BBP 5.2 pictures, at long last. I warn you now; my pictures suck. I need to nominate someone good with a camera to be the official LinkSwarm photographer.

The Boston Beer Party has occurred in a number of spots -- all urban. I was slightly apprehensive about doing this thing out of doors, where we'd be at the full mercy of the elements. As it turns out, I was right, and Earth does suck... but not too badly.

Attendees: Me, the LBP, Kahuna, Steel, LOki, Cube, LOkidog, Gothmog, LMF, Azron, Hellkat.

We arrived on scene after a short drive. (Much less short for Azron and Hellkat, and much much less short for Chex and Clavis, who, as it turns out, suck all possible ass for shitting out.) The sites were aight, right on the beach, and we set up the coolers immediately, followed by the firespot and our tents. I had reserved three sites, but we only used one and a half, and could have possibly worked magic with one. Anyway, it gave us a lot of ground to puke over.






There was a lot of eating. We ate very well, actually. Everyone had planned dinner events. Here we are eating mog's london broil and Hellkat's cut-up-fruit-with-booze.






Shots.






Shots with Azron.





Shots.





Shots. Getting the picture now, I'll bet.






Hellkat snowballs Azron.





The LBP enjoys corn.





Gothmog allows the LMF to sniff his corn -- but that's all.





I scrutinize my corn.

I told you these pictures sucked.





LOki is happy nonetheless.



Luckily, I had scheduled this thing for the weekend when Hurricane Ophelia was raping the east coast, and we got a lick of the shit ourselves. If we end up doing any more outside BBPs, I'll have a better backup plan than "hide under a tarp" -- though it bears mentioning that with scoutmaster Azron and LOki onboard, it was probably the best possible tarp scenario.





Pooping.





This is how a lot of the weekend looked. I had forgotten how static camping is. Hello, visual of the entire weekend.





This is a good shot of about half of the main site, with a humanoid for perspective.





Kahuna claps happy hands.





Some of the land was really pretty. I'm not talking about cube's legs here.





WHUT.

Around this time we realized it was probably going to be raining like a mothershit, so we set up a tarp area to wait out the fuking rain. Here you see the Correctional Tarp Facility in its larval stages.









God I hate rain.





We still managed to do some drinking, though. I was super pissed about fuking rain but we all eventually managed to ignore it through alcohol.





This is basically how everything looked all day. The rain was really stupid. It kept up until late into the night, complete with mud and puddles forming under our feet and the whole goddamn ruinous deal.

DO NOT WANT.





Here we are cooking Hellkat's roast beef with bourbon marinade.





Which was nice because when the mog blew on it, the burning alcohol vapors erupted volcanically and torched a lot of his face. Here you can see him reflexively protecting said face as he blows again for the recreation shot.





Then LMF applied a sort of healing salve from a sac under her tongue.





LOL DINNER WHEEEEEE



So then the supposedly-college kids from across the beach showed up. Earlier the LBP and LOki and I had made a drunken foray onto their turf to see WTF, despite the fact that we saw them pouring what appeared to be gasoline on their fire from a distance of 2" over and over in an apparent attempt to get pussy and/and maim selves. Kahuna showed up as we were talking and diplomatically took a 100% spill on the wet grass, making a nice hilarious impression on anyone sober enough to notice. They were ready to party and followed us back over after we ate.









They were pretty boring, so the LBP stabbed the button that says "assfucking" and started talking about Crisco Sex. This had interesting results. The semi-ugly one was all OK YEAH, but the prim sorta-cute one who didn't have to work as hard for cock literally zipped up her jacket and put her hood up -- under the protective tarp -- to seek a safe haven from this uncomfortable topic. Haha, you Pavlovian idyuts.

Someone suggested our new friends eat some habaneros straight, so I brought them a good one and they each took part and ate it. LOki popped the second half of it right into his stupid mouth. I was waiting to see them start dying -- these habaneros were pretty goddamn hot -- but nothing really happened, so I suspect I drunkenly handed them a red bell pepper or something. Hopefully I'm wrong and everyone shit out fiery-hot seeds the next morning.

After doing some lying about having travelled to South Africa ("Really? Where in South Africa?" "Oh... just... South Africa... in general...") and being in college, these kids pissed off and we noticed it wasn't raining any more so we ventured out from underneath the Correctional Tarp Facility.

I noticed Kahuna out in the water and went out to the edge to see what was up. He was very drunk all by himself and quiet. He goes "Dude... if you just stand here... and look out... like real far, but not too far, like not 100 meters but maybe if you look out like 20 meters... and just watch... it's like you're going a million miles an hour!" This sounded great to me so I was onboard immediately. I took off my boots and waded out with him, and stared out exactly 20 meters (a real feat since I have no idea how many that is) and I could kinda see what he was getting at but I think it was a Canadia thing so I just sort of chilled there with him a bit and wondered about where our lives are all going (LOL).





Then everyone waded out into the water and we lit smokes.





Here's the LBP looking feisty and vivacious and planning to run out and tackle someone and take them down into the water. Luckily for someone, she was fuking cocked and managed only to ricochet off Kahuna and fall into the water herself.

This was pretty much her final Friday act before being passing out (except for puking over the edge of the tent flap, thanks to me, who heroically carried her torso back out of the tent long enough for her to heave her foamy guts out on the ground and not our bed).

During this, I looked out at one point and saw LOki staggering in his particular very-drunk way and though "shit, I am missing some good stuff." Boy, was I ever. I came back to the fire and saw Kahuna out on the grass in front of the beach on his face, rhythmically snoring over the pile of vomit he carefully shot all over his arms and chest. I asked him WTF YOU GOTTA GET UP DUDE and he said TEN MORE MINUTES so I checked on LOki, who was by this time in his tent. He said he was fine.

Then I checked up on Kahuna a couple of times, and every time he didn't want to get up -- he wanted ten more minutes -- and I know what that feels like so I kept giving him ten more minutes, only we were all drunk and it was more like half an hour each time, so after trip 3 or 4 I made him get up. Me and Gothmog walked him to his tent and I paused trying to figure out a way to get him over the mud river in front of the tent entrance. He chose this juncture to start puking out over the ground, with me and Gothmog each holding a hand and Kahuna making this crazy Zoidberg-blender-vomit sound that Cube can imitate perfectly. He finished and decided he wanted to shower, so we walked him up to the showers. Cube -- who, critically to the success of this my-glee-to-you transfer, was sharing a tent with Kahuna -- chose this moment to dash quietly to his car so he could sleep without vomit.

As we hit the main door, I heard voices coming from inside and saw the shower door (the one shower door) closed and thought "fuk, there are dudes showering together in there. This probably ain't good." To the right, under a stall door I could see two feet.

I turn to Kahuna and mog and tell them there's two gays showering together and a fag jerking off in one of the stalls, but as it's like 2AM there's little we can do but forge ahead. In we go.

I realize the talking is coming from the prevert stall just as Steel pops out of it. He'd been on the phone. OK, one fag down, 1-2 more to go. We're busying ourselves in the bathroom when I hear the gays in the shower trying to get out, but they can't figure out the latch. BANG BANG BANG BANG. Great. They're drunk as shit, too. I hear them finally figure it out and decide I'm going to have to face the music sometime, so I turn around, and what do I see?

LOki looking halfdead propping himself up against the wall. These words come lurching up out of somewhere almost pre-verbal in the depths of his mind: "I'm so cold." His entire face is white and he's clearly so drunk he can barely think. As it turns out, he did a good bit of barfing and then decided to come up for a shower too, only he didn't know the hot and cold were reversed, so he sat in the cold waiting for like 20 minutes for the heat to kick on, never realizing in his rapidly-diminishing consciousness that all he was doing was sitting under an ice-cold shower in his clothes. Gothmog had a good intuitive grip on the LOki logic: "Goddamnit, if I just sit here long enough, I know that the warm will kick in." LOki later corroborated this as his actual line of thinking. Feel free to harass him over this.

This was actually somewhat alarming, as it seemed he had nominated himself for possible hypothermia. We got him into the shower, and Kahuna -- sobered ASAP by these events, like the rest of us -- turned on the hot water. Steel took a picture on his cell and I'm dying to see it, cause there's Kahuna and LOki standing fully-clothed in the shower hugging each other like sensitive prison cholos or something. It was uproarious.

About 20 minutes later, when LOki was finally not about to die, we realized his clothes were all wet, so I suggested he towel off with my sweatshirt and then wear it to walk back to his tent, and to my surprise he agreed... so here comes big naked LOki all wet wearing my hoodie and nothing else, pimping down the road to his tent. Mog flashed the light on his junk so we could make the most of the spare audience.

Funny shit.

So that happened and then Saturday no one took a fuking picture with my camera at all. We were busy recuperating and eating commercial breakfast and shit like that. Everyone napped or ate all day and then of course no one fuking drank because they used up all their drinking powers the night before and then Gothmog started talking about comic books and three hours later half the attendees fled to their tents and then after some more comic book talk those of us left talked about something else and then went to bed largely sober like a lot of assholes. The sky was pretty.




Random Sunday crap.

EDIT: The night before we were chilling on the rock and I leaned over and whipped the back of Cube's neck with a good thin whipping stick and he turned in perfect reflexive smoothness and whipped a well-cooked marshmellow off his cooking tool and it flew right at my chest and exploded all over my infocom shirt. Naturally, everyone thought this was the funniest fuking thing since the invention of laughter. I was covered in burned sticky marshmellow until I figured out I could change my shirt. It looked like burnt bird shit. Luckily for Cube's children, it washed out or else I'd cill.





And then CRAP I forgot Beachgoat's cigars last night, so I busted them out. Thing is, they go as well with a good post-dinner drunk as they do espresso and smoked oysters and sharp cheese for breakfast. (Kahuna's old-fashioned nostalgia espresso machine is unfuckwithable on camping trips, A+++ would be completely dependent on again I tell you what.) My castro was muy delicioso.



So here's some pictures of us enjoying them in honor of Beachgoat. This was a very lazy BBP and we didn't do anything worthy for all the wonderful fags who donated money, but we did mostly drink the living fuck out of your money, so that's something. You guys also bought the wonderful breakfast the morning before and a lot of mundane human camping supplies in addition to 4 or 5 cases of fine beer and a couple fifths of various booze.





Like touching "everyone looking out fondly over the beach before we go" picture or whatever.





Hellkat reading near the fire before we restore nature's chaos by removing our sloppy order.





I ran up to the bathroom and caught a picture of Cube taking a crap in my sunglasses. I guess he heard me and saw my boots and decided to show us his cleaning tool. Fuk off for crapping while wearing my stuff, faggot. Goddamnit, I just noticed that's my old Megarad sweatshirt, too. Jesus fuk.





This is great. "Fuck live and fuck the girl that fucked my live." Someone came in after and changed his errant Vs to Fs but did a shitty job. I love to imagine this poor semi-literate jerl getting some hoop-earringed kinderwhore pregnant and then going camping when she refuses to abort it to scrawl his emo dreck onto the stall door, like that's a solution to anything.





DONE! THAT IS ALL NOW FUK OFF OR OPTIONALLY CLICK TO SEE THE REST.