It was Bloody Sunday at Pearl Necklace and Last Call Norm’s mansion. Our kind hosts were serving up bloody marys at 7:30am to revive the r*cists. It was a pretty good turnout considering what we’d all put our livers through the day before at DeLaveaga. Shiny Snail Trail came bouncing up and was really excited about showing off her carved and decorated melon helmet. It was festooned with mint springs, Pupperoni and matches. She even decorated Bloody Wanker’s melon yarmulke with a jaunty sprouted garlic clove.

Wankers stayed behind on the porch drinking while r*cists headed to the Wharf to Wharf starting line. Got Wood, Slownad and I walked over to Beach St. to join the massive throng of ridiculously sober r*nners. I had the immediate feeling that this would not only be my first r*ce ever, it would totally be my last r*ce. Too much damn healthiness. Occasional Rapist, Shiny and Diddler on the Roofie had the right idea on this course…they were sure to make a stop at Brady’s. Later, they bailed out of the r*ce for good at Over the Hill Gang Saloon.

Six miles later, the rest of us made it to the finish line at The Brit. Even though I ran the whole damn thing, I was still DFL of the hashers. Woo-hoo!!! By that time The Brit was overflowing. Waiting for a drink was now futile, so we rounded up Timmy!!! and Dung-Fu Grip and headed back to Norm and Pearl’s to fill our bellies with cold free-flowin’ beers and hot BBQ leftovers.

Talk back at the mansion was that Cuff My Muff got manhandled on the course by some race volunteer. As she was r*nning by, dude grabbed her by the arm, stopped her and asked if she had a r*ce bib on (it was partially covered by her jacket). She said the unexpected stop completely jacked up her finish time. Dung-Fu seemed totally into Cuff’s story…obviously because he was jealous that he didn’t get any manhandling.

Puff the Magic Drag Queen finally showed up after sleeping in all morning like a lazy sod. Banana Basher couldn’t join us, so Puff took his place haring with Pearl Necklace. The W2B Hangover Hash trail is usually only a few blocks and literally ends across the street. Good thing Puff was well rested because his trail went all the way back to his house for beer check—a whole half mile! Maybe he could sneak in an extra nap during beer check.  Hugh Heifer was a champ and carried Occasional along the trail. At least Occasional had made it back (semi-)alive from Over the Hill Gang, thanks to dBASED’s taxi. Poor Occasional was beer-stained, wine-stained and getting written on throughout beer check, so again dBASED got the car to ferry her back to the mansion and let her sleep it off.

Things were headed towards an all-out shit show at this point, so what a perfect time for religion! dBASED RA’d and Pink Cherry Licker beer fairy’d. Diddler and Shiny drank for not crossing the finish line. Hangover Hash newbies Paki Sak, Shiny, Fourth Cock from the Sun, Diddler, Bloody, Pinky, Pot Ho, and Dung-Fu all had a swig. Cumz Out My Nose didn’t make it to beer check, so she got to enjoy a warm shitty beer instead. In Occasional’s honor, Timmy!!! drank for being GM and not wearing a hash shirt during the r*ce (but he totally DID!). Bloody Wanker drank for being a visitor who was put up by Shallow Hole and Fingernips–BIG thanks to Hugh! Hugh might’ve taken Bloody in to her own abode if her daughter wasn’t visiting and her bed didn’t squeak so loud. And the hares…

For the big ass W2B finale…Shiny tried to light the matches her flaming melon helmet…

Pfffft.

Special thanks to Occasional Rapist and all of you drunks for keeping the barf in Wharf to Barf! We killed it this year!!

On-on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

Ahh, such a lovely evening! The solstice super moon was rising, the bay view was gorgeous, and the beers were fresh and cold. Pink Cherry Licker saved the day by running to  Sev-o for more beer when we saw that Hugh Heifer’s trough had run low. Hares Timmy!!! and Puff the Magic Drag Queen gathered us up at UCSC’s West Remote, for the most beautiful view from a school parking lot ever. Not only did we have a great view of the bay, but Rod Lover and Thmp-Thmp also had a great view of the first section of trail for playing reconnaissance. The hare pair dawdled on-on in the direction of the moonrise. Deep Stroke and Pinky swapped a hard lemonade (and herpes) as the pack chugged down their backwash and saddled up.

Rod and Thmp’s un-telligence mission guided us straight into bombing down a hill, crossing Empire Grade and running through a pasture riddled with critter holes, cute cattle and their sloppy ass droppings. We were relieved to blow right by a private property fence, but soon enough had to hop a steel fence onto a trail that looked like fair game. Hugh’s son, Edgar’s Girlfriend, vaulted right over that son of a bitch like it was a pommel horse. He was stuck spending his birthday with his mom, so you can’t blame the kid for wanting to have some fun. The trail got all woodsy as it snaked along parallel to Empire Grade. We came to a creek with only logs to balance beam across. This was totally becoming more of a gymnastics meet than a hash trail.

Deep Stroke and Cumcerto decided the signal for a mountain lion sighting is screams of terror. I was glad I brought my pepper spray for this shit. I asked Deep Stroke to rip it out of my wrist strap and use it if I got attacked. I’m pretty sure she’d actually just stand back and “signal” while I’d get chewed to kitty bits. Trail winded through poison oak. Then through more poison oak and up a steep hill. Just when our radiators were in danger of over heating, we came to liquor check. Fireball whiskey. Just the thing for a pack of panting, red-faced, sweat-stained hounds. Back on trail was more poison oak. Where there wasn’t poison oak, there were mosquitos. Where there weren’t mosquitos, there were ticks.

We finally escaped from the evil oak as trail went through a graffiti-ized storm drain tunnel beneath Empire Grade. It popped out at a concrete box cave entrance, which didn’t look too welcoming. Glad we passed this by, too. Those old hares were really giving us hell. Hills, shiggy, tunnel, p.o., fences, water crossing, caves, cow patties, cows… This trail had every damn thing BUT banana slugs. What is up with that??

Beer check was in a small redwood grove near Porter College. It had twigs and branches woven in a circle around the base of the trees, making a cozy nest. We shot the shit and snacked on a cheese platter courtesy of gentleman hare Puff. Somehow the discussion turned to crime and panty thieves. I nominated Dog Breath most likely to be a panty thief, but Puff quickly confessed to doing that kind of thing in college. Puff: gentleman hare and panty thief. Brokebench Mountain’s dog Porter was weaving through the beer circle like a walking p.o. delivery device. Strong boys rounded up the cooler and the pack headed back to the start location. dBASED reminded us of ranger danger, so we spread out a bit and acted sorta like decent citizens for a change.

Back at the gorgeous view with the bangin’ moon, Accuprick RA’d and Just Trish was beer fairy. dBASED and Occasional Rapist bailed out of religion either to score a free birthday prime rib dinner at Ideal or because they hate us. Whatever. Brokebench was punished for bringing his dog Porter who crapped on a trail that was already covered in crap. Virgin Ciarra (Pinky made her cum) told a joke that was all kinds of WTF?, so she performed a little ditty about birds instead. Virgin Ciarra and Cumz Like a Dog (Sierra) belched in name solidarity. Then Cumz Like a Dog and Dog Breath drank in name solidarity. We celebrated Puff’s 50^th haring, or his “golden shower analversary” as Deep Stroke called it. Timmy!!! drank for missing the Wharf to Barf t-shirt appointment with designer Hogazm and haberdasher Thmp because he was busy beating off at the farmer’s market drum circle downtown.

Suddenly it was down-downus interruptus by real ranger danger. Thmp went off to smooth things over with the po-po and bought us a few more minutes to finish up our wankfest. Accu proclaimed it the Best Trail of the Year and brought the hares up to thank and spank them. Then we got out while the gettin’ was good.  On on on was at burger. I couldn’t make it, but I hope somebody ordered a Luther. It’s a bacon cheeseburger on a donut bun. Did you just drool a li’l bit?

Next hash will be meeting up at Brady’s Yacht Club. Let’s drink a boatload o’ beer! Those are Captain’s orders.

On-on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

Perhaps hare Occasional Rapist wanted some fancy-ass beer for her birthday because we met up at one of the places with those douchey tulip-stemmed beer glasses, Sante Adairius Rustic Ales. However, co-hare Cuff My Muff seemed much more excited about getting to use her can of bright orange CalTrans spray chalk than any of their rusty old ales. A group of four young sporty types joined us, kind of looking like they knew what they were doing. Turned out they were just Cross-Fitters. Word soon got around that they were virgins, so we welcomed Virgins Sheena, Shawn, Carly, and Katie to our little hashapalooza. After an “exquisitely fermented ale that is unabashedly aggressive and yet satisfying” and some chalk talk, the whole gang was ready to roll.

Trail led off with a true trail mark through a trailer park. The pack was dumbfounded for awhile at a check at the top of Hill St. We collectively pulled it together and headed downhill towards Capitola and jumped on the railroad tracks next to Depot Inn. On the cliffs overlooking New Brighton Beach was a liquor check with some crappy whiskey. Since we started off with “a tart, complex and delectable beer,” it was hard to choke down this swill. Trail hopped back on the tracks and then onto the asphalt of Park Ave.

Mini-chaos ensued at the corner of Park Ave. and McGregor. We were now crossing into the territory of dBASED’s trail from 2 weeks ago. Today’s hares had already been using trail markings of orange spray chalk, pink flour, white flour, blue chalk, and purple chalk. Throw in markings from 2 weeks ago on top of that and you get one clusterfuck of a trail. To top it off, when we finally did identify trail 691, we soon looped through two mile-long back-to-back circle jerks.

Circle jerk #1 brought Deep Stroke and me to this guy on the sidewalk.  He caught the attention of everyone passing by and was definitely slowing down traffic because some of cars were stopping in the middle of the road expecting to have to join some random turtle rescue effort. I guess everyone likes turtles. Trail turned right at the corner of Park Ave. and Soquel Dr. Then it quickly turned right again and looped allll the way back to Park Ave.

Circle jerk #2 was a jungle adventure. I headed solo into a culvert with a sandy bottom and poison oak lined sides. There was ivy and hanging vines all over. It was some real Indiana Jones shit–booby traps and all. About a quarter mile into the culvert a skunk was pacing in circles, alternating between showing us her stinkeye and her pinkeye. One end was giving us dirty looks and the other end was threatening to spray. Trying to get by was like playing jump rope and waiting for the right moment to dash across without getting lashed by the rope, or in this case splashed with ass juice. This skunk was super pissed off, probably because the hares had already thrown rocks at it trying to get it off their trail. Accuprick came along a few minutes later and we found a trail bailout. Exit stage left! We’d rather be covered in poison oak than skunk spray. Luckily, the bailout was a shortcut to beer check in the common area of Cuff’s condo complex where we were treated to a snack of tasty garlicy tzatziki and some dippers. Word at beer check was that past the skunk, trail went through a 4’ concrete pipe under Soquel Dr. It was dark, cobwebby and tough to squat through. Thmp-Thmp said he went into the pipe sniffing dBASED’s ass like a Labrador and came out looking like a cat from a crawlspace with webs on its whiskers.

Religion was a mile away, back at the brewery. Some lazy bastards drove back or hitched a ride. Cookies, hash dinner and beers were served upon arrival. Accu RA’d and Virgin Sheena was beer fairy. Dung Fu Grip down-downed for bike hashing. We toasted Hugh’s 275^th hash, a few birthday girls, all wankers who were skunkblocked on trail, and Deep Stroke for finishing the AIDS ride even though she decidedly did not win. Pink Cherry Licker was cheered for snaring Cuff and Occasional. Today is Monday was jeered for being scared in the tunnel. Of course at this point in the proceedings the Capitola po-po did a drive by to make their presence known, so we hustled along and let the virgins show us their stuff. All we got were jokes that sucked.

On on on was at burger. Some of us finally tried the Jello Biafra which comes on a donut bun. I say if you’re gonna get a donut bun on your burger, you might as well throw some bacon on it as well. So next time we gotta try the Luther.

Next trail will be meeting up at UCSC’s West Remote parking lot for a shiggyfest. Bring your mountain lion repellant and spelunking gear. I have a feeling they may come in handy.

On on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

This week we all schlepped it on over to Santa Cruz Mountain Brewing to rev up the old livers. We had a big pack this week, with visitors from overseas, even! Ralph U. Crammed-In somehow returned to show his face which is now blue, green, black, and red. Poor guy. Shiny Snail Trail made a re-appearance after dealing with way too many sober Thursdays. This was a great place to make a comeback because SCMB has a ginormous beer selection now. Our pals from Okinawa–SCOUT (She Cums On Ur Tits) and Fuck My Face, I’m Bored–got sampler platters of beers that practically came with more flavors than Baskin-Robbins. We all hoped hare TIMMY!!! would lay a shorter trail than usual because one of the few things this brewery wasn’t serving tonight was his usual martini go-go juice.

Accuprick busted out a new hashit at the circle-up. It was some kind of floppy foam noodle that was a failed physical therapy device. Looked more like a failed marital aid. Not only did Accuprick bring the flaccid hashit, he also brought his spawn, No Pole. Are we starting to see a pattern of limpness here? Maybe they can have some of TIMMY!!!’s Viagra because he brags that he only uses it to jack up his car. Rod Lover was the lucky wiener who was chosen to fondle the hashit throughout the evening’s trail.

Speaking of trail, Cum Lord was off like a shot, taking us up Swift St. and across Mission. We passed along the border of a little park on Grandview and into a wooded arroyo. Well, we found the first YBF there and then spent a very long time looking for the terribly, horribly, just barely marked trail that led right back to Grandview. The next stretch took us across speeding Hwy. 1 traffic (DANGER!). After we busted ass dodging cars, Deep Stroke said that if she’d seen us get hit by a car, she would’ve been sad…at most for a few minutes. Trail went down Shaffer Rd. then into the land of ankle-wrenching gopher holes around Antonelli Pond. We were all kind of surprised to find a picturesque Fireball liquor check there instead of a heroin check in the bushes.

We kept on heading beach-wards and into the lagoon of Natural Bridges. When we hit the sand, Dung Fu Grip and Virgin Travis took a quick sunset skinny dip in the ocean. Hippies! Have I mentioned yet that Virgin Travis did trail barefoot with a bloody toe? Dirty hippie!! After our moment with nature, trail markings got very sketchy again. We ended up on West Cliff for about a minute and turned down Swanton Blvd. back to the railroad tracks.

Beer check was behind the Santa Cruz Naturals/Threshold building. Way back in the day, it used to be the Lipton building where they packed teabags and those envelope packets of crappy instant chicken noodle soup. Across the tracks was Wrigley’s. Kids used to dumpster dive for the gum rejects. There was always a whole lotta sketchy black market Hubba Bubba getting passed around our schoolyard. Abundance was not happening tonight, though. The beer went fast, leaving Smirnoff Ice consolation prizes for walkers The Human Pube and Just Laura. Cumcerto got the good stuff because she beat Deep Stroke and was being all braggadocious about it. Thmp-Thmp found a piece of cardboard that was once a sheath for a saw and stuck it on Rod Lover’s hashit dong like a boner cozy. As Ghetto Man was attending to his massive sweat situation, I attended to my massive wedgie situation. I think I may be due for a re-naming because Ghetto Man called my ass a lablancadonk.

We went back to trail’s start behind the brewery for religion. Accu RA’d and Shiny Snail Trail was beer fairy. Backsliders stepped up with their excuses: Just Sara was busy fucking, No Pole was busy taking over the world and Just Laura was in China eating pizza (true story). We all hailed and flailed our visitors from CAN’d and Okinawa. I was very distracted at this time because I was swatting 6 mosquitoes off my red ON-ON sox. Those bastards were biting right through our clothes. They did not give a fuck whatsoever. Virgin Travis exposed his bunz and I was hoping the mosquitoes would take to his tender virgin butt bait and leave us alone. There was a special down-down for the stoners. Reefer and beer, man! I swatted some XL mosquitoes off TIMMY!!!’s back. Just Jane told a joke that almost got her named Ass Rammer right on the spot. Cumcerto was blown away by the fact that Wicked Retahted passed her on trail. He was indeed hauling tonight. I thought I saw a light blood stain from mosquito squashing on the page of my Princess Diarrhea, but thankfully it was just a smudge of cheesy poof dust. Cuff My Muff claimed she “won the hash”, but Deep Stroke protested that we’re all wieners. Speaking of wieners, we all realized that Rod Lover bailed out of religion. I was awarded a 75 r*ns patch AND 15 mosquito bites! SCOUT and Fuck Face showed some real class by bringing some hash swag to share. The guys had to race for it. No Pole came up the rear to win it! Harriettes had to show skin to win. Yes, we saw Hugh Heifer’s ta-ta tattoo AGAIN.

On on on was at burger. where Deep Stroke tried the Marky Mark–a hot dog with strawberry jam and swiss cheese. Not too bad. Hey, pretty much anything will do after a hash, am I right? Rod Lover came back for on on on after getting busted for sneaking out of religion. We dedicate this song from Okinawa to Rod Lover because, “Rod Lover is a fucking wanker because he snuck back like a back door bitch.”

This is my hashit
My only hashit
For being stupid
On trail today
I will hold it
Until I pass it
Someone take my hashit away…

Who will take the hashit this week? Cum to dBASED’s house on Lindsay Lane in Soquel to find out!

On on,
Princess Di(arrhea)

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)