but spread out nearby. I encountered the trail a couple blocks from 5 corners, with no Hashers nearby.

Seeing as I was on day 20 of the croup, I was pretty easy to be caught up with. Twisted Fister and I encountered a check at Broadway and Frederick street, which lead it’s way to Frederick street park, into the Yacht harbor, and then Arana Gulch. Most Hares would have realized that even going to Arana Gulch was probably too far, especially if they needed to head back to the Natural History Museum. Or, at least don’t make the turkey’s go there. However, if you are going to be a feared hare, there is one key element Dung Fu had not given us yet – Water. Beer near marker was found on one side of a creek. There was arrow across the creek that all the other FRB’s initially missed. It lead to a tree crossing across the creek to the beer check. Just Anne and Shallow Hole begged for beer to be brought back across the creek, but I told them if they wanted it, they had to come and get it. Those that made the trek across were rewarded with Tecate – hardly a reward.

I’ll note that the only non-Eagle I saw at the Beer check was Broke Bench Mountain. The rest of the pack was nowhere to be found. In the darkness, their lights would be seen from some distance. We wondered if we had missed the Turkey/Eagle split somewhere around 5 corners when the Eagles split up. Surely, this beer check was too far away for an Turkey trail. We headed to the top of Arana Gulch (Dung Fu threw in the only hill in the area) and found the Turkey Eagle Split. Timmy initially headed for the Turkey, found he was alone in the dark and turned back to be an Eagle.

The Turkey/Eagle split apparently is where things went South for the Turkeys. Somehow, a false was marked there. The Turkeys not wanting to do the Eagle, and seeing no other choices, just walked to where religion was advertised at the Natural History Museum – some distance away.

From here, the Eagles were drug all the way downtown, where Dung Fu Grip tried for Hazmat V2 on Pacific. He claims there were police officers who saw him through flour on Pacific Ave, so he thought it was OK.

In years past, I’ve heard of hounds who were happy to just follow dB most the trail. In this trail, I was quite happy to follow many DB (Dog Breath) marks. I eventually caught up with Dog Breath near where the Warriors play. A check at Riverside bridge where I checked wrong, led me from the front of the Eagles to the back of the Eagles. Then, there was the final check at Murray and East Cliff. As I arrived, the other Eagles were returning from where East Cliff heads towards above Seabright beach. I checked the neighborhood and the railroad tracks. When I came pack, the Eagle pack was gone. Fortunately, there as one final DB mark, leading to where the Eagles had previous retreated, and to the beer check.

At the beer check, there were NO Turkey’s! Little did we know they were around the corner at religion. Eventually, I believe Pink Cherry Licker checked religion and found them. All likely Eagles were accounted for except for Puff and a virgin. As Dung Fu Grip rode his bike backwards a bit, I waited at the final beer check by myself. Dung Fu Grip eventually returned, but still no Puff. Later, I was to later learn the virgin was invited by Dung Fu Grip, and he told her and Puff to just head to religion.

As I arrived at religion, I saw Timmy had already begun. It being dark, cold, late and I was sick, religion was rather a blur. Most significantly, we failed to name Just Anne again and failed on Just Sara as well. The pack simply had no energy for it. Puff eventually showed up with the virgin and she told a joke and drank. Dung Fu drank for a trail that was 2 times too long.

The On-On-On was at Seabright Brewery, but in-spite of not working the nest day, I headed home to nurse my cough.

In finality, Dung Fu Grip should be placed on hare probation. His next trail needs to be supervised. He needs to treated like a virgin. While he clearly knows how to set a trail, he does not know how much trail to lay.


Hash Trash 708: A Full Moon Swoon Yields a Downtown Disaster

Hello Voyeurs,

Puff the Magic Drag Queen here pulling double-duty this week due to Princess Di(arrhea) purportedly being ill. Funny thing though, I heard she was down in Monterey for Can’d H3’s 69th hash on Saturday.

Scribing for Trail 707 would have been more enjoyable enabling me to give Dung-Fu Grip the reaming he so royally deserved after another of his infamous Death Marches, this one surpassing his other as it was in the dark…beneath towering redwoods…miles from civilization.

However, instead Puff has been saddled with recapping Twisted Fister and The Human Pube’s failed attempt at trail-laying.

Speaking of those two jokers, here they are with Fister delivering Instructions of Trail while The Human Pube is making last minute adjustments to a trail they probably already felt certain would be less than stellar. In THAT, at least, they were correct.


We started at Woodstock Pizza on Front Street, a first for Surf City. The grub and libations available may dictate a return visit here someday though. As soon as the hares outed, the mob returned to the fierce socializing we are so noted for. 




Speaking of socializing, pictured above are two prodigal harriettes that returned to the fold this week. On the left is Phyllis Driller and on the right is Wet Feral Pussy. They have been absent from our company too long but say they’ve seen the error of their ways and now know they’ll never be anything better than hashers.

After the passage of sufficient time for the hares to screw this trail up, circleup was convened with 22 hounds in the parking lot out of the hearing range of young ears.

After introductions were completed. the pack outed north on Front Street and discovered the first check at Cooper Street. Having been warned to avoid flour on Pacific, chalk took the troops down Cooper to Pacific, left on Pacific and then a quick right onto Church Street. As we passed Louie’s Cajun Kitchen and Bourbon Bar, Louie himself came out to make sure we knew ‘our kind’ is not welcome in his fine establishment. I made sure he knew we’ve been kicked out of far nicer places than his and we cancelled the gorilla beer check we’d planned for there.

We continued along Church Street until making a right on Chestnut Street and , mercifully, passing both the train tunnel and the hideous hill known as Green Street. We were, however, forced to deal with the seemingly never-ending stairs that go to the top of Mission Hill.

       Above you see Hugh Heifer and Phyllis Driller dealing with these accursed stairs.

Once to Mission Street, things degenerated rapidly into a comedy of errors. The pack universally turned on-left. Mission Street was checked as was the end of High Street at the pedestrian bridge over Highway 1. Finding nothing there, a few hounds went down School Street to check the stairs leading on-down to North Pacific. They had no luck either. After sufficient double-checking and whining was performed, we mental midgets finally deduced trail went down Mission towards the Town Clock. And yes, trail was found there and then on-left on North Pacific and on-left onto River Street. As you know, River Street is the main thoroughfare for our local hobo population to travel to and from the Homeless Shelter just across Highway 1. As darkness was beginning to fall, they were out in large numbers. Many of them passed us mumbling to themselves or looking at us like they thought we were crazy! Trail turned on-left on Mora Street. Heading on-up Mora, we encountered a person of dubious character who informed us the guy with the flour bag turned on-right at the top of Mora. That being said, if the hare had gone LEFT at that intersection he’d have run into the pack lost at Holy Cross Church so no one thought the hare-pair had turned in that direction anyway!

Mora morphs into Potrero Street after making said on-right and part way down Potrero a hare arrow pointed the pod on-left into the Old Sash Mill.






While many thought this a circle jerk, no one wished to miss one of the promised multiple Beer Checks so one and all turned into the place. Sure enough, first Beer Check was found in the parking lot…as was one of the hares!

The Human Pube jumped into his truck and left saying, There’s an on-in trail and possibly one more Beer Check! Hmmm. How can the hares not know if there’s a second Beer Check?!? Oh, well. I guess that’s in keeping with the uncertainty this trail has offered so far anyway. If you thought the jaunt down River Street was ill-advised, there’s one place worse than well-traveled River Street: The friggin’ levee! Yep, well past dark this cruel hare-pair led the litter along the levee all the way to Religion on the top floor of the parking structure on the corner of River Street and River Street South. When we arrived we found the hares parked fifty feet from Hugh Heifer’s Beermobile and holding second Beer Check there! Hounds thought they were in hog heaven with a Beer Check to the left and the beer trough to the right!

Once the confusion over two available beer supplies was sorted out, Religion was convened. dBASED called last week’s hare, Dung-Fu Grip to the altar was a punitive down-down for causing Surf City to be the cause of (another) anthrax scare, this one on campus due to his haphazard, careless spreading of flour over Core Campus last Thursday. After this task was dispensed with Dung-Fu Grip was installed as acting Religious Adviser. His first act was to appoint Dog Breath as his Beer Fairy.

Pictured above is Dog Breath. Do not go out drinking with this man on a Saturday night!

Also awarded down-downs was Twat Did You Say? who, even after all these years of hashing, confused the hash terms ‘DFL’ and ‘FRB’; The Human Pube for toking up (and not sharing) in circleup; Wet Feral Pussy as a backslider (Phyllis Driller was lost-along-trail somewhere); Deep Stroke (Yes, still here) and Can’d H3’s Just Bobby for offering piss-poor name suggestions for Just Anne (this was her fifth hash). Speaking of Just Anne, sadly, she will remain Just Anne until at least her next hash. Yes, we were unsuccessful in coming up with the rude moniker she so richly deserves.

On-on-on was back at Woodstock where the festivities went on until almost 11PM.

Thursday the twenty-sixth presents the pack with a quandary. Six of Nine has volunteered to hare his first trail for us…maybe. Acting RA Dung-Fu Grip gave Six an ultimatum though: If Trail Announcement is not posted by 8AM Monday, Dung-Fu promises to take over haring duties. How’s THAT for a fate worse than death?!?

By Special Appointment of His Royal Majesty ‘G’, this Hash Trash has been compiled and printed by permission of no one other than the author at Santa Cruz, Ca., or elsewhere if need be, on this, the twenty-second day of September in the year of our Hash two-thousand thirteen.







707 slug

Hash Trash # 707: Anthrax Scare at UCSC

Santa Cruz Sentinel Headline reads:  Anthrax Scare at UCSC Just a False Alarm.  Surf City H3 Causing Mayhem on Campus.

A smaller pack than usual assembled at the remote parking lot # 150 on the UCSC campus this week.  I’m guessing that Dung Fu Grip is getting a reputation as a Hare that lays long trails and the lazy bastards stayed home.  No complaints from me.   Everyone knows I’m a Racist.  Ghetto Man, Just John and Free Little Willie made the trek from Monterey.   Hugh Heifer feigned a back injury and Cuff my Muff stayed back with her.  School was not in session and there was barely anyone around. 

The pack was warned ahead of time to bring flashlights.  Some hashers forgot.  My batteries in my headlamp were dead, so Twisted Fister lent me a flashlight.  Kick ass flashlight I must add.  It was purchased from Slonad.  It was really bright.  I need to get one of those!  Maybe he could come to the hash and have a flashlight truck show.  The trail was mostly on dirt trails around campus.  There was a rum and coke check and 2 beer checks.  It got dark pretty quickly, and it was pitch dark in the woods.  It was pretty scary.  Shiny Snail Trail was afraid of encountering a mountain lion or Bigfoot.   I just ran faster to keep up with the military guys.  Ghetto Man looks like he could wrestle a mountain lion with his bare hands and win.   After exiting the woods, the trail went through part of campus.  We went through a campground on campus that is actually part of student housing.   The last beer check was in the woods a short distance from the start.  My GPS measured trail at 4.89 miles.

Religion was in the woods next to the parking lot where we started.  dBASED was RA and Twat did you Say?  was Beer Fairy.  The first down downs were given to hashers who drew blood on trail.  dBASED fell while it was still daylight.  Diddler on the Roofie scraped up his knees pretty badly.  He cleaned off the wounds with beer.  Broke Bench twisted his ankle, but no blood.  Next, hashers who didn’t make all 3 checks were punished.   Cuff my Muff, Hugh Heifer, The Human Pube, and Twisted Fister.  Shiny Snail Trail drank for being scared on trail, and for “getting wet between the legs with back sweat”.  Princess Di (arrhea) drank for having “thick honey buns”.  Lucky Thmp-Thmp!  Shiny Snail Trail interrupted dBASED to say something, but then forgot what she was going to say.   Half mind!  Twisted Fister was brought up again because he forgot he was at all 3 checks.  Another half mind!   He stayed there to celebrate the Analversary of his 25th Surf City hash.  Get a life!  Shiny Snail Trail FINALLY remembered what she was going to say.  She observed a woman on a bike who “looked like a lesbian” asking Deep Stroke and I if we were lost.  She claimed the lesbian was trying to hit on us.  And last but not least, the Hare………………… 

If you want to know his excuse for the shitty trail, Dung Fu Grip confessed at beer check that he scouted trail at 3am the night before on his bike and didn’t know how long it was.  He did not say if he was sober or not, but denied being high on LSD at the time.   The hash ended in peace.  Aside from one police car sighting before the hash started, it was an uneventful night.

Apparently the mayhem began the next morning when there was an emergency response called because of “mysterious white powder” on Heller Drive.  We know this because of a nasty email post to the yahoo group by Harriette and UCSC Biological Safety Officer, Dr. Nappy Headed Ho.    The incident involved police, a fire engine, the Director of EH&S and Dir. Nappy.

 I suspect that this was reported by some paranoid stoner dude on his way home from a party.  Maybe this is how it went down.

Stoner called the campus security office said “Hey man, there’s some mysterious white powder on Heller Drive.  It could be anthrax”

Police, fire trucks, and numerous campus personnel arrive to the scene.  They start taking pictures and take samples for chemical analysis.  The speculation begins…….


Hasher says, “Everybody calm down, it’s just flour.  Not anthrax.  You know the stuff you bake with?”

Stoner says “Ya man, I just got baked.  Wow’d ya know?”

Hasher says “It’s made from wheat, and you bake cake with it.”

Stoner says “No thanks dude, I’m gluten free.”

Hasher says “It’s just flour and it won’t harm the environment.”

Stoner says “Is it organic free range?  Will it poison the banana slugs?”

Hasher says “No, It’s nontoxic and won’t harm the banana slugs.”

Stoner says “But what about those strange markings on the ground.  They’re freaky dude.  What do they mean?  They could’ve been put there by terrorists, devil worshipers or aliens.”

Hasher says “It’s just sidewalk chalk that little kids use.  They were put there by a running club and They’re directions that tell people where to go.”

Stoner says “But where are they going?  I don’t know dude.   My mind is blown.  I got to go back to my room and get my space together before class.”


Guess we won’t be hashing there again anytime soon!

On On,

Shallow Hole

Hash Trash #706 ‘Flip flopin’ in paridise!’

Howdey wanker’s! Its Summertime for us locals, so what better place to meet than Pono’s Island Bar and Grille down on Union street. Princess (Di)arrhea and Thmp Thmp as the hares of this debauchery had the theme of a flip flop trail or a van’s style trail. I decided to wear my Teva’s and chose to do the easier flip flop trail, but in case I could have chosen to run the van’s trail (better than flip flops but ya still get the feel).  Now Dirty Dolmas showed up and I decided to support her and walk the flip flop trail, what a disaster that turned out to be, no one knew where they we’re going and DD was so discouraged she gave up and went home. I then proceeded to BC, next time never chit chat with your co-hounds, always find flour on your own so that your never led astray, I mean how did they fuck up and miss the check at Water and Soquel?(see my map)  Anyhow my flipflop trail distance via mapmyrun = ~2.37 miles  and distance for Van’s trail=~3.7    . Shortest trial I’ve done in awhile, it was refreshing to be at beer check before the FRB of Van’s trail. We lingered behind Hind Quarter drank awesome beer in cans provided by the hares, and then all mosied back to Religion, again I was chit chatting with ‘Twat did you say?’ and was following other hounds, not paying attention they led us to River street cinema, WTF? Thats why I was late or DFL back to religion. OK Accuprick was RA, Cuff my Muff his beer bitch. She was so funny placing all the down down glasses on top of the beer trough cooler, good one. Did I mention we had a virgin or 2? Pink Cherry Licker brought her guy pal Josh. Paki Sak from SVH3 broght his virgin Rebecca. Boner malfunction is now considered a FACU, TIM (Today is Monday) from SVH3 visited. Our married parents of one little cutie batootie, Coka Cola and Hairy Potter blessed us with a visit of their beautiful dtr. Micah (hope spelling right).  Ghettoman even showed up last minute too. He always manages to get to start the lastest but manages to get to BC first (with FRB’s) damn them military men, or hey goota luv them. We wanted virgins to show us their goods but dumb jokes they squandered. Somehow Paki Sak was the only hound whom missed BC? We had visit from an official so we made religion short. And the Hares!….         Thanks for letting us slow down a bit, if not a few of us, took it easy this night and drank a few, walked a few, and just took in the sights, smells of our awesomeness SC summertime! Locals rule!

On On you wankerloids’!!

Occasional Rapist

Hash Trash # 705

This week’s meet up was at the brand new West End Tap & Kitchen. We all know Puff the Magic Drag Queen is a man of habit (630 consecutive hashes—get a life!!!), so when Thmp-Thmp and I rolled up, we saw Puff lurking outside Santa Cruz Mountain Brewing across the driveway instead of popping right into the new joint. Considering his other routine of 99 Bottles, I could understand his trepidation of trying the new brewer in town. West End’s got some competition. Hugh Heifer agreed to hare at the last minute and said she would pull together a SHORT 2 miler. Maybe that’s why Cum Lord came in his jeans. (Pun intended!) Maybe Monthly Friend also heard that trail would be short and figured it was a great time for her regular monthly visit along with The Human Pube. It was a nice surprise to see Deep Stroke made it back home safely after taking a bit of a walkabout…or driveabout. While Hairy Fuck 2.5 and I were fawning over the pooch cuteness of Porter and Janis hanging out together tethered to the bike racks, Pussy Galore told us to get our asses to circle-up out back.

It was a quick introduction around the circle then a pack scatter. We found the trail down Swift St. to the ocean…barely. When we got to West Cliff Dr., there was no check, just a little splotch of blue flour. I followed Puff because he was all I had. I won’t bore you with the details of this trail, but it was a lot longer than 2 miles. I shit you not. Trail took us through areas we’ve been to twice recently so we were haunted by trail markings of hashes past. At least our hare made a tiny effort to help us along with some of her trail markings, like “N☮” (translation: trail marking is an old one—plus I’m a hippie) and “FELLOW STONERS BE CAREFUL…LOW HANGIN CHAIN” (there is an obstacle—plus I’m a hippie). We went through Natural Bridges, Antonelli Pond and then to Mission St. A left turn at Miramar took us to beer check at Timmy!!!’s house.

At beer check, I realized the reason why I rarely have any hash stories to share about scribemate Shallow Hole. She usually gets to pre-lube later than I do and then she hauls ass on trail, so by the time I get to beer check, she’s done with her beer and ready to on-in. Life in the fast lane! In Timmy!!!’s backyard, the recycle bin was more than arm’s length away, so I “planted a beer seed” (i.e. buried a bottlecap) in his planter box. I also poured a splash of beer on it, so let’s see if it grows! 😉 Speaking of Timmy!!!, he has a FREE piano to force on you so let him know if you’re interested. But he’s gone for now to Tuscany for a month to drink the fine wine and to mangia, mama mia! Mental note: if we let him hare when he gets back, he’s going to send us on a death march to work off those carbs. :( Timmy!!! and Pink Cherry Licker wisely didn’t follow us to religion this night because there was a 4am trip to the airport in their very near future.

Religion was back to the start parking lot, but behind Kelly’s where it smelled all warm and yeasty. Just the right (g-)spot for Pussy Galore to RA. Deep Stroke was beer fairy. Just Anne and Just Sara have impending namings so they fielded profane questions from the peanut gallery. Visitors from CAN’d, Just Bobby and Ghettoman, were equally welcomed (by hasher brethren) and repelled (by crap warm beer). Virgin Jeff told a blowjob joke. Shiny Snail Trail called my attention to the metal ball swinging from his belt right into his junk region. WTF?? The hare was hounded for being a dirty liar and a dirty hippie. Shiny Snail Trail, Dung-Fu Grip and I were toasted for being August birthday babies. Six called out a most shameful crime on trail. He claimed Pinky and Twat Did You Say? were confused because a true trail mark looked like an arrow AND a false combined. Is that the most half-minded thing you ever heard??? Backsliders Monthly Friend and Deep Stroke intertwined arms and drank to their infrequency. Six was chided for making a shameless plug for his HashFish Indiegogo campaign. I heard your order comes with a bonus gift…which may or not be a Vegas hooker.

May the Hash get a piece,
Princess Di(arrhea)