Hash Trash 638

Hi! Her Royal Diarrheaness here with the weekly trash. It was Twat Did You Say’s? first haring foray ever and Deep Stroke’s first haring for Surf City. We met up at Callahan’s. The place is teeming with big game taxidermy. It’s enough to vaguely make you wonder where the stuffed former patrons are kept. We almost brought in another specimen for the collection when Thmp-Thmp nearly hit a kamikaze dog front of the Grog Shop on the way. Good thing Thmp brakes for more than just squirrels. Lube Me Up Scotty re-joined our kennel to put himself back in harm’s way after a two-year break.


At circle up it became obvious that Dude, Where’s My Trail? will never get his own name right.http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0242423 Learn it, know it, live it, Dude. The pack was soon off and in all directions until we heard a whistle blowing across the street at 550 Water St. Trail followed along the ceee-ment river there. I called it a “water channel” and Puff called it Branciforte Creek. Whatever, nature boy! The bum wine—actually bum vodka—check was just past the ruins of a scroungy campsite along the crick. Trail crossed the crick at Ocean St. I caught up to Cuff My Muff who kindly informed me I was DFL. I was also DFL at last week’s bum wine check and caught hell for leaving that bum wine behind. In a moment of idiocy, I turned around to snag that craptastic vodka and quickly got back on my way. I was soon heading up Soquel Ave. and passing a marked short driveway YBF diversion across from Shopper’s Corner that must’ve discouraged no one. It was then on left through a long stretch of Branciforte. I was clutching that sack of shitty vodka and carrying it with TLC that should be strictly reserved for finer libations. To help cut down on the heaviness and sloshing, I caught up to Scotty and begged him to take some swigs (see—I told you he was putting himself in harm’s way) but Scotty wasn’t having any of it. I had to breakaway and forge ahead to find willing takers. If not, who knows how many miles I would have to jog with this heavy-ass load of turpentine?


At the busy corner of Branciforte and Water, I couldn’t find any markings and had to find my own way. I made a good guess with on right and caught up with Cuff and AccuPrick near Tacos Moreno. A left turn there led us to B-40 Middle School and down Poplar St. I pulled another breakaway to go find the pack. It was on left at Fairmount Ave. and into the neighborhood of Linden St. Luckily, most of the trail had been marked by the pack ahead, however a check was not kicked on Linden St. and I was all alone. When I finally figured out trail went downhill on Berkeley Way, so did my morale. I was busting my bumcakes to herd myself ahead to re-join the pack that must’ve been hauling ass. (I later heard Just Lori was running Nipple Butt so hard he barfed.)


It was on right at Market St. I wandered around looking for pink flour for too long when I should’ve just let the elbow of Market St. point me in the right direction down Washburn St. Conflicting trail markings had me dumbfounded at the corner of Ocean St. where walkers Cuff and Accu caught up to me and led the way to beer check across Ocean on Blaine St.


Homemade cookies and Kirkland beer were served at beer check at Twat Did You Say?’s house (you can call her T-Dub). Fancy imported beer was offered, too. It came all the way from Mexico. At least there was plenty waiting as I came tardy for the party with my big bag o’ bum vodka in tow. I was glad I’d delivered it back to the pack, for a reason you will soon read about (why are your still reading?).


Religion was back at 550 Water. RA Accu was present but on vacation, so he was also on his worst behavior. Just Lori and T-Dub made elegant Beer Fairies.  Backsliders Scotty and Goat Blower were the first to be flogged. Goat Blower’s excuse for abandoning the pack was pretty much, “so many goats, so little time.”  Thmp-Thmp ratted out Slow Nad for not being punished last week for backsliding so they both drank. Thmp for being a rat and Nad for his slow tendencies. Yeah, he may be fast on his feet, but he’s a little slow in the head.


Dog Breath and Hugh Heifer did a mouth-to-mouth vodka shot for some interspecies guzzling at the bum wine check. They reenacted this beveragal bestiality for the pack. Hugh was celebrated for her 225th analversary and for having no life whatsoever to show for it. Habitual trail pissers Cuff, Deep Stroke and Accu got their fluids replaced. Accu asked for a “witless” to any trail fails. dBASED had tripped on a speed bump and therefore took a warm beer shower. “If it doesn’t go on your lips, it goes on your head!” Hugh adjourned religion with “KIRKLAND BEER SUCKS!” to which Thmp retorted “BUT SO DOES NA!” Take that, O Mighty Beer Mistress who’s been known to serve near beer!


On On On was at MexItalian. We were welcomed warmly with chianti, Sinatra, and the Giants game. Ah… la dolce vida loca. The music made Timmy!!! reminisce about listening to the Rat Pack when the songs were new. That was way back in the days when he used to be trusted with a martini glass. T-Dub was flirting with the waiter and made it clear that she wanted to taste his VERY spicy burrito. I gotta admit that I also wanted a taste of his spumoni. AccuPrick claims to eat like a man with two assholes, so he was hungry enough to taste everything on his menu.


Next week we’ll be meeting at Next Door in Scotts Valley. Trail will be A -> B and transport will be provided. Religion will be at Shallow Hole and Waxi Pad’s casa. There’s gonna be a BBQ, so please plan to bring something to share. Oh, and bring an extra pair of shoes and socks. You probably won’t have to share those.


“A hasher never turns back.” Words to live by, kids. Lesson learned at hash 638. NEVER TURN BACK, ESPECIALLY WHEN YOU REALIZE YOU ARE DFL AND JUST BAILED ON THE BUM WINE. Take my word for it—bum wine is always best left for the bums.

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