Post 4th Vent

Like, if you're driving down Friday night at 6 o'clock, there is no way in hell that you are finding a parking spot.

But look, it's another...

How do I put this, Sandbars? My third year playing in the, I don't know, fourth year playing in the annual 4th of July Cornhole Tournament.

And I came up small, came up short.

Shout out to Sausage Patty, filled in for my brother this year who wasn't able to make it.

And we got off to a nice little 2-0 start.

And we knocked off a couple of 10-year-olds, and then we stumbled into some Southampton natives.

Shout out Mike Ryder, who just didn't have his A game that day.

So we quickly got out to a 2-0 start.

And then look, man, look, I'm not one to complain, but we got fucking shafted.

We did.

There's eight boards lined up, and we land on game three, the board and the bags that aren't consistent.

You had three really nice bags and a piece of shit bag that was just like a throwaway, a throwaway, a throwaway.

And not to mention, on the fourth game elimination round, I hit that bag, and it landed on top of that hole.

But that bag was so freaking light, it didn't have the weight to go in.

So if you're going to sit here and say we didn't get fucked, no, I'm just kidding.

Listen, I'm not going to fucking complain.

It's just a game of cornhole.

It really is the end of the day.

But, you know, like, listen, give me four real bags.

And I think that the narrative is a little different.

I really do.

And unfortunately, that's the shit you just got to live with.

And it gets worse, Sam Boners.

It gets worse.