14 Hours of White Hot Intensity

Dear Readers,
I feel like I am obligated to warn you that I am a little upset right now. In fact I'm more then upset...I am down right pissed. Pissed because greatness was robbed from be by a machine that is supposed to have such a high artificial intelligence Einstein himself was unable to invent it. To make a pretty short and simply story longer and more complicated, I will start by telling you I was sitting on my couch watching the 3rd quarter of the Cavs/Magic classic tonight when my brother asks me if I wanted to go see Angels and Demons. I was obviously skeptical due to the fact I was wearing my LeBron James shorts and therefore felt like I was obligated to witness King James in all of his greatness. However, I also felt obligated to spend time with my brother because we fought a lot when we were younger and one time I dented the side of his head with a frying pan. Also he is taking a 2 week trip to Mexico and I am fairly confident he will either end up being kidnapped by a Mexican drug cartel or become exposed to the Swine flu during his trip to a Mexico City pig farm. Remembering I had a DVR machine attached to my 48 inch plasma TV I was more then confident I could go see the movie and return to watch the 4th quarter in all of its recorded, high defintion glory. Plus I couldn't wait to see a Tom Hanks film which made the leaders of my Catholic church look like psychopathic serial killers bent on the destruction of the world. Anyways, I took every precaution to make sure I wouldn't find out the score of the game, including turning off my phone and sitting next to a group of high school girls who I was positive had no clue who Dwight Howard was (I call that pulling a Tex). I got home from the movie and turned on the game, incredibly focused and excited by the Cavs 4th quarter comeback. However, with three minutes left in the game the DVR decided it wanted to stop recording basketball and start recording a PBS special on the troubles facing Republican Party leadership. Way to go DVR, not only did you cause me to miss an overtime classic but you also proved you're not as smart as we all think you are. My DVR machine is nothing...nothing but a waste of God given talent. If I had the ability to record TV shows in my head there is no way I am missing the last three minutes and overtime of an Eastern Conference final game. However, I can't record TV because this isn't The Terminator and unlike Albert Pujols I am not a machine (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RF4dq2I76QY). At this point I am so pissed its unbelievable. I am pissed at my brother for wanting to spend time with me and paying for my movie ticket, I am pissed at the NBA for not postponing the game till I got back to watch it, I am pissed at Tom Hanks for having a successful film career, I am even pissed at Neil Everett for his overall good mood and for making jokes on the sportscenter episode I am currently watching. So if this blog posts seems angry and vindictive you know who to blame...technology.

14 Hours of White Hot Intensity
For those of you who do not know me very well, either through a lack of effort on your part to become my friend or due to my severe alcoholism causing me to lack memory or social skills, I love energy. I love any supplement that gives me energy. However, due to the NCAA's ban on energy supplements, and my status as a high profile collegiate athlete, I have been unable to use these energy supplements to make me feel good about my below average life. Instead I've had my good friend Jachary Noelker take energy supplements for me and tell me how it feels. Jack recently ran across a 14 hour energy shot (or about 2.8 times the energy Braylon Edwards ingests). Despite warnings saying to only drink half the bottle in a 5 hour period or risk severe heart failure, Jack drank the entire thing at once. Here were Jack's observations.

10:57 A.M.-Ingest 14 hour energy shot...my heart rate instantly triples which means my stroke volume is now 3 times smaller then what it was

11:11 A.M.-Almost 15 minutes in (or 1/56th of the way through my energy rush)...I have officially developed restless legs syndrome due to my uncontrollable jitters

11:46 A.M.-I am racing my dog around the house...after 46 laps (or 6.7 miles) I decide to take a break

12:07 P.M.-Attempt to do the stanky legg...not only does this make me a huge tool but I fall through my bedroom window and down 3 stories

12:39 P.M.-I start watching The Breakfast Club on the HBO Emilio Estevez channel and try to repeat every line from the movie in my best Boston accent

12:58 P.M.-I try to emulate Emilio Estevez's breakfast club dance but can't quite stick the landing on my backflip, which results in me suffering a severe concussion (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KhZU5G6qFqE)

1:01 P.M.-Pull another Emilio and rip my shirt off...doing so while my next door neighbor is having her high school graduation party in her backyard, and of course her and all her friends can see into my house where I am now shirtless. Let's just say I gave those underage high school girls a real treat (pulling another Tex)

1:29 P.M.-Meet Braylon Edwards at the park to catch passes from Derrick Anderson...to bad we are both so jittery from our extra energy doses Anderson's completion percentage was about 13%, with no defense

3:08 P.M.-I take my preworkout energy supplement (yeah I take steroids) and my heart is about 3 beats from exploding

4:29 P.M.-I yell at some 88 year old man in the gym for stealing the bench and for living the full and long life I will never get the chance to

4:58 P.M.-I am curled up in the corner of the gym crying like a baby because my friend Chris left and went home without me...I haven't cried since the 1998 North Carolina Tarheels were beaten by Utah in the final 4. When did I develop human emotions and feelings?

6:03 P.M.-Almost halfway through my 14 hour energy period I fall asleep...don't worry it's normal

7:09 P.M.-Wake up and get my second wind. Send 124 texts about important subjects such as whether Carmelo Anthony should endorse Carmelo candy and what's the most exotic type of pie.

7:48 P.M.-I can tell that the people I'm texting want to end the conversation and move on with their lives...but I am not falling for that trick. As long as you're polite and return my texts I will run this conversation into the ground and talk as long as I want

8:06-10:35 P.M.-Watching basketball and drinking beer.

11:45 P.M.-Go over to Crazy Eyez Killa's house to kick it and record our new hit single "stomp that trick" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FCzdEAy8WOw)

12:58 A.M.-Driving home and my 14 hours of energy has run out...I don't want to instantly pass out so I park my car and sleep in a Park, huddling with 15 homeless guys for shelter

Text Update and Big Ups
Despite the hundreds of texts I sent during my 14 hour energy attack, I somehow only have a text messaging score of +74 (44 inbox, 30 sent, 16 from females). As I mentioned earlier, if you and me are in a text messaging conversation I am not letting go. Nothing is more important to me then the texts I craft, and like this blog they take time to think of and develop, and I am going to keep sending them as long as there is not an NBA playoff game or TV show I want to watch on. Also if you dare text me when you have yet to read my blog or even join my facebook group (despite my constant invitations), well that just hurts. I will still accept your texts to improve my score, but each one will chip away at my self-esteem little by little. Finally I have not perfected the facebook popularity game yet, but my score would suck due to the lack of comments on my status, or online friends who want to chat with me.

I am not going to name names in my Big Ups section, probably due to my new set of human emotions and concern for other people's feelings (the fan might be embarrassed and I am going so soft I actually care), but there is an incident I forgot to mention which is certainly big ups worthy. One Saturday night a fan of the blog cornered me and told me how funny he/she thought the Sack Artist was, especially Horton's and my trip to the Plasma Center. Evidently this fan was drunker then I was when that lesbian was pouring shots of Jamison down my throat, because a couple of nights later he/she told me how much he/she liked the blog again, with no memory of our previous conversation. So not only did this fan like the blog drunk, but he/she is actually a sober fan as well. When I read/write this thing sober I go to bed with a bad taste in my life because I know I have very little promise or ability. So for him/her to like it as much sober as she did with a slight buzz is a true testament to his/her character.

Free bud lights on Friday so a bar is providing me with blog material and losing a ton of money at the same time...God Bless America

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

A Change of Scenary Can Be Scary

Dear Readers,
I am sure you are wondering where I have been for the past week plus. After all it has been almost 2 weeks since my last original post and I am sure many of you have been more anxious for a new post then I have been for a Dude Where's My Car Sequel for the past 9 years. Anyways I am back, and let me explain my absence. First of all, I have recently returned to my summer home in St. Louis from my winter cottage in beautiful Beloit, Wisconsin. I've gotten into a blog writing routine in Beloit that has carried me through many a lonely night. I would sit on the front porch of the Sigma Chi house for the better part of 9 hours thinking about important world issues like LeBron James' player efficiency rating, the fat content of McDonald's french fries, and whether Hangover the movie is really just a prelude to my experiences during Joey Schalfly's bachelor party in Las Vegas. I would have Michael Kovach sit with me and share his emotional insecurities and educational deficiencies. Andrew Heer would share tales of JV baseball and show me the text messages he exchanges with his bff Michael Jordan. Jake Majeski would tell stories of his one legged dog Cosmo while injecting himself with HGH right in front of me. It was a laugh riot that inspired me to share my heart and soul with the blogging public.

Re released into the Wild
However, since my return to the world's greatest city I have been off my game...to say the least. My surroundings are unlike anything I have ever experienced. Yes, I have lived in the same house in St. Louis for the past 18 years and have pretty much done the exact same thing everyday during that time span (wake up, eat, watch TV, eat, nap, eat, watch TV, eat, sleep). However, notice in my daily pattern the lack of blog writing (or any other constructive activity for that matter). Also there is so much to do in St. Louis that I have been supplementing my daily pattern by listening to Nelly, visiting the Arch and going on frequent tours of the Anhesuer-Busch brewery. You might think these activities would give me sufficient material to blog about the city in the Midwest, best city in the whole wide wide world (and yes Lupe is talking about the Lou...http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qaPpu5vKsZo). However, all these activities have done is left me drunk and passed out under the world's most famous monument (http://www.orgsites.com/mo/stlchristianhomesports/StLouisArch.jpg) with a group of Chinese tourists trying to do scientific experiments on my unusually large body (I would be the second largest man in their country).

When I realized the St. Louis experience was not conducive to blog writing I tried to replicate my Beloit porch experience on my very own front porch. However, this experiment was ultimately not successful, and if any of you ever read my facebook status then you know I found it lonely and not at all soothing. I tried to replicate all of my Sigma Chi front porch activities, but they just weren't the same. First I tried playing cards by myself, a favorite past time of mine. However, I shuffled the Ocean's 11 collector deck too close to a lit candle and Frank Sinatara's head went up in flames on my 5 of clubs, eventually lighting all of my arm hair and the sleeve of my Master Bait & Tackle shirt on fire. I realized I needed a partner, so I found a homeless man and paid him $12 to spend a couple hours on the porch pretending to be Kovach. About 15 minutes in I asked the man if he wanted to smoke a cigar, and he of course responded with...stogies? why not? However after I handed the man a fine craft cigar rolled in the foothills of Costa Rica, he ripped it open and replaced the tobacco with crack. Even I've never seen Kovach do that, so I felt a little out of my element. After taking a hit of the hobo's crack pipe...which forced me to send texts to people who did not text me first (look what drugs can do to a person's principles), I came to and realized my blog writing might never be the same.

Battle of the Titans...Joliet Jackhammers vs. Schamburg Flyers
Saturday night I decided to leave Beloit a little early to spend the night with my favorite pair of non-related quarterbacks (well one ex-qb) who share the same last name...Joseph and Matthew Davis. Joe was announcing the Joliet/Schaumburg independent league baseball game Saturday night for ESPN 8 the Ocho, and Matt and I were anxious to go. Not only would we be at the game, therefore keeping us from hearing Joe call a first inning single a "dagger", we would also get to see the greatest assembly of baseball talent on a diamond since the 1999 Montreal Expos. Here were my observations from the game

7:01 P.M.-Matt and get off the highway in Joliet. I haven't seen this much economic growth and new construction in a community since I stopped at that all-black strip club in East St. Louis.

7:04 P.M.-Matt looks for a parking spot as I see Rudy and Kovach racing down the street in matching Joliet Catholic sweats

7:06 P.M.-Matt and I park in the season ticket lot (there are 15 spots and 4 cars...not a lot of support for Jackhammer baseball I guess)

7:08 P.M.-Matt and I search the radio dial for Joe's broadcast of the game. Instead we find the Joliet broadcast and learn that Flyer's outfielder Peanut Williams got his nickname (I thought his real name was Peanut...but you learn something new everyday) because everyone in America has a nickname.

7:12 P.M.-Matt and I go to buy our tickets. The sign clearly says lawn tickets for $5, but when I go to purchase mine the lady charges me $6. Why lie to me about one buck? You can't put $6 on the sign? Are people in Joliet so economically depressed that you have to lie to them about ticket prices because if you tell them it cost $6 instead of $5 they will not be able to afford it? Well probably to that last part, but still come on

7:16 P.M.-Matt and I find his friends Mike and Kelly inside and we all buy 124 ounce beers from the concession stand (for $4.75...not a bad deal here in Joliet)

7:18 P.M.-Some kid is racing up the stairs and spills some of Kelly's beer. She responds by dumping the rest of it on his head...every hobo in the stadium who couldn't afford a beer themselves licks the kids face in an attempt to down some alcohol. FML #1 (for the hobos or the kid? You be the judge)

7:22 P.M.-The Joliet PA announcer exclaims "when I say Jack...you say hammers" over the loud speaker. After yelling "Jack" the stadium is silent...a lot of team spirit in Joliet

7:30 P.M.-Felix Jose comes to bat for the Flyers. Not only does this fella have two first names, but it turns out he has won two world series titles (1985 KC Royals and 2000 Yankees). So after a 15 year professional career that led to 2 world series rings and millions of dollars in salary, you return to baseball as a 43 year old to make $12,000 a year for an independent league team? FML #2 (for Felix Jose)

7:45 P.M.-"JACK" over the PA...crickets

7:50 P.M.-In between innings we see an epic sack race contest as two father-son combos go at it. Little Eric and his father Timothy lose because Eric falls. After the race Timothy removes his belt and all we can hear is Eric cry "No daddy, NO"(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ihpe07LoOx0)

7:55-8:15 P.M.-The Jackhammers make 15 errors in the 6th inning...high quality baseball

8:20 P.M.-"JACK" over the speakers...no reply. The PA announcer leaves the mic on and I can clearly hear him say "I hate this job"...FML #3 (for the PA announcer)

8:25 P.M.-The Kid who spilled Kelly's beer is now doing the "Cha Cha Y'all" all by himself in the aisle...what a tool. FML #4 (for the little kid)

8:30-9:30 P.M.-Don't remember...wasn't paying attention

9:35 P.M.-Matt and I are walking through a dark Joliet alley (luckily I don't have to say that one) alone and a homeless guy is walking up to us...FML #5 (for me)

Texting Update and Big Ups
My text messaging score is not the best it has ever been right now. Right now I am only at +89 (58-inbox, 54-sent, 28 from females, 1 unreturned courtesy of...Rich Krajewski. Rich also didn't return a facebook chat I sent him today...maybe because I immedieatly signed off or maybe because of spite, either way devastating my facebook popularity score. Way to crush me again Rich Boy). Also I went through a 45 hour text drought from roughly 11 P.M. Monday to 8 P.M. Today. That dwarfs my previous high drought of 36 hours. Jessica Henges would have received roughly 312.5 texts during that time period. 312.5 to 0? The scrimmage between the JV and Varsity in Mighty Ducks 3 wasn't this lopsided. It looks like it will be a tough summer on my text messaging score.

Big Ups have to go to the Beloit College baseball team one final time...not only for their incredible run to the NCAA tournament but for the unbelievable amount of blogging material you have provided me with. Mad love has to go to Rich Krajewski who ended his college career by pitching an 8 1/3rd, Chris Carpenter esque gem and landing himself on the all tournament team. I would also like to personally thank anyone and everyone who accompanied me to the NCAA tournament games in beautiful Oshkosh BiGosh, Wisconsin. Finally Joseph Scherer and Paul Beauttenmueller for lifting my spirits tonight by drinking beers, eating salads, discussing our feelings and doing other manly stuff together. Finally to Brandon Strongman one more time for sending me that delightful guest blog and not complaining when I wrote my intro completely hammered and a little gay after my night at Club Impulse.

Back soon with 14 hours of white hot intensity

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

The Strong Man

Dear Readers,
maybe its 2:09 A.M. in the morning when I'm starting this post. Maybe I've been done with school for the past two days and been doing nothing but wasting my life drinking alone for the past 48 hours. Maybe I challenged a certain lesbian to a drinking contest tonight that ended with me passed out under a table while she was sober as a bird bragging about the fact that she has more game with women then I do (she's a daywalker...has all a male's strength with none of his weaknesses). Maybe I didn't write this next post you are about to read myself...in fact that rumor I can confirm because Brandon Strongman wrote a guest post for you in honor of my facebook group exceeding 200 members (it's been holding steady at 226...not crazy impressive, but pretty much everyone I know). Notice while reading that Brandon kept the family-friendly nature of this blog alive by refraining from using curse words and deragatory comments towards women. Brandon is a blog version of Will Smith as a rapper (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ul6IHXklym8). I hope you enjoy this next entry...and if you don't I am clearly not the one to blame.

MR. BELOIT GOES TO BLOGGINTON (by Brandon Jak Estraghn, aka "Mr. Beloit")

I always made fun of blogs, deeming them desperate, emotional vents reserved for pre-pubescent girls, self-absorbed midlife crisis victims, and Battlestar Galactica watching mouthbreathers, but I have found a seed of faith in this curious medium, thanks to the tongue-in-cheek satire and reflective lack of tact that sets the tone in this particular blog. After sharing my thoughts and compliments with Mr. Jack Of All Trades Esquire a few weeks ago, it would seem that my recent notoriety as Mr. Beloit 2009 was sufficient to grant me an audience with the audience of his modest yet honorable chunk of the Great American Blogosphere (i.e. Ye Olde Interwebness), which I saw as a perfect opportunity to articulate my current introspections and mind meanderings, and perhaps find a bit of receptive solace in the Sack Artist's inherently skeptical and sarcastic readership. After all, such a purpose seems to motivate Mr. Artist himself to blog his guts out each week. Though perhaps his efforts are, in fact, sincerely intended to simply make the world a better place. (Personally however, I would just hate to think of Sachary as such a genuine altruist.)

When I was four, I tried to make the world a better place by liberating a bottle of Flintstone Complete Chewable Vitamins® from the medicine cabinet while my mom was gone and sharing them with the neighborhood kids. We popped some popcorn to compliment the Freds and Wilmas, then played on the juggle gym until we got busted and dragged to the ER. I spent my two hour time-out in a straight jacket while they made me drink charcoal and pumped my stomach. I didn't give in without a fight though. I punched one physician's assistant and kicked two nurses in the face before they knocked me out and got that dang tube down my throat. Fricking jerks.

I digress. But who cares. Not to disrespect this forum, but isn't that what blogs are for? That and distracting both readers and writers from doing anything even remotely productive in the real world. Really, I should be studying for my Database Principles exam right now. But I don't want to. Not only are databases dumb and I will never be a database administrator, but I feel that spending an hour to write this guest blog will probably yield a more favorable effect than studying for that stupid test. Why am I a computer science major anyway, you might ask? Well, I wanted a job when I graduated. But wait. Didn't Ryan Ream get into computer science because he wanted a job too? Now look at him.

Yikes.

Let me tell you about being Mr. Beloit. I would like to say that the consequences of my victory struck me the next morning like sandbags to the billies, but I didn't actually realize my fate so soon, because I woke up at around 3:30am on the floor of Wal-Mart in the sock isle with a pair of men's 9-12 white cotton athletics serving as a makeshift pillow and a six pack of black, dress polyesters (with a subtle sailboat motif) over my eyes to block the blaring fluorescent lights above. So I was a little preoccupied with not getting run over by the industrial floor waxing Zamboni®, being driven by a deranged illegal immigrant, rather than worrying about my Mr. Beloitness. (Actually, while Zamboni does it fact warrant a registered trademark, the floor cleaning apparatus I am speaking of does not reserve such a right, seeing as it is not a product of the Zamboni® corporation, but merely reminiscent of there renowned machinery. The inventor of the waxing machine however is a holder of nine US patents. That's almost as cool as a registered trademark.)

Once I regained as much of my sanity as I could reasonably expect after that miserable weekend though, which ended up being somewhere around Tuesday afternoon, I finally started analyzing the blessings and burdens of my new position as Mr. Beloit. These amounted to a handful of new friends on Facebook that I did not know, scowls from guys that were apparently jealous of my recent win, smiles from girls that apparently wanted their boyfriends to be even more jealous of my recent win, some candy and tissue paper in my little awards bag, a Kappa Delta shirt that was too big for my scrawny frame, a free night at the Beloit Inn, and the pressing weight of that shiny, plastic tiara with the blinking LEDs that I had already lost to some drunk girl at the Michael Jackson party nine hours earlier. (Actually, she might have been a guy.)

How had I even got into this position? I couldn't just put it off on the fake Freddie Mercury mustache and chest hair that I wore during the formal wear portion (although Nadia did a remarkable job bringing my flat, pasty chest into a fresh form of manhood that will probably never be repeated by yours truly in this century) or the wicked Brett Hart fighting moves (done to me rather than by me, unfortunately) or my behemoth biceps that defeated Greg Buchanan in that spontaneous arm wrestling match during the Q&A session. (This was really more attributed to my familiarity with Sly Stallone's rad, father-son, trucker classic, Over The Top, in which he uses an arm wrestling tactic where he brings his fingers around – off the hand of his opponent – and over the top of his own thumb to get the extra leverage needed to beat the big, fat, sweaty trucker champion at the end of the movie. Not to say that Vegemite Buchanan is so fearsome a nemesis of course. I mean, it's not like I'm not still so sore about that B- in Intro to Psychology freshman year or anything. But seriously, it should've been at least a B+.)

This bring me to my next point. (No, not really, but if I had to actually tie all of this together, I wouldn't have started it. I would probably have better luck wrapping a fart in cheesecloth. Oh yeah, and don't get me started on the Food Network. I don't watch much TV, but man I would burn a hole in my own leg to spend the rest of my life watching cooking shows – and almost did freshman year, actually.) Right. So I have this hotel room at the Beloit Inn. This should not be a difficult issue to address. I'm Beloit's most eligible bachelor or something like that. Plus, everybody knows what you're supposed to do with a night with a king size bed and a jacuzzi. If only it was that simple.

It's like when I go to a restaurant though. I never know what to get, so I ask the waitress for whatever her favorite thing is. While doing this tends to either land me the soggy, chicken fried steak or a phone number from some toofless wonder with a lazy eye, it takes the pressure off of having to make my own decisions. But I can't just ask a receptionist at the hotel to tell me what to do with the room, unless I really want some rugged trouble. I thought about selling it on eBay®. But that's boring. I had a few other ideas too. I could invite all of Kappa Delta over in gratitude for aiding me in my Mr. Beloit achievement, but after all the nights that I ate their house food and trashed their living room, this could result in some unfavorable revenge against me. I thought about bringing Voodoo Barbie over for a slumber party, but Jon Verkler always steals the covers. I could invite Whispering Eyes, as a reward for them doing so well during the IM frisbee playoffs this year. But who in their right mind would put Odin, V, Tony, Julian, Vince, Roland, Jared, Kenney, and especially T-Towns© in the same room for a night? And what if Kenny and Coach Carl showed up with the girls? Nope. Definitely not an option.

Perhaps I could hire a prostitute and play Scrabble™ all night. But she would probably win every round and make me feel stupid. What about getting a bunch of winos from downtown and inviting them over to build a big fort with couch cushions and go skinny dipping in the tub. Er. Maybe next time. Along similar lines though, I thought about calling Dr. Sachary so we could spend the night going on missions and doing adventures around town, then use the Beloit Inn as home base to write an über awesome co-blog. But he would probably down a 5 hour energy and pass out or end up twittering the whole time and I would have to spell check all of his texts.

So if any of you have any other thoughts, let me know. I'm desperate.

Closing Thoughts
Brandon just did an incredible job in my opinion so I hope you all are giving him a big round of appaulse as you read this. Some of you might be saying...Sach this post is all inside jokes that I don't understand. Well if that's the case I have a suggestion for you...get on the inside. Become a part of my incredible and always entertaining life. Facebook friend me, enjoy a my great company and a delicious McDonald's breakfast, or UPS me some money...I don't care. Be proactive. You are a friend of this blog, but you have to make sure it is a friend of yours as well. Embrace it with open arms and your love and trust will be returned 10-fold. Anyways, I am probably not in the right state of mind to continue on...but if you didn't like the guest post I suggest you either A)grow up or B)acknolwedge my greatness and inability to be duplicated

Back soon with a fresh perspective and a mostly orignal post

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

Twittering...My Life in a Nutshell

So in my efforts to learn more about the rest of the internet community that my blog is a part of I stumbled across another recent internet phenomenon...twitter. It turns out this website is a great way to gain useless knowledge about what people you don't care about are up to. Evidently all you do is update your status making comments like "Bill is ruining his life by pursuing a girl who will never love me," or "Jeremy is watching his life pass him by while he wastes time updating millions of people who couldn't care less on what he is up too." If you are thinking that this new internet fad sounds an awful lot like facebook status updates, you are both incredibly observant and somewhat insightful. I mean where's the mystery in life anymore? It used to be that I could lock myself in my room for 2 or 3 weeks and no one would even know or care that I existed. Now you don't have that option because the whole God damn world has to know what you are up to 24/7. Twittering or tweeting or tethering or whatever the hell it's called has ruined the hermit life forever for people like myself, who have no desire to be mocked and mercilessly put down in the outside world. So to make a long story short, am I interested? Of course I am, and here is my twitter updates for this past weekend.

Indian Casinos, Baseball and Being Unloved
Friday
7 A.M.-Wake up with a giant painting of Jeff McLaughlin watching over me for protection
7:30 A.M.-Get in my car and prepare for my trip to De Pere, Wisconsin (the sunshine state) to watch the Beloit College baseball team
7:45 A.M.-Meet up with Matt Davis, Joe Davis and Libby at the Beloit Starbucks.
7:50 A.M.-Leave starbucks...Matt flicks off a cop because he hates normal society and the police that protect it
7:55 A.M.-Take a 5 hour energy shot. I immediately start shaking
8:10 A.M.-Push down on the gas pedal and instantly tear every ligament in my right knee. Turns out 5 hour energy has ruined 2 NFL careers...mine and Osi Umenyiora's (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GSCGg5yYBC0)
8:10-10:45 A.M.-Drive around...I have no idea where I am. I am pretty sure we crossed the Canadian border at least 3 times
11 A.M.-Arrive at De Pere high school looking for the baseball field. Joe asks a fairly attractive 15 year old high school student if she has myspace...she slaps him in the face
11:15 A.M.-Take the roundabouts to find the baseball game
11:20 A.M.-Matt can't decide which shirt will give him a better shot to be a participant on the 2nd season of Tool Academy (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dtxQaWhSYvA) his affliction graphic tee or his wife beater
11:25 A.M.-Jake Majeski gets an RBI single...I am so excited for Snake that I yell out "He's on steroids!" Instantly Selena Roberts is half way through her book on the 5'6" 140 lbs. Beloit College rightfielder with 0 homers who has ruined the intregrity of college baseball with his use of performance enhancing drugs.
11:30 A.M.-Matt pushes me off the top row of the bleachers...I am out cold
1 P.M.-I wake up to discover our baseball team has won the first game
1:15 P.M.-Matt opens the back, passenger side door in my Eddie Baurer edition Ford Explorer. The door then won't close and I have to drive around with an open door. This door has been cursed even since Odom puked on it early this year and the rain never came to wash it off. It turns out my car is actually rebelling against me...thanks Nicole
1:30 P.M.-I am so pissed about the door situation that I kick my keys into oncoming traffic. In my chase after them I am struck by a Ford Bronco and am knocked out again.
4:30 P.M.-I come to again to to see Alex Jennings make catch a fly ball in left field, making Dillon "Tex" Deckert the conferences' all-time leader in baseball trills (Playing while recording zero stats)
4:35 P.M.-Our baseball team won yet another game. So far I have driven 3 hours and pretty much totaled my beloved car Eduardo, in order to see 12 minutes of baseball.
4:50 P.M.-I walked into the Oneida Indian casino in order to win enough money for a hotel room.
4:55 P.M.-I walk out of the casino down $100...I played 6 hands of blackjack, getting 6 20's, and somehow lost them all. The tribe celebrates by spending my money on a group trip to the go-cart track down the street.
5:30 P.M.-I find a bum who charges me $69.99 to stay the night in his cardboard box outside of Lambeau Field. Man Green Bay is expensive...but I guess location is everything
5:30-9:30 P.M.-Try to sleep but can't because it turns out I really am ashamed of the person I have become...and hobos keep dropping their whiskey bottles on my head.
9:45 P.M.-Walk back in the casino to try and even the score.
10 P.M.-The tribe is out buying rounds of long island ice teas off the money I just donated to them.

Saturday
10 A.M.-Wake up and have no idea where I am. It turns out I slept in a Wal-Mart bathroom in Appleton, Wisconsin.
12 P.M.-Buy bologna at the gas station because I haven't eaten in 37 hours. I now have $12 to my name.
12:30 P.M.-Perform sexual favors on Aaron Rodgers in the bathroom of a Green Bay Mobile. Earn enough money to get myself back to the casino...plus he's an NFL quarterback. If you think you're saying no to Aaron Rogers, you are just lying to yourself.
1:15 P.M.-Walk back into the Oneida Casino for a 3rd time...but now I'm focused and ready
1:17 P.M.-The tribe buys season tickets to the Packers, once again off my donation. Yeah I've lost some money, but I have improved the quality of life for an entire tribe of Indians...I think I am a humanitarian
1:20 P.M.-Drive around Green Bay looking for a quick and easy way to make enough cash for some saltine crackers and gas back to Beloit.
1:22-3:22 P.M.-Work 2 hours as a male stripper. Make $47 in tips...jackpot.
3:30 P.M.-Head to the baseball game to watch our team win the AL East
3:39 P.M.-Hunter Nelson throws his bat at me after he strikes out...once again I'm out
6:02 P.M.-I come to and see Michael Kovach make a Chipper Jones Esq diving stop at 3rd base
6:03 P.M.-Beloit clinches the conference baseball championship...I have gone through this entire ordeal to see 24 minutes of our title run
6:10 P.M.-I ask Michael Kovach what he is doing tonight and says he has to study. Chipper Jones move #2...not only can the kid play baseball, but he is committed to academics. The same can be said about Chipper Jones. You don't think Chipper studied in college? Well he didn't, because he never went to college. But if he had there's no way he would go to some championship party with free booze, a couple of chicks, and the sack artist himself present if he had an important test to study for. Same can be said for Michael I guess
6:30 P.M.-Leave Green Bay with no idea where I am or how to get home
9:15 P.M.-End up in the Toronto airport...how? I don't know. I beat up a pilot and fly his plane
10:30 P.M.-Arrive in the Beloit International airport...one of the 10 biggest in the world.
11 P.M.-Start drinking...heavily

Sunday
1 A.M.-Jake Tressmor and I almost kiss. I want to experience something new, and I am all for switching to guys...after all my luck couldn't get much worse by switching sexes. Jake pulls back because he is in a committed relationship with Michael Kovach. Kovach accepting all flavors...Chipper Jones move #3, we all know he was down with anything
1:30 A.M.-After being spurned by Tressmor I decide chicks are a safer bet...start hitting on some biddies
2 A.M.-Walk home alone
2:05 A.M.-Start crying due to my lack of emotional attachment and the fact that Michael Moore is better looking and more popular with girls then I am.
2:30 A.M.-Pass out alone, naked and unloved (naked and unloved...starting to see a common theme here)

So what can you learn from all of this? If you follow your school's baseball team on their quest for a conference championship you will lose all of your money to Indians, get knocked out 3 times preventing you from watching the games, get lost and be forced to hijack a Candanian airlines plane to get home and finally end up in your bed naked and unloved. So would I recommend it? Best weekend of my life...no doubt

Texting Update and Big Ups
In my common theme of updating all of you on my score of the text messaging game I am currently at +93 (72-inbox, 62-sent, 12 texts from females, 1 unreturned courtesy of Rich Boy Krajewski). Jordan DeGeorge and I were working on a modified version of the text messaging game for facebook useage, but no formula has been perfected yet. Also, if you are a girl the game is clearly rigged in your favor. Most guys will fall all over themselves to text any girl who shows interested in them (not me because I like to pretend like I'm cool and don't care), therefore it is easy for chicks to get texts from the opposite sex. I am currently unsure how to settle this score descripency between the sexes, so if you have any ideas let me know.

The obvious big ups once again goes to the Beloit College basbeall squad. Conference champs...unbelievable. I like to think my heroic treck to Green Bay to see you guys in person was the driving force behind your title victory, but the test results on that have yet to come back so we'll have to wait and see. Also big ups to Rich Krajewski, not only did he help the squad win the tournament title, but he left his room for 45 minutes tonight...during which time I may have fallen asleep on his couch, but those reports have not been confirmed either. Finally, as much as it pains me to say it, I will give Nicole Oddo a big up for inviting me to study snacks and because she somehow actually desperately wants to be mentioned in this blog despite the fact she has already been in it like 14 times...go figure.

I am in such a good mood that I will skip my debbie downer award (although it should also go to Nicole Oddo for cursing my car door and making fun of 2 of the only 3 things I have ever loved in my life...St. Louis and Budweiser beer. Congrats Odom, you really know how to crush a man's spirit).

Back soon with a possible guest post and some other cool stuff

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

Craigslist and Textual Updates

I know what you are all thinking right now...Jesus Christ Sach thank God you're back after your week plus hiatus from posting. Well I am back, and for all you CJ Chokums mad at me for breaking the 2nd commandment in the opening sentence of this post...you are wrong, dead wrong. The 2nd commandment states that "thou shalln't (contractions are awesome) use the Lord's name in vain," and while I did use the Lord's name, there was absolutely no vanity. Vanity implies a level of caring about one's personal appearance, and I can guarantee you there is nothing I care less about. Also, if you are wondering where I was the past 192 hours I have a one word for you...Mexico. I heard about this so called swine flu and decided I needed to see what it was all about for myself. I walked through all the quarantined areas, and even held hands with several of the sick patients, and somehow I feel fine. It turns out I have built up an immunity due to the several racks of ribs I consume on a daily basis...so if you want to avoid swine flu I recommend you fire up the barbecue pit and grill up some Delicious pork just to be safe.

Craig's List
I don't know if all the readers have heard of this phenomenon, but I recently stumbled across it. It turns out there is this site on the internet, started by Craig Kilborn, which is basically a giant singles bar. I mean people sell all kinds of stuff on this website...houses, cars, boats, sexual favors and most of all their dignity. This site is pretty much just a giant interent orgy. People will say anything on here. You want a girl to dress up in a diaper and pretend she's a baby? Done. You want some guy to put on a Ronald McDonald costume, take you out for a nice seafood dinner and never call you again? Easy. 15 people will email you and show up at your house/place of work before you even put your add up on the site. Craiglist is like a giant Gennie granting any and every wish you could think of. I was intrigued to say the least.

As I log onto craiglist Chicago (http://chicago.craigslist.org/) I was quickly impressed with the amount of options in their personal section. No matter what kind of person you were interested in...chances are they are somewhere on craiglist. What kind of activity are you up for? Do you want to spend a night rolling around in bed? How about a beautiful evening wining and dining on a $2 million yacht? Even better, are you interested in dressing up like Hugh Jackman and spending a Monday afternoon at X-Men origins (http://chicago.craigslist.org/sox/m4w/1153233203.html)? Well all of these things sound awesome to me, but I was looking for more. I was looking for something that was intense, real and full of emotion...and craigs list seems like the perfect place to find it.

As I viewed the personal adds of women who were seeking strapping young men like myself, one caught my eye. It was entitled "are you my sugar daddy?" I had no idea who was asking me this question, but as soon as I read it all I wanted to do was yell "Of course I'm your sugar daddy!" As I clicked on the link and read the add (http://chicago.craigslist.org/nwc/w4m/1153284569.html) I realized I've never wanted anything so bad in my life. Here is this 26 year old chick, and all she wants is a couple of free nights on the town. Is it really so unrealistic to expect some guy you've never met to see your borderline unattractive picture on the internet and immediately want to contact you so he can spend a night dropping hundreds of dollars on food and drinks, while you ride around in the limo he rented for the night trying to avoid him so you can find a younger, more attractive dude to hook up with? I hope not, this is America after all, and America was built on freedom. This means the freedom of 38 year old millionaires, who despite their enormous personal wealth have a hard time picking up chicks, to cruise the internet in hope of finding some crack addict who they can wine and dine in downtown Chicago. It also means protecting the freedom of 26 year old chicks, with no hopes or prospects, to use the internet to find socially awkward guys with tons of cash who are willing to subsidies their drinking habits on Rush Street. I wish I fit this woman's criteria, but unfortunately I am not between 30-40 years old, and I only have $13.75 in my bank account. So even on craiglists I'm just not that cool.

Texting Update
As all my regular readers know, text messages are they only way to determine whether or not you're popular. If you read my third blog then you know I have developed a method to determine your popularity strictly by looking at your text messaging habits. I played the game over the last week or so, ending up with a final score of +137. I ended up with 84-inbox, 71-sent, and 1 un returned message...courtesy of Michael Kovach (kid hits one home run and he is too cool to text me back? Congrats Mike, half the Internet now knows you stood me up via text message, making me a complete tool...but a serious congrats on your Fred McGriff Esq dinger). However, despite my extraordinary high text popularity rating, one troubling trend started to develop.

Between 11 A.M. last Thursday and about 11 P.M. last Friday I didn't receive one text. That's right...36 hours (a day and a half for those of you who understand fractions) without receiving one text. Are you kidding me? There are Tibetan monks who go through shorter text messaging droughts, and they rarely get service out there. My 10 year old cousin somehow is allowed to have a cell phone, and she probably received 50 texts about the Hannah Montana movie alone during that time period. To put this in perspective, my friend Jessica Henges told me one month she received over 5,000 text messages. That means during a 36 hour time period she receives an average of 250 text messages. 250 to o? And that's just an average 36 hour period for Jessica, I am sure there were times were that number was dwarfed. Can someone really be that much more popular then I am? If the 1996 Chicago Bulls played my 3rd grade youth basketball team, would they even win 250-0? I mean I guarantee I would be good for at least one jumper and some tight defense on Luc Longley down low. Predicted final score...212-3. So what's the lesson in this? Jessica is better at text messaging then the 1996 Chicago Bulls were at basketball, and I am worse then my youth team (meaning I would go 0-10 and lose by an average margin of at least 52 points per game). Man my life sucks.

Big Ups and Debbie Downs
Back with another edition of the game show that's sweeping the Beloit College campus. You have no idea how many people are nice to me now that I have the power of the internet on my side. People will do anything just to earn a little fame and recogonition, even if it means treating someone they despise or even hate like a king. First I gotta give props to the Beloit College baseball squad for having the chance to earn a conference tournament bid this afternoon. This club can't help but to remind me of the Cleveland Indians squad in Major League with their grit, determination, and low salary cap figure. You have pitchers Rich Krajewski (Eddie Harris) and Jordan Degeorge (Rick Vaughn) at the top of the rotation. You have a pretty boy third-baseman, Michael Kovach (Roger Dorn), who understandbly doesn't want to risk facial reconstruction in order to get in front hard hit grounders, but learns that playing like a team and winning is the only thing that matters after Jake Taylor threatens to "cut his nuts off and stuff them down his throat,"...man that line still scares me to this day. You also have the extremely talented center-fielder, Drew Oswald (Wesley Snipes version of Willie Mays Hays), whose injuries sustained in filming an action movie cause him to be replaced in the sequel by a far less talented version of himself (Omar Epps as Willie Mays Hays). You have the simple-minded catcher, John Sill (Rube Baker), who wouldn't hurt a fly and knows a thing or two about the ladies (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zQweJm4BsKE&feature=related). Finally, you have the alchoholic announcer, Joe Davis (Bob Uecker), with his inept color man (myself), who inspire the team to victory despite the fact we don't work the baseball games at all. Yep this Beloit College squad has all the makings of an American League playoff contender.

As for the debbie downer award, I have to give this one up to anyone who has yet to join my facebook group despite my constant invitiations. You know you want to be a part of something special...and that's what the Sack Artist is all about. Also, if you don't want to join the group it's pretty simple just to take the 4.5 seconds when you log onto your facebook to decline the invitation. Please don't write on my facebook wall berating me for trying to get you involved with the Beloit College campus, this new internet phad, and my life as a whole. Also, the sack artist cares about all his readers. Please don't flater yourself because you got 2 or 3 facebook invites to join the group, that I somehow want you specifically to read the blog. This blog is open to anyone and everyone with an open-mind, a free heart, and eyes filled with emotion and care. If you don't meet those criteria...you might not be the best person in the world, but you can still read my blog because I need more hits. Finally, one of my goals in life is to get Mark Titus to join my facebook group and read my blog. If you don't know Mark here is the link to the best blog ever created (http://clubtrillion.blogspot.com/), so anyone who knows Mark personally and wants to put in a good word...feel free.

Back soon with a twitter update and a possible guest post

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