Greetings,

We find ourselves in beautiful downtown Felton, California, for this edition of the useless drivel saddled with the unenviable moniker of Hash Trash. We’re inside a building with a sign precariously perched on the roof that reads Cowboy Bar & Grill. Now to the best of my knowledge there never were any real cowboys in these-here parts but some mental midget deemed it necessary to open a place for these nonexistent cow pokes to eat. There is, I feel safe in saying, far more Wild West in our hare-pair, Hugh Heifer and Hairy Fuck 2.5 than has ever existed in this redwood forest.

Hugh has just admitted she doesn’t know the location of Beer Check. While this admission does not surprise me, it also does little to raise my opinion of these two as hares. It smacks of little planning and warns of execution of trail that promises to be even worse. It did not bother me at all to see the hare-pair hop on-out. Out of sight, out of mind is my motto when it comes to these two jokers. Continue reading Hash 586: Ring Around the Redwoods →

I could refer you to many past Flashes & Trashes substantiating my above supposition but I’d rather continue heaping abuse on dBASED instead. So I shall….

Hash 585 began, yet again, from dBASED’s dreary hovel noisily-located between busy Highway 1 and pot-hole pocked Soquel Drive. There’s no parking, just ask Doctor Kraut. Parking across the street involves hoping no business owner has your ride towed away and, worse yet, trying to make it across busy Park Avenue. This poorly-paved street is used by speeding drivers pissed-off at traffic on Highway 1 as a shortcut to Soquel Drive. On the flip side of the coin, drivers pissed-off by the poor condition of the asphalt on Soquel Drive use it as a shortcut to get to Highway 1. NO one is happy as they pass dBASED’s abode…and that includes Surf City.

Continue reading dBASED: Half a century of being a half-mind →

Ghoulish Greetings,

I consider the above salutation appropriate considering the scare that was stuck into the pack on Trail 584. Read the following if you dare. I will now recount the tragic events that comprised Trail 584. What follows is a factual accounting even if it’s not precisely the events that really occurred.

We assembled our traveling kennel inside the recently-opened Britannia Arms on the Esplanade in Capitola, colloquially referred to as COP-itola by the hash due to their strict enforcement of the seemingly-innumerable Draconian laws instituted by the City Council. For some reason, this fact did not frighten hare-pair Cuff My Muff (and someone should cuff her) and Hairy Fuck 2.5. Their delivery of incomplete Instructions of Trail did little to instill confidence in the small pack that showed up to hash their trail. They outed taking the keys to Banana Basher’s truck with them as this was an A-to-B trail. At least that’s what they told us. I hope it doesn’t really mean the trail is going to be that long.

Continue reading Taking terror to new heights →

Multiple choice.

That’s what Trail 583 was. You could choose between short and pointless trail or long and pointless. Neither proved an especially attractive option. Be that as it may, here’s this week’s edition of Tales from Trail.

We assembled our traveling kennel within the concrete confines of Brady’s Yacht Club in the Lower Seabright area although technically speaking, NOTHING can be much ‘lower’ that Brady’s itself. Accuprick returned to the pack after traveling the country for many months. He said a break from Surf City is just what the doctor ordered. Too Drunk To Fuck and Get Up & Run,Bitch made the jaunt down form Boulder Creek. I doubt they were able to drive home immediately after the hash but I feel certain they found things to entertain themselves after the pack was dismissed. A new addition to the kennel is Ghetto Man. He recently relocated from San Diego to Monterey. Let’s see if he’s able to adapt to hashing Surf City style.

Continue reading Two hares,two trails…neither very good →