The Rush Inn let us lowlifes back into their joint his year. They even fed us and kept our glasses full. Thank you, Rush Inn! The red pack was large. About half were visiting from CAN’d, SVH3 and beyond. Surprising that so many hashers came together for a good cause, considering we’re never up to any good at all otherwise. All proceeds went to WomenCARE. We hope the Lady in Red was smiling down on us that day.

While we debated whether Bloody Wanker (in a lovely red cheetah print) had the tightest ass, Cuff My Muff’s car was getting a ticket from a meter maid outside. Cuff has connections to the law, so she may be able to charm her way out of it. Yes, she has exactly one ounce of charm and saves it only for these kinds of occasions. The crimson pack grew to around 50 and gathered outside. Boner Malfunction lived up to his name while he flashed the circle. I offered up a stick of anti-chafe for nipples and naughty bits because last time I red dressed with CAN’d there was some serious chafing going on.

Occasional Rapist and Shallow Hole hared a trail for r*nners and Hugh Heifer hared a bar crawl trail for walkers. I followed the r*nners down River St., where a left turn took us up to Holy Cross. We crossed over Hwy. 1 and found liquor check #1 near Mission Hill Middle School at Dirty Dolmas’s place. It was a fruity and tasty selection of jello shots and peach chardonnay (labeled “A Fine Wine Product”. Ha!). We were all fooled by the green shots. They were MINT, which kinda brought back sad memories trying to drink mouthwash for a buzz. Trail headed across Mission St. and took a looong haul down California St. Deep Stroke did some garage sale shopping along the way and bought Hashy Smurf, a virgin to join her on trail as she blew by all the other hounds on her endless quest to WIN.

The day was getting too damn hot for synthetics. We were all wearing different styles of the same ol’ polyester red dress from The Goodwill. Trail cut through the circles and through Lighthouse Field. We found liquor check #2 at Its Beach near the lighthouse. The ocean breeze was nice and sweet, just like the sex on the beach that Waxi Pad was serving up. He also had sangria and cold water on hand. Ahhh…refreshments…

The rest of trail gave our visitors an eyeful of SC beauty as we strolled along West Cliff. Puff the Magic Drag Queen was wishing he’d brought an extra pair of red OPs to put on the surfer statue as we passed. There’s always next year! The last booze stop on our journey was beer check at Ideal Bar & Grill for margaritas, mai tais and beers.

We were still ¾ of a mile away from the religion spot. Here is where my trail notes simply say, “Oh shit. The trolley ride.” We stuffed the trolley with red dresses and booze-itude. Luckily, the driver loved us and wished he could join us! Not so much for the other passengers. Minors and tourists be damned as Arabian Goggler led us in Today is Monday, followed by Free Beer for All the Hashers. Now I understand why Goggler’s Liver is his own hasher. He’s a stuffed critter, just like Hashy Smurf. Goggler’s liver has definitely earned its own mascot.

Religion was held at the Silver Bullet (Oswald) garage. News was traveling fast that Ralph U. Crammed-In had an accident. Not the wet himself kind, but the trip-and-full-on-faceplant kind. Man down! We heard he was bleeding from the face area but refused medical treatment and headed back to Rush Inn instead.

Accuprick and dBASED co-RA’d and Tonya Hardon was beer fairy. We cele-berated the analversaries of Occasional Rapist: 100! and Hugh Heifer: 269! The virgins were also given their moment of glory. Deep Stroke made Hashy Smurf come, but he had absolutely no joke nor junk to offer. Just some crappy lalalalalala song. Shallow Hole made Ann come. She told that stale old fucking goofy joke. My Little Bony enlisted some random couple from the parking lot to join our red shit show. After getting a good guzzle of warm Hamm’s, Aaron and Megan wisely backed away slowly then ran. Just Sierra was named Cumz Like a Dog. Bestiality’s best, boy! Dirty Dolmas hosted a liquor check but didn’t do any trail. That’s fine for our drinking club, but we’re beginning to suspect she does not have a running problem. The lovely harriette trio was revered but mostly reviled.

On on on was back at the Rush Inn. There was a ‘sketti feed for our bellies and more booze to fuel our hangovers. Ralphie’s face had been patched up someone at the bar but he was still looking tore up from the neck up. Ouch!

We all agreed that a doing our Red Dress R*n on a Saturday is the way to go. Debauchery galore! It was redder and better than ever! Let’s hope the Rush Inn will be foolish enough to have us back again next year.

 On on,

Princess Di(arrhea)