Santa Cruz Hash House Harriers - Sticking out Yer Sausage on Trail #425

Sticking out Yer Sausage on Trail #425

Written by Ralph U. Crammed-in

Thursday, 21 August 2008

We meet at the top of Arana Gultch. There is no Sierra Nevada in the trough. There is no PBR to be found. Butt Balls is finishing the last Tecate when I arrive. Why are we forced to drink MGD and later Coors? Finger Nips is hording all the beer and is threatening anyone who touches the other beer cooler with castration (including the Harriets).

The poor SOBs that showed include Wiener, Butt Balls, Annie, Banana, Jordass, dBased, Timmy!!!, Serial Box, Saving Private Sausage, Hot Wheels, Dr. Nappy, Finger Nips, Swiss Army Cock, Just Geoff, LC Norm, Pearl, Flaccid Capacitor, Take It Like A Man, Hairy Potter, Goat Blower, Choka-Cola, Hoggy, Daddy War Bucks, Cumz out Her Nose, PG, CL, Broke Bench, Piss N Booth, Puff MDQ, Just Anne, Rod Lovr, Dangling Mantasticals, and Virgin Chris.

Trail as usual started down into Arana Gultch. A ring-around-the Harbor and up into Frederick St Park. A few lefts and rights lands us on Owen St and a left on Bronson St. Down the railroad tracks and over the Harbor with what was probably a back-check had, at least IIIII, spotted flour on top of the tracks to our left. Up the tracks to a check leads at 7^th Ave. A correct guess and we are on up 7^th Ave…pretty much forever. It kept going to long that I almost ran past beer check which is being held at a friend of Mothers Little Feltcher. A place where I am offered a nice shot of Jamison Whiskey to compliment my Trader Joes beer. Though you gotta laugh, you see they just moved into the place. Like any good men the first things in were the 50 inch LCD flat-screen and video game set (not sure which). The living room furniture? Plastic deck chairs. Don’t worry, the rest of their stuff is in storage I understand.

A mile on-in and onto religion. First nominated for Beer Fairy is Broke Bench Mountain for being above the law and carrying his beer on trail.

First real victim deservedly so is Finger Nips for being a Beer Nazi.

Second visitor is Puff for almost not coming to the Hash (due to Hwy 17 traffic). Quite a few thought it odd when 6:45 came around and there was no sign of Puff.

Next is Banana for leading the DFLs astray trying to find Beer-Check. He didn’t have his DFL Buddy My Lil Bony .

Meanwhile BBM is doing his BF duties well, as the RA is pouring all the Down-Downs.

Our Backslider is next, Dangling Mantasticals.

Not suprising Rod Lovr is called up for his sadistic quest to have every hasher do a trail, even those that have no business throwing flour.

Our virgin, Virgin Chris is called up. The question is asked, did Swiss find him on the Internet? Asks Banana.

Finally the Hares, as they drink out of a large, clean raw milk container.

Banana interjects with a Down-Down nomination for Goat Blower, however I had just swatted my 11^th mosquito and decided I didn’t feel like leaving my exposed legs as a prime target in the acquisition of West-Nile Virus so I pissed off at that point. As I neared Soquel Ave, only then did the roar of the pack fade into the evening...

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Comments (2)

Why All the Canned Beer?
Written by FingerNips, on 24-08-2008 20:40
I have learned a lesson as a beer meister. Never listen to a Hare about what beer to buy! Even the blonde hare for Saturdays W2B. Thus all the f*cking canned beers. There I said it.Ya' all keep wining and it's Natural Ice.

Written by Jordass (for men), on 25-08-2008 20:26
I, for one, would like Surf City to stop weeping and crying about beer from a can that isn't Pabst Blue Ribbed For Vince's Pleasure. Since the earliest days of cave hashers, beer has been carefully placed in sturdy cans for easy transportation, projectile spraying at nubile women in tiny white t-shirts, and fast chugging when the cave cops are near. Bottles may, on balance, contain more quality swill, but they shatter when dropped, weigh more, take up more cooler space, and generally (with prolonged use) turn perfectly good hashers into whiny beer snobs who cry themselves to sleep at the thought of a Coors Light.

You don't see Goat Blower complaining when Cap'n Jack breaks out some foul smelling skunk weed he pulled from his front yard because it had the right number of leaves, do you?

Everyone should be more like Goat Blower, all the time. That is all.