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 225^th 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.

Greetings! Princess Diarrhea here proclaiming tales from the trail throughout the land! Somewhat unbefitting a princess, the hashers met up in the alley this week—Moe’s Alley to be exact. The hash hasn’t been to Moe’s for quite awhile, and we still can’t figure out why they seemed happy to have us back. Apparently we left a good impression so we must be doing something horribly wrong.  Thmp-Thmp and Hairy Potter were our wily hares. It was a sign of things to come when Hairy told us his wise wife Choka Cola stayed home because she’d caught a peek of the trail map and declared, “fuck THAT!”

It all started with a true trail arrow and mercifully there were more of those to come. The pack went on left out of Moe’s, quickly sniffed out trail and headed down Soquel Drive toward just past 7^TH Avenue. Back check! The pack soon rallied and thrusted through Harbor High’s rear entrance. Up ahead on La Fonda, a YBF to the right and a false trail to the left soon got the pack regrouped and headed the right way down Prospect Heights. Most of the loyal hounds stuck to the trail and braved the steep downhill shiggy that Cuff My Muff rode on her bum all the way down to the bum wine check. Sly dogs like Broke Bench Mountain took the nicely paved one-way Brookwood instead (which is also one of the town’s best-kept secrets for ditching freeway traffic).

The poison selection at the booze check was Mad Dog 20/20 Banana Red or Orange Jubilee. Sounds delicious, no? AccuPrick did not partake because he’s too good for bum wine.  He’s also too good for fine wine. Yes, he is THAT good. Cuff turned down the Orange Jubilee because of the hurl factor that comes from beverages that closely resemble Triaminic cough syrup. All it takes is a little Mad Dog to separate the purebreds from the mutts. The trail wound along to more fruitiness as Hugh Heifer started picking sour cherries that she discovered growing in the wild. All we needed was a platter of Velveeta and it would’ve been like hors d’oeuvre hour on skid row.

Soon we were traipsing through Oakwood Cemetery, which is all too conveniently located across the street from a hospital and a nice old folks home. dBased was shut down by a YBF after emerging from the graveyard and broke strict tradition of “a hasher never turns around”—a heinous crime surely punishable by a warm beer shower. Trail then headed through Dominican Oaks where tiny dogs yipped and seniors gawked as the hashers pounded onward and upward through the hillside shiggy. Once across a field, the only thing separating thirsty hashers from cold beer was a burly cyclone fence. Luckily there was indeed a gate that opened to glory. Beer check was in Virgin Lori’s front yard where we were joined by her family and two snuffling pugs. The beer was going down great until a certain member of the kennel befouled the yard, causing everyone to gag on their cold ones and clear out.

The great tragedy of religion behind Bobby’s Pit Stop was that somehow the bum wine had been left behind at the check so nobody could be punished to finish it. Pixelated Obscenity was penalized for backsliding. Dog Breath was awarded for his 169^th analversary! Pixie’s friend Beautiful Rainbow couldn’t fathom why Dog Breath wasn’t drinking from a readily available cup and was instead guzzling from a dog bowl. Hey, at least he wasn’t drinking from a toilet bowl (this time). RA AccuPrick and the hash agreed that “Beautiful Rainbow” was an entirely unacceptable name and she was re-christened Two Dingos Fucking. Nipple Butt wagged his nub with approval. Waxi Pad, Two Dingos Fucking and Pixie then down downed for shortcutting by bee lining it back to Moe’s and getting drunker than the rest of us. Virgin Lori was welcomed to the pack. Instead of showing her lady bits as totally expected (oh yes, I know her well), she told a joke but her so-called friend Slow Nad spoiled the punch line. She still refused give up a peek of the goodies. Dog Breath took a picture of Beer Fairy Cuff marking her territory so they were both disciplined with a tag-team dog bowl down down.

Next week’s meet up is at Callahan’s. Twat Did You Say?’s hare cherry will be popped. She’s hella nervous about it, so please be gentle with her. Deep Stroke will be co-haring to help ensure her first time will be special.  Aww…

On out!

Princess Diarrhea here, reprezentin’ while the regular ladies who trash are MIA. Occasional Rapist and dBASED are wandering the busy asphalt trails of Noo Yawk. Shallow Hole and Waxi Pad are getting all “abbondanza!” in the Italian countryside. You know… slugging fine wine and mangia-ing fine Italian cuisine… which may only vaguely resemble what they’re slinging at Bocci’s Cellar. It’s under new ownership, so it’s anybody’s guess.

About a dozen of us half-burnt half-minds were soon lamenting the loss of the old bocci ball courts. Fret not–word on the street is that the paved-over gravel courts will be reborn as astroturf courts. None of us would have been playing bocci anyways because the soberness and general malaise of the group was undeniable. The barmaid was even turned away on at least two occasions due to no takers(!). Timmy! is cutting down his booze calories, Puff and Deep Stroke shared one Shock Top and backwash, and Hugh Heifer was swearing off the firewater after finally getting over that birthday week hangover. AccuPrick did his best to drive us to drink by telling perhaps the only Star Trek joke to ever incite a fatwa. He then spread some news that’s worthy of raising a glass to: $6 movies at Regal Cinema 9 on Tuesdays, y’all!!!

OK short and sweet–the trail loop in a nutshell: on left, around the tannery, up Golf Club Drive, on right at the railroad tracks, through the toilets of Heroin Hill, up the to Pogonip clubhouse, across meadows, and down through the woods to the bus yard beer check. Sounds like a quick trail. But oh it wasn’t. Not sure if it was the runners high, but at least we enjoyed the nature, sunset, Jesus rays on the meadows, birds chirping, flowers, and all that crap. Maybe the real joy was from us imagining hare Timmy! was being eaten by coyotes ahead because Timmy! is on a diet and was making us all suffer for it. Yeah, it was pretty. But the trail also had mosquito’s and the worst shiggy ever: critter and human poop stations throughout. We were calling the place Poopoonip because Timmy! must’ve been dropping scat along with the flour. I’d always been told the origins of the name Pogonip came from: polo, golf and nip (o’ booze). However, I’ve also read it’s from the Ohlone word meaning “icy fog”. It’s your call. Puff found a Lost Boy on the porch of the clubhouse who didn’t even realize he was on the real set of the movie. Aside from the clubhouse porch, surprisingly no hardcore junkies or vampires were on trail–only their excrement.

As FRB Deep Stroke, Thmp, Hugh, and I arrived at the bus yard beer check to claim that cold wet beer we’d long suffered for, we found at least half the pack had shortcut. See? Malaise.

Hugh was super excited to have found her first geocache ever on trail. dBASED will no doubt be jealous when he reads this! Thmp-Thmp helped himself to a party popper out of the geocache box. At beer check he banged Deep Stroke’s ear with it and My Little Bony was happy to catch the ribbon spew. The popper didn’t even scare off a nearby bobcat that was squatting to leave a crap (c’mon, everybody’s doing it!).

We all watched a couple of movies on Twat Did You Say?’s phone:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e9mG6R0UE-Y

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnDIrf4-fGU

Watching movies at beer check? What a pack of lazy bastards! Ralph Crammed-In was even considering helping himself to the bus yard so he could drive us the three whole blocks to religion.

Some life was pumped into religion by a Ventures-style surf guitar band jamming at the rehearsal space next door. A dirty joke from Accu also got things rolling. Let’s hope that his good, funny c*nt joke will be redeeming enough to call off that fatwa. Did Hairy Potter and Accu then lead us in the Yogi Bear Song? Does a bear shit on trail? Thmp and I tag-teamed a tired Mike Tyson joke that bombed so bad we drank half our beer in shame before the down down. Deep Stroke the beer fairy was pouring ‘em deep, cheap, warm, and heady. Half the pack drank for shortcutting, so the punishment fit the crime.

My 25^th hash was regally commemorated until my heartfelt acceptance speech was crushed by Hairy Potter rightfully telling me to can it. Another touching moment was hearing that the exact spot where Choka Cola had spewed on a prior hash was passed in reverence this very night.

On on on was back at Bocci’s where Johnny Campbell & The Bluegrass Drifters (coincidentally featuring a former hasher on standup bass) were up to some banjoin’ and some fiddlin’. We might’ve stayed longer for some boot-scootin’, but when the conversation turns to catching your parents having sex, it’s just time to go.

After the previous week mini-marathon set by Timmy and Puff the pack was look for some relief in our hare du-jour Banana Basher and they got it in one of Surf City’s most boring trails ever. It was so boring, Banana never even set a false. There was 5 feet of shiggy, but otherwise it was a 1.87 mile pavement pounder with an amazing 26 feet of elevation gain.  The only Surf City Hashes more boring have been Piss ‘N Booths march to the sea (which I missed) and my trail which had only 4 right turns. At least it had some falses.

I arrived a bit late to the hash and I followed the first order business when you are late – look for  flour as you driving. I didn’t find flour, but I did find the hare. However, he was only a block from the start, so not much advantage gained.

Before I arrived, Timmy is rumored to have chipped the unchipped martini glass in the Crepe Place.

There was some confusion at who was the scribe as I arrived. In that Shallow Hole had been the scribe the previous week, it had been determined it was Occasional Rapist turn. However, The Rapist was commandeered to a work assignment (a meeting) and had to miss this Hash in theory. I say in theory, as she paid anyway and is included in the Hash Count. I had agreed to take her place this week, but as I arrived, Puff indicated Shallow Hole was to be the scribe. Puff recalled my recent failure at scribing (did anyone other than Occasional Rapist and Puff notice?) and thought Shallow Hole was a better idea. He also noted Shallow Hole’s success at being Hash Cash the week before and offered that to her as well. Shallow Hole declined both offers and I had a job to do.  (Note that Puff will be the scribe for the Red Dress Run.)

Round the first corner, I came upon Shallow Hole and Deep Stroke who seemed to have forgotten that Winter is no longer with us. They claimed they were so warmly attired because they are tender sweet young things.

We turned about 6 more turns and there was Banana huffing and puffing at the beer check, even though he had been done for 10 minutes.

As Deep Stroke arrived at the beer check, she asked for the second week in a row if she had won the race?

As Dog Breath arrived, he claimed to be worried about Poison Oak from the 5 feet of shiggy and said he needed someone to pee on it to sanitize it. He wander if Deep Stroke could help out.

Broke Bench Mountain arrived at the beer check and proceed to initiate some stretching. WTF? He is also the only Hasher to notice the new hash count format.

After the long and grueling route to Puff’s house for religion, Accuprick assumed the role of RA and Butt Balls as his assistant.  Butt Balls was to be Beer Fairy, but Princess Diarrhea was dying to do it, so her desires were rewarded. Accupricks’ first act of business was to hand out free lube for the women.

Hugh Heffer sat in the stoner section as usual.

dBASED was given a down down for looking like a Hare Krishna.

It was revealed that there was portal into Puff’s bedroom where you could see his porn and Cuff My Muff said she had some of it. I was going to ask why I’ve never heard of this portal before, but now I’m scared I know. Deep Stroke thought the portal surely revealed Candy and Dildo’s.

Pearl Necklace was brought to the alter for peeing someone’s front yard where he could clearly be seen out the front door.

Wicked Retahted was brought to the alter for stealing beer from the alter before religion. Wicked – the good stuff is in the cooler!

I’ve seen a disgusting trend among Hashers in the region for which I think Chocka Cola and Hairy Potter started. Next was Douche of Hazzard, Arabian Goggler and most recently Morning Missle. The crime is to hideous to even name, but Chocka Cola and Hairy Potter were punished for completing the deed in the past month. Next we need to punish Hairy for not getting Chocka pregnant!

Princess Diarrhea had an underwear story to tell. Apparently Thmp-Thmp wants to design some sort of Hash TShirt that has a Y Front. I think Banana Basher would look especially flashy in such an outfit!

Banana asked if a man falls in the bedroom, can you hear it? I’m thinking he must have a lot of practice.

Pussy Galore was granted a down-down for sex in the circle with Broken Bench Mountain.

Finally, comments on trail were received. The newbies liked it. Shallow Hole said it was to short. She was reminded it was trail she was commenting on trail and not what she was to observe in the bedroom later that evening. Naturally, there was universal condemnation from the rest of the pack.

Accuprick then asked the pack go home (or go to the 007) and get a piece. And I did. And there was much rejoicing.

A communication for Occasional Rapist at 5:15 indicated she thought the chill of the evening air was too much for continuing illness and that I was on as scribe again. She didn’t even bother to tell me what was Shallow Hole’s problem, but as best as I can figure, it was related to skunks.

No one had volunteered to be the hare, so Timmy brought us to his favorite watering hole, The Santa Cruz Mountain Brewery. Banana Basher decided he would not melt this week and decided to show his snout. Vince Lanblowme indicated that he was paying for Six of Nine, but when Six showed up later on, he changed his mind! I saw Banana Basher as we departed our watering hole, but after that he disappeared into the night. The last time we were here was Occasional Rapist second hash ever. She disappeared into the night that night too. Amazingly, that night we more worried about The Rapist than The Basher this night.

Tonight’s trail started with a check in front of our start, but numerous people seem to have seen Timmy head towards New Leaf, so we all went that way. Another check was found at Almar, just past New Leaf. I checked on straight and had gone further than I thought I need to go with no marks, yet Puff seemed to be following me. I was simply following what I learned on my first hash in 1998, “A real Hasher never goes back”. Just, then I discovered flour, and then another check at the intersection of the railroad tracks,  Rankin St and Seaside St. Again, I proceeded straight. This time after a block of no flour, I looked back at the pack, to see whether I should proceed left or right. Going back this early in the game would be an act of surrender and I decided to parallel the pack. The pack proceed right, and so did I on Younglove Ave. That was my last sighting of the pack until a few block from the beer check.

When I got to the center circle, I went right to head back towards the pack and found a check coming out of some alley. This is when trouble began I do believe. I think the last time I was this turned around was doing a hash in London in the fall of 2002. At that hash, I nearly had to run the trail 5 miles backwards when it disappeared on me. Oh the days before I had a GPS!

I checked right at the circles and soon came upon a back check. What? A back check? I wasn’t even on trail! I continued on and found true trail not long afterward on California. However, my mind said I was on Woodrow and headed towards the beach. I encountered some check on Woodrow and continued on straight, expecting to soon reach West Cliff. Boy was I surprised when I hit Bay Ave!

Now, I figured trail had to be to my right somewhere, so I turned right at the first street I encountered, which according to my trail map was Continental and found flour not long afterward. When I passed over a wide street, my mind said I was crossing over Woodrow, which I thought I was on previously. However, I had crossed over Delaware, for which I thought I was on a parallel course.

Next, I encountered a check at Columbus and Plateau, for which I continued on straight once again. After no trail was encountered, I turned right to parallel once again. Then, I came across Woodrow again, so it seemed! Boy was I confused.

I turned right on Woodrow and found trail at Woodrow and Plateau. Now was my conundrum, was true trail left or right? I turned right, and encountered Puff and Thmp-Tmp at the check I previous been at, at Plateau and Columbus. They assured me I was going the wrong way, so I turned around and crossed Woodrow one more time. Off of Plateau, trail went through the park and my mind said I was heading towards West Cliff. However, I was heading away from West Cliff.

A left on Delaware brought me to a check at Delaware and Alma. I looked right and expected to West Cliff. However, West Cliff was the other way. As at most other checks, I continued on straight. However, this time, because I was so confused, I returned to the check when it was evident trail did not continue in this direction. I checked on Alma away from West Cliff, and soon found Timmy guarding the beer in a park, with Too Drunk to Fuck and Get up and Run Bitch in toe.

I looked at this park and said to myself, “Where am I?” It looks familiar. It took a few minutes for my mind to register Garfied Park.

After all (excluding Banana Basher), had shown up, we plodded back to the start. Someone with often wears a cowbay hat showed up at the beer check who had not been at the start, but seeing as he didn’t pay, he shall remain nameless. I made sure I plodded back to start with the pack, as my mind still didn’t quite know where I was.

Our master of ceremonies for the evening was Accuprick. Before down-downs, he and I sang a couple of versus of I used to Work in Chicago ..  I don’t work there any more, and my girl friends a …

Now on to tonite’s main festivities and what I can remember of them. There was Tiny Winy Bitch for showing his snout only at the end. There was Vince Lamblowme for 250 Hashes. There was Get up and Run Bitch for wearing a lobster bib. And, there was Hairy Potter and Chocka Cola for their impending nuptuals in April. They are not having a Hash wedding and none of us are invited. Shame on them! It’s being held at some ritzy National Park called Yosemite. I heard it said before the Hash that Hairy Potter indicated that Chocka Cola wants a baby and that’s why they are getting married. However, I saw Ms. Cola not drink her down-down and drinking water later. How soon is the baby Chocka? Timmy was congratulated for completing his 25th haring, even though tonight was his 28th.

After this, Accuprick indicated we should all go home and get a piece. And I did. And there was much rejoicing.

In 1989 I printed around 52 Hash Trashes and was the scribe for a lot of runs. Since then, I think I’ve only written one. However a rant I wrote a couple years ago become the hash trash, so I guess I’ve really written 2. Back in 1989, the modus operandi was the hares recruited the scribe, who then presented their work to me in sort of fashion which I then had to transform to paper. In a years worth of work, I only had 1 scribe who ever missed their deadline. That one scribe was a routine contributor who’s life just happened to get in the way one week. Her hash name was Doggie Style. So, even though I was on a different side of the country for that particular hash, I wrote the hash trash. As I recall, every third sentence was “Fuck you Doggie Style!”. We had a semi-complicated system back then where if you didn’t show up to the hash the hash trash got sent to you via US Mail. The person responsible for sending out the US Mail tore off the cover page because she wouldn’t mail pornography. Oh the days!

This scribing effort started in Nicaragua where I spent 10 days with the wonderful Occasional Rapist, but only got to sleep in the same bed with her twice. I’m sure this must have effected my brain when I agreed to this task. She stated that her co-hash scribe was probably too over-worked and needed a night off from scribing. However, on this night I think Shallow Hole thought she was the Wicked Witch of the West and was afraid a little water might make her melt. Then, I return home and find that Puff has penned the last hash trash. This means Shallow Hole had managed to do some writing only once in the previous 3 week. Oh the agony!

I wanted to write that the morning of hash 614 started as a dark stormy. However, it didn’t. There was a beautiful sunrise. However, I knew the day would change, and it did. As the day progressed it got dark and darker and later in day I didn’t see rain, but I saw that the ground was wet. I imagined only the true Hashers, plus Puff, would show up on this dark and stormy night. I had thought Banana Basher was a true Hasher. However, on this night, even a few rain drops seems to have scared him away. Let’s see, if the weather holds up, perhaps I can pass him in the Hash count in nearly 3 years.

As I arrived to Hash I saw Occasional Rapist, Cuff my Muff and Zip’er Lips in the parking lot in some sort of bitch brawl. I heard Occasional Rapist exclaim “Oh the Drama!”. I never did hear what this was all about. Then Occasional Rapist and Cuff my Muff set out on trail, while Zip’er lips went to the bar to have a smoke and talk to Six of Nine. Speaking of Six of Nine, he actually paid for the Hash again. I guess my rants against him not paying have finally paid off. On this night it seems Hugh Heffer was his keeper, as she later in the evening explained how she had no money because she was taking care of Six. How well did she take care of him? Hugh said he was due to fix a fan and replace her windshield wipers. Did he provide Miss Hugh other favors in return for her patronage as well?

As I entered JJ’s I got to meet our newest Hasher – Just Kim. Now attending her third Hash in a row. She even wants to do the Can’d Monterey Hash Red Dress in February. She has potential.

Earlier in the week Occasional Rapist had asked me if Hashing in Blue Balls park at night would work. Were there locked fences we could not penetrate? I promised not to let on about her inquiry, but I was pretty sure that was our destination.

As we headed towards circle-up and I informed Puff his services as hash scribe would not be need this evening, he asked if I could be the Hash Flash as well. It seems the batteries on his camera had died. However, I did see Puff carry his camera on trail. Is it his security blanket? Or, did he think he might need to use it as a weapon if he encountered some undesirables in the wilds of Soquel?

After circle-up we headed East on Soquel to a check at Main St. I decided to play the game and checked to the right, even though I strongly suspected we were going the other way. After 2 marks and nothing (Hares: Please lay a false!), I found the trail the other way. Going this direction, there is only 1 logical way to Blue Balls park. That’s the locals only foot bridge across the mighty Soquel Creek up ahead to the left. There was a check just before it and I figured correctly it had to cross bridge. Once across the bridge, I waited to take a picture of the next Hasher to cross the bridge, then said goodbye to the pack.

At this point the draw to Blue Balls park was strong. Trail apparently went left, then right on Old Jose Rd. However, I turned right and found trail in front of Soquel High. At the check there I went to Blue Balls park and found markings.

Speaking of tonight’s markings, there appeared to be some sort of reddish pigment in tonight’s markings. In the past, Occasional Rapist has used brown flour. I guess she has changed her ways.

Trail proceeded through the parking lot of Blue Balls park and through the scary locked gates I had informed Occasional Rapist about previously in the week. For me, trail disappeared at the end of the parking lot. I searched up a bit and found nothing. Apparently, there was a YBF there. I then decided to loop left. With the idea if the trail did indeed go up, it would need to come down and I could intercept it. If it didn’t go that way, I would head to Soquel  High and find it there. On my first step into the High School I found trail, running along the edge of it. The pack was now far off into the distance.

There are only two ways out of Soquel High. One would require the hares back tracking on their trail. The other was the exit near Soquel Dr. and Daubenbis Ave. So, I headed to this exit, loosing trail for a short while. I found a BN mark and Occasional Rapist vehicle by the Lighthouse church as I expected, but no hares! How is it the trail was here, but the hares were not here yet. I wonder … Cuff My Muff has been caught pre-laying before. Did she do it again? Occasional Rapist would later neither confirm or deny my accusation.

I could see the beer inside her vehicle. A check of all entrances found a side window apparently accidentally unlocked. The beer cooler was filled mostly with chick drinks (of which My Lil Bony found most attractive) and cheap beer, but I was able to secure a real beer in a Longboard. The pack arrived about 10 minutes later.

Apparently, there had been a rum check at some edge of the school which I just missed. I hares accused me of running by the wrong way,  I assume my trail map will prove vindication.

As we took the long journey from beer check to religion, Miss Hugh Heffer was determined to turn right on Soquel Dr. It took strong persuasion to convince her she had somehow confused my old house with Religion.

Now, on to religion and we noticed something has changed since we had religion here last. There used to be a building which somewhat helped hide our festivities and now there is green grass.

The most notable down-down was Puff for 600 Hashes. He even got a patch. He can put it on his girl scout sash with all his other merit badges. I was congratulated for 475, but just like 469, I received no patch. However, no one even noticed 469. I guess that’s because it was AGM night. I also got a down-down for potentially running the wrong way through the rum check and missing it. Although she already has a name, Deep Stroke was rewarded for 5 hashes with the Surf City Hash. A few others were rewarded for something special as well, but all can remember were the hares.

Since no has signed up for next week’s Hash, Timmy said he would be be the hare next week. He said to expect a West Santa Cruz meet-up. Probably Santa Cruz Mountain Brewery.

After that our RA for the evening of Vince Lamblowme encouraged the small entourage to go home and get a piece. And I did. And there was much rejoicing.