Come one, come all,

To Saturday Wharf to Barf ’11. Saturday is always the centerpiece of W2B. Today though, the duty of salvaging the day will fall upon the shoulders of Waxi-Pad and his entourage of aged associates. With dBASED as hare, we have no alternative but to hope Waxi can set things right with his band.

Here we are again in the appropriately-named Forty Thieves picnic area of George Washington picnic area of De Laveaga Park. Couldn’t they have made it a little more confusing? Things started off in typical hash fashion-the park maintenance crew was unable to find the key to unlock the padlock on the barbecue grill. Next the bolt cutters they brought to dispose of the offending device were inadequate for the task at hand. Then someone suggested they try their hand at cutting the CHAIN rather than the LOCK and we were back on schedule. Disaster was narrowly averted that time.

There were four, count-em-four, coolers of beer for you dining enjoyment this afternoon. The weather, too, cooperated as the sun burned through the fog but we were in no danger of rivaling Dallas for a high temperature today. We were graced by the presence of a number of seldom-seen and even a few first-timers: Brrrr from H3SoB Sant-O-Barbara, Deep Chocolate, Nipples, Escrowtum, CSI(the GOOD one), Ram Pam,Thank You Ma’am, Banana Slut and Flipper graced us with their beautifying presence. There were also a bunch of guys that showed up but I paid little if any attention to them. Look at dBASED’s Hash Count if you want to know who they were.

I’ve postponed releasing dBASED on you as long as possible. It is with the deepest regret I must introduce dBASED to everyone. Those of you that have hashed with Surf City for any period of time already know of the e-vile dBASED, perpetrator of petulant perversity upon the pack. Maybe that should be ‘penetrator’ of the pack instead. Be that as it may, dBASED hardly uttered a word but basically slithered off like a thieving snake in the night followed by the Turkey Trail hare, Hugh Heifer. Very little needs to be said about Hugh either, mainly due to the fact there’s so little there to say anything about.

This trail will be easy to recap on one hard but difficult on the other. The problem here being most of it was on illegal trails and ALL of it was on unnamed trails. Without horrifying you with too many details, it wound it’s way on-up to emerge from the forest primeval onto the DeLaveaga Golf Course in the employee parking lot near the clubhouse. We trotted along to the road and turned on-left. Those that chose the golf cart pathway were warned to watch for speeding golf balls that can exceed a hundred miles an hour and would lay waste to your little half-mind were they to knock you on the noggin. dBASED has become so slothful that rather than devise a TRAIL to kill the hounds, he had found someone else to do it for him. Letting a group play through, hounds chose an appropriate time to hoof it back across the fairway and plunge back into the forest. We were greeted by the sign you see featured prominently on the Flash for this trail. A mountain lion warning is never greeted gleefully by the now-weary horde of hounds.

This first section of trail was especially treacherous and it wasn’t really a trail as human define the word but more a washed-out gully flanked by poison oak and occasionally blocked by fallen trees, a few of which appeared to have been recently cut, most likely by dBASED in an effort to slow the gang’s forward progress. Eventually we began a serious on-down which culminated in everyone’s becoming lost beside Branciforte Creek. More through dumb luck than skill or well-marked trail, the school swam across the creek headed for Branciforte Drive and stumbled, literally in a few cases, across flour and followed it to Beer Check right beside the road conveniently located in a small patch of poison oak. As if this wasn’t enough, on-in was right beside the road in a non-existent bike lane overgrown with poison oak and briars and frequently obliterated by fallen tree limbs. The return to civilization, such as it is, proved to be the most dangerous section of trail.

As severe reaming of the pack was planned, two Religious Advisers were appointed: Pixillated Obscenity and Hairy Potter. Even the presence of ONE of these jokers does not bode well but TWO portends of Hell.

A 300 pound block of ice had been secured for your seating pleasure, an idea originated by Hairy Fuck 2.5. Here are but a few of the lowlights of Religion: Banana Basher mumbling, “It’s better to be the FIRST on the ice rather than the LAST!” and he was so accommodated; Puff for banana-yellow hot pants; a number of people were caught up in Pixie’s notorious Fact or Crap Inquisition; Arabian Goggler for shooting off his notoriously-over-sized mouth; Max Lode for his ‘”horny” fashion crime; Nipples for earlier relating a dream she had containing zombie dogs(poor girl); Hairy Fuck 2.5 for his ice block idea and Gonorrhea Bitch for going with him to retrieve it; CSI(the “good” one) because she has remained obstinately-unobtrusive today; Broken Shaft just in an effort to get him to talk more(silence, AKA “good judgment”, has never been his forte); Goggler as the two-time “winner” of the Watermelon Head Award; Quarter Slut and Ram Pam because they foolishly raised their hands when Pixie popped the question, “Who hasn’t been on the ice yet?” and Last Call Norma and Pearl Necklace as late-comers.

I do not wish to leave you feeling ill so it is incumbent upon me to mention the best part of the day was just beginning. Shallow Hole had dragged along her (current) husband, Waxi-Pad who dragged along his current musical endeavor, The Lost Chord. They fired up their amps and vibrated the needles off the nearby Redwoods. Mortals using the other picnic areas danced while walking by on their way to the bathrooms. Our undying thanks goes out to the band for not only playing music most excellent but tolerating their first encounter with the Hash, but most certainly hopefully not the last.

A brief recap of Saturday night’s Pub Crawl is in order mainly because it encompasses a Naming Ceremony.

The start was our usual Rush Inn. Things went well here. Next the covey flew down to Union Street and landed in Cypress. Here we discovered beer in short supply and NO grapefruit juice. The only bright spot here, and it’s only so for the males, the beertendress was a hottie. I suppose I should also mention she is a former employee of Sports Grille Santa Cruz which many of you may remember was successfully bankrupted by owner Banana Basher. Next on the hit parade was Jose’s Taco Bar in the Palomar Hotel. Unless, that is, you were a harriette and just happened to pass by The Sock Shop. A few of our bevy of beauties peeled off from the pack to drop some beer money on new socks instead. It was here Shallow Hole and Waxi-Pad caught up with the herd. After Mexican at the taco bar, Strap On (clap, clap) Feed Bag suggested 99 Bottles and off we went. While commandeering the entire outside area, comments began to be made about Just Laura’s attire. (See Flash for the gory details) Considering the color and configuration of her outer covering, Pussy Pelt was suggested. Just prior to making it official, Deep Chocolate threw out the word “Pepto” as a beginning word. Again, view the color. And it was so done. We all witnessed the birth of Pepto Pussy Pelt. Puff did not possess sufficient funds to cover his bar tab so he stayed behind to wash dishes as the other members of the congregation headed on-up to Rosie McCann’s Irish Pub. So ended W2B Pub Crawl ’11.

By Special Appointment of His Royal Majesty “G”, this Hash Trash has been compiled and printed by permission of no one other than the author at Santa Cruz, Ca., or elsewhere if need be, on this, the thirty-first day of July in the year of our Hash two-thousand eleven.

On-out,

Puff the Magic Drag Queen