In the fun spirit of Occasional Rapist’s tipsy trash last week (and for shits n’ giggles) I should’ve gotten fucked up before writing this. I should also be drinking to forget the fact that I pitifully DFL’d at a brutal SVH3 hash recently. Too bad I was still feeling off my game this week because I knew Puff the Magic Drag Queen and Timmy!!! were haring Surf City. The last A to B death march they brewed up together took us from Brit 2 Brit (crAptos to Crapitola). Well, this time their trail went from brew 2 brew. We started at newly opened Discretion Brewing on 41st Ave. It’s next to Granny Purps. Don’t even front like you don’t know where that is, you stoners! The beer was good and the place was packed. At first we got some stink eye from other patrons for over-crowding the bar and cockblocking the door, but soon enough we were making pals. Thmp-Thmp may have recruited the cashier to join us next week and Hugh Heifer’s doggie daycare charge Kai chewed through her leash to try and hang with us inside. Bareback joined our kennel this week. She’s moved to SC all the way from Tajikistan! I completely bungled up introducing Bareback to Brokebench so the beer there must be strong. Or I’m lame. Definitely both.
dBASED circled up the pack like a big dawg and sent us off to sniff trail. Somebody finally got a good whiff across 41st Ave. and the pack skedaddled through traffic. I was the only goody-goody asshole who got stuck at the light at a crosswalk so I made myself useful by kicking the check—for no one. I waited alone so long for the light to change, it was obvious I was DFL now, again. At least I wasn’t stuck with that damn bag of chalk like last week, courtesy of big sis Cumcerto. The whole pack missed the turkey-eagle split in the Home Creepo parking lot and followed the leader straight to the grassy eagle trail that paralleled the freeway. Next to the Wharf Rd. overpass, we took a steep dirt path under a cyclone fence gap. What a great place for a Kodak moment! To avoid a butt slide and an undies load of dirt, I went front side down and was almost hung by the boobs with my kilt. With that hazard behind us, Deep Stroke suddenly came up the rear (that sounds so wrong) as the true DFL. We could only assume she fell behind while loading up on “trail supplies” back at Granny Purps.
Safely on Wharf Rd. pavement, we went on-right down Soquel Wharf Rd., through the yard of Soquel Elementary and up the Walnut St. hill. Deep Stroke punched her turbo button, powered up the hill and disappeared into the distance. On the long stretch down Soquel Dr., I passed four walkers while I tried to catch up to the pack. It was on-right at Inner Light Church, through a neighborhood and back to another grassy trail that led to another church. This is where I heard Wicked Retahted had déjà vu, got confused, and was convinced that trail was going in circles. He must’ve stopped at Granny Purps earlier, too. It was on-right at Park Ave. and on-right at Kennedy Dr. It was getting dark and I was alone, so it was time to hustle and get ‘er done.
Beer check was finally in sight at Sante Adairius Rustic Ales Brewery. I arrived far behind the runners and far ahead of the walkers. I heard that Deep Stroke had passed ALL the hounds and “won”. Hmm…the old DFL to FRB conversion. Show off!! Hare Puff hooked us up with our very nice consolation prizes: a cheese platter, a veggie platter and another good fancy ass craft beer served in a douchey stemmed glass. When the beertender cut us off at closing time, Puff stuffed us into his rented paddy wagon and ferried us back to the start.
Down downs went down under a floodlight in the Home Depot parking lot right next to busy 41st Ave. Somehow we flew under the radar right out in the open. dBASED was RA/beer fairy and the shitty beer began to flow. Cuff My Muff came through with the cheezy poofs–it’s what’s for dinner. Deep Stroke was an overachieving racist. Hairy Potter was our backsliding new daddy and got the taco burrito song. Thank you, proud Papa Potter, for informing us your baby girl falls in the taco category. Pink Cherry Licker was busted for tech on trail for calling Papa Timmy!!! to let him know she was “safe with Wicked”. Ha! As if! Brokebench earned his 200 patch and Thmp got his 75. Virgin Sierra did an interpretive dance that unfortunately did not require a lap nor a pole. And the hares…
On on on was in the comfort of our private room in Round Table Pizza. There was a buttload of pizza, beer, and a TV showing Full House with all of those sweet mullets. Pink Cherry Licker says Timmy!!! used to have a mullet back in the day… and she might bring a pic next time to prove it! In that case, we all MUST cum next week for the lampshade hash that will start at Aptos St. BBQ. Good thing they have a fantastic beer selection there. You’re going to need some serious pre-lube to prep for another one of dBASED’s terrible trails.