Salutations,

Welcome to the six-hundred and eighty-third edition of the Surf City Hash Trash. Puff the Magic Drag Queen here. I’m standing in for Princess Di(arrhea) who was on loan to the FHAC-U H3 Thursday the 26th. Good thing too, she missed a lousy trail. While I have made it a rule, whenever in my power, to avoid becoming a draftsman of papers that are to be reviewed by hashers, I made an exception in this case owing to Princess being rather attractive and I figure she won’t be married forever.

Let’s get right to it, the quicker I fulfill my duty here I can get (back) to the bar and forget I’ve wasted another Sunday afternoon telling you things those that attended already know and those that didn’t join us couldn’t care less about.

We started our latest fiasco at the Over The Hill Gang Saloon on Portola Drive. Bar owner Mitzi, knowing we’re bad people, handed off a usually financially-lucrative Thursday shift to Joanne. Many of you may remember Joanne from a Friday after Thanksgiving Turkey Trot hash. We serenaded her with a verse of Why was she born so beautiful? and when we got to the ‘She’s no fucking use at all’ line an inebriated female patron jumped up and attacked the nearest male hasher. Poor old dBASED crawled away pretty bruised before Joanne pulled her off him.

We had no where near that much fin this visit though. The hare-pair, Occasional Rapist and Wicked Retahted, handed out costume cowboy hats to everyone. Too bad they were child-size and fit almost no one. (Mistake number one) The hares left just slightly after the appointed time. Cuff My Muff was walking from her car and when she ambled through the swinging doors of the saloon, said she’d seen marker leading down 36th Avenue towards the bay.

As soon as circleup duties were completed, many in the pack headed down 36th, completely ignoring flour directly across Portola from the Saloon.  Those that took the obvious trail, that being 36th, were eventually treated to a viewing of the hated YBF mark. And it was a l…o…n…g time in coming too, just ask FRB’s Cum Rash and Just Sierra!

Meanwhile, back on true trail… Hounds such as TIMMY were laughing loud and long. By the time the lost children returned from the YBF, those lucky dogs that sniffed out true trail were far, FAR down 35th Avenue preparing to on-left onto Roland Drive.  Mercifully, a check at Roland and 32nd gave much of the pack an opportunity to catch up. Our chosen path was 32nd which brought us right back to Portola, almost withing sight of the Saloon. Yes, a three block/half-mile circle jerk.

Marker pointed the pod on-right onto Portola and then on-left across Portola onto 26th Avenue. An on-right onto Friesland Court turned into Hampstead Way which eventually brought the bevy back to 26th. Yep, another pointless circle jerk. An on-right back onto 26th brought us to…

Well, no one stopped in for a burger even though
the guy behind the counter yelled, Yo! Come on in! A check at Kong’s on the corner of 26th and 24th was soon dispatched
with and the mongrels made an on-right onto 24th. Twenty-fourth eventually curves on-left and brings one to East Cliff Drive. Here a hare-arrow led the litter on-left and, yes, soon to pass 26th.  Correct, yet another pointless circle jerk. As an quick aside, a  hare arrow also turned the troops on-right onto 25th only to find an ‘Admire the view’ note at the end of this dead end street.  Gee, thanks. This is even WORSE than a pointless circle jerk. The  pride plodded back to East Cliff and headed on-right towards Moran Lake. Just before the lake, flour  crossed the street and led us into the parking lot and then up the path beside this so-called lake. Marker soon led the litter on-left to the end of Fresno Street where  we finally found our hares complacently slurping Beer Check beer.
Our business concluded here, dBASED laid a circuitous route on-in to Wicked Retahted’s abode for  Religion. dBASED, believing he can handle all aspects of Religion, appointed
himself as Beer Fairy. That’s sort of like being judge, jury AND  executioner in my opinion. Be that as it may, here how things went. Wicked beat out Hugh Heifer  and Occasional Rapist for Best Dressed Cowgirl. Well, maybe I  should say ‘cowpoke’ instead. Cumerto was punished for standing on a hare arrow and asking, Should  I mark trail? Cumerto, Pink Cherry Licker and Dog Breath were awarded patches for haring their first trail for us. Yes, I know it’s been a long time, it took  a while to get patches. Sierra was awarded a down-down for setting  off an entire neighborhood of dogs when she and her dog Sly passed by. Sierra stayed at the  altar and was joined by Dog Breath for a down-down celebrating  their DFL status for this trail. The hares, needless to say were chastised for their trail.
Then it was off to Cole’s bar-b-q for vittles. We had a good time as  soon as we completed running off the few mortals that were eating. But no, that isn’t all the stupidity that transpired. Photographic  proof exists that Just Sierra and Dog Breath returned to the Saloon  for a nightcap and to perform cheap barroom tricks with Joanne the beertendress.
Next week will have us assembling our traveling kennel way-the-hell  out in Seascape Village at Palapas Restaurant y Cantina. After  getting our fill of chips and salsa , we will pursue Princess Di(arrhea) and Thmp-thmp through the wilds of this untamed section of Santa Cruz County.
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 twenty-eighth day of April in the year of our Hash  two-thousand thirteen.
On-out,
Puff the Magic Drag Queen
Surf City H3
Acting Scribe