 |
 |
 |
It's hard to believe that this was Trixie's turd MASHOUT. It seems like just yesterday she was a MASHOUT virgin.
Speaking of which, there were a lot of MASHOUT virgins this year. It was kind of like a football team with
lots of rookies, except that by the time it was over, all the tight ends had become wide receivers.
Jeff and Jen arrived just ahead of us on Thursday afternoon. There were already a substantial number of people there. We set up our tents and blew up our inflatables. We also blew up our air mattresses. Keg Row already had more than a dozen beers. Brian's Camp du Saison had 3 saisons on tap. Other CRABSters arrived throughout the day, but only the straights; Jim wouldn't arrive til the next day.
Friday morning brought rain. Hard rain. Harder than Tom Cruise at a gay bar. Trixie and I went to Rocky Gap Park with the intention of showering. The bathroom building had been torn down and was being rebuilt, so we went to the nearby Rocky Gap Lodge & Golf Resort and used their bathrooms. It was a nice joint with a pool and a weight room. The weight room had a sign over the dumbbells that said "Free weights", so I took a few.
Back at the mountain I visited a number of campsites with a growler of my sour ale. The weather turned nice, defying the weather reports of "80 percent chance of rain". At least we fulfilled the 100% chance of getting drunk.
At lunchtime the CRABS camp had a jerk-off. Folks brought out many kinds of homemade jerky. We also ate some Spotted Dick, which is a sort of pudding containing fruit and lard. I hadn't seen a spotted dick since my last encounter with a Filipino hooker.
|
|
|
Jim and I found the bottle opener that we had wedged into the crotch (heh heh) of a tree about 8 years earlier. The tree has grown around it so that it's in there tighter than a dollar bill in a Jew's wallet. It's in the picture next to Jim's mug.
This was the inaugural year of the CRABS Wading Pool, which was partially filled with rainwater and cooler drainings. Jen and Trixie spent the afternoon getting wet. They also went in the pool.
 |
 |
More CRABSters arrived, bringing more beer, and I must say that we had the best homebrews. Trevor had some great mega-hopped beers with names like Lolli-Hop and For Those About to Hop. Kevin had a nice imperial wit. Art and Will brought some very good peach beers. They almost made up for what assholes the rest of us are.
There was a sour ale tasting at Camp du Saison that included many homebrewed sours as well as commercial ones from Hanssens, Mort Subite, Cantillon and Lindemans, plus some great cheeses.
 |
 |
Afterward Bo and Jim tapped a firkin of Duclaw Double Coriander Sawtooth. Then we ate some fried sweet potatoes and a huge tossed salad. I hadn't seen so much tossed salad since my last George Michael concert.
Folks played various games such as "poker" and "corn hole", which was very appropriate.
At night the Tom Principato band played in the barn while several people on CRABS Hill listened to me read a bunch of jokes. Dominic and I brainstormed a new idea for Facebook. You know how you can send someone a virtual drink or flower? Well, we could send other things. For example, "Jim has sent you a blowjob." The two of us then went around terrorizing other campsites. Eventually Trixie, who had passed out hours earlier, woke up to drink for a few more hours. Joel passed out in his van, and Les and Kevin drove him to the field on the other side of the woods and left him there.
Saturday brought more great weather. Trixie, I, and Lisa from Cross Street Irregulars went to shower at the Rocky Gap Lodge. Not together unfortunately. Just as well, because I took 3 dumps. I shit you not.
I drank at various campsites and passed around some Westmalle cheese while some CRABSters sat around reading my illiterature.
Upon returning to CRABS Hill I discovered that myriad things were being fried, including coffee cake, granola bars, broccoli, cauliflower, hot dogs, bacon, and cookies. As one person commented, "We could fry a turd and we'd eat it."
The Big Beer Tasting drew about 50 people. Some of the beers were paired with foods, and kudos to Joel and Les for organizing them. We had:
 |
 |
 |
 |
Since Trixie dropped one of the beers, we had her help serve the food instead.
 |
 |
She also gave a guy in a kilt, with nothing on underneath, a toe job. She was rewarded by Dominic with a different sort of toe job and by others with shots out of her navel.
 |
 |
We then told bad jokes and had some of Dominic's white chili, which we renamed Hitler Chili. I liked it, except it gave me gas. Camp du Saison had a saison with fruit served from a carved-out watermelon.
Trixie was hammered, so we went to our tent where she got hammered again. Then we all headed down for the Saturday night banquet to further punish our bodies with 38 kinds of food. Then we came back up the hill to tell more bad jokes and stone the port-o-potty whenever someone used it. Trixie tried to tip it over when Joel was in there. Now, she wasn't drunk at all, and I know this because she told me, "I'm not even drunk." Actually what she said was, "Umnodeevnzrnk."
Down at Keg Row people were playing music around the campfire. Joel arrived playing a boombox. Someone asked him to turn it down so the musicians could be heard. Then Joel, displaying the sort of courtesy and consideration that CRABS folks are known for, said, "Fuck them!" He then proceeded to enlighten strangers about the finer points of twat punching, twat licking, and scrotum punching. The only person drunker than Joel was Trixie, who managed to miss two chairs and fall down. Jen graciously helped her back to our tent. I would have done it, but I was too busy drinking beer.
Sunday was another beautiful day. We went to the community breakfast and ate more food (as if we needed to). Richard the Lionfart, who had been AWOL since Friday, showed up. He, Melanie, Trixie and I hung out and drank while everyone else left. We finally left in the afternoon with heavy hearts and saturated livers.
 |
 |
A few quotes from the weekend: