Sandbridge, VA
Swine Fest 2025
Livers Were Harmed in the Making of This Weekend
 
Man, I’ll be honest, none of us went into this trip expecting to come out feeling like saints. From the first crack of a beer can to the last blurry shot, this weekend was less about responsibility and more about unapologetic freedom. The sun dipped low over Sandbridge, and suddenly grown men who usually juggle careers, families, and endless to-do lists were back in their natural state: competitive, loud, and just a little reckless. Cornhole boards became battlefields, and bragging rights were fought for harder than any Monday morning meeting.
Also, shoutout to the ladies. Absolute legends. While we were out here acting like cavemen discovering fire, they had food, supplies, and actual plans. Without them, we would’ve been living off beer foam and broken dreams. Like, no itinerary, no organization, just chaos. They legit carried this trip harder than any of us carried our cornhole teams. So to the ladies, our biggest thank to you all! ❤️
Then we moved inside and the real chaos started. Red Solo cups everywhere, beer pong in full swing, and the kind of trash talk that should’ve gotten at least one of us canceled. Man, the flexing, the yelling, the “I still got it” energy, only to immediately brick the shot. Uhm, let’s just say the line between confidence and clownery got blurry real fast. Damn, I swear at some point even the fridge was judging us.
And it didn’t stop there, every so often someone would yell out “shots!” like it was a sacred ritual. First it was Fireball, then whiskey, then rum, and God knows what else. Meanwhile, the red cups stayed filled with beer, my mortal enemy. Gosh, if you could’ve seen my face every time I had to chug one, you’d think I was being punished for my sins. By the end, it wasn’t even drinking; it was survival of the fittest, and my liver definitely lost.
Before I blacked out both mentally and camera-wise, I scrambled to line everyone up for a group photo. That picture? Iconic. Proof that for one weekend, we left behind jobs, bills, and responsibilities to just… exist. Laughing, drinking, singing, vomiting (shoutout to my liver, RIP). At the end of the day, it wasn’t about the shots we made or missed, it was about being present, being real, and, yeah… surviving the awful beers.
To the swines who were there, cheers to the memories we made together. To the awful beers I had to ingest, the questionable mix of shots, and yes, me eventually vomiting, it was all worth it.
 
“First you take a drink, then the drink takes a drink, then the drink takes you.”
 
 
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