Rich and Wes arrived at 8:00 AM thinking that they'd get us a good spot, only to discover that the Visigoth hordes had taken our hill. Everyone else trickled in during the day. The mayhem started early, and by midday Jim proclaimed, "It's ugly already."
Most of us trekked down to Keg Row several times, making sure to get some Capitol City Saison along the way from the check-in area. It was a great Saison. Just ask Jim. Except that he hates the word "Saison". So we'll stop saying Saison.
Saison. Saison. Saison.
Keg Row had a lot of commercial brews this year, including Duclaw Sawtooth Wit, Duclaw Venom Pale Ale, Duclaw Bad Moon Porter, Fordham Copperhead Ale, Uncle Tucker's Honey Grain American Wheat, Uncle Tucker's IPA, Uncle Tucker's Barleywine, Allagash White Beer, Summit Station Irvington Pale Ale, Gordon Biersch Hefeweizen, Victory Lager, Brewer's Art Ozzy, Ellicott Mills Baltic Porter, Ellicott Mills Boomerang Lager, Ellicott Mills Firecracker Bock, Ellicott Mills Marzen, De Konnick Ale, and Old Dominion Ginger Ale. There were also a number of homebrews: hefeweizen, Scottish ale, wit, IPA, amber, and lemon cider.
Did we mention Saison?
By the way, Old Dominion's Ginger Ale wasn't hooked up when we got there, so upon Cathi's request, Wes and Ben tried to force a 1/4 inch hose over a 5/16 inch hose barb and cut themselves on the barb. Basically they got knuckle fucked by Ginger. Then Chuck Popenoe, who will be 70 on his next birthday, penetrated the hole that neither Wes nor Ben could fill. Cathi wasn't surprised one bit - she said older men are more experienced at sliding it in.
The CRABS Death March had a few more participants this year. The vegetation had grown some since the previous year, and we summarily bitched about the lack of mowing. Bo managed to mortally wound himself again, and so we renamed this event the Beer Witch Project. It took lots of cardiovascular conditioning, stamina, and stupidity to complete this grueling, 23-minute walk.
The night sky was lit up with at least a dozen stars, and some of us got to look into "Leanne", a telescope that has been at several MASHOUTs. Through it we saw Youranus. After some giggling and sophomoric jokes about the name, we decided to grow up a bit, so we renamed it Yourectum.
Roy Carrier and the Zydeco Night Rockers provided nice background music that was interrupted by Bo, Jim and Ben reading lists of jokes. They really kept the crowd entertained. Well, maybe "entertained" isn't quite the right word. Annoyed. Yeah, that's it. Annoyed. Well, their jokes didn't annoy everyone; they put Dino to sleep. At least we THINK he was asleep. It's hard to tell with those dang CUSTOMS official sunglasses on. Everytime we looked at him, we thought he was going to tell us to unzip our bags. ha ha...
On Saturday we thought about setting out on a new adventure, but of course that would have taken initiative, so we found ourselves doing what we do best: nothing. Well, we did manage to cook some food and pass some gas, so the day wasn't completely wasted (although we were). We entertained ourselves with a game of musical chairs to see who would get stuck in the sun or with the precariously-placed Green Chair of Death. There was also a vain attempt to get up and move elsewhere to avoid Jim's flatulence, but as the air was fairly still, the gas just sorta mingled with the ozone. It's okay, though - it reminded Ben of Boston. Cathi was a little irritated though, because she thought she was going to get away from Ben's gaseous fumes at home (clean mountain air my ass!)
The CRABS site was temporarily converted into a library as several people read magazines and some of Ben's books. Folks offered Ben some helpful writing advice such as "You stink" and "Don't quit your day job." Of course, Cathi had her nose in a book as usual, but Dave's music brought her back to the real world, and several people commented on her singing: "Cut that out," "Are you okay?" and "Ben must have married you for the sex, 'cause it sure ain't your voice."
The water balloon incident was a reminder to all of us never to underestimate the destructive power of ignorant, drunk men in large groups. General Jim (renamed 'Genital Jim' by Cathi) led us in a quest for domination, and personally comprised an infantry that sought to defeat the Taleballoon. The result was ineffective homeland security that allowed guerilla forces to dump a bucket of water on Ben, who was an easy target on account of wearing a blinding, multi-color, clashing outfit that made him look like a gay Hawaiian. Then, in Braveheart style, we mooned our adversaries and manually attacked them with hand grenades because the Democrats had cut our military budget. We then beat a hasty retreat, suffering only minor injuries, and Genital Jim was awarded the Purple Nutsack.
The Saturday afternoon beer tasting sucked. Apparently people just cleaned all the shit beers out of their basements. And there weren't even that many of them. Let's see, there was:
There was also a smattering of tasteless homebrews including:
Dave did a stellar job of guitarring and singing for hours on end, but unfortunately much of his playing got drowned out by drunken morons who sounded like wounded moose, except not as pleasant. The attempts at singing would have made a good public service announcement. ("This is your brain. This is your brain on beer.")
After overloading our livers, it was time to clog our arteries at the dinner buffet. We sang in line in case anyone within a 3 mile radius hadn't heard our off-key wailing at the campsite. Several people tried to shut us up by holding conversations with us, but we were not to be dissuaded that easily. We then proceeded to stuff ourselves with the kind of food that keeps the Lipitor manufacturers in business, and then we waddled, Oprah-like, back up the hill.
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Later that night we revisited Keg Row, listened to musicians jam around the campfire, and hung out at Camp CRABS. At one point someone announced that James had fallen asleep with his ass sticking out of his tent, and Jim, being the compassionate, sensitive person that he is, exclaimed, "Let's fuck with him!" Then he and a few others headed off to James's tent humming the theme music from "Deliverance".
Sunday brought the standard anticlimax to a great weekend as we packed up and wondered how MASHOUT can seem to get shorter every year.
A few kudos are worth mentioning:
Every year, as our token Sober Soul at MASHOUT, Cathi has secretly bestowed upon one person her "Most Notorious Masher" Award.
This year, she has decided to go public with her award, in light of the fact that others may truly enjoy her perspective in judging the happily intoxicated for a weekend. In addition to this year's award winner, we will properly recognize the previous two years' winners.
Careful consideration is given to each member of the group, and the only requirement is that contestants must be members of either CSI or CRABS.
Several determining factors make the individual stand out:
MASHOUT 2000 - MOST NOTORIOUS MASHER Award goes to: Jim Wagner.
Quick Wit - In 2000, Jim displayed the exceptional abiltiy of making us all laugh while being totally inebriated. And it wasn't because he was tripping over roots. His ability to tell the same joke over and over and still keep us laughing earned him several points. It's not how OFTEN you say it, but HOW. Although, we weren't necessarily laughing at the JOKE by the 5th or 6th telling.Hare-brained Event - Jim was most known in '00 for leading us on an unbelievably dusty trek to the C&O Canal. The dust permeated everything. (Just ask Christiane and Cathi how far it penetrated.) Members of that ill-fated expedition still twitch upon hearing the phrase, "Hey guys - I know a great shortcut!"
Famous Phrase - Jim's infamous call of "hellooooo" was legendary during that MASHOUT, and was guaranteed to put half the CRABS group into convulsions of laughter. The sound was akin to a wounded cow stuck on a dusty trail (ha ha) crying for help. But worse.
MASHOUT 2001 - MOST NOTORIOUS MASHER Award goes to: Jay Spies.
Quick Wit - Jay's impression of a retarded man had us in stitches the whole weekend. You don't know how hard it is to keep a straight face at the Saturday Night Dinner when Jay is busy mocking the speaker in his "retarded guy" voice. After that weekend, we laughed like crazy, and I'm convinced we're all going to hell for enjoying it so much.Most Known For - His multiple inadvertent backflips out of the green camp chair during our Saturday beer tasting. You had to be there to see it. He had more beer on the chair, on his shirt and the ground than got into his mouth. And it's kinda hard to miss that yapper!
Having a beer tasting at MASHOUT - great; listening to Jay do his imitation of a retarded guy - funny; watching him backflip out of the green chair and spill beer on himself - priceless.
Famous Phrase - "Don't Judge me". Ya gotta hear it to believe it. Some of us wondered just how much of a stretch it was for him to do his imitation of a retard.
And the MASHOUT 2002 - MOST NOTORIOUS MASHER Award goes to ... Wes!
Most Known For - Wes's quick wit had us snickering all weekend. Although he and his "Bitch" Rich were quite the pair and kept us chuckling with their tete a' tete, Wes became most known for his initiation of the "Keg Row Shuttle". Throughout the weekend, Wes and his Jeep could be seen transporting several intoxicated, happily singing CRABSters (and/or coolers) to and fro.Quick Thinking - Wes was able to utilize his Jeep as the Getaway Vehicle for our CRABS forces retreating from the Taleballoon children.
Famous Phrase - Wes has several. One we'll never forget is "Saison". It became his standard comment to almost anything. When I got thirsty I didn't ask him what we had to drink because I was afraid he'd say "Saison."
The other one was slightly late-developing, but well-employed: "We're going to Dallas" was always accompanied by hand and hip movements that only an award-winning MASHER in a drunken fog can do without falling over.
Stay tuned for next year!