Thursday August 17. When I arrived at 1:00 there were already dozens of kegs at Keg Row. Various deviants were assaulting their livers, as well as their dignity, what little there was. For the third year in a row there was no sign of Fagner or his former cohorts, so we (heh heh) erected a sign to help locate them.

But Fagner did donate a beer, for which I saluted him.

CRABS, as usual, had the most beers of any homebrew club. (Note that I said most, not best.)

I went with BURPers Bill and Wendy, as well as Bill Metz (head brewer at Dig Deep Brewing) to the old MASHOUT site at Popenoe Mountain to clear some items out of the barn. The old place still looks the same. The bell, which I remember helping to install in the barn in 1997, was still there.

When we returned the CRABS gaiety was in full swing with homoerotic swimming in Chlamydia Creek. Later some folks went to 1812 Brewery because, you know, beer.

As the sun set the food started to come out (of the closet), with chicken, other stuff, and Jason's bulgogi (Korean BBQ beef), which was the tastiest meat I'd had in my mouth since my honeymoon.

We had a surprise happy birthday for Trevor. (The surprise was that he wasn't sucking a dick.)

Then it was down to Keg Row, which had 40+ beers on tap. There were kegs from 1812, B.C.B., Bear Chase, Brewer's Art, Checkerspot, Dig Deep, Franklins, Heavy Seas, and Manor Hill. Also a punk ass place called Auger, which is Jay's soon-to-be-commercial brewery. Finally, you'll be able to drink Pennsylvania swill in vast quantities! We enjoyed a shameless evening of shenanigans, devilry, impishness, roguery, mischievousness, rambunctiousness, and planaria. (Threw in that last one just to see if you're paying attention.) Jay managed to fall down but unfortunately didn't get hurt.

We did an "anchovy tasting": several beers with anchovy hops, featuring homebrews from Jason, Jester, and I; and two Stillwater cans (Goldfish and Superhop). Then we did a 3-year vertical tasting of Saturn V, a barleywine that various permutations of CRABS members made a number of times during an era that lasted more than a decade. The vintage years were a bit fuzzy but sounded like 2006 (the original), 2012, and 2017. Coincidentally, those are the birth years of my next 3 girlfriends.

Around midnightish Craig and Rachel made pizzas (aka the 4^th meal) in their own wood-fired oven. No photos because I'd already gone back to my tent. I don't know why but ever since my bar-mitzvah I've had an aversion to ovens.

Friday August 18. We had some storms overnight, and it was wetter than my cum sock after watching a Barbie commercial. Joel and I went to Rocky Gap Casino Resort to shower. Wait, that didn't sound right. It's not what you think. What I mean is that we showered together. Anyway, when we got back it was time for a healthful breakfast.

At 10:00 there was 80s music bingo under the pavilion. It's not the sort of game that makes interesting photos, so instead here is a frog that was sitting on one of the jockey boxes:

Jon Blair ran an ingredient-identifying contest, which had 10 triads of ingredients, each with 3 kinds of similar malts or hops. You had to correctly identify all 3 ingredients in a triad in order to get credit for it. I batted 20%, which was lower than the typical priest's batting average with children.

Back at Camp CRABS we hung out...

...until it was time for the 14^th annual Sour Hour. There was a (heh heh) spread of many cheeses.

Since Grover had shown up by now, the gayest poker game in history broke out.

After that it was time for Deep Fryday, featuring deep fried potstickers, french fries, onion rings, prawn crackers, peppers, and Joel's combination of onion/cheese/bacon/pineapple.

We also had Jay's ribs, which he likes making because they're tubular boned meat.

When I passed out I was crowned Campfire Queen.

Then we infiltrated Keg Row for a night of drinking, dancing, frivolity, rascality, knavery, and bestiality.

We returned to Camp CRABS, where for a change I wasn't the only one who passed out.

We finished off the night with more 4^th meal pizza from the Amazing Szczesiuls, because we just hadn't eaten enough. I was so stuffed, I felt like Norm from Cheers would feel if he ate the fat chick from Wilson Phillips.

At 2:30 AM I turned in and was lulled to sleep by a cacophony of crocked cretins.

Saturday August 19. It's interesting how 4^th meal turns into 4^th poop. Took another free shower because you know how heebs love free showers. Then I joined folks for breakfast. I didn't take any photos because Grover was there; he could make a train take a dirt road. I did take this shot, and free beer to whoever can guess which toes are whose.

It was a beautiful sunny day, but don't worry, we managed to uglify it just by being there. Over at the pavilion there was TV/movie theme music trivia. Les refused to play because none of the songs were from gay porn.

Jon Blair held a guess-the-light-beer competition, featuring 5 kinds of pissy lager. Les said that he hadn't swallowed so much pee since the time Fagner wandered into his tent.

The afternoon was filled with activity...

...and non-activity.

Well, actually Rachel wasn't totally non-active; she gave a wonderful demonstration of reverse peristalsis. Jay made more of his gay ribs. Some beers were passed around and I vaguely remember tasting some of them as I drifted in and out of consciousness. I don't know why we get so drunk at MASHOUT.

Then we went to the pavilion for a food-beer pairing and a shrimp boil.

After sunset we had one last night of music and drinking. Mike the DJ introduced us to a game he calls "beer puppeteer", a contraption where you work ropes to pour beer into your mouth. Trevor refused to play because the beer wasn't a dick.

Around midnight we returned to Camp CRABS. I'm not sure what went on because I passed out for about the fourth time that weekend, but I'm sure drinking was involved. When I woke up Craig and Rachel were gracing us again with 4^th meal pizza, and we partook because our stomachs hadn't exploded yet.

Sunday August 20. Woke up and left early, doing my yearly Walk of Shame.

Some memorable quotes from the weekend:

• "This is what losing looks like."
• "There's a banana in my pants."
• "I'm glad I don't have an appendage."
• "What? It's not a urinal? Fuck!"