Friday night in the city…..well not exactly the big apple…..as we are in Santa Cruz…..poised to leave our mark on the steamy, seedy haunts of a surf crowd gone wrong. We are ripe for adventure and some will be rewarded at midnight with a dip in the cesspool known as Kiva.
Yeah, well fuck you too!
The evening begins at Callahans with pitchers and pitchers and the most elegant hashing attire I ever laid eyes on. I guess I did not get the memo. Who knew you could actually slink into a little black dress for this pub crawl. Darn it…………I could have worn my custom patent leather thigh high boots instead of my stinky sneakers. Next time please email me with the dress code.
Once the pack was sufficiently lubed up….they headed out to the mean streets of Santa Cruz and right through the middle of the homeless encampment. A quick stop for jello shots delivered like homeless meals from a big, blue Ikea shopping bag before the local “gendarmerie” indicated in a stern and forceful manner that we should move on.
Hope she feels better after that fart
FYI AND FUN FACTOID – Gendarmerie is a military component with jurisdiction in civil law enforcement. The term “gendarmerie” is derived from the medieval French expression gens d’armes, which translates to “armed men”.
Doesn’t he know that we are not your usual suspects, not your doped up street people. We are respectable drunks with day jobs and comfy beds to sleep in at night.
Vag Repair Kit’s face scares me
Guess not, so we move along peacefully to our next drinking establishment…..Rosie’s…..where even the old farts had to show an ID. I had to vouch for one of our Monterey Senior Citizens who alas did not have his ID on him. He was dressed in a toga with no pockets. A little too eager to get to Kiva I suppose.
There was a required pit stop at El Palomar with beer, margaritas and tacos galore.
I am sure there were other places along the way but I gracefully bowed out before the midnight hour.
I have no idea what happened at Kiva. Kinda like Vegas. Lips are zipped.
You will have to do your own investigation and interrogation if you want more dirt.
Technology on trail!
I need my beauty sleep as I have a big day of cornhole planned for Sat.
What a great trail to start of WTB weekend. We set out from the Blue Lounge and headed down to the harbor.. It was an easy stroll and the visitors and newbies were quite chatty. After a brief stop at the public head all signs pointed to the water taxi so all aboard.
Hare Triple Racist Threat
I am sure that the “captain” of this little floating pontoon was happy to see all of our drunk asses get on his boat. He probably regretted not calling in sick today. Just what he needed….more inebriated beach-goers barfing off the back of the boat. All for a two minute ride across the harbor.
We were told that we had time for ONE drink at the Crow’s nest Beach Party so we all raced in for a cold one with a stiff price tag and some ass wiggling dancing.
They’re on a boat motherfucker
Surprisingly we met up with some hashers who were not officially on trail. Guess that crappy reggae band was more important that running amok with your real friends!
Trying to herd our crew back across the harbor was akin to herding turtles, or cats or gerbils.. Some folks simply would not leave the beach, others (CumFart and Taco Tramp) got stuck in a stall in the women’s bathroom and missed the boat. And they totally missed the beer check. I guess cutting in line to pee in a real toilet inside a fancy restaurant was more important than a cooler full of FREE beer.
Cheers!
The pack sent out a distress signal and smoke signals from their raging fire in order to get them back on track towards religion.
Accu as the RA was his usual jovial self. We had a few virgins thanks to bakers….and more than a few bad jokes….thanks to bakers friends.
Apple bobber got in 75 hashes. Way to go kid.
The visitors from Arizona and Texas were “interesting”. Hmmmmm.
But the most disturbing yet mildly amusing portion of the down downs was the challenge to drink from visitor IHOP’s leg…the .artificial leg……….the leg that has replaced his real leg. We are not talking about merely taking a swig out of a new running shoe…..NOOOOOOO…….we are talking about a gruesome plastic leg that this bloke runs on, sweats in and god knows what else happens in that thing. But like lemming lined up on the edge of the cliff, we all assumed the position and closed our eyes and sucked some pale, viscous fluid from what I will now call “THE THING”.
Wankers around the fire
Besides a possible case of dysentery we were rewarded with the infamous “IHOP” patch.
I ask you all….”was it worth it?”
The hares, Shallow Hole, Ho to Housewife and Cock Throbbin, were perfectly praised for their Thursday night adventures on the beach. and for deviating ever so slightly in order to provide us more entertainment for our hash dollar.
With lots of wood and old itchy poison oak we had a grand time.
Looks like these ladies have a foot fetish…
Additionally, Dung Fu, who was MIA for his own hash trail last week, managed to scale El Cap and return a hero to SCH3. He will be MIA yet again as he is setting off on another grand adventure in the wilds of Colorado. He will be missed and we will wait with baited breath for his FB and Instagram updates. Safe travels dear friend.
On On On,
It was billed as his farewell hash, it was set in a cemetery and the hype was real. The trailer promised an over the top event. The enthusiasm to give Dung Fu a proper send off was unprecedented. It far exceeded the Jack O’Neill memorial paddle out. We had the press (Steamy B), we had cake, flowers, cards, banners, skywriters, balloons and a lovely parting gift.
But alas, he was a NO SHOW.
Quite the run out for Dung-fu’s funeral!
We got some last minute sob story via FB about tourists, plane tickets and bears in Yosemite.
The crowd was dejected. They did not think they could go on. They sat on crumbling gravestones and wept. They popped the balloons, shot RPGs at the sky, tore up the cards and ate all the cake……………..and then they got up off their sorry asses and marched along following the shittiest, lamest excuse for a trail ever because Timmy and Puff decided they could be a viable replacement for Dung Fu. I think not!
The scene was set for an ominous trail
Because of them – F*CK THEM – I have poison oak on my ass. Seriously I have poison oak ON my ass…Just let that sink in…..I also have poison oak IN my ass crack and its creeping to other nether regions. I will NEVER forgive them. Plus they owe me $27.69 for the new bottle of Technu and the soothing Calamine lotion. And they owe Vag Repair Kit a few psycho therapy sessions cause he is the one who has been applying the anti itch lotion to my bu tac al hemisphere. He is scarred for life now. He saw things in there that no one should ever see. And now he can’t sleep at night.
But at least I got my favorite butt plug back.
🙂
Gorilla beer check at the golf course
So we did some sort of a trail with our fake hares.
We ran through a big green playground with lots of little balls scattered about. Someone did not get the lesson about picking up their toys.
After endless rounds of foraging in the woods and bathing in copious amounts of poison oak we managed a Gorilla Beer check at the newly opened outdoor bar. Pitchers of golden nectar were ordered, $20 bills were flying faster than at a lousy strip joint, and birthday boy managed to get in a few top shelf shots.
The bartender, aka THE golf pro, seemed a bit dazed and confused as to how these untidy and unruly ruffians all showed up at his bar at the same time….and where did they come from………..and they certainly were not his average golf patrons. Maybe they were disc golf players…….NOT!! In between keeping the pitchers topped off we filled him in on the inner workings of our group. Now he gets it…………and he wants more. He takes our picture and asks for autographs. He even invites us back! And Thump Thump wants to hold AGM there. A match made in heaven……….or in DeLaVeaga.
Deez nuts
Stay tuned for upcoming details.
And now back to trail……….which ended in a hilarious van ride back to the start. Mr Toads wild ride with drunk ass, half naked sweaty poison oak infested wankers. Lots of fondling going on and some confusion as to fingers and toes and orifices.
Vag was the big winner as he dove on top of unsuspecting van mates and became the instant boy toy for the ladies.
Religion was a sad affair back in the cemetery hosted by Accu.
Twat did you say got a patch for 100 hashes…..she said some poignant words about commitment and marriage and all…..break out the tissues.
We had some virgins…..one who has an aversion to beer but brought her own vodka….good thinkin missy.
Are we there yet?
Real Boring Bitch and Just Foot Pussy had no idea what the symbols mean and had a hard time with the simple circle.
Cold Smega Kamikazi preferred the company of the homeless encampment rather than stay on the perfectly marked trail and wander aimlessly with his friends.
Vag still has no idea what a wallaby is….despite our efforts to educate him about marsupials.
Dog Breath had many down downs for the usual stuff….and Six O Nine made an appearance at the end….he gets the annual NON RUNNER award.
Puff forgot his flashlight and there should get down downs next time.
So who speaks first?
Speaking of next time………..next time will be just in time for WHARF TO BARF….the greatest event of the ages. Four days of debauchery, four days of trails, four days of beer and Tito’s – which spells tits without the “o” and the apostrophe.
And only 9 more days till CumFarts Birthday…July 25th if you all want to know! Which will be celebrated during the 4 days of WTB. Shameless plug by the venerated scribe.
Maybe my butt will be healed enough by then for the requisite birthday spank tunnel.
I will just quote the trail announcement to set the tone:
“Hugh has stepped away from her bong, the smoke has cleared. I found my laptop. This week trail will start at The Asti (715 Pacific) because that bar is a dive. Trail will be totally fucked up because I forgot I was haring this Thursday. I thought it was next week. Religion will be at the Parking Garage closest to the bar. There will be beer and weed. A to B to A. See you wankers tomorrow, Hugh (ops I got this) Heiffer.
P.S. Fun fact: I signed up for this trail because I did my first hash 10 years ago.
P.S.S. Puff no long will be hosting religion at is casa.”
The heifer herself
TEN YEARS of haring and still she can’t get it together. We get the trail announcement like 30 minutes before the start. Wow man, we were going to meet at Puff’s but oh wow, we can’t meet at Puff’s, so……….wow…….cool….…..ummmmmm…………what can I do……….Man……wow…….cool……….that was some good shit man………….wow…….look at all the pretty colors…….cool………..wow…………to find a new starting place………..wow………..…….cool……..peace……. and so on and so forth.
Hashers assemble at the Nasti
This is what we have to look forward to in our old age. Things are measured in hippy years…..just like we do in dog years.
Somehow we all assembled at the Asti and got our yearly dose of cigarette smoke inhalation.
That wrong way sign is ominous
Thankfully CFZ missed it cause she was late and got dropped off just as the opening circle was starting. Quite a crowd for a lousy 10 yr hash. Perhaps they were expecting bong stops instead of beer checks.
Actually it turned out to be a pretty lame, tame trail. Guess we finally deserved a break after months of arduous trails set along treacherous cliffs and steep elevations. Finally no more back breaking mountaineering. Finally a chance to leave the crampons and pick axe at home, leaving my hands free to share a toke or two along the boardwalk.
Finally a simple care free trail!
It would be a pretty view without all the wankers in the way
But hell no………..someone had to fuck it all up.
Someone had to go and add their own trail markings to utterly and udderly confuse the herd.
Some named Bakers D and Dung Fu.
A few other someones just had to run off and get a snack. Curtesy had a hankering for a kale salad. Must have been that good shit that gave him the munchies. Three others, dBased, Bakers and Rat Pussy, made a bee line for the Taco Bar.
It would have been nice if they shared……..they teach that lesson in Kindergarten.
Hippie should have set out little munchie snack baskets along the trail.
Cheers to trail being over!
Instead we had to cross the treacherous Lost Boys Bridge, stoned out of our gourds, in search of vampires and Beer Check.
But it was worth it……………oh the views, oh the squeals coming from the Giant Dipper and Bacon Queff, Oh the cold, frosty beers lovingly placed in the cooler…those beers that Just Foot Pussy loves to fondle along with Bacon’s naughty bits. Oh the aroma of something burning…………..and then it was over. Our brief respite,on the edge of a glorious sunset, among friends and bums, was fading quickly. We faced a long haul back to the parking garage for religion.
Dung Fu was the RA. His greatness atop the back of a pick up truck trying to corral the unruly stoners.
Down Downs were handed out amass along with the crappiest beer I have ever swigged. Avoid Kirkland Lite beer at all costs.
The new beer meisters think it is delicious. Thank you Just Foot Pussy and Bacon Queef.
They say “hashing is an experience…..it isn’t supposed to be that easy”.
Who knew?
A beautiful moment of Courtesy and his burrito captured
Steamy B got called up for laying his own trail. I think Bakers and others were also in on this new game.
Dung Fu barked for the excessive talkers, Dog Breath and Curtesy to “Shut their Dick Holsters”.
Dog Breath , Dung Fu and Bakers were all wearing the same 50 shades of grey t shirt and we sang “can’t say the safe word song to them” as it seemed appropriate….get it? 50 shades…the movie….S&M, power exchanges, whips and chains………….OH NEVER MIND!
We had virgins who wowed us with their incredible humor…..let me recap…….”what kind of a bagel can fly?
Hmmmm.I don’t know…a PLANE bagel!!! HA HA HA NOT.
Bakers got his 50 runs patch…..Our hippie hare celebrated 10 years of being in a stupor and wandering around Santa Cruz aimlessly. And the rest of us went to the taco bar at El Palomar for some proper grub.
That was the only good event that transpired this past week though. Dog Breath stumbled off a aeroplane Monday, updated Google maps after arriving back to his Prunetucky hovel and mapped out a trail while under the influence of an illicit substance. That’s my guess as to how we ended up being dragged through the mud of Pogonip last Thursday. As it turns out, the hills and mud were the LEAST of our concerns. As we stumbled in the darkness down through Wagner Grove, we found the place resembled the Santa Cruz Mountain in the last 1800’s; trees were down all over the damn place. It’s nothing short of a miracle that no one either broke a leg climbing under and/or over one or, worse yet, was crushed a they dislodged one climbing over it. Almost no one escaped without a dirty scar from this section of trail. Just another reason Dog Breath has 300 hashes with us but a paltry 3 harings. Let’s keep it at that number, what do ya say?
Next week we will supposedly be in Capitola inside Zelda’s. I don’t know why co-hares Occasional Rapist and TIMMY!! would do this to us but then again they’re only hashers, I should expect no better I guess.
Personal note to Pussy Wood, no one else need bother read it. I trust my Flash-Trash will assist you in preparing your next lame attempt at Scribing. I’d say feel free to abscond with whatever will help you but by now it’s obvious you’d steal a dog’s hind leg given the chance so I assume I need not give you permission.
Everyone also has my permission to torture yourself by viewing the Flash for Trail 902. Personally, I’d suggest waiting till Monday, I don’t want you complaining to me that viewing the pictures gave you nightmares.
As a general rule, I wish to purge my computer of pictures from the Hash as soon as possible. Certain people have the right to inspect the contents of my hard drive any time they wish to so I believe it best if no photographic evidence of my Thursday evening adventures exists longer than necessary. This week, however, two complicating factors worked against me. The first being the fact I was in Palm Springs last weekend for the (hopefully) annual Hash Springs event. As everyone knows, the OC gang threw the towel in after Betty Ford Rehab Hash number 30 believing their incredible luck would soon run out and it was inevitable some poor bastard would die on trail and they’d be incarcerated for the remainder of their unnatural lives.
The second reason I retained these pictures longer than usual is it gave me extra time to concoct insults for our hare-pair. These two clowns should have stuck with dating and left haring to those more capable. Which, with the obvious exception of CumFart Zone, is anyone in the club. Any trail that causes physical injury to dBASED is automatically a bad trail. dBASED has been hashing longer than many of our members have even been alive so any trail that does him in is obviously of poor design and even worse execution. The word ‘execution’ does, however, figure prominently in my hopes for the future of these two miserable humans.
On a completely unrelated note, I wish to applaud Pussy Wood for her spate of Trashes. I can think of no more efficient method of getting people to volunteer to Scribe that by posting such a lame litany of loose literature as she just has. I slapped my computer a number of times thinking it must have contracted some virus, a terrorist plot devised to drive me crazy as such inane babble I have never seen the equal of before. I ran spell checker and in no time whatsoever smoke began leaking from every vent in my computer. It’s final response was that it was only programmed to correct English and what it was viewing was obviously not such.
Rumor Central contends Hash 903 will originate from Zelda’s in Capitola. Two things to bear in mind if such is true: Where are you gonna park and remember not to drink much as the coppers only have two streets to patrol.
I bid a fond farewell to Pussy Wood’s scribing and to Trail 901 as well. If you wish to revisit 901, the link below will assist you in such a foolhardy endeavor. If you wish to read Pussy Wood’s Trashes again, I strongly advise you seek psychiatric treatment as your earliest opportunity.
On on,
Pussy Wood merely publishing Puff’s cruel words to her
