I almost sat down to write this week’s trash talk without a beer by my side. Almost. But that would just be wrong. This week’s trash is now under the influence of Lagunitas Little Sumpin’ Sumpin’ Ale and all is right again.

The pack’s takeover last Thursday happened at Malone’s Bar and Grille in sleepy little Scotts Valley where the town shuts down at 9:00. Puff the Magic Drag Queen was the creepy uncle who brought candy to the bar. He’d tottered over to Marini’s after a wasted Saturday afternoon at 99 Bottles and bought the place out of leftover Halloween candy. He must’ve developed quite a toothache eating it over the week because he was desperate to unload the sweets on the hash. Hey, no complaints here! dBASED was haring tonight so we could all use some extra sugar to keep us charging. Thmp-Thmp led the circle up for his first time ever and sent us on our way. Well, except for Pussy Galore who went in the opposite direction to sushi. Smart girl.

After the first check, the pack kept searching the wrong way down SV Drive. Some of us stuck close to Occasional Rapist because she was supposed to co-hare tonight but had pussed out. We all knew that she knew the right way to go. Which is a very good thing to know when the night is very dark and dBASED is laying a shitty trail over hill and dale. It was so dark that Brave Brave Sir Robin (visiting from Alabama) was carrying a massive Maglite. Hugh Heifer reckoned it took 5 D batteries, which is probably slightly fewer than some of her bedroom toys use. Just Daniel was using one of those hand pump lights that you squeeze to generate the power. He might have practiced his hand pumping in the bedroom beforehand. Speaking of pumping, it came out on trail that Just Eddie (who somehow survived Edtoberfest) and Just Daniel met working at Hot Dog on a Stick. I bet during a typical day one of them was working that lemonade pump while the other was working the weenies and sticks. I wonder if they still put that on their résumés?

Trail was a big loop full of hills that went from Malone’s, up and down through neighborhoods to Glen Canyon Rd., across ludicrously crazy traffic of Mt. Hermon  Rd. up to Manana Woods, down through Whispering Pines, across the golf course, through Skypark, along Bean Creek Rd., and straight through the campus of Scotts Valley Middle School. About 10 steps after we saw the custodian dumping the trash and parents picking up their kids from play rehearsal, we saw the beer near mark and found beer check down a nearby easement.

The most memorable thing about beer check was the stank. Either Porter or Nipple-less Butt had done his business in a mysterious dark corner and left us to suffer. We gagged down our beers while we waited too long for DFLs Hugh and Sir Robin. The joke was on us because they had bailed out of trail long, long ago to meet Pussy Galore at sushi. Smart asses.

We wandered up Scotts Valley Drive to religion behind Pro Scuba. dBASED RA’d and Brave Brave Sir Robin was beer fairy. Cumcerto was glorified for being FRB. She was also shamed for alcohol abuse for pouring out her down down beer. And then she accidentally poured her chosen beer on Thmp’s shoes. Brokebench didn’t do trail because of work. Werk’s 4 jerks! Diddler on the Roofie and Shiny Snail Trail were backsliders. Diddler also blamed work because he can’t manage to get his ass to work at 6am after a hash. Amateur! Sir Robin and Hugh were busted for not making it to the stankified beer check. There was blood on trail times two. Dung-Fu Grip had an encounter with a pile of metal and Timmy!!! was bleeding from the back of his leg, likely from the briar patch around the golf course. It was dBASED’s analversary of 75 harings—better known as 75 unleashings of brutal punishment. Please note that he is expecting something special for his 100th. I recommend a flogging. Occasional Rapist made the grand achievement 125 hashes. Get a life! On on on was at the only place possibly still open in Scotts Valley—Next Door Bar.

This Thursday at 6 o’cock is AGM, our Annual General Meeting…or All-out Gonzo Melee! Bring $20 to El Palomar downtown for lotsa food and all the beer you can drink. Erections will be held for Mismanagement. Lame duck GM Timmy!!! will be haring a “trail” which may or may not consist of a tiny rectangle 4 blocks long.

On-on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

We all knew it was gonna be one of the first cold nights of autumn. Some of us B to A shuttlers parked up on the hill at Shallow Hole and Waxi Pad’s house (point B), all prepared to do a warm-up trek downhill to the Next Door Bar (point A). Instead, Thmp-Thmp and I crammed into Beer Mop’s seat in the Waxi Taxi and freeloaded a ride down to the bar. On the way, co-hares Shallow Hole and Cum Pumper made us promises of hot soup, bread, cupcakes, and brownies if we survived their cold shitty trail. It was pretty clear we would be paying dearly for those goodies by the end of the road tonight. When two racist marathoners are your hares, no doubt we were going to need some re-fueling afterwards.

The bar was showing both the Sharks game and the World Series. Boston was playing in both, so Accuprick was one happy bastard. Slownad, Thmp-Thmp and Twisted Fister were catching the jock spirit because they busted out a 3-way fisting to greet each other. Just Eddie must have caught some too because he was bragging about how ripped his abs got from working the lemonade pump at Hot Dog on a Stick. Speaking of weenies, I asked Accu what he was going to dress as for Halloweenie next week. He said he’ll be “dressing like a jerk.” Of course this means he’ll be dressing as himself. Timmy!!! was outside giving Virgin Daniel the chalk talk. There is no one better to give the chalk talk than a retired special ed teacher, right?

The pack finally coagulated and hit the road. Trail went on-right over the freeway overpass and across Granite Creek Rd. We wound through my old Sunday school parking lot (ha!), crossed Borland’s meadow and ended up in the ruins of Santa’s Village. There we found a booze check of Barefoot Bubbly to keep the sparkle in our steps and cinnamon schnapps to warm our bits. It was hella dark and Ralph R.U. Crammed-In , Just Eddie, and Virgin Daniel were all flashlight-less and glommed onto anybody with a torch. They ditched us as soon as we got back to streetlights in the neighborhood, where every road went uphill. Timmy!!! and Puff were still suffering from night blindness even with streetlights and flashlights. They were convinced that every big house we passed must be a church. I know Scotts Valley is full of bored cops, but that’s not because there are, like, 10 churches on every street. There was one enormous endless hill that I managed to charge up because I knew cupcakes were just on the other side.

Finally we made it to our point B. Beer check! As we tricked in, everybody was watching for Accuprick. Nobody had seen him for a while and wondered if he’d stayed at the bar to cheer for beantown. Turns out Dung-Fu Grip was a latecummer on his bike. He’d caught up with Accu and escorted him in. What a frigging gentleman.

The beer and junk food began to flow hard. Accuprick RA’d and Reverse Cowgirlz was beer fairy. Hugh Heifer, dBASED, Just Christina, and Dung-Fu were hailed for acts of chivalry on trail. As if! Nobody cared enough to ask backsliders Just Eddie, Ralphie, Accu, and Waxi for excuses why they’d been slacking. Twisted Fister was outed for assuming a racist is someone who’s prejudiced. Duh! Dog Breath accused Cum Pumper of bragging about her upcoming marathon and the racists all drank. Accu and Dung-Fu were our poor little DFLs. Just Eddie and Shiny Snail Trail made Virgin Daniel cum. Shiny couldn’t make it to the hash and is likely in jail or otherwise had to leave the country. Virgin Daniel told a very lame joke about munching bushes or grass or something, so he showed one butt cheek in a feeble attempt to recover his dignity. Timmy!!! is a jerk for stealing the money we raised for hungry homeless orphans and blowing it all on chianti in Italy. Waxi did not make it to beer check…even though it was simply at the end of his driveway. Thmp-Thmp called out Dog Breath for his new shoes. Twisted Fister was really eager to give his shoes the sniff test. Pervert! It only took Slownad 3 years, but he finally hit his 25th analversary. I don’t think he likes us very much. Timmy!!! had a birthday. So did Just Eddie. He calls this month Edtoberfest and celebrates all month long. And the hares…hooray for Cum Pumper’s virgin lay! On-on-on was in the toasty dining room where hot veggie soup was ladled out defrost to the pathetic pack before they got kicked back out into the cold. Thanks for the hashpitality, Shallow, Waxi and Cum Pumper!

This week is Halloweenie! So you better cum wearing a costume. The start is at Red, upstairs. Trail will be on the short side so there will be time for us to cruise the downtown freakfest!

On-on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

Occasional Rapist is supposed to be your scribe here, but she asked me Friday morning if I wouldn’t mind doing it. Seeing as how she didn’t do trail and and didn’t make it to religion, my faint remembrances will be more lucid than her non-attendance.

Occasional Rapist and I started the evening by attempting to be good citizens. We tried to take the bus. Tried. Route 71 is supposed to come every 30 minutes in the evening. The first bus obviously never showed. For the second bus, we had a routine rider waiting with us. When it was 5 minutes late and he had a friend stop to give him a ride, we hitched one as well. It seems the hares had left about 5 minutes before our arrival. Timmy was outside Reds (aka Banana Basher‘s former sports grill) giving a chalk talk.

Wet Ferral Pussy had a giant costume which I thought was a mushroom, but later learned it was a Jelly Fish (makes me think of a line from Rock Lobster). WaxiPad and Shallow Hole appeared as their alter ego’s – Glam Rockers. There were a few pirates, and of course there were too many Puff impersonators to be counted. We also had numerous visitors from near and far who seemed to have heard that Santa Cruz was a cool place to be on Halloween. They were right.

I had heard this was going to be a short trail. Perhaps by recent Surf City standards it could have been deemed a “shorter” trail, but I would never call it short. I measured it as 2.76 from start to beer check. In fact, by Surf City standards in the early years, this would have approached the long trail standard.

Trail started through an alley way of sorts by Reds, then over to a real alley nearby, then up Green Street. This was the first hash I’ve been healthy at in 2 months and I suddenly became an FRB. Then it was up through Mission Plaza and over the freeway. As we passed over the freeway, I knew religion was close by, so I figured we were soon to approach beer check. Boy was I wrong. After crossing the bridge, it was true trail to the right paralleling Highway 1. I figured beer check was at the cemetery.  As we approached the cemetery, I saw lights and music in the distant. I figured that’s it! Boy was I wrong.

In the cemetery I noticed a small problem. My flashlight didn’t work. Fortunately, other FRB’s had caught up by then, so I used their light to traverse the cemetery. There was a check just past the cemetery, but there was only 1 logical place to go from there – up through Wagner Grove. Others around me with flashlights seemed uncertain where we were headed, but I knew, and up, up we went through the darkness. Later I was to find that Pink Cherry Licker wimped out going through Wagner Grove. In the summer she works at the bottom and was too scared to go through in the dark.

In Wagner grove we found a beloved “LC” mark. However, no liquor was discovered. Apparently it was stolen before the pack got there. That’s the second time a liquor check has been stolen here!

Someone in or around Wagner Grove asked who Wagner grove is named after. It appears to be named after John Wagner, who’s heirs sold the property to the city of Santa Cruz in 1959.

At the top of Wagner grove, we headed through neighborhoods of trick or treaters. I thought we should stop for candy ourselves.

Before Highland quickly descends to High was the only confusing check of the night. The stairs had a false at the bottom at the of them. That meant there was only one other way to go (down Highland), right? Wrong! The pack I was with descended down Highland. Timmy claimed he saw flour going down., However, at Highland and High there was nothing. It appears the pack proceeded up High and found trail. However, I alone decided to go back to the check and find The Way. The Hares found a clever passage down a driveway and down some apartment stairs, When later asked how they found it, Thmp-Thmp said “Google Earth”. This passageway included the letter STFU. Later I was learn that means “Shit The Fuck Up”.

Finally to High street, it was quick jaunt to Pink Cherry Licker’s abode, for which I had never been to. While I arrived by myself, I believe about half the pack was already there. Most amazing to me was that Wet Ferral Pussy did the entire trail in her giant Jelly Fish costume and arrived not too long afterward.

After the beer check we jaunted around the corner to Dirty Dolmas house. However, Dirty Dolmas was not there. She was off gallivanting (if you can call it that after foot surgery)  with Wicked Retahted and Occasional Rapist downtown. So, we peed on the carpet, shit in the yard, raped the dog and raided the refrigerator.  After that, Accuprick proceeded over down downs with Hogasm as his beer ferry.

Downs were rather a mad house with too many distractions to pay attention. I started on the swing with a group of Hashers huddled together to stay warm. The first order of business, and the only import business, was congratulations to Puff for 700 Surf City Hashes. Did he get a patch? I imagine so, but I didn’t see it as he would be giving it to himself.

We had virgins in Maria, Daniel, and Sal.

We had visitors in Cheek and Dog, Dickens Chickens and Doggie Style.

We had a butt load of Puff impersonators. The best being Dung Fu Grip and the wost being Twisted Fisted.

We had an extreme backslider in Portholeo.

We had a naming, just Christina is now Achy Breaky Snatch. I still like Spank Bank better.

Best costume went to Wet Ferral Pussy.

And of course the hares. After that we were off to the freak show downtown and finally to Tampico.

To end my evening, the bus was right where it should be and I met Occasional Rapist at home who had taken the bus one hour earlier. She said she left downtown early because she was tired of guys grabbing her ass. And, after I returned home, there was much rejoicing.

A small picture of Timmy

We’re back from the undead…Thmp-Thmp and I barely escaped Saturday’s Can’d Zombie Hash and its ensuing hangover that limped after us well into the next day…

And now I shall recount tales from SCH3’s last trail where we met up at The Pocket on Portola. Actually, the place seems way less sketchy than I remembered it. But I probably wasn’t remembering too well due to carousing at Castaways and Over the Hill Gang immediately before that time. The Pocket is wallpapered with corrugated tin that totally amplified dBASED’s black death pneumonia cough so it sounded like a broken bagpipe serenading a donkey rape. Speaking of rapists and donkeys, Occasional Rapist, Wicked Retahted and dBASED were our hares. This hash was a gathering to celebrate the full “hunter’s” moon and the 24th analversary of the Loma Prieta quake. At that rate, it sounded like a naked pagan ritual would also be in the cards somewhere tonight.

Circle-up for our small-ish pack was uneventful. And so was the trail. From Portola we went towards the water, over a block, we went away from the water, over a block. Then we repeated repeatedly. It was one “ziggy-zaggy, ziggy-zaggy, hoi, hoi, hoi!” kinda trail. One you could scribble on a map like a Richter scale. There was a quick break for a liquor check in an alley near the cliffs between 36th and 37th. Glazed donut vodka. Pink Cherry Licker loves this kind of stuff. I figured she was gonna come along and want to guzzle it clear down to the backwash, so I skipped my swig to leave more for her. Plus the thought of it reminded me of a shitty motel mai tai I recently had that tasted just like rock candy. I didn’t want to relive that cruel punch to my pancreas.

One true trail mark after another snaked us back and forth. Around Point Market, a random lady told Timmy!!! and I that we were going the wrong way. She’d seen people running over by Jack O’Neill’s house (by liquor check) and said we should go that way. Her attempt to slide us back to the start like a Sorry game failed and we forged forward towards Rockview Point where we hoped to find beer check. Nope. Trail went through Moran Lake’s parking lot and cut through the neighborhood over to 26th Avenue. Timmy!!! finally ended his pissing and moaning about too many true trail arrows when we got to beer check on the beach. Some of us would never complain about easy trail markings that lead directly to beer on the beach. I will complain about one thing, however…there was plenty of beer, but ya know what we didn’t have that goes great with said beer? Kong’s egg rolls. Just sayin’.

We chugged it and headed over to Wicked’s yard. Seats around the fire were a hot commodity, so Banana Basher was kind to be the bouncer and protector of my chair while I checked out the trough. After bravely securing the chair from interlopers, Banana Basher stepped up to the altar to co-RA with Cuff My Muff. Shallow Hole’s newly-named partner in hash crime, Cum Pumper, was beer fairy. The RAs’ theme was generations. Generations of mismanagers and generations of half-minded hashers. Banana did a li’l tribute toast to our long-suffering GM, Timmy!!! and announced that AGM is cumming soon (November 14th). Ask your favorite willing wankers if they want to give us their Mismanagement services and then send Timmy!!! an email nominating them. Or nominate yourself. It’s all fair game: GM, Religious Advisors, Hash Scribes, Haberdasher, Hash Flash, Beer Meister, and On-Sec. We are also looking for nominations for Best Trail, Worst Trail, Best Beer Check, Stupidest Act on Trail, and anything else you think worthy of an award. So get those nominations in, y’all!

A break from tradition, the hares were called up early before the pack got too drunk. Doesn’t matter how much we drink, trail still sucked! Dog Bref lapped from his bowl because he didn’t have a single stupid down-down accusation this week. The young and exuberant Just Christine was welcomed. Her stepdad is New Kids On My Cock. Ugh, that is the most unfortunate stepdad name ever in the history of EVER. Virgin Erik’s mom AND grandma, Sierra Madre, were hashers. That’s some third generation shit right there.

Occasional Rapist drank for mistaking the 24th analversary of the Loma Prieta earthquake for the 14th in her trail announcement. Number nerd Six O’Nine caught the math error, but Certified Public Accountant Cumcerto did not because she claims to still have PTSD from the quake. Thmp-Thmp was shamed for cumming 100 times and Banana was celebrated for cheating death to survive 625 Surf City hashes. Virgin Erik said Google made him cum and he showed us his full moon. Pinky was rightfully disappointed that she didn’t get called up for being a next gen hasher. But I suppose that’s what she gets for stealing her senior citizen father’s seat at the fire. On-on-on was over at The Point Chop House. Sounded fun, but I had shit to do—like be a quitter.

Next week’s hashathon will be at Next Door Bar in Scotts Valley where Shallow Hole will captain Cum Pumper’s maiden haring. These racists will be sure to wear us (and our livers) out.

The Halloweenie Hash is cumming up! If you’d like a special costume suggestion, email me for deets: princessdiarrhea@hotmail.com.

On-on,
Princess Di(arrhea)