All posts by dbased

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.

Cumcerto named!

Last night Just Marna got named Cumcerto. Something about playing the flute. Not sure if that’s the skin flute or is a band.  She has come to 5 consecutive hashes and we all hope we’ll continue to be as routine a Hasher as her sister – Princess Diarrhea. The best song sung to Just Marna  last night was “someone’s in you sister vagina”, which we all know to be Thmp-Thmp!

Halloweenie Hash

Two of our Three Scribes were hares this day and third was absent, so for some misguided reason I decided to be the scribe instead of Puff. One week later as I was driving to the AGM I realized I had not fulfilled by duty. In the past week, I’ve had brief 15 second jolt’s that I have not fulfilled my duty. but was able to quickly forget. Today I suggested that Occasional Rapist withhold food until I write up a few silly sentences, and this was enough to make me remember just long enough.

Our most honorable and routine scribes always writing thing down so that they will  remember. My opinion is I can’t remember or there is no digital proof (hash count or hash flash), then it was unimportant, or probably didn’t happen. However, now it’s 13 days later, so you are getting only the good stuff!

This years journey into Halloween merriment started at Pono. The only reason the hares picked this place is is they were tired of the Rush Inn. Our hares of Shallow Hole and Occasional Rapist danced in as ferries this year. What would they be up to this year?

I slithered in as Dr. dBASED. Broke Bench Mountain eventually showed up as Krusty the Clown. Hugh Heffer came as some sort wench – that doesn’t even sound like a costume! Cuff My Muff was some sort of super hero, which she had to be, to get out of class. Leg Over didn’t come in costume as she claimed Puff didn’t tell her she needed one. The extent of Slownad’s costume was Rabbit ears.  Deep Stroke came as a ninja and was rarely seen.

Occasional Rapist had told me the week before the Hash she worried about a gate being closed along trail. I told her Neary Lagoon had posted sign’s it closed at Sunset, so she’d better be careful. So, the hares left the Red Room promptly at 6:33. By the time the pack left, it was dark anyway. I thought for sure the gate was going to be closed. I warned the pack at the start that if we got caught by a gate, I could assist.

Naturally, everyone assumed we be heading down Pacific Avenue for the annual parade. We all assumed wrong. We paralleled it instead. While I knew we were going to Neary Lagoon, I avoided going there directly. At a check above Depot park, I even headed towards the Pier. When no trail developed, I headed towards the railroad tracks. I got to the railroad tracks, and still found no hint of trail, so I headed away from Neary Lagoon, and towards the now approaching pack.

We got to the black lagoon and were allowed passage. However, before we passed, there was a liquor check with some vampire blood to consume. We searched for the creature in the lagoon, but our headlamps must have scared him away.

After a big circle through the dark and scary lagoon, we headed back pretty much the way we had come from, paralleling just a few blocks to the East. There were no checks in this area as the hares were afraid we’d find trail we had already run and get confused. I know that’s never happened to me before…

We headed up the steep Green street hill to the Santa Cruz mission plaza. I knew where religion was, but didn’t know where Beer check was. However, I knew that religion was over the bridge. I figured beer check would be just over the bridge. Over the bridge, and trail went right. I knew this to be away from religion, so what were the hares thinking? Half way to the Harvey West homeless zone, I realized the Hares target – the cemetery. However, due to the hares exposure to the law the previous year, they didn’t have the check in the cemetery, but across the street. Something about seeing a security guard at some point. Wimps.

The highlight of beer check was seeing that the Giants were winning game 2 of World Series. We headed off to beer check at Just Andrea’s and squeezed into her shack to seem them complete the victory and go up 2-0.

Seeing as I was running for RA the next week, I was appointed RA for the day. I can remember none of the down-downs, so they must have been all dull and boring. Will there be more to come?

Afterward, we returned to Pono for more fun. May the Hash go in Peace!

Hash Trash 650

By Princess Di(arrhea)

1st Quarter

People, I could be enjoying some dill pickle flavored sunflower seeds watching a BASEBALL game right now, but noooo. Instead I’m going to type Thursday’s tales from the football trail like a good little sports reporter. And instead of snapping your jock strap and snatching your guacamole last Thursday as we kicked off football season, I put on my grandpa’s 49er sweatshirt and made like a Faithful. After all, staying on the good side of our Niner fan hare, Occasional Rapist, probably scored us all a few points.

At El Jardin’s cantina, the usual suspects reunited with kennelmates who’ve been away doing other junk. Dude, Where’s My Trail? was still recuperating from a brutal massage he’d survived in San Luis Obispo. AccuPrick yammered about his recent trip to Boston where he enjoyed a wedding, a “raw bah at the hahbah”, and a whole skiff of beer. We were happy to see Phyllis Driller make another showing, even though she made no bones about only coming for the $4 margaritas.

Hugh Heifer couldn’t fake the football love, so she sported A’s gear. Thmp-Thmp wore tie-dye just to be a contrary dirty hippie. Dude wore a Hawaiian shirt that he raided straight outta Magnum PI’s closet. However, most of the pack was geared up for the either the gridiron or the bleachers. We were really hoping somebody would come as a cheerleader (yes, we’re looking at you, dBASED). Harriettes in eye black were bringing us a special kind of Fantasy Football.

Right before trail kickoff, Occasional Rapist drafted Just Linda and Wicked Retahted for Team Hare. They busted out onto the trail like tipsy quarterbacks. At circle up, the pack’s team should’ve been named the 4.9 Whiners. dBASED got screwed with the wearing the hashit, but he was cool with it because there are no marital aids nor a genuine ball and chain hanging from it…yet. Just wait until the Thursday after his bachelor party!

2nd Quarter

The 4.9 Whiners stepped out onto the field and cut left down Capitola Rd. A sheriff’s car was waiting for us at the next check at Jose Ave. They must’ve been on to us, so we charged ahead and lost ‘em in the park. We also lost ourselves as trail seemed to drop off in there. AccuPrick got us back on track and across the bridge to El Dorado. dBASED went on left and nobody wanted to follow him, but he was indeed actually on trail (for once) and somehow got us to go along with him. It was a right turn back on Capitola Rd. and a left ahead on 16th Ave. We pounded neighborhood asphalt for a while and made it to the check at the animal shelter. Down 7th Ave., some true trail marks led us into Harbor High.

We didn’t want to disturb the football team’s practice, but TIMMY!!! and Puff wouldn’t have minded catching some of the cheerleader practice. You know, just to learn some new cheers to hasherize. …riiiight… At any rate, we were hoping trail would head towards the football field so we could try to tickle tackle Team Hare. We didn’t go near the field, just up the hill to La Fonda instead. We were lucky trail went left instead of right because the bridge is out. That could’ve ended badly. We headed downhill on sidewalk and then worked our tight ends uphill through woodsy shiggy. At the hilltop Adult School, we were instructed by a beer near mark.


Beer check was a tailgater at the end of Park Way. Beers were popped and next thing ya know, Easy Cheese was squirting on Cheesy Poofs. Deep Stroke asked the big question of the night: “why doesn’t guacamole come in a can?” I think we now know where Deep Stroke’s next fortune will be coming from. Our tailgater was in a perfect location…except for the barking dogs and voracious West Nile virus mosquitos. We were quickly pestered into moving down field.

3rd Quarter

Occasional Rapist’s mom, Coach Beverly, was our kind religion hostess nary a block away. I’d rather hang out in her lovely back yard than at a football field any day. We all settled in and made ourselves at home as Hugh Heifer kicked up her bum leg and Phyllis took a seat on the couch to watch some DNC. And I thought she was just in this game for the margaritas.

Ref AccuPrick gave us a warning that he was on vacation again. BEWARE! Shit’s gonna get sloppy. He crowned Deep Stroke beer fairy but she was too busy trying to unwrap a meat stick to be bothered. (I never thought I would type those words.) Once the tasty beefiness was unsheathed, Deep Stroke offered it up to all who came near it only to be left wondering, “why does everyone reject my meat stick??” Each and every down down beer was then defiled with a de-foaming swizzle by the terrible meat stick.

Dude got questioned on trail by the po-po because he fit the profile of a guy they were on the lookout for who was “smoking weed, yelling at cars and wearing a Hawaiian shirt” Yes, he does indeed fit the profile…but the Dude abides so they let him go. Twat Did You Say? was put in the game, looking all cute in her fancy work duds, after missing trail. Meat stick swizzle for T-Dub!! Just Linda got a hare patch and a new hash name should be getting sewn on her jersey soon. 3/3 of Team Hare got busted for wearing hats during their down down. PENALTY!

4th Quarter

On on on was back at El Jardin. I swear I saw the hostess’s lips say, “oh dear god, they’re BACK??” Maybe we should’ve tailgated in the parking lot instead of forcing  their kind staff into pouring us more cerveza at the two-minute warning. El Jardin was more than ready for us wind down our game and post the final score:

Team Hare – 3/3 beers

4.9 Whiners –  $4 margarita

Everybody wins!!!


dBASED will be haring next week’s trail beginning at Lodato Park in Scotts Valley. You have been advised to bring a flashlight…and maybe some kind of wetness protection. I’m thinking Right Guard.





Hash 649

by Princess Di(arrhea)

Hashers from SLV and beyond met up at Monty’s Log Cabin to give the Labor Day weekend an early kickoff. Speaking of kickoff, it was an unusually tough time prodding the kennel out the door of the cozy cabin to do trail. Some were sidelined due to previous beer-related incidents. Some just had a whole lotta drinkin’ to do. Maybe it was comfy barstools? Anyhoo…

Hash 649 brought us the first signs of autumn. It was kinda cold out, we brought flashlights and there’s a pumpkin patch in old Monty’s yard. I called it a ghetto pumpkin patch, but was corrected right quick by Hugh Heifer, “it’s a redneck pumpkin patch.”

It’s The Great Redneck Pumpkin, y’all!

The drinkin’ was getting off to a good start with TIMMY!!! and his gibson. ‘Round these parts, they must not know that he is not to be trusted with a martini glass. This time he managed not to drop it in the dirt. Before we knew it, we were all getting a good buzz on, which is always a good idea when you know religion is going to be held at a church. Deep Stroke, our harriette, blessed us all and scurried off in a heavenly cloud of pink dust. Halleloo!

Thmp-Thmp’s chalk talk teaches us that 1 gross = 1 buttload

About half of the kennel saddled up and hit the trail. We headed pretty much directly to the Henry Cowell entrance and cut right following the park’s trail along the creek. Virgin Amy was soon hitting her first shiggy with mucho gusto. She gamely slid down a marked steep sandy embankment and clawed her way back up like a natural. TIMMY!!! and Hairy Fuck 2.5 didn’t fall for that diversion and kept moving on. Further ahead, Puff the Magic Drag Queen was constantly blowing his whistle. He was definitely on the right track because an Olde English 40 oz. 8-ball check was just ahead. And there it was–on a picnic table, in the woods, sitting next to a paperback book. Felton keeps it real, yo. Virgin Jon polished off the bottle like a good chugging DFL should while scoffing at the lightweight swigs of his predecessors.

Refreshed and back on trail, the pack continued to wind through the park’s dirt paths. The checks were mercifully simple but the pink flour got a bit dicey through some ivy-carpeted shiggy. It didn’t take long for Puff to start blowing his whistle like a crazy train again, scaring off deer and pissing off hippies. I was so distracted a mountain woman chiding us for noise making, we were lucky Hairy Fuck saw the true trail arrow that showed our way into Roaring Camp. Flour led us down the railroad tracks and through a maintenance yard.

Puff’s sultry FLASHdance

Amid some confusion and chaos as we exited the park, hare Deep Stroke dove into a patch of poison oak to avoid being snared by Phyllis Driller. The chase continued through mountain neighborhoods as we dodged rural traffic like shifty ‘possums. Lord, were we happy to finally see the beer near mark! Then trail just kept going. And going. Past the Jehovah’s Witness Kingdom Hall construction site, past welcoming-looking driveways, past a few party porches…what gives?

We were suddenly at religion at St. John’s Catholic Church.

As we shrugged off the missing beer check and pillaged the beer cooler in the parking lot, churchgoers started to arrive at the parish to do their do-gooder stuff that they do. Banana kindly asked if we could stay. As long as things were kept to a dull roar, the answer was yes. !!!SUCKERS!!! The party carried on as we moved to the other end of the parking lot.

Banana disallowed “frat rules” as he RA’d (I suppose we played “church rules” instead?) and Puff was our magical beer fairy. Zippercised and Wheaton Whacker, our visitors who drove ALL DAMN DAY direct from Seattle, managed to make it to our little hashlet despite being pulled over by the fuzz. They brought a few nifty little songs along with them, too. That’s just one of the benefits of going to hash choir practice. Yes, they really have that kind of thing in Rain City. It was like the harmonizing hash voices of angels were paying us a visit.

Banana did a round of salutes to half-minds near and dear to his beer-drowned heart. TIMMY!!!, Phyllis Driller and Get Up and Run Bitch all got a special “I love you, man.” Phyllis should’ve down downed for missing catching the hare, but she couldn’t manage to snare a beer, either. Poor Virgin Jon’s joke was jeered and Virgin Amy’s joke was wildly cheered: “Knock, knock. Who’s there? YOUR MOTHER’S A WHORE!” That’s a pretty clean joke for us, but as Get Up and Run Bitch said, “we’re being nice to the church.” We also kept the songs a tiny bit less less foul.

Come to find out the beer check was supposed to have been at the JW construction site, but there was too much action there. I’m glad we’d kept on going. St. John’s church was quite tolerant of us degenerates. And for that, let us pray…








Hash Trash #646/Beat your meat #13

It was a decent turnout of half minds from SC and Bay Area  kennels. A few missed trail but still tried to follow what they could in the dark , kudos. I even ran with a newer hasher who wore wedge sandals on trail, Gray Drapes.

She’s a keeper, I think. Trail was a bit odd for a few of us. Never trust a fellow hasher to read trail sign’s for you, see them yourself. We ran an extra 1.5 miles out of our way but still managed to find beer check so all was saved!! Even Cockiss managed to pull off his own BC missing the original one where Butt Balls was hanging out waiting for him. Ha! OK, so running through Nisene is always a pleasure so nice to be amongst the beautiful trees and greenery.

Anyhow FRB dBASED bragged so much about running to BC in 20 minutes flat he almost made me choke on my beer back at camp, really?  But all in all it was a great gathering. Everyone did a great job in bringing good eats, and drinks!

Princess Di-arreha and Thmp Thmp brought some killer concoction of Chocolate Vodka and Coconut water they called it the coconut dog, yum. The Hash shit vest went to Snatch.cum for being a major backslider. We got to see lots of bobbies (ok 4), Hugh and Grey Drapes, as apparently they both have slept with the same guy, maybe at the same time? Get up and run bitch

tried to show off her boobs but we’re hanging way down and never managed to get them loose! I got my 69th Hash run patch.

Butt Balls and Accuprick beat the meat! We raised $1000 for Second Harvest food bank and apparently that will stretch into much more in their magic hands!!! Kudos to all that donated!!

A BIG Thanks again to Little Anal Annie and Butt balls for letting us invade their pretty little paradise!

On On!!

Occasional  Rapist