I almost sat down to write this week’s trash talk without a beer by my side. Almost. But that would just be wrong. This week’s trash is now under the influence of Lagunitas Little Sumpin’ Sumpin’ Ale and all is right again.

The pack’s takeover last Thursday happened at Malone’s Bar and Grille in sleepy little Scotts Valley where the town shuts down at 9:00. Puff the Magic Drag Queen was the creepy uncle who brought candy to the bar. He’d tottered over to Marini’s after a wasted Saturday afternoon at 99 Bottles and bought the place out of leftover Halloween candy. He must’ve developed quite a toothache eating it over the week because he was desperate to unload the sweets on the hash. Hey, no complaints here! dBASED was haring tonight so we could all use some extra sugar to keep us charging. Thmp-Thmp led the circle up for his first time ever and sent us on our way. Well, except for Pussy Galore who went in the opposite direction to sushi. Smart girl.

After the first check, the pack kept searching the wrong way down SV Drive. Some of us stuck close to Occasional Rapist because she was supposed to co-hare tonight but had pussed out. We all knew that she knew the right way to go. Which is a very good thing to know when the night is very dark and dBASED is laying a shitty trail over hill and dale. It was so dark that Brave Brave Sir Robin (visiting from Alabama) was carrying a massive Maglite. Hugh Heifer reckoned it took 5 D batteries, which is probably slightly fewer than some of her bedroom toys use. Just Daniel was using one of those hand pump lights that you squeeze to generate the power. He might have practiced his hand pumping in the bedroom beforehand. Speaking of pumping, it came out on trail that Just Eddie (who somehow survived Edtoberfest) and Just Daniel met working at Hot Dog on a Stick. I bet during a typical day one of them was working that lemonade pump while the other was working the weenies and sticks. I wonder if they still put that on their résumés?

Trail was a big loop full of hills that went from Malone’s, up and down through neighborhoods to Glen Canyon Rd., across ludicrously crazy traffic of Mt. Hermon  Rd. up to Manana Woods, down through Whispering Pines, across the golf course, through Skypark, along Bean Creek Rd., and straight through the campus of Scotts Valley Middle School. About 10 steps after we saw the custodian dumping the trash and parents picking up their kids from play rehearsal, we saw the beer near mark and found beer check down a nearby easement.

The most memorable thing about beer check was the stank. Either Porter or Nipple-less Butt had done his business in a mysterious dark corner and left us to suffer. We gagged down our beers while we waited too long for DFLs Hugh and Sir Robin. The joke was on us because they had bailed out of trail long, long ago to meet Pussy Galore at sushi. Smart asses.

We wandered up Scotts Valley Drive to religion behind Pro Scuba. dBASED RA’d and Brave Brave Sir Robin was beer fairy. Cumcerto was glorified for being FRB. She was also shamed for alcohol abuse for pouring out her down down beer. And then she accidentally poured her chosen beer on Thmp’s shoes. Brokebench didn’t do trail because of work. Werk’s 4 jerks! Diddler on the Roofie and Shiny Snail Trail were backsliders. Diddler also blamed work because he can’t manage to get his ass to work at 6am after a hash. Amateur! Sir Robin and Hugh were busted for not making it to the stankified beer check. There was blood on trail times two. Dung-Fu Grip had an encounter with a pile of metal and Timmy!!! was bleeding from the back of his leg, likely from the briar patch around the golf course. It was dBASED’s analversary of 75 harings—better known as 75 unleashings of brutal punishment. Please note that he is expecting something special for his 100th. I recommend a flogging. Occasional Rapist made the grand achievement 125 hashes. Get a life! On on on was at the only place possibly still open in Scotts Valley—Next Door Bar.

This Thursday at 6 o’cock is AGM, our Annual General Meeting…or All-out Gonzo Melee! Bring $20 to El Palomar downtown for lotsa food and all the beer you can drink. Erections will be held for Mismanagement. Lame duck GM Timmy!!! will be haring a “trail” which may or may not consist of a tiny rectangle 4 blocks long.

On-on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

We all knew it was gonna be one of the first cold nights of autumn. Some of us B to A shuttlers parked up on the hill at Shallow Hole and Waxi Pad’s house (point B), all prepared to do a warm-up trek downhill to the Next Door Bar (point A). Instead, Thmp-Thmp and I crammed into Beer Mop’s seat in the Waxi Taxi and freeloaded a ride down to the bar. On the way, co-hares Shallow Hole and Cum Pumper made us promises of hot soup, bread, cupcakes, and brownies if we survived their cold shitty trail. It was pretty clear we would be paying dearly for those goodies by the end of the road tonight. When two racist marathoners are your hares, no doubt we were going to need some re-fueling afterwards.

The bar was showing both the Sharks game and the World Series. Boston was playing in both, so Accuprick was one happy bastard. Slownad, Thmp-Thmp and Twisted Fister were catching the jock spirit because they busted out a 3-way fisting to greet each other. Just Eddie must have caught some too because he was bragging about how ripped his abs got from working the lemonade pump at Hot Dog on a Stick. Speaking of weenies, I asked Accu what he was going to dress as for Halloweenie next week. He said he’ll be “dressing like a jerk.” Of course this means he’ll be dressing as himself. Timmy!!! was outside giving Virgin Daniel the chalk talk. There is no one better to give the chalk talk than a retired special ed teacher, right?

The pack finally coagulated and hit the road. Trail went on-right over the freeway overpass and across Granite Creek Rd. We wound through my old Sunday school parking lot (ha!), crossed Borland’s meadow and ended up in the ruins of Santa’s Village. There we found a booze check of Barefoot Bubbly to keep the sparkle in our steps and cinnamon schnapps to warm our bits. It was hella dark and Ralph R.U. Crammed-In , Just Eddie, and Virgin Daniel were all flashlight-less and glommed onto anybody with a torch. They ditched us as soon as we got back to streetlights in the neighborhood, where every road went uphill. Timmy!!! and Puff were still suffering from night blindness even with streetlights and flashlights. They were convinced that every big house we passed must be a church. I know Scotts Valley is full of bored cops, but that’s not because there are, like, 10 churches on every street. There was one enormous endless hill that I managed to charge up because I knew cupcakes were just on the other side.

Finally we made it to our point B. Beer check! As we tricked in, everybody was watching for Accuprick. Nobody had seen him for a while and wondered if he’d stayed at the bar to cheer for beantown. Turns out Dung-Fu Grip was a latecummer on his bike. He’d caught up with Accu and escorted him in. What a frigging gentleman.

The beer and junk food began to flow hard. Accuprick RA’d and Reverse Cowgirlz was beer fairy. Hugh Heifer, dBASED, Just Christina, and Dung-Fu were hailed for acts of chivalry on trail. As if! Nobody cared enough to ask backsliders Just Eddie, Ralphie, Accu, and Waxi for excuses why they’d been slacking. Twisted Fister was outed for assuming a racist is someone who’s prejudiced. Duh! Dog Breath accused Cum Pumper of bragging about her upcoming marathon and the racists all drank. Accu and Dung-Fu were our poor little DFLs. Just Eddie and Shiny Snail Trail made Virgin Daniel cum. Shiny couldn’t make it to the hash and is likely in jail or otherwise had to leave the country. Virgin Daniel told a very lame joke about munching bushes or grass or something, so he showed one butt cheek in a feeble attempt to recover his dignity. Timmy!!! is a jerk for stealing the money we raised for hungry homeless orphans and blowing it all on chianti in Italy. Waxi did not make it to beer check…even though it was simply at the end of his driveway. Thmp-Thmp called out Dog Breath for his new shoes. Twisted Fister was really eager to give his shoes the sniff test. Pervert! It only took Slownad 3 years, but he finally hit his 25th analversary. I don’t think he likes us very much. Timmy!!! had a birthday. So did Just Eddie. He calls this month Edtoberfest and celebrates all month long. And the hares…hooray for Cum Pumper’s virgin lay! On-on-on was in the toasty dining room where hot veggie soup was ladled out defrost to the pathetic pack before they got kicked back out into the cold. Thanks for the hashpitality, Shallow, Waxi and Cum Pumper!

This week is Halloweenie! So you better cum wearing a costume. The start is at Red, upstairs. Trail will be on the short side so there will be time for us to cruise the downtown freakfest!

On-on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

We’re back from the undead…Thmp-Thmp and I barely escaped Saturday’s Can’d Zombie Hash and its ensuing hangover that limped after us well into the next day…

And now I shall recount tales from SCH3’s last trail where we met up at The Pocket on Portola. Actually, the place seems way less sketchy than I remembered it. But I probably wasn’t remembering too well due to carousing at Castaways and Over the Hill Gang immediately before that time. The Pocket is wallpapered with corrugated tin that totally amplified dBASED’s black death pneumonia cough so it sounded like a broken bagpipe serenading a donkey rape. Speaking of rapists and donkeys, Occasional Rapist, Wicked Retahted and dBASED were our hares. This hash was a gathering to celebrate the full “hunter’s” moon and the 24th analversary of the Loma Prieta quake. At that rate, it sounded like a naked pagan ritual would also be in the cards somewhere tonight.

Circle-up for our small-ish pack was uneventful. And so was the trail. From Portola we went towards the water, over a block, we went away from the water, over a block. Then we repeated repeatedly. It was one “ziggy-zaggy, ziggy-zaggy, hoi, hoi, hoi!” kinda trail. One you could scribble on a map like a Richter scale. There was a quick break for a liquor check in an alley near the cliffs between 36th and 37th. Glazed donut vodka. Pink Cherry Licker loves this kind of stuff. I figured she was gonna come along and want to guzzle it clear down to the backwash, so I skipped my swig to leave more for her. Plus the thought of it reminded me of a shitty motel mai tai I recently had that tasted just like rock candy. I didn’t want to relive that cruel punch to my pancreas.

One true trail mark after another snaked us back and forth. Around Point Market, a random lady told Timmy!!! and I that we were going the wrong way. She’d seen people running over by Jack O’Neill’s house (by liquor check) and said we should go that way. Her attempt to slide us back to the start like a Sorry game failed and we forged forward towards Rockview Point where we hoped to find beer check. Nope. Trail went through Moran Lake’s parking lot and cut through the neighborhood over to 26th Avenue. Timmy!!! finally ended his pissing and moaning about too many true trail arrows when we got to beer check on the beach. Some of us would never complain about easy trail markings that lead directly to beer on the beach. I will complain about one thing, however…there was plenty of beer, but ya know what we didn’t have that goes great with said beer? Kong’s egg rolls. Just sayin’.

We chugged it and headed over to Wicked’s yard. Seats around the fire were a hot commodity, so Banana Basher was kind to be the bouncer and protector of my chair while I checked out the trough. After bravely securing the chair from interlopers, Banana Basher stepped up to the altar to co-RA with Cuff My Muff. Shallow Hole’s newly-named partner in hash crime, Cum Pumper, was beer fairy. The RAs’ theme was generations. Generations of mismanagers and generations of half-minded hashers. Banana did a li’l tribute toast to our long-suffering GM, Timmy!!! and announced that AGM is cumming soon (November 14th). Ask your favorite willing wankers if they want to give us their Mismanagement services and then send Timmy!!! an email nominating them. Or nominate yourself. It’s all fair game: GM, Religious Advisors, Hash Scribes, Haberdasher, Hash Flash, Beer Meister, and On-Sec. We are also looking for nominations for Best Trail, Worst Trail, Best Beer Check, Stupidest Act on Trail, and anything else you think worthy of an award. So get those nominations in, y’all!

A break from tradition, the hares were called up early before the pack got too drunk. Doesn’t matter how much we drink, trail still sucked! Dog Bref lapped from his bowl because he didn’t have a single stupid down-down accusation this week. The young and exuberant Just Christine was welcomed. Her stepdad is New Kids On My Cock. Ugh, that is the most unfortunate stepdad name ever in the history of EVER. Virgin Erik’s mom AND grandma, Sierra Madre, were hashers. That’s some third generation shit right there.

Occasional Rapist drank for mistaking the 24th analversary of the Loma Prieta earthquake for the 14th in her trail announcement. Number nerd Six O’Nine caught the math error, but Certified Public Accountant Cumcerto did not because she claims to still have PTSD from the quake. Thmp-Thmp was shamed for cumming 100 times and Banana was celebrated for cheating death to survive 625 Surf City hashes. Virgin Erik said Google made him cum and he showed us his full moon. Pinky was rightfully disappointed that she didn’t get called up for being a next gen hasher. But I suppose that’s what she gets for stealing her senior citizen father’s seat at the fire. On-on-on was over at The Point Chop House. Sounded fun, but I had shit to do—like be a quitter.

Next week’s hashathon will be at Next Door Bar in Scotts Valley where Shallow Hole will captain Cum Pumper’s maiden haring. These racists will be sure to wear us (and our livers) out.

The Halloweenie Hash is cumming up! If you’d like a special costume suggestion, email me for deets: princessdiarrhea@hotmail.com.

On-on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

Traffic has been a clusterfuck lately, right? The Valleys went home and the Slugs came in. Every new Slug and their entire families dropping them off are hopelessly lost. Traffic is bad on the other side of our bay, too. Sealed Hatch was stuck in massive traffic coming over from Monterey. Luckily, this gave her plenty of time to practice her really good down-down songs. Our default hare Timmy!!! vowed to make us pay for nobody stepping up to hare this week. I feared he would also make us pay dearly for his pasta overindulgences in Italy with a loooong-ass trail out of the Jury Room. Hugh Heifer showed up with a good pre-buzz on and blew off trail to watch baseball with the Rush Inn bartender. Yep, she ditched us for a Dodgers game. How insulting!

The hounds circled up out front and hit the road down Ocean St. A few confusing checks dropped us right in the middle of the skeevyness of San Lorenzo Park at dusk. Big thanks to Shallow Hole for getting us back on trail and out of harm’s way. Well, not exactly…the sketchiness continued as we then went down the levee all the way to Salz Tannery and across River St. to the train tracks. Through lots of consulting with bums, “Hey, did you see a guy go this way?” we ended up at beer check #1 at the back of a truck at Pioneer St. next to a pumpkin patch.

dBASED soon rolled up in his car, leisurely eating a sandwich and wearing jeans. If y’all have been wondering what it would take to keep dBASED from running trail, we learned pneumonia is one of them. If it kept King of the Ball Busters from running, that dude must have the plague and we do not want that shit. Word on the street was that Ghettoman had just made it to he Jury Room and would be catching up with us soon, no doubt. We drained the beer check as best we could before leaving because obviously no beer left behind would go unfound in that neighborhood.

Around Costco, Pink Cherry Licker announced she’d just received a text from the hare telling us to go right by the Evergreen Cemetery. Most of us then shortcut straight to Evergreen, so that kind of made it a text trail/eagle trail split. We couldn’t find marks in the darkness of Harvey West park for awhile, but one of Timmy!!!’s tiny hare arrows ↑ were eventually found on the street in front of the cemetery. It was then on-up to Mission Hill, down to the Town Clock and straight into Rush Inn for beer check #2 with pitchers and hobnobbing. When the pitchers ran dry, we headed on-in back to the Jury Room. On the way, Shiny Snail Trail lunged to grab a flower from Puff the Magic Drag Queen’s hair, but tripped and grabbed at Puff on her way down. She almost strangled him by his camera strap. Ghettoman almost caught her but thought “oh, she’s got it” …Oh no, she didn’t.

Religion was out behind the Jury Room in a parking lot on May St. AccuPrick RA’d and Cumcerto was beer fairy. Shiny Snail Trail recently wrecked her car by taking out two trees and a mailbox. Tonight she only managed to wreck her knee in a fall. Hugh Heifer accused Six o’ Nine of not paying. I still don’t know whether he did because they both drank. Finger Nips, Sealed Hatch and Cumz Out My Nose were backsliders.

dBASED was quarantined from the chalices due to his horrid croup-monia so Sealed Hatch sang him a cheery song about dinosaurs with HIV. His brand spankin’ new wife Occasional Rapist didn’t feel like joining us tonight, so dBASED was punished for not making her cum. Ghettoman was busted for his late start, but he probably still pulled off FRB! Cumz didn’t do trail, but somehow emerged from the Jury Room not nearly as drunk as fellow barfly Hugh Heifer. That definitely deserves a beer.

Some sour-puss neighbor lady from across the street came over and told us to quiet down. She’d had enough of our foul-mouthed hooliganism. Cumcerto assured her we’d finish up and split. Then things moved real fast. Hare Timmy!!! was busted for making several calls and texts to Pink Cherry Licker about all the ways he’d badly fucked up his trail along the way. He even proceeded to spell his own kid’s name wrong in one of his texts. Blame it on the martinis. The burning question of the night: did Timmy!!!’s text mean go right (turn) by the cemetery or go right by (straight past) the cemetery??? Pinky and Six drank to this conundrum. Accu had his 125th analversary! And Twisted Fister had a repeat of his 25th analversary. Don’t know why he got two times the shaming and shitty beer for just one analversary. And the hare…because it was time to get out of sour-puss’s neighborhood before things got fugly. Suddenly, we were interrupted again. This time by a young lady getting into her car in our parking lot. Turns out she was leaving her ALTO DUI class. We let that be an omen that our proceedings really needed to end pronto, so we tried to get next week’s trail announcement out of Hugh so we could all wank off to on-on-on at new joint YOLO. Talking must’ve been too hard, but she did manage to take a chomp out of Brokebench Mountain’s chest, bruisey tooth marks and all. Since then, word has gotten around that Hugh will be haring out of Chicken Toss (Henfling’s) in Ben Lomond this week. There might even be trail if she manages to leave the bar this time.

On-on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

This week’s meet up was at the brand new West End Tap & Kitchen. We all know Puff the Magic Drag Queen is a man of habit (630 consecutive hashes—get a life!!!), so when Thmp-Thmp and I rolled up, we saw Puff lurking outside Santa Cruz Mountain Brewing across the driveway instead of popping right into the new joint. Considering his other routine of 99 Bottles, I could understand his trepidation of trying the new brewer in town. West End’s got some competition. Hugh Heifer agreed to hare at the last minute and said she would pull together a SHORT 2 miler. Maybe that’s why Cum Lord came in his jeans. (Pun intended!) Maybe Monthly Friend also heard that trail would be short and figured it was a great time for her regular monthly visit along with The Human Pube. It was a nice surprise to see Deep Stroke made it back home safely after taking a bit of a walkabout…or driveabout. While Hairy Fuck 2.5 and I were fawning over the pooch cuteness of Porter and Janis hanging out together tethered to the bike racks, Pussy Galore told us to get our asses to circle-up out back.

It was a quick introduction around the circle then a pack scatter. We found the trail down Swift St. to the ocean…barely. When we got to West Cliff Dr., there was no check, just a little splotch of blue flour. I followed Puff because he was all I had. I won’t bore you with the details of this trail, but it was a lot longer than 2 miles. I shit you not. Trail took us through areas we’ve been to twice recently so we were haunted by trail markings of hashes past. At least our hare made a tiny effort to help us along with some of her trail markings, like “N☮” (translation: trail marking is an old one—plus I’m a hippie) and “FELLOW STONERS BE CAREFUL…LOW HANGIN CHAIN” (there is an obstacle—plus I’m a hippie). We went through Natural Bridges, Antonelli Pond and then to Mission St. A left turn at Miramar took us to beer check at Timmy!!!’s house.

At beer check, I realized the reason why I rarely have any hash stories to share about scribemate Shallow Hole. She usually gets to pre-lube later than I do and then she hauls ass on trail, so by the time I get to beer check, she’s done with her beer and ready to on-in. Life in the fast lane! In Timmy!!!’s backyard, the recycle bin was more than arm’s length away, so I “planted a beer seed” (i.e. buried a bottlecap) in his planter box. I also poured a splash of beer on it, so let’s see if it grows! 😉 Speaking of Timmy!!!, he has a FREE piano to force on you so let him know if you’re interested. But he’s gone for now to Tuscany for a month to drink the fine wine and to mangia, mama mia! Mental note: if we let him hare when he gets back, he’s going to send us on a death march to work off those carbs. 🙁 Timmy!!! and Pink Cherry Licker wisely didn’t follow us to religion this night because there was a 4am trip to the airport in their very near future.

Religion was back to the start parking lot, but behind Kelly’s where it smelled all warm and yeasty. Just the right (g-)spot for Pussy Galore to RA. Deep Stroke was beer fairy. Just Anne and Just Sara have impending namings so they fielded profane questions from the peanut gallery. Visitors from CAN’d, Just Bobby and Ghettoman, were equally welcomed (by hasher brethren) and repelled (by crap warm beer). Virgin Jeff told a blowjob joke. Shiny Snail Trail called my attention to the metal ball swinging from his belt right into his junk region. WTF?? The hare was hounded for being a dirty liar and a dirty hippie. Shiny Snail Trail, Dung-Fu Grip and I were toasted for being August birthday babies. Six called out a most shameful crime on trail. He claimed Pinky and Twat Did You Say? were confused because a true trail mark looked like an arrow AND a false combined. Is that the most half-minded thing you ever heard??? Backsliders Monthly Friend and Deep Stroke intertwined arms and drank to their infrequency. Six was chided for making a shameless plug for his HashFish Indiegogo campaign. I heard your order comes with a bonus gift…which may or not be a Vegas hooker.

May the Hash get a piece,
Princess Di(arrhea)

We brought the shininess to The Parish last week in honor of Shiny Snail Trail’s birthday. Shallow Hole and Shiny Snail Trail were our sequin-spangled hares. Pink Cherry Licker brought body glitter for any hashers who didn’t bring their own glam. Cuff rubbed some under her eyes like a disco football player. Twat Did You Say? rubbed some all over her face, then Hugh Heifer rubbed her face on Twat’s face. In essence, Hugh pretty much swapped her hippie patchouli oil for Twat’s glitter. Diddler on the Roofie was wearing a silver shirt with colorful swirls that made him look just like a grease slick in a gutter–probably exactly where he’ll end up by the end of the night. Dung-Fu Grip looked like a superhero with his long golden gloves. Which hero? FABUBLING!! Puff was having technical dooficulties with his camera, so a few hounds grabbed their phones and took some snapshots of us shimmering in the sun outside. During the shoot, I noticed a pink jewel on the ground and picked it up for a closer look. It was someone’s belly ring. Ewwww!!! Dirty Dolmas came to the rescue with hand sanitizer.

When we hit trail, all eyes were on us and our hella flashy steez. We were cheered on by honks as we rolled down Mission St. We turned on Swift to Delaware and then cut through my office’s parking lot. Thank gawd my fucking workaholic office mates had finally left for the day and didn’t catch a glimpse of me in my gold hot pants. We sneaked through a fence opening into Derby Park. The skateboarding kids barely batted an eye while we scrounged around for trail marks. Trail took us along West Cliff, through Bethany Curve and to Garfield Park for beer check with spiked watermelon juice and chocolate chip cookies. Our little party must’ve looked innocent enough to the cop that cruised by while Thmp-Thmp rocked on the horsie and Hugh swung on the tire swing (while leering at the fresh young meat on the basketball court). Riding the slides looked fun, but we wondered if sparks would fly off our asses from our shiny pants.

Religion was in the back of Safeway, the place where Shiny was named. dBASED was RA and Hugh was Beer Fairy (I think). Banana Basher told an old timey story of hashes gone by. Hugh got a down down because she didn’t bring beer for the trough AND she didn’t pay hash cash. Pinky was very disappointed with our circle formation. As she did a down down we shaped up, so her twisted plan worked! Thmp and I drank for being shiniest. Just Shannon was named Electric Labialand, thanks to Brokebench Mountain plus her pink dildo taser flashlight. A security guard was trollin’ the lot, but luckily he passed on by. Ghettoman and his visitor had a swig. Dung-Fu chugged for wanting to go through the creek tunnel at Derby Park instead of through the fence. Finger Nips and I figured heck, a man’s got urges. dBASED was flamed for being totally DFL. He did A trail, just not OUR trail. And the hares…

On on on was back at Parish, but when you’re old and gotta work at 7am, ain’t nobody got time for that.

Next week is Beat Your Meat in Aptos at Butt Balls’ and Lil Anal Annie’s house. You can bring a side dish and something to throw on the ‘cue, but it would be super appreciated if you bring $$$ for Second Harvest Food Bank.

On Out,
Princess Di(arrhea)