...aka Battle of the Biscotti!

Well, Drill Me did it again with an assist from Dr. Kimble who set a great trail. We know the trail was great because the pack garbled so while they tried to jam more and more of Drill Me’s cooking into their maws! The trail start was at the tennis courts at Granada Park in Corte Madera so, gasp, a bridge had to be crossed but the promise of Drill Me’s biscotti has been known to drive people insane! Even CSI commuted over from the Eastbay with visions of chocolate and nuts dancing in her eyes. Hand Pump provided his jockey box so the keg of Lagunitas Super Cluster flowed ice cold and fast down the parched throats of the likes of Piggy Style who has taught Just Norbert to pull the tap for him, now if he can just get Just Norbert a drivers’ license to go with his dog license. Hand Pump likes to cover his bets, so he not only brought Sleazy, a Whine and Chowder Harriette, but Just Greta. Apparently Just Greta can drive but she needs Sleazy to push the pedals. Bitches Bitch looked all around him, and the only direction was up, he was in ecstasy. It was quite a fall for him when Lois Lame used the words Poison Oak! If BB had gotten any paler, he would have been transparent.  Just Fuck Off and Just Ted Aka The Other Bastard brought yet another of their endless group of friends who can read, and not just sound out the words. Just Joshua brought his trumpet like voice and improv skills to the pulpit and preached to an enthralled pack. JJ’s reading and his hip action left Tonya Hardon soft! The smile on Do Her Well’s lips were a clear indication of her feeling done very well indeed! While Drill Me got the barbis set to go Dr. Kimble provided a chalktalk that calmed most fears although his snickering at the mention of PO didn’t help BB in the least. Trail took the pack up Granada, oops until it was false and down they came to turn into the shiggy by the outhouse. CSI cast her fate to the Lost Patrol knowing that Tongueless and Fits In lived in the neighborhood for 8 years, a slight advantage. Trail led the pack through the Mariner Dr. townhouse complex. Pied Piper and Wash This Asshole were spotted climbing Windward Dr. where there were no marks but in their heads, a scary pair of places. T and FI guided the LP to Westward Dr. and one of the trailheads for the Phyllis Elman Trail. Oddly enough the marks led up there. While the rest of the pack climbed the trail to Ring Mt. our stalwart LP took a tour of Westward Dr. up and down to Paradise Dr. and its views of the bay and San Quentin State Prison.  The pack had spectacular views from Ring Mt. but of course an error of judgement could have ended them up in Tiburon, a far cry from the food and drink. Having shed blood on this trail in the past Who’s Your Daddy was as cautious as Just Doesn’t Get It was hell for leather. JDGI should not have been surprised by that slide for life he took. It’s true that you can follow trail around the reservoir tank, but it is steep as the shards of shorts proves. Trail came off Ring Mt. onto Endeavor and it was a steep drop back to Prince Royal and Granada Park. The piss was pouring, and the grills were full of burgers and veggie burgers. All the condiments were on the picnic tables along with the Vitamin J. Drill Me had about a ton of potato salad and lettuce, onions and tomatoes sliced. There were buns and cheese for the burgers. The Sacred Bucket was a newfangled one provided by 5150 who was too embarrassed by it to be there. Fits In had made Skippy Goes Naked for the drink but the pack couldn’t get past the Bucket not looking like the Bucket. Chicken Boner rescued BB and LL with a growler filled with Bucket after they lamented that there was no Bucket, yeah, as if! Hey, if Manhole managed to find it, they had no excuse! 5 Angry Inches had no problem finding anything including trail even though he was late. 5 AI brought the word that Hand Pump and One Night Only were still alive and on their way in. Ultra Woman and Bitch On The Side might have been on trail but they were there when the food hit the table. Speaking of food, the evening might have been the beginning of love match. WTA brought a pot of InstaPot savory oats and Princess Slut could not stop talking, how odd, about them and the wonders of complex carbs versus the sugar load in the biscotti she kept shoving into her maw. At least this year no blood was shed over the last biscotti.  Clearly Drill Me and Dr. Kimble did a sterling job of satisfying the pack. Cheers.