Each year, the dandies and fops of Surf City look forward to the Dress to (Sixty) Nines Hash in hopes that their fellow kennelmates might  be misidentified as classy human beings.  This year we had so much class it was coming out of  our pores and leaking in a frothy, viscous discharge from our crevices.

Since our sleepy coastal town has a limited number of class establishments that still let us in, we met at the hotel bar at Solaire.  You can tell Solaire is classy because the bottles behind the bar are bottom-lit. The first attendee was Genital Tongs, setting the tone for the night by showing up an hour early to suck down Manhattans, making friends with Dan the Bartender, and calling him Dave for the next hour.   Wicked Retahded showed up dressed in his best Oil Tycoon Chic, snakeskin jacket and all.  Co-Hare Dung Fu gave trail directions using an easily dismissed inside voice before he left with Co-Hares PCL and Fap Jack.  

The rain gods presented the hashers with a moderate drizzle for the duration of the evening.

At Circle Up, the group celebrated the democratic process that had passed Proposition 65. The extravaganza brought us visitors Ska Skank Redemption from San Francisco, who came dressed as an aluminum Festivus pole, and No Poles from Silicon Valley, who managed to put on a tie after watching several tutorials on YouTube.

The trail crossed San Lorenzo Park, ran down Pacific, and headed east on Broadway.  At a check on Riverside Ave, I lost No Poles.  Or he escaped.  I’m not sure which.  A left turn on Pennsylvania brought us to Liquor Check, where PCL greeted the pack with tiny plastic martini glasses filled with something pink and intoxicating.  My favorite.  Trail continued North to Soquel to a Turkey/Eagle split in front of Joe’s Pizza.  Eagles ran further to the north end of the trail along a swollen Branciforte Creek, while Turkeys went down the south end of the Branciforte Creek trail.  At Beer Near under the cover of the Oswald’s parking garage,  Hot Totties warmed wet weary Hashers. Broke Bench Mountain played with a drone that will surely turn on him when the robot apocalypse comes.

Religious Advisor Accuprick selected Dung Fu as Beer Fairy.  Dung Fu wielded dildo syringes like a samurai thus confirming several of the rumors circulating about him.  First up was No Poles and his shitty joke.  As an aside, I found out No Poles is actually related to Accuprick even though he knows about the letter “R”.  So if we need to replace Accuprick, we can just send No Poles for elocution lessons in South Boston, stuff him full of sausage and cheesecake, and we can pretty much have another Accuprick.  Dogbreath accused dBased of running through two falses.  And while the GPS tracks have subsequently vindicated dBased, neither the kennel nor the universe gives much credit for being right.  The costume contest was a three-way between Thmp-Thmp’s hat,  Ska Skank’s dress with a slit, and what Dogbreath will be wearing to the sentencing phase of his trial.  Ska Skank is the one to beat for next year, taking the trophy up to San Francisco.  Hares Dung Fu, Pink Cherry Licker, and Fap Jack were celebrated/blamed.

Dung Fu announced next week’s Krampus hash starts at bar that has been closed for six weeks, instilling great faith that he has scouted this trail.  Instead we’ll go to Saturn that has an uncovered dog-friendly patio and an indoor bar.  Enjoy the rain dog owners.

Love And Burritos;

Courtesy Flush