The Crack Head Life

Hello good ladies and gentleman, and welcome back to another edition of the blog that was recently described by the Des Monies Monthly Blog Report Updater as "smart, Witty, and full of compassion for its fellow man." I know what you are all thinking...that's some pretty high praise for the Sack Artist from a pretty prestigious monthly periodical. But I deserve it. As a high-minded man and a gentleman, I have been able to incorporate my ironic dissertations into a caring and compassionate package unlike any source since John Cena's heart retching turn in the Marine (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=co2VdBP6r6g). Me and my blog stand for things like integrity, compassion, honesty, and humaneness. We are against hatred, the Chicago Cubs and most of all...apathy (and that's no joke Kovach). We believe in people helping people, but I don't want to generalize...keep in mind people should probably help dogs, horses, bears, salamanders and any other animal in need as well.

A Day in the Life of a Crackhead
If you walk through the Sigma Chi fraternity house on the Beloit College Campus at 4 A.M. on a random weeknight, there's one thing you will probably notice. It's not the drunken cries of another rowdy Tuesday night party, the quiet shuffle of a female sneaking her way out of the house, or Joe Davis practicing his play-by-play announcing to the Pac-10 women's volleyball game of the week (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W45DRy7M1no). You'll notice two of Beloit's finest, Andrew Horton and Zakk (not a misspelling, kid had learning issues) Tapp, doing what they do best...watching pirated copies of Harry Potter, playing endless amounts of Tetrus on the PlayStation 3, and eating massive portions of deep fried food. After hanging out with these two I have sneaking suspician that both were bitten by the vampire bat I released in the house last semester (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=posQZEVxDkQ). Anyways, I decided to spend a night in the life of these two crack addicted Beloit College students, and here is what happened.

7:30-11:30 P.M.-Horton actually sleeps for 4 straight hours, which may have never have happened before. Horton getting 4 hours of sleep is like a starving, homeless man finding a ham sandwich wrapped in a 100 dollar bill. At the same time I am asleep on our front porch, and I am pretty sure I was taken advantage of...I've felt sheepish ever since.

11:30 P.M.: Horton wakes up and we put in the fifth Harry Potter movie...in the past 3 nights Tapp has managed to watch all 15 hours of Harry, Ron and Hermoine's heroics. I recommended the books to Horton and Tapp 2 weeks ago, and they opened them up the wrong way, reading from right to left like they were written in Hebrew...so movies are a safer bet.

2 A.M.: The HP movie ends and we are ready for a new diversion. Horton goes to the bathroom, obviously to take a hit of his crack pipe to keep his adrenaline going

2:05 A.M.: Tapp starts the second movie on our conquest list, Milk. If you thought me and Jimmy Holmes playing the nervous game in the bathroom of St. Louis Priory High School was homo-erotic...wait till you see this film. These guys are naked more then Eric Ritts after he gets 3 beers in him. It really is an incredibly film and the performance of Ryan Evans, who I guessed moved to San Francisco after his graduation in High School Musical 3, is incredible.

2:45 A.M.: I am pretty sure I am going to die...and this feeling will be with me plenty throughout the course of the night. My eyelids feel like they weigh more then Roseanne Barr, and they are impossible to keep open. However, like the champ that I am, I refuse to fall asleep and push on.

3:15 A.M.: Thanks to 14 mellow yellows and a wink from Tapp's big, beautiful eye I reach my second wind. I'm back like Mase after he quit the church.

3:40 A.M.: Clinically dead, again. How can anyone stay up past 3:30 A.M.? That's nuts.

4 A.M.: Tapp puts in the third season of Family Guy. If there is one thing that will put a little pep in my step it is Peter Griffin and the gang. Despite the random hilarity I was witnessing, I was now unable to laugh or show any facial expression of any kind.

5:30 A.M.: Somehow I'm still awake. Tapp goes to bed (lucky son of a bitch), while Horton and I prepare to leave to go donate plasma.

5:45 A.M.: Horton and I arrive at the Plasma Center. I have no idea what Plasma is, but evidently someplace pays you like $30 for it. This sounds like a better deal then a sperm bank.

5:50 A.M.: I crack my "BFC" 32 oz monster, and start to feel the sweet caffeine, guarana mix lifting my mind, body and soul.

6 A.M.: The Plasma Center is completely full of patrons...and they are not from the upper echelon of society. Out of the 25 people in the center, I counted a total of 8 teeth, 19 mullets, 22 wife beaters, and 24 people literally smoking crack in front of everyone in the waiting room.

6:15 A.M.: Some guy walks up to the vending machines and pays $1 for a 12 oz. can of Diet Pepsi. If you are in such desperate need for money that you are literally selling your own blood for three Alexander Hamiltons like it is your little sister's bike, why would you spend almost 10 cents per ounce of soda? And you get a diet? Come on dude, by a man and spring for the regular pepsi. They are about to stick a giant needle into your veins and collect half the blood that's running through your body, and you are worried about the amount of calories in your soda? Grow a pair.

6:28 A.M.: Horton gets called to the back and I have an hour to kill. I decide to take full advantage of it and hit up McDonald's breakfast. After ordering my meal I discover that I only have about $4, which is about a buck short. Maybe I should have sold my blood so I could actually afford to buy some breakfast burritos and a hash brown. I drive away in shame, and go to the house to collect some money. I then drive to the McDonald's on the other side of Beloit, to avoid the humiliation of facing the same worker who berated me because my father didn't get into medical school, therefore keeping my family from being able to afford luxeries like McDonald's coffee.

7 A.M.: I pass out in my McDonald's orange juice while reading about CSI: Miami in the USA Today.

7:15 A.M.: I wake up with hash brown pieces stuck in my beard, and head back to the Plasma Center to pick Horton up

7:30 A.M.: I arrive at the Center, but the place is packed. It's impossible to even enter the building. I am forced to stand outside staring at the people in the waiting room through the giant, glass windows. I feel like the crazy stalker who has a 100 foot restraining order against Andre 3000, so he always stays exactly 101 feet away in clear view. You want to suffer the most embarrassing moment of your life?...try stalking the people in the Plasma Center's waiting room. And this wasn't the cool kind of stalking like Mitch did in Old School, where you watch a girl from a far and eventually she sees through all your lies and loves you anyways. This is the weird kind of stalking where you are staring at 14 meth addicts who would gladly go down on you for $9, a ride to the bus stop, and 2 teaspoons of nyquil.

7:50 A.M.: I am still standing outside the Plasma Center waiting. There are at least 30 people inside who would gladly rob me for $5 and my monster, and they are all staring at through the center's windows debating who should be the first person to stab me and steal my stylish pair of Nike basketball shorts. Finally Horton walks out, and I hurry to my car.

8:25 A.M.: Horton buys me commons breakfast with his earnings. Somehow commons now charges $22 per person for their burnt eggs and hash browns, so Horton is actually down $14.50 (tax).

9:15 A.M.: I chugged 9 monsters to make sure I wouldn't fall asleep at class. After I give my compelling and well researched presentation, which had something to do with weight lifting or something...I don't remember, I pass out in my desk only to awake naked and unloved.

9:45 A.M.: I walk back to the house...where I slip into a coma

So, as I always ask, what's the lesson in all this? Smoking crack gets you high, makes you feel loved and accepted, and can improve your life in unexplainable ways. But if you smoke crack, or even spend one night living a crack head's style of life, you will end up in a coma. And that's the best case scenario, I am one of the lucky ones. I'm still here writing, thinking, sharing, eating, discussing, and most of all...caring.

In hoc,
Sachary L. Poelker
"The Sack Artist: Jack of All Trades"