“Highway 17 is shutdown, northbound and southbound, near Redwood Estates and the Santa Cruz mountain summit.

The incident began when a thief robbed a Scott Valley bank at gunpoint around 10:30 a.m. Thursday.” -SF Chronicle, 26 January 2017

    The Glow Hash is a sacred, long-held tradition of the Surf City Hash that dates back to the halcyon days of last year.  

Back at the very first glow hash, President Obama was a moral guiding light in the White House, the Cubs had the longest losing streak in professional sports, and Alan Thicke and Carrie Fisher were America’s Dad and Adopted Half-Sister Princess respectively. Our own kennel ran  drought-stricken trails, Beermeisters Rat Pussy and Deadliest Snatch kept us wet, and Puff the Magic Drag Queen had collected the money at every hash for as long as anyone could remember.  I guess it seemed like nothing would ever change.

    The pack met up at the far west side of Santa Cruz at Santa Cruz Mountain Brewing Company.  A box of glow sticks awaited hashers who donned them in various configurations: necklace, bracelet, helmet, and of course, glowing phallus.  (Photo not available)  I spent a few minutes walking around the bar holding out $7 hash cash, but I didn’t recognize anyone as Puff.  Normally Puff shows up well before me, so I just assumed I had one of those strokes that affects the part of your brain where you can’t recognize faces.  That seemed like the most plausible explanation.  Taking my new stroke into account, I just looked to hand my $7 to someone in short shorts and long socks.  I will not soon forget the look of disgust I got from that college student who was both insulted by my offer of $7 and didn’t realize being called a drag queen is term of endearment.

    Hares PCL, FapJack, and Baker’s Doesn’t  collected bags for the A-B trail, gave some trail instructions, and took off.  Arriving late was Ska Skank Redemption who said something about the horrendous three hours of traffic on 17.  At circle up, Pussywood asked if anyone wanted to scribe.  I volunteered without any kind of notepad because, hey, Puff is gonna take notes and have photos for me to review.  Circle up provided us with a Just Someone and Virgin Someone Else.  Someone yelled a reminder to mark the trail well for Puff.

  Trail largely headed to the west.  The railroad tracks were muddy.  There was a photo check.  I don’t know if anyone posted the photos to Facebook because I avoid the anxiety- provoking news in my feed.  Dung Fu got some day-old decaf coffee at the new hotel which sadly lacks a bar.  (But has a restroom in the lobby.  Cha-ching.)  Going over an old rickety railroad bridge, somebody yelled out that good thing Puff isn’t here: he’s afraid of heights.  Yeah, but he’ll be alone when he does come by, I thought. Beer check at Antonelli Pond had a little dance-party-in-the field vibe, like those commercials for Smirnoff Ice or Zima or whatever is the hip new malt beverage.  There was music, dancing, flashing colored lights, and  beverages.  I felt cool.  Briefly.  It was another 10 minute walk to Religion.

    I just saw March of the Penguins.  When the female penguins return from weeks at sea, they approach the big crowd, and run around the enormous, crowded mass of males squawking and checking each seemingly identical one for their mate.  I did that to the crowd at Religion looking for Puff, except the penguins were hashers, and only a few of them had a baby seabird under their pannuses.  I did not see Puff’s pannus.

   Accuprick was RA.  We had no beer fairy on account of “cold and flu season”.  I don’t remember much about religion.  Wicked Retahded got called up for running trail.  He did a dance.  Then he did the dance again.  The pack was delighted.  Moose Turd Pie was called up ostensibly for backsliding, but really because we wanted to see how drunk he was. Virgin Whatsherface tried singing the Gilligan’s Island theme song and totally failed.  (I’d say Bob Denver would be rolling in his grave, but I’m not sure if he’s still alive….okay, I just googled it, and the two surviving cast members are Mary Ann and Ginger.  I guess that question will be settled soon.  But I digress.)

Standing in the circle, I was considering wistfully that I never really got to know my biological dad (having been abducted by aliens when I was a small child) when Dung Fu called out that Analversaries to be celebrated were Wicked’s 150th hash and my 50th hash.  Besides being the two best looking hashers in the kennel, both of us have a strikingly similar Jesus-esque style.  And when Wicked flashed me that winning smiling of his, the pieces all started falling together.  Those warm times he placed a hand on my shoulder, the time he asked about my mom with a twinkle in his eye, the time he invited me to bring your son to work day.  I dunno what it all means, so I did my down-downs and went back to the circle.  Hares PCL, Fap Jack, and Bakers did their dance.

I looked around for Puff.  Nothing.

    We went to the Parish for on-on-on.  I ordered a burger expecting Puff to walk in at any minute, mud-covered from trail with his camera at the ready.  I finished my burger.  Wicked asked me if I was still hungry, and we shared his fries.   Still no Puff.  He’s got until midnight to run trail?  We can’t leave on-on-on yet.

    I know Puff made it through the previous week’s landslides on Highway 17.  I imagined him on the side of the road with a shovel singing Fleetwood Mac as he extracted his car.  He showed up to every hash when President Obama was in the White House.  He showed up at every hash through the Great Recession.  He showed up to every hash during George W. Bush’s second term as president.  He showed up to every Hash since before they invented the iPhone.  He had showed up to every hash since before they decoded the human genome.  He showed up to every hash since before George W. Bush invaded Iraq.  Many times Puff had fought Highway 17, and if not a win, there was always at least a draw.  It was streak, it was a record, it was seemingly going to stretch on into the endless future beyond any time horizon.

But all things are impermanent.

    Next week’s Hares are Accuprick and Buttballs.  Meeting place is The Mediterranean, 265 Center St in Aptos at 6:22pm.  The have happy hour 4-7 and a full bar.  Come have a drink while you still can because shit happens.

Love and burritos,

Courtesy Flush

This hash trash was originally supposed to be written by Occasional Rapist. The day went like this:

1:06 My legs are sore. It’s going to rain. I have to help a friend with a project. Can you write the hash trash?
1:13 Never mind, I am doing the project now.
2:46 Even though my legs are sore, I am going.
5:26 I have too much work to do. I am not going.
9:00 Did you remember you are writing the hash trash?

I should have made Occasional Rapist be the scribe any way. Not attending is no excuse. This reminds me of many moons ago when I was the On-Sec for the Long Beach Hash. Back in those days we had a weekly printed hash trash. The scribe was different every week and back in the those pre-internet days I got the write-up in all sorts of interesting manners. One of my most frequent contributors was Doggy Style. She was quite good and always made her deadline. However, one week she fucked up. I happened to be in Boston the week of that week’s hash. So, I wrote the hash trash and every third sentence was “Fuck you Doggy Style”, in an attempt at humor. Some saw the humor, others did not. I got a Pie in the face from Riff Raff over that Hash trash. We had an “On-Disk” (97-Sex) who was in charge of mailing out the hash trash to members who did not attend. She considered my write-up pornography and tore it off every Hash trash that was mailed. This was later reported back to me and I think I was supposed to be upset, but I just laughed. (BTW, I am hoping Finger Nips reads this and gets it to Doggy Style – whom I am told she and Riff Raff still know).

Hash 893 was the lowest attended hash in years. Because so few of you attended, I’m sure this is likely to be the most read hash trash in years as all those that missed are curious to know what happened.

There there 14 humans and 1 dog (Junk Puncher). There were only 3 humans of the female persuasion, and one of them only made it to the beer check (Ho To Housewife – who walked there from her house and was a pseudo hare).

There was impending rain in the forecast, but we were sparred the rain, which did not cum until a few hours later. I’m sure if this had been a Dung Fu Grip trail the rain would have been upon us. Perhaps we need to have Shallow Hole hare more often as she seemed to be able to fold off flood waters.

The most interesting topic at the start of the hash is why people were not there. Occasional Rapist and Pink Cherry Licker were reported to have work obligations. Timmy was at some fancy smancy concert. New Kids on Cock, who works just up the street from the start, was apparently still recovering from the demolition derby caused by fallen trees at his house earlier that week. Du Fu Grip reported to me a few days something like, he just wasn’t feeling up to it, or he couldn’t get a ride, or something like that. I’m imagining that Deadleast Snatch and Rat Pussy were afraid the THE Scotts Valley would might simply fill up with water and they would either be trapped there or need to swim for safety.

We’ve not seen much of Shallow Hole of recent. She seems to think her elderly dog and sometimes her blind husband (Waxi Pad) have higher priority than us. Even her initial co-hare, Cum Pumper, abandoned her. Last we saw Cum Pumper she reported she had had a date in Scotts Valley and might have reason to see us more often. I’m guessing that didn’t work out, or Cum Pumper would have some how made it to Scotts Valley for her haring obligation. Shallow Hole’s priority to the Hash was on full display tonight as the distance of the hash matched the attendance. I’m guessing she planned it on a small cocktail napkin the night before.

Our special guest star tonight was Deep Stroke. She is a street walker this days. That is, she delivers the mail and says she is on her feet 6 hours a day. In spite of this, or perhaps because of it, Deep Stroke claimed injury and was told me at the start she was not doing trail. However, somehow she made it to beer check unscathed to the mortal eye.

Across the street is a newly formed residence of Shallow Hole’s employer – Kaiser Permanente. It is also a residence of my former employer – Embarcadero Technologies. Most of people I used to work with there were laid off in the past year and I wondered if everyone who remained now worked from home. However, as we left the start I saw lights on, so it appeared someone was home. A few minutes into the hash we passed the back side and I saw people inside – so I know it’s not just a facade – people really do still work there.

The start of this hash started with a button hook through a housing complex just behind Kaiser and Embarcadero. We then hit San Augustine Way with a check. Another check was found at San Augustine Way and Hacienda. I figured Shallow Hole had to throw in a hill or two, so I checked left. However, trail continued on straight and through the only bit of shiggy of the night with short trail that connect to Sandrays Heights Rd.

In this brief section of trail I had cause to discuss a notorious Hasher in my past, Fruit of the Loom, with Thmp-Thmp.  Fruit of the Loom is kind of the Puff of the Long Beach Hash with one exception – no one likes him. When I left the Long Beach 25 some years ago, I got reports of him being punched out twice in the first 6 months I was gone. And that was 25 years ago. My children had heard me describe Fruit of Loom for years and the first time they did a Long Beach hash they picked him out of a crowd. Anyhow, somehow the discussion of staying on trail regardless of the conditions come up with Thmp-Thmp and I commented how Fruit does this religiously. His mantra is – “Try Hashing – you might like it”. I heard this a lot from him back in the day. It wasn’t too popular in a Hash were short-cutting was consider an art form.

A final check was encountered at Sandray Heights and Glenwood. Trail turned left on Glenwood, then right at the bridge that connects with Siltanen Park and beer check was found in the parking lot next to Siltanen Park. We were greeted with some sort of warm chocolaty drink that was yummy and found our hostest Ho To Housewife serving the drinks. Urban legend says that Scotts Valley has no regulations against open containers, yet Shallow Hole seemingly found one of the few places in Scotts Valley was alcohol is not allowed – because there is sign saying so as you enter the parking lot.

After all arrived, we departed for a location were alcohol was allowed for religion. That would be Siltanen part across the street. There was even an amphitheater. I recall two significant down downs of the night. First was when Princess Diarrhea led a song she couldn’t sing. I got brought forward as well as I couldn’t sing it either. The second was finally to our sausage fest when both our virgins showed their’s! Ladies – you missed it.

It was cold and the attendance was small, so down-downs were short. Afterward, many had to be directed as to where the start was and most walked back.

As was promised, our hares Thmp thmp and Twisted Fister brought us some new bullshit. As was expected, half minds made it shittier than it had to be….

We started at the blue lounge (NOT THE FUCKING BLUE LAGOON…since it seems necessary to point that out every time). The pack basically filled the joint, and it felt like a party in there with the beats the cool ass bartenders were playing. A crazy guy walked in with an open bottle of the oh-so classy Evan Williams, and Rat Pussy almost got in a fight with him asking him to leave (Turns out he was outside and showed Thmp his bottle asking if he could bring it inside and Thmp told him to go right in (he got his down down for that))  Thmp and Twisted explained the rules of the evening which involved a giant off-roading wagon full of beer cans.

They started things out with only a 5 minute head start and we had to go catch them, the first two wankers to catch them then had to be the next set of hares. Once hares were caught we all got to drink beers and the deal was when we ran out of beers the last couple of hares had to run us back to start. Sounds simple right?

Wrong.

Motherfuckers put down a fuckload of checks, took us in all sorts of circles, and we eventually gave up despite not quite finishing the beer. To detail it all out, Thmp and Twisted took us out to Point Loma first from the Blue Lounge with at least 3 or 4 checks taking us down an alley between 3rd and 4th. We got to pass our crazy friend again and he basically told JFP to fuck off, nice guy! Our next set of hares was Dung-fu and dBased, and quickly Genital Tongs who didn’t give a fuck and didn’t give them the 5 minute head start and caught up to them.

They of course fucked with us hard with an initial YBF down almost over the bridge to the boardwalk and then we walked back up and we passed ocean view park thinking thats where they were taking us, so we were like hmmm wonder where we are going…well we were going to that park just after a gigantic circle jerk with checks! Dicks. The next hare pair (because god dammit there was still beer left) was Rat Pussy and Bakers Dozen’t, who we were sure would be smart and head us slowly back in the direction of the blue lounge, but nah, they also thought they would fuck with us and took us all sorts of directions just to take us back to dung-fu’s.

Finally at dung-fu’s despite not finishing all the beer, Steamy Baaahnorea took us back to the Blue Lounge where we rushed through religion because pizza!

Religion was behind the Blue Lounge with Accu and Dung-fu sort of co-RAing? It was confusing. The following is 100% plagerized from Puff: Backsliders were punished for their e-vile ways: Steamy Baanorrhea, Dung-Fu Grip, Twisted Fister, Just Foot Pussy, Bacon Queef and The Human Pube.

Steamy Baanorrhea was mocked for falling on a trail that almost no one ran any part of and barely ever left a paved surface. Steamy still managed to find a way to make a fool of himself. Pink Cherry Licker, Transcunt-n-anal, Just Foot Pussy, Bacon Queef, Jizziki, The Human Pube and Cum You Will Not were punished for having neither whistle nor bottle opener on their person. Fap Jack was convicted of not doing even a block of trail (Puff also accused PCL of such a crime but in fact she did trail!).

Our multitude of hares: Rat Pussy, Dung-Fu Grip, dBASED, Twisted Fister, Thmp-Thmp and Steamy Baanorrhea were then punished (rightfully so!). And we finally got to eat at Engfer’s pizza which graciously stayed open a while longer so we could eat! Next week cum’s to us from Shallow Hole and Cum Pumper, sounds like the racists will be happy about that one!

On on,

Pussy Wood

This week’s trail hit some pretty sour notes.  The Hare was Symphomaniac ,

a Harriette who is originally from here but lives in Germany and visits us occasionally.  The pack met in the Kmart parking lot in Scotts Valley.  The Hare gave a chalk talk to explain her unfamiliar trail markings before she left (that was a mess).   Pink Cherry Licker did a second chalk talk before the pack left and proved that teaching a bunch of half minds is worse than teaching elementary school children.  Half minds are hopeless.

The trail started out on Mt Hermon Road.  The Turkey-Eagle split was only a block down on Kings Village Road.  The Eagles continued down Mt Hermon Road and came upon a song check at the Christmas tree.  We solved a check on the corner of Mt Hermon and headed up Scotts Valley Drive.  Everything went to shit at the next check on the corner of Bean Creek Road.  Hashers scattered in all directions.

Some crossed the street and found 3 marks (2 arrows and 1 flour) with an arrow pointing into the woods.   We’ve hashed through this trail several times in the past.   We thought we were on.  A bunch of hashers scoured the woods, but couldn’t find any more marks, so we turned back and searched in all other directions.  No one could find anything, so we actually went around to where the trail came out on Glen Canyon Road, thinking that we could pick up trail again.  That didn’t work either.  The consensus was to say “fuck it” and go back to the Turkey-Eagle split and follow the Turkey trail.  We found the rest of the pack at a liquor check in Sky Park where booze bottles were hidden in the playground.

Turkeys arrived long before eagles to this liquor check and were lucky enough to have “The Arranged Marriage Chronicles” read out loud by the author himself, Paki Sak (if you don’t follow him on fb, do it, season 2 is hopefully coming soon). Trail continued on the linear path around Skypark.  Another turkey eagle split from hell. Eagles came to a funky mark that was supposed to be a YBF.  Since flour was visible a few feet ahead, we all blew past it and continued down the path.

There was a check further down the path.  Hashers went left onto Navigator Drive and called on on.  Then we came to a YBF.  Since the check was back on the linear path, I figured we could dBASED it and go to the end of the path instead of turning around.  But before we got there, we found “on Home” marks going back into the Kmart parking lot.  Turkeys basically went backwards on the original trail eagles missed I think? It was all a cluster fuck. No one was there at the Kmart lot, so we went out searching for trail again.  Since no one could find trail, Pinky used technology to find out where beer check was and told the Hare to just meet us at Kmart.

Since the trail was in my hood on my usual running route, I ran the trail a second time in the daylight and saw what we did wrong.  Sorry Symphomaniac, no redemption for you.  Trail was fucked.

At the check on the corner of Scotts Valley Drive and Bean Creek Road, trail didn’t go into the woods.  Hashers didn’t check far enough down Bean Creek Road.  There were marks past the Middle School.  Then we were supposed to go left down Bluebonnet to Skypark.   At the YBF on Navigator Drive, we were actually supposed to turn around and go the opposite way on Navigator Drive.  This would not be the logical choice considering that was the same direction we came from.  Skypark is a pretty small development that consists of 2 through streets and a few cull de sacs.  Beer near was next to the park.

Religion was in back of Kmart next to a stinky dumpster.  Pink Cherry Licker was RA.  It was pretty short since a cop drove by and saw us.  To our amazement, he did not come back.  Pussy Wood and Cunt Jungle got a down down for finding the mini bottles of fireball at liquor check, Paki Sak got his down down for his reading of the arranged marriage chronicles, there were a bunch of visitors from over the hill and 2 Analversaries.  Cum Pumper for 25^th and dBASED for 725^th hash.

On on,

Shallow Hole (Notes from Turkey Trail by Pussy Wood)