The Sack Inceptionalizes His 23rd Birthday

Dear Readers,
Since our last encounter I have witnessed something that will change my entire way of thinking and I hope you have too. Inception has changed my life, and if you have yet to observe it in all of its wonderous glory I suggest you go check it out at your local cinema immedieatly...and skip the rest of my introduction. It's not too often that a film piece will actually make me think. Sure 3 Ninjas rocked my world and had me wondering how that Asian guy from Karate kid had a completely white daughter and 3 lilly white grandchildren. But this is different. Inception has made me question my own understanding of reality. What is real? What's a dream? Has Leonardo DiCaprio really transformed from a young teenager with some form of mental retardation (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X6sLIP3908w) into the master of mentally devastating movies that are impossible to understand (Shutter Island now this...I am in a dream)? Who knows, but I remember all my dreams now. Every morning I wake up in a cold sweat still thinking I am in the middle of a dream where I just lost a race to Albert Haynesworth...what the hell does that mean? And have I ever really reached reality? I don't have a totem, so who the hell knows. But I do know this, if I am in someone else's dream, that they have me wearing the same pair of Nike basketball shorts an awful lot. There is no variety in my clothing...so switch it up man. Anyways dreamer, if you are after my idea for a Lifetime original movie starring Zac Efron as a 1920's male prostitute who sings showtunes while he's getting down with the ladies, then you're too late...cause I just told all 7 of my readers about it. So Sack 1, Guy whose dream I'm stuck in 0. So...can I wake up now?

Sack's Michael Jordan B-Day
This past Saturday I celebrated my 23rd birthday and hit the town with three of my best buddies. It was one of those nights where you are borderline blacked out and don't really think anything too crazy is happening. However, as I awoke on Sunday morning reality set in (If what happened was in fact reality), and as I slowly recollected the night before I began to understand just how hilarious it really was. Here is my good old fashioned journal entry for Saturday night-early Sunday morning.

4:15 P.M.-My good buddy Jimmy shows up at my house in a Pink St. Louis University Field Hockey shirt and hands me an anniversary card and a Big Gulp cup filled with Twilight trading cards and one of those giant dill pickles wrapped in plastic. Better then Christmas morning in my book.

4:27 P.M.-Jim and I are watching Hot Tub Time Machine to pass some time. The last time I saw this movie I was absolutely hammered in the Beloit Movie Theater and insisted I had this idea for a movie back in 2004 and someone had stolen it. Now I realize it was John Cusak snooping around in my dreams to revive his career. John...you son of a bitch.

4:31 P.M.-For some reason all the actors in Hot Tub Time Machine keep whispering "great white buffalo" (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I0Sxxibos-I)...looks like Jimmy and I have our annoying catch phrase for the night.

7:48 P.M.-We are getting ready to go out to Dinner and Jim wears an all-white linen suit. Nice upgrade from that pink field hockey t-shirt he was rocking.

8:13 P.M.-I am out to dinner with Jimmy, my parents and two of my other good friends who are both named Joey (henceforth one will be referred to as Joey, the other will be called Scherer). The waiter asks me if I want to start with an ice water. I stare at him angrily determined to show him that even though I am 23, I can still party harder then ever. He brings me back a beer.

10:16 P.M.-By this time we are all sitting on my porch chugging Jim Beam and Smirnoff vodka. Well everyone besides my parents...my dad has 3 days worth of Law and Order reruns to catch up on saved to the old DVR. Man in about 30 birthdays my life really won't be that much fun.

11:41 P.M.-We each take one more chug from the liquor bottles before heading out to the bars. As we cheers on our shots we all let out a high pitch shriek that sounds like either a Aviatar war cry (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5zyWnX1ccOQ) or a Velociraptor hunting call (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wWGXwbeE4qU&p=0B984C1332155569&playnext=1&index=44). Looks like we all have our obnxious random yell for the night.

12:02 A.M.-We arrive at the Dubliner bar in downtown St. Louis. The bouncer examining my ID at the front door doesn't even mention it's my birthday...what a dick. Then I look at my phone and realize that it's after midnight and not really my birthday anymore. Well there goes the one day a of the year that I have friends.

12:31 A.M.-Me and Scherer are finishing our 6th round of shots when some random chick walks up to us and starts chatting. As we are talking she notices the bar stool next to her and announces that she is going to try and jump onto it. This bar stool is pretty high, maybe coming up to my waist, and I instantly know this is a terrible idea...so naturally I encourage the young lady to give it a try. She heeds my advice and does a two-feet jump onto the stool like it's a plyo box. She sticks the landing, but as she tries to stand up on the stool she loses her footing and starts to wobble. Scherer and I stand watching and laughing as three other dudes around her attempt to catch her before she falls...and fail. She hit the ground...hard. Luckily when she got up she thought it was as hilarious as we did.

12:37 A.M.-We all do another round of shots, yelling out our Aviatar cry the whole way. Everyone in the bar is staring at us.

12:42 A.M.-Scherer and I are standing behind two chicks ordering drinks at the bar. As they are finishing ordering Scherer slyly adds "and a whiskey and coke." As the bartender walks away the two chicks turn to us and say something along the lines of "what, is that your pick up line?" To which Scherer replies "no thanks...that's just my drinking line" as the bartender hands him his drink and he runs away. These chicks look at me like they are going to kill me, but if anything I should be mad at them, I mean they didn't even buy me a drink on my birthday...come on.

12:49 A.M.-Another shot, another Aviatar yell...more staring

12:56 A.M.-Joey and I are drinking and talking when a couple of ladies walk up to us. Of course I end up talking to the better looking one. As we are discussing the upcoming Julia Roberts film Eat Pray Love I turn and look back at Joey...who is going at it with the worse looking chick. I mean lips are locked, tounges are flying and nobody is coming up for air. The girl I am talking to ditches me to go join in. Just as Joey is inviting both of them out to his parents house in the suburbs for some skinny dipping I walk away...no one notices.

12:59 A.M.-I hook back up with Scherer who is guzzling his whiskey while some girl is talking him up. He clearly isn't interested and needs an out...I refuse to help. He is getting desperate just as he decides to go hard core and starts calling the girl "Snookie." I don't think I have ever seen anyone so offended...ever. I mean I am no Richard Nixon fan, but if someone called me "Dick" I wouldn't get all pissy. Congrats Snook, you have become famous and calling someone your name is the worse insult that can be levied against them. "Snookie" is now the most offensive word in the English language.

1:04 A.M.-We all do another round of shots and let out our 10th Aviatar yell. Some kid, who is clearly fed up by the constant shrieking that has been filling his eardrums for the past hour shouts "Hey Shut up." I walk right up to him and starting shrieking in his face. He leaves the bar. Best game I've spit all night.

1:08 A.M.-The group walks over to the balcony on the 2nd level of the bar. Just as we are watching the action going on downstairs some girl walks by our balcony spot and takes her shoes off, then stumbles to the nearby bathroom. We are all staring at the pair of white heels, when Scherer picks one of the shoes up and drops it off the balcony. It lands in a small crevace between a refrigerator and the wall, probably never to be found. We leave the other shoe sitting in its spot and walk away unnoticed. All I can think is how much worse it is to have one of your shoes stolen then two...that girl will always wonder what happened to that shoe, and why the other one went untouched.

1:22 A.M.-I stumble out of the 2nd floor bathroom and am walking down the stairs to meet my friends. Some chicks is also walking down the stairs and decides it would be smart to slide down the staris' railing. As she as she stars to slide she freaks out, leans to her right, and falls off the railing. Why are so many dumb chicks attempting crazy stunts and eating it around me tonight? Some people just can't handle my birthday...just like it's a Vegas bachelor party.

1:23 A.M.-I walk down the stairs to see some 30 year old chick sitting at a table with her friends...while at the same time getting a double trouble lap dance from Joey and Scherer. They are both rubbing their butts in her face when I start watching...and the chicks is loving it.

1:24 A.M.-Jimmy and I walk up to Scherer and Joey and tell them we are getting one more round of shots before we head out. They don't notice us. We start whispering "great white buffalo, great white buffalo." The chick whose face is currently in a butthole sandwich asks us why we keep saying that...I ask her why she wants to have a three way with two dudes who are both named Joey? She gets up and storms off extremely embarrassed. 2nd best game I've spit all night.

1:31 A.M.-We down our shots and our heading out of the door when we realize we have no money for the cab. Jimmy and I are about to head to the ATM when Joey says he's got it covered.

1:42 A.M.-The cab arrives at Harry's, our second bar of the night. Everyone besides Joey gets out...and he's furious that he has to pay for the cab. He tells me he is going to negotiate with the cabbie. What happened in the cab after that...you be the judge.

1:44 A.M.-I am walking into the bar when the bouncer tells me there is a $10 cover. I tell him it's my birthday, and ask him how much the cover is now...he tells me $10. There goes my budget for the night.

1:57 A.M.-Jimmy and I sneak into the VIP section. Harry's is the kind of bar where 30 year old business executives buy cranberry vodkas for 19 year old college co-eds with fake IDs, invite them into the VIP section and get turned down Ben Roethlisberger style (hopefully their manners are better) once the bar is closed and the free drinks end. And we get a front row ticket to all of this...well except the Roethlisberger stuff.

2:52 A.M.-We are getting kicked out of Harry's and we have a decision to make. In the St. Louis are there are only 2 places that are opened past 3 A.M. the casino or...the East side. We opt for the latter, and ask the cabbie to turn all our cash into $1 bills.

3:02 A.M.-We are in a cab crossing the Mississippi River into Illinois and the great metropolis of East St. Louis. We are riding in a van cab with me in the front seat, Jimmy and Joey in the middle row and Scherer sitting by himself all the way in the back. Apparently (I didn't find out about this till later) Scherer had to piss so bad that he just couldn't hold it. Scherer, not wanting to get uro misestous poisoning (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OG6b7KJ1Ah0), decides he has to piss somewhere. So he lifts open the lid of the covered compartment near his seat (common in minivans, all the way in the back row next to the cup holders) and fills that bad boy up with his receyled whiskey (otherwise known as urine). No one knows this till he tells me some 4 or 5 days later.

3:14 A.M.-We arrive in East St. Louis at Larry Flint's hustler club. As we get out of the cab we notice a homeless man passed out drunk right next to the front door. This is what East St. Louie is all about...and I love it.

3:15 A.M.-We are walking in the front door when a Illinois state ranger comes up to us and informs us that we are too intoxicated and cannot enter the premise. Come on dude it's a strip club. It's Saturday night. It's after 3 in the morning. And we are in East St. Louis. Who isn't intoxicated at this point? I know those passed out, homeless bums are...I just stepped on them and they didn't even flinch.

3:19 A.M.-We go down the road to the Hollywood Club. We walk in the front door and learn there's a $10 cover. We all are paying, but Jimmy doesn't have any money and we all refuse to spot him. Jimmy tells the doorman that he will pay him tomorrow and just walks in.

3:21 A.M.-I understand why the club is so crowded...it's $7 beer night. This bud light I bought must be worth its wait in gold. Scherer asks the bartender for a glass of ice water and she tells him that will be $7. Long story short he threatens her with a class action suit if she makes him pay for his water...and he still goes thirsty.

3:54 A.M.-Joey is making it rain dropping $1 bills all over the club. I think Scherer passed out somewhere, hopefully for him in the private dance room. I can't find Jimmy anywhere. I am all alone and the Naked women are scaring me.

4:19 A.M.-I find Jimmy and he tells me quite an interesting story. About a half an hour earlier he decided he wanted to go home and thought walking the 10 miles across the Mississippi River to his apartment in the great state of Missouri was a good idea. He left the Hollywood Club and walked through a cornfield, where the husks destroyed his white linen suit. He somehow got out of the cornfield and ended up in the parking lot of Larry Flint's Hustler club, where we were previously denied entry. This time Jimmy snuck his way in, didn't pay his cover (once again telling the doorman he would pay him tomorrow) and had a drink in the club, only to be discovered by the state trooper that had kicked us out earlier. The trooper threw Jim out of the club and Jim hailed a cab and told the cabbie to take him home. However, as the cabbie was driving by the Hollywood Club Jimmy told him that he didn't have any money and he got thrown out of the cab ending up back in the strip club he had escaped earlier. Think this story is long, boring and tedious...well you're right. Had to be there I guess.

4:53 A.M.-Joey is still throwing money around all over the club when one of the dancers he's been wooing decides to take another guy back to the private dance room. Joey is instantly infuriated by this and proceeds to enter the private dance area while the stripper is giving her dance and pull her off the other dude's lap and out of the room. The next 5 minutes are some of the funniest of my life. The stripper is so pissed she is screaming right in Joey's face as Jimmy tries to calm her down. The stripper's client, some 65 year old farmer who is wearing overalls and weighs at least 300 lbs., is scared shitless thinking Joey is either the girl's psychotic boy friend or some religious crusader trying to show the stripper the light. Security is everywhere trying to get us out of the club, telling me and Scherer we better get our "tall friend" out of here before things turn physical. The doorman is yelling at Jimmy for not paying his cover (two separate times), while Jimmy tells him he'll "pay tomorrow" once again. This may be the best birthday of me life.

5:12 A.M.-We are waiting in the club parking lot looking for a cab. We have no money. No cabs take credit cards. It isn't safe to be standing outside in East St. Louis for this long.

5:24 A.M.-We are riding in the cab back home. I am sitting in the front seat when I hear some gagging from the back. I look back and see Joey puking all over the floor of the back seat of the cab. The cabbie doesn't say anything.

5:29 A.M.-We are in my neighborhood driving to my house. The cabbie decides to run each and every stop sign in order to get these drunk morons out of his cab as fast as he can. We pull up to my house and pay with a credit card.

5:42 A.M.-I lay in my bed and fall asleep. My birthday is now offically over. Thank God.

Big Ups and Text Updates
The first, and most obvious, big ups I would like to extend are to Jimmy, Joey and Scherer for helping me set the standard by which all other birthdays will now be measured. I also had several friends who have graduated college and fairly recently either secured or started a new job...so congrats to all of you new grown ups (not like that recently released movie...the worst Adam Sandler has ever made). I would also like to thank anyone and everyone who wished me a happy birthday via facebook, text or phone call. Finally I would love to give a huge big up to new Ram's quarterback Sam Bradford, who conicedentally signed the largest NFL contract in history on my birthday. Sammy we know you will be a star...and I am so damn proud of you. I will now make you my desktop wall paper on my computer.

My text score since my last post is currently sitting at +404 (332-inbox, 310-sent, 50 from females, 2 unresponded) which ain't too bad. My facebook popularity score on the other hand is getting massacred by the lack of replies to comments I make on people's statuses. So if I comment on your status and you just ignore it...that's just not right. Also I have a couple of new facebook games I will playing on various people throughout the next couple of weeks...so watch out.


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

The Sack is Back...but LeBron Isn't?

Dear Readers,

There probably aren't any of you left and with good reason. First, I would thank to thank any loyal followers who are still out there reading this pointless drivel. I know many of you are wondering where I have been for the past 9 or 10 months and why I have stopped posting. The answer is simple...I was relishing my last real chance to enjoy any and every aspect of my life, otherwise know as the Senior year in college. It was a glorious time, where the Busch Light and cheap whiskey flowed like an aged wine. Every nap was a little bit longer. Every bit of biscuits and gravy was a little bit tastier. Every blacked out night was a little more embarrassing. And of course, every ignorant and obnxious comment I made was a little more offensive and hurtful to someone other then myself. It was all I could ask for...and then some. I have hundreds of stories I could share with each and every one of you. I could tell you about Dan Flynn getting decked by a bald headed 40 year old in downtown St. Louis for simply asking the guy for a ride in his limo. I could enthrall you with my tale about how I vomited all over my Panama City Beach hotel room while my good friend Scramuel Booman was entertaining a female guest. I could even share with you my feelings and emotions while escorting International rap sensation DJ Unk across the greater Midwest region. I could do all those things, but I won't because that's a young man's game...and I am no young man. I am now a college graduate and one day might become part of the work force. I have 2 brothers and 2 parents to support. In 3 years I will have to buy my own health insurance. These are very real and serious concerns for a very real and serious adult like myself. And that's what I am now...an adult. So the Sack is back, but coming at you from a new, more mature perspective...which is why I am composing this post on my father's computer.

NBA Free Agent Recap
As many of you may have heard there was recently a free agency period in the NBA, and I am all too anxious to share my thoughts. At first I was going to call a one-hour ESPN special, refer to myself strictly in the 3rd person, and announce "Next year I'm going to take my talents to South Beach," as if I was a gay porn star moving from West Hollywood to the greener pastures of South Florida (that's what LeBron did right? check it out at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CSyRhlGae-M). However, I don't think I command that kind of attention...so this post is the best I can do.

Biggest Winner: Chris Bosh. In my opinion there is no doubt about this one. Throughout his career he's been a productive career 20-10 guy, who the media somehow elevated into the D-Wade/LeBron James free agent strasphere to form the so-called "big 3." Forget about the fact that the Raptors were 256-320 during Bosh's 7 years with the club (not including their 3-8 record in the playoffs with 2 first round exits). Forget that his greatest career basketball accomplishment was being the 10th man on the 2008 Olympic team, where he was a glorified screen setter and garbage rebounder (although he did fill that role very well, which makes me think he may be able to do the same for the Heat). Even forget that almost no one in the US has seen him play since his freshman year at Georgia Tech or that he is the only NBA "star" who was less famous in his own market then every member of the NHL squad's backup penalty killing line. In spite of all this Chris Bosh has now accomplished his one true goal...becoming mildly famous. He's mentioned on every addition of Sportscenter. He has attracted some followers on twitter by asking them where he should've signed (although I doubt Miami was their pick). He even made an Entourage cameo where he spoke between 3-9 words. And now he is going to play in South Beach with D-Wade and LBJ to form the "big 3". So even if he was only the Heat's 3rd biggest free agent pick up (well maybe 5th or even 6th...clearly behind LeBron and D-Wade, while Udonis Haslem, Big Z and Mike Miller are giving him a good run for his money), the average American might now recognize him walking down the street. Congrats Chris you've done every overrated, over paid and undersized NBA post player proud (and Amare Stoudemire can't be too happy about that). Now go out and get 16 and 8 while playing limited defense because you already got the American dream locked up...at least for now.

2nd Biggest Winner: The City of Miami. The greatest fans in the world deserve to watch this collection of NBA stars...too bad they all signed in Miami. The Miami Dolphins ranked 19th in NFL attendance this past season, but hey that's not bad for a franchise with their limited historical success. Miami's NHL team, the Panthers, finished an awful 25th in NHL attendance, but that may be excuseable (maybe people in South Florida really are just afraid of ice). However, topping the pathetic Panthers following and taking the cake for the least cared about professional sports team in the Sunshine state (and possible the world) is the Marlins rank 29th in MLB attendance at this point in the season (ironically beating only the Cleveland Indians). And how about the Heat, the new bell of the ball down there by the Beach? Well their 15th ranking in 2010 NBA attendance is kind of a respectful showing at least when compared to the other franchises in their market (although they were one spot behind the Toronto Raptors. Is it bad when your MLB and NBA franchises draw less fans then their Canadien competition?). So yeah I am really glad for the fans in Miami...maybe with all this star power they can actually take time out of their busy lives, hit pause on the rave music, put down the cocaine and leave the club for a couple of hours. Then maybe the mighty Heat will finish in the top 3rd of NBA attendance for a year or two until everyone's ego explodes and the trade demands start to fly.

Biggest Loser: Cleveland, OH. Once again this is a no brainer. 45 years of torture with no end in sight. You have endured the Drive, the shot, the fumble, the arm of Jose Mesa, even the knees of Brad Daugherty. Art Modell took your Browns away, and has brought the Lombardi trophy to their new home in Baltimore. Even the fictional Major League movie series ended before the Indians could bring the world series to Cleveland...guess the movies had to stay somewhat realistic. And now you have suffered the most disappointing moment in the history of Cleveland sports...The Decision. Your native son shunned you to take less money and less responsibility in a more glamorous city...and you had to find out on national television like the rest of the entire world (by the way has there ever been a more boring hour of TV then hearing LeBron answer one question? The whole thing should've lasted two minutes. Steve Carrell and Paul Rudd did it right on the ESPY's...check it out at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ygt6QifkPss). The greatest Cavalier in history (with all due respect to Austin Carr and Mark Price...man the Cavs have a sad past) skipped town taking with him the heart of an entire region and leaving every sports fan in Cleveland thinking...why us?

What is so bad about Cleveland anyway? I visited once during the summer before my senior year in high school, and had a nice time. There is a gorgeous lake and a revitalized downtown, not to mention both the Football and Rock and Roll Halls of Fame are in the the area. Yet every professional athlete seems to hate it. First Joakim Noah blasted the city during the Bulls/Cavs playoff series (maybe because people in Cleveland aren't proud that he's the ugliest man in the NBA unlike their Chicago counterparts). Then Chris Bosh a man who played in a Canadian city (where he was paid with fake money) was forced to pay income taxes to two seperate countries, and lived in the shadow of NHL draft picks and olympic curlers, still refused to go and live on the shores of Lake Earie. I don't get it...Kevin Durant (about 45 times better then Chris Bosh) will gladly live in Oklahoma City for the next 6 years, but Bosh refuses to live in Cleveland, make $22 million a year and play with LeBron on a team that won 128 games the past two seasons? Something is wrong with the world...and sorry Cleveland, but you seem to suffer more because of it then any other city in North America, maybe even the entire planet. Yeah...the pain must be that bad right now. Drew Carey once told me that Cleveland rocked and I believed him...but it seems no one currently playing in the NBA did.

2nd Biggest Loser: Dan Gilbert, owner of the Cleveland Cavaliers. Man he sure is angry for a guy worth $1.1 billion. As many of you know his bitter letter written after LeBron's departure has caused quite a media stir and a good deal of black lash towards Mr. Gilbert, and I honestly feel bad for the guy. For a billionaire he has caught his fair share of bad luck. First he became rich by inventing Quicken, the computer software that helps people file their taxes. Could there be a worse way to become a billionaire? I mean imagine trying to pick up chicks in a bar by telling them you're a billionaire from inventing Quicken? They'll laugh you outta the place. Believe me...I'd know. I've told my fair share of lies in order to seduce the ladies, and not one single stripper has ever believed that my dad started Yahoo or Flowers.com. So Danny I feel your pain.

But seriously Mr. Gilbert is a loser on several fronts. First LeBron James, his most valued asset, left town. Since Dan bought the Cavaliers their value has increased by more than $100 million...and that is not because of Zydrunas Ilgauskas bringing fans in from the Serbian market. So, he's losing money. Then, he got caught writing an incredibly mean and insensitive (yet very accurate) letter about LBJ, most likely when he was drinking away his pain on Thursday night. I mean if anyone understands what Mel Gibson is going through, it's Dan Gilbert (check Mel's call out at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FTy9BlO-K4Q). Was there anything wrong with what Dan Gilbert wrote? I don't think so, but it certainly didn't need to be said publicly. Gilbert's letter reminds me of something that happened to me this weekend, when I walked into the bathroom of a local bar. As I was urinating the guy in the stall next to me turned and said, "Hey...it smells like piss in here." I thought to myself (as any reasonable person would) "No shit...maybe that's because your are standing over a god damn toilet. Not to mention, there is an open drain right below your nostrals that has been pissed in hundreds of times this very day. Of course it smells like piss in the bathroom Einstein." That comment is a lot like Dan Gilbert's letter in my opinion. Bascially all that letter said was "hey LeBron...you really f'ed me over here and treated our fans like crap." That's clearly true, but it's so obvious that it didn't need to be said, especially not publicly by the billionaire owner of the Cavs. Now Dan Gilbert looks like a moron, just like that retard who told me the urinal smelled like urine. Concidentially I think alcohol played a serious role in both the bathroom/piss-smell incident and Gilbert's letter (not to mention Mel Gibson's phone call), but that's neither here nor there. Not every thing you think needs to be said...and that is something you would've thought Dan Gilbert has learned by now. Plus Jesse Jackson is calling him a slave owner, and Jesse has never exaggerated about anything...so Danny has really got it tough.

Most Random Aspect of the Whole Process: Location of LeBron's Announcement. Why in the world would LeBron announce his decision from the Boys and Girls Club in Greenwich, Connecticut? I mean I understand why the Boys and Girls Club played a role. ESPN let LeBron sell the advertising rights to his special, and he needed to use a charity as cover so he could say "hey it's OK that I went on national TV and acted like a self-absorbed piece of crap, because it was all for charity." I like that line of thinking. Charity really can get you out of a lot of trouble I guess. I mean say for instance you get caught cheating on your wife...just say you were making a sex tape that you will then sell, donating the proceeds to charity. Could she really get mad at you? Not unless she wants to be selfish. So I guess we are all being selfish in our new found contempt for LeBron...at least by that logic.

Anyways while I understand the charity/cover my ass angle, I don't understand why the town of Greenwich, Connecticut was chosen. I mean obviously the King wasn't going to announce his decision in Ohio once he decided to skip town...he clearly doesn't have the cahones for that. But Greenwich? First of all LeBron has absolutely zero connection to Greenwich, at least that I know of. Second, Greenwich may be the richest town in America. As of 2007 the median income for a household was $117,857 ($168,779 for a family). Now there has been a recession since then, but wikipedia doesn't mention it changing anything about Greenwich income levels, so those numbers are the real deal in my opinion. Anyways that's a lot of bank. Why does Greenwich even need a Boys and Girls Club? I mean who in Greenwich would even go to one? There aren't a whole lot of underpriviledge youths running around town. The poorest kid in the room with LeBron still had a dad who made 6 figures as an analyst at JP Morgan or a manager of some hedge fund (what is a hedge fund? I don't really know...but people work for them). I mean maybe they cut back on their christmas bonuses a little bit up in Greenwich, but it's still not the place I would pick if I want people to think about my charitable actions. Give me a break Bron-Bron that wasn't a Boys and Girls Club it was a polo club and spa...you weren't fooling anyone. Next time just pick Compton or East St. Louis, so that the average viewer will be like "dang these kids really do need the money he is contributing." Maybe that will help you score some PR points.

Big Ups and Text Update
First I would like to extend another special big ups to everyone who has come back to reading the blog. I know the post was long, and pretty specific, which makes it different from what I wrote in the past. I'll be writing more and plenty of what I write won't seem like a bad Bill Simmons article (like this one) and will instead be the old school, laugh-your-dick off stories about me getting hammered and not moving forward with my life. I would also like to extend a big up to Charlie Schlafly, who executed his role as editor-in-chief perfectly by proof reading the post. I would also like to thank Joe Davis for reading over the post as well. Finally I would like to extend a melancohly big ups to George Steinbrenner and the Steinbrenner family. George "the boss" Steinbrenner passed away yesterday at the age of 80. I am no Yankees fan, but any sport's fan of any kind has to acknowledge all that he has down for the sport of Baseball, the Yankees franchise, and the fans of New York. Plus Larry David's impersonation of him in Seinfeld is one of the greatest comedic characterizations in TV history. Here is a taste http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CJRNASYFYsY

Finally if any of you remember the text messaging game I created, then that's pretty cool. But I obviously have no way to give you an updated score from the past 10 months or so. All I know is I have 1300 messages in my inbox since April 30, and I have only sent 19 (my sent box can only hold 20 messages before it starts deleting them). So obviously I have good a score brewing.

Thanks again for any readers/support I have left

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

The Sack Artist Sees America Part #3

Dear Readers,
Last night (Saturday, August 8th) was one of the most rewarding of my entire life. As many of you know the current economic climate in the United States has been anything but favorable, and I have fallen victim like a wall street executive who only got a $1.3 million dollar annual bonus from his bankrupt and federally owned company. Going into this weekend I had a total of $200 in my bank account, with no job or income coming in in any way, shape or form. So I did what any reasonable person in desperate need of spending money would do during these difficult economic times...casino. Anyone who has read this blog knows the love and affection I have for casinos and all the activity that takes place in them. However, while I may love the casino...it doesn't always love me. I am not one of those recreational gamblers who bets $100 over a 3 hour time period at the blackjack table and really doesn't care how they fare because they have a good job, a family and other important things in their lives. When I gamble I go big and I certainly don't mess around. I live and die with every bet I put on the table. Everytime I buy in at a blackjack table, the amount of money I'm spending represents at least 1/10th of my net worth. I don't break even...and I certainly don't shrug my shoulders and say "oh well I only lost $20" at the end of a night at the casino. I either win huge or I lose huge...when I'm driving home from the casino I either want to stop traffic and dance in the streets or jerk my car off the road and end it all for good. And Saturday night I wanted to be dancing all night. Lumiere Place provided me with hope, dreams and a little bit of comfort in these trying times. It gave me the ability to go back to Beloit with my head held high and a sense of economic security not many can find these days. So I would like to take this oppourtunity to thank Lumiere Place, and every casino out there, for all the joy and gratification it provides for me and every other person like me...and hopefully this introduction proves to all of you that compulsive gambling is not only a curse, but it can be a gift as well.


The Sack Artist Sees America
In the 3rd and final installment of the beloved travel channel miniseries the Sack Artist sees America, I visited one of my favorite places in the world...Chapel Hill, North Carolina. Actually I visited Boston before that, but that didn't provide me with much material considering all I did was follow around locals trying to replicate their accent and sound like Matt Damon in The Departed. Anyways here's what happened to me on my trip through the South

Wednesday, July 29
9 A.M.-I leave St. Louis to head to Chokum Yoakum's house for the first leg of my journey. Somehow Ceej lives in a location that's at least 150 miles from the nearest interstate...who knew such a remote location exists in the middle of the state of Illinois.

10:45 A.M.-I am arriving at Yoakum's house. Are the roads paved? Nope. Do I have any idea where I am? Yeah right. Is there anyone within a 100 mile area that has more then 4 teeth and isn't married to their cousin? Doubtful

11:02 A.M.-Bob Wimmer, Scramuel Booman and Ace arrive at Ceej's and we are ready to head into the deep south

2:35 P.M.-We are in the great state of Tennessee and are driving through the city of Nashville. We drive by the Tennessee Titans football stadium...do you think any inappropriate Steve McNair jokes were made? God I hope not...what kind of people would that make us?

3:49 P.M.-We stop at a gas station in some Tennessee town. As we get out of the van, we hear yells of "The South will rise again!" followed by "Dixie Nation!" Evidently our Wisconsin license plates have been spotted and the group of Southerners running towards our car with pitchforks want to get back at us for "The War of Northern Aggression" that our Yankee ancestors dominated some 150 years ago. According to their text books the Civil War is Abraham Lincoln's fault because he thought that 2% of white Southerners subjugating any entire race into involuntary servitude is wrong? This is how history is taught below the Mason Dixon Line? Wait a second, maybe Barrack Obama was really born in Kenya...or something here doesn't add up.

7:53 P.M.-Night is falling as we enter the Appalachian foothills in the state of North Carolina. If you've ever seen the film classic Wrong Turn then you know that there is an entire society of inbred hill people dwelling in these mountains waiting to pray on innocent northerners like us. If anything goes down Ace and I will sacrifice Booman, b-wim and CJ in order to save ourselves (in reverse order as listed).

10:15 P.M.-We arrive in Hickory, North Carolina and immediately head to the local Hooters for some chicken wings and beers. The hooters in Hickory, North Carolina is basically a glorified barn and everything is really cheap. In fact they don't take American money in the South, instead only accepting "Confederate Dollars," what's the exchange rate you ask? About 243 confederate dollars for every George Washington you drop. Anyways I drop only about 5 Stonewall Jackson's (about 35 cents) on a 50 piece order of wings and 6 Bud Lights.

Thursday, July 30
8:13 A.M.-I wake up and Booman is naked spooning with me in my bed. I am furious until I look up and see a note saying "No Homo" signed by Scramuel Yomantas Booman at 3:47 A.M...so it's all good

9:16 A.M.-On our trip from Hickory to Chapel Hill, Booman and I start messing around (we were arguing...get your mind out of the gutter) when b-wim threatens us by saying "If you don't stop I'll turn this car around right now!" How is someone who was born 6 months after me acting like my father? Also, that has to be the emptiest threat I have ever heard. I remember on our trip to Disney World when my dad threatened to "turn the car around." But if we think about this logically, here is what my dad basically was saying "Hey Sack I spent my entire year's salary on this week long trip to mickie mouseville, and we've driven 12 hours to the middle of podunk Alabama, but if you don't quit pissing me off I am going to take thousands of dollars out of my own pocket and put 4,000 miles on my 1987 Chrysler conversion van just to prove a point and accomplish nothing." Yeah that's real likely pops

11:21 A.M.-We reach Chapel Hill and go to the reception area for the fraternity conference. There are 1,800 Sigma Chis standing in this one room waiting to sign in...and somehow me and Ace are the only ones who decide to start playing the nervous game to kill time? What's with these guys? I mean if you can't play the nervous game in front of 1,800 of your fraternal brothers, where can you?

12:59 P.M.-Ace and I are sitting in the opening meeting listening to one of the national officers lay down the ground rules for the weekend. Included in those rules are the obvious no urinating or vomiting in public (as I look in the corner of the room I see 4 guys pissing and 2 puking already...so those are some real firm rules). However, a new rule is added...no pooping in public. Has public shitting been a real problem before? Why is it necessary to remind everyone not to squat down and dump on the hickory tree next to the UNC Library?

6:34 P.M.-I am eating dinner in the UNC dining room when Kenny "The Jet" Smith walks by and I instantly draw wood. Man I thought The Jet died when he tried to copy Kobe Bryant and jump over that car, but I guess that was just some CGI shit (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yOh3NRBC_yI)

9:23 P.M.-We are done for the day and ready to hit up the insane Chapel Hill bar scene. We find a cozy little hang out known as Goodfellows and settle into a booth. b-wim goes to buy the first round and comes back with a pitcher of Miller Lite. I take one drink and start puking all over the bar (the first of many rule violations by our group)...and that was the best Miller Lite I've ever had.

11:14 P.M.-bob leaves to go hang out with one of his boyfriends he met during his summer in Germany and Ace starts talking to a chick next to him. Now I may be the only guy out there who does not judge chicks based on their appearance, but this chick Ace is talking to is an overweight blonde who somehow still thinks she's attractive despite the fact she is in a town where 9 out of the 10 chicks I've seen have been absolutely gorgeous. She probably has more confidence because the dude to chick ratio is about 243:1 after 1,800 Sigma Chis rolled in today, because she is giving Ace the cold shoulder...and Ace is the 2nd most attractive man I've ever seen (behind Ryan Reynolds)

Friday, July 31st
1:37 A.M.-Ace, Booman and I stumble out of the bar and start walking home. I ask Ace if he is OK and he responds with a quick "yeah" before racing across the street and blowing chunks all over UNC's Chapel (one of the campus' most recognizable monuments). Booman follows Ace and starts pissing all over the Chapel as well. Now everyone is looking to me to break the 3rd rule of edict and drop a deuce on the Chapel. If I say I did it they I am arguably the most disgusting person who has ever lived (and a complete liar)...but if I say I didn't do it then I am the pussy who chickened out and wouldn't complete the ultimate inappropriate rule breaking trifecta...so it's really a lose/lose situation for me.

8:15 A.M.-I wake up completely hungover but am fresh as a daisy compared to everyone else in our group. Is it a good thing or a bad thing that I was the only person in the crew who was sober enough not to defecate in public last night?

8:16 A.M.-I am now awake enough to realize that today is my 22nd birthday...and boy is it anti-climatic. A year ago to this day (my 21st birthday) was one of the best days of my life filled with 21+ shots, strippers and a gigantic red school bus driving me to St. Louis' finest bars and filled with many of my closest friends. Not to ruin the storyline for the rest of the day, but all I got today was a happy birthday facebook wall post from less then 1/10th of my friends, an unreturned text message from Nicole Odom and the joy of talking Michael Kovach into buying a Roger Dorn jersey tee...God my life is on a serious decline at this point.

10:27 A.M.-An impromptu arm wrestling match breaks out between the presidents of the chapters at Northwestern and Wisconsin. I am so jacked up with testosterone watching this thing that I yell out "Murk Him!"...I still have no idea what this means, but I heard it in a rap song and it seemed to fit

10:30 A.M.-9:30 P.M.-I walk into every meeting that I have and exclaim "I'm hung-over" like Brian Fantana in Anchorman

9:37 P.M.-Me, Ace, b-wim and Scram are back out on Franklin street making the magic happen. Our any of our bodies recovered and ready for another long night of drinking with 1,800 fraternity bros? Probably not, but I am a God damn champion and I don't back down from any challenge...no matter how detrimental to my own health

11:49 P.M.-I am feeling pretty good and basking in the fact that I have at least 3 friends nice enough to text me a happy birthday through the course of the past 24 hours...Once again my life has really started to seriously slide downhill

Saturday August 1st
12:45 A.M.-Ace, Scram and I are chatting with one girl in our usual booth at Goodfellows. This girl is wearing some sort of dress straight from a movie premier with like sequins and sparkly shit everyone. The more this dress twinkles the more attention I am paying to this chick...the damn thing is hypnotizing me. I have no idea what this chick looks like, and certainly could not repeat one word she has said over the course of our 2 hour conversation, but I am so interested in her it is ridiculous. So evidently ladies if you want my undivided attention...sparkling sequins are the way to go (and sparkly dress sales just dropped by 200%)

2:43 A.M.-Ace, Booman and I made it back to the dorms with no public urinating, vomiting or pooping. I am not sure if this statement is something we should be proud of because it showed we are learning and maturing or if it shows that we are huge losers who do not drink nearly as much as we should...so I'll let you, the readers, be the judge

9:08 A.M.-At our morning meeting it is announced that our chapter is supposed to make a "strategic plan" to make us a better and stronger presence on our campus. Too bad anyone who has ever been to Beloit knows Sigma Chi is beloved by each and every student on campus and that we are accepted and popular as individuals...so we really have nothing to do here.

9:30 A.M.-7:30 P.M.-Am I awake or asleep? Alive or dead? Do I remember anything during this 10 hour period of time? Is this the plot for a new ABC drama where everyone in the world blacks out for 10 hours, wakes up and goes on with their lives like nothing happened? Man and people thought Lost was ground breaking.

7:34 P.M.-Me and Ace are sitting in the front row of auditorium where the closing session of the conference is being held...and I couldn't be more bored. So of course I again start playing the nervous game with Ace while 1,800 people are watching our every move. I look behind me and every single dude in the place is staring at me like I'm some sort of side show freak, so I turn to Ace and announce "everyone in here thinks your gay." Wait if that's true what do all these guys think about me? Man I didn't think that one through

9:22 P.M.-We head down to some hole in the wall bar with our Grand Paraterior Allan Levy. For those of you who have no idea what a Grand Praraterior is don't worry...I am in the fraternity and I can't even spell it, much less comprehend what it is. Anyways Allan Levy is a grown man with a job so its obvious if we go to the same bar as him, then ditch him to drink alone on the other end of the bar and refuse to acknowledge his existence, he will pick up our bar tab because that's what Sigma Chi is all about...people with money (Allan Levy) helping people with less money (myself) fulfill our dreams of getting absolute hammered drunk by providing us with financial assistance and buying us drinks.

10:43 P.M.-I have had at least 10 whiskey and cokes and we are ready to head out to another spot. As our check comes we are all staring at Allan Levy, waiting for him to be a good fraternal brother and pay our $100 tab. However, Levy does not even reach for the check and acts like we should pay for the alcohol we consumed ourselves. Come on man, you probably made $100,000 last year, during which time the only income I've received is $300 of Lumiere Place casino chips and those free brownies and cookies the Red Cross gave me for donating blood. You can't be the bigger man and pay for my drinks...maybe if Obama had passed my proposed legislation to make paying for bar tabs tax deductible Levy would have stepped up. Too bad the Obama administration is focusing on less important priorities like providing health care to children and making sure the American economy does not completely shut down in the next 2 months...and this guy wants me to vote for him again in 3 years?

11:27 P.M.-We are wondering around Franklin Street, and every bar we try to go to has at least a 30 minute line outside. I am feeling pretty good and start to think that if I just make friends with the bouncers we'll be able to bypass the lines and go right now in. However, I failed to consider the fact that I am a 6'5" 300 pound dude who these bouncers find about as sexually attractive as Joakim Noah (or a pregnant Katherine Heigel...oh wait, she still clearly has me beat)...and people like me don't tend to get VIP treatment. I yell at each and every bouncer who refuses my requests, saying "Who are you to play God?" and repeatedly calling him a "door man," However I was probably the 2 millionth person to use that line since Knocked Up came out...and it really doesn't have much of an impact anymore

Sunday, August 2nd
1:06 A.M.-I am pounding whiskey and cokes at the bar at Goodfellows and beating chicks off with a stick. Man girls at state schools have lower standards then I expected if they are talking to me...something here doesn't add up. I am an offensive lineman, and chicks generally go for quarterbacks, such as Beloit College quarterback Matt Davis. Matt may not have the most functioning brains, the most caring personality or respect from anyone who has ever spent more then 5 minutes with him...but he will rifle the f'in ball 60 yards into the first row of the stands, and chicks dig that.

3:03 A.M.-Back at the dorms any public urination or vomitting? That depends on your definition of public...man UNC really thought this through when they invited 1,800 drunk fraternity guys to their school and thought they would "respect" their campus. Did we live up to every stereotype possible on this trip? God I hope so.

11:18 A.M.-We leave North Carolina and the weekend of my dreams is offically over

11:18 A.M.-11:59 P.M.-On the drive from UNC to CJ's house we pop D2: Mighty Ducks and Mortal Combat into the old VHS player. Of course CJ has seen neither of these oscar nominated films (and never played the Mortal Combat video game) before now. Did he even have a childhood? If you have lived your entire life up to this point without seeing either of these film gems you are missing some of life's most beautiful sights...like the knuckle puck from Keenan or the "get over here" move from Scorpion. How can you live your life like this? I am pretty sure the federal bailout provides a $200 credit for purchasing any mid-1990's VHS so I recommend you pick these two classics up and become an adult.


Texting Updates and Big Ups
Due to the incredible duration of time between my last post and this one, my text messaging score is going to be ridiculously high. Since July 21st my text messaging score is +1329 (755-inbox, 682-sent, 506 from females, 5 unresponded, 4 of which are from the usual suspect and 1 from Scram Booman). As I was sorting through my inbox I noticed a couple of ways I have manipulated the game. First, my phone has some kind of defect that causes messages to be sent to it twice, those giving me 2 messages in my inbox instead of one. Am I going to count these messages in my score...of course they make it higher. Also there are many times where I have been texting people, and they clearly don't want to be having a text messaging conversation with me...but they continue to respond to my messages for fear of being called out in the blog for being cold hearted and ruining my score. This is not a bad thing, it's a good thing. As I've stated before I will run text messaging conversations into the ground and talk to you so much that every time your phone lights up you fear that it is a text from me igniting a 4 hour text messaging discuss, which is probably the most awkward and unrewarding use of your time you can imagine. I finally have a little bit of power in the text messaging realm...and you better believe I'm going to milk it. Also like my text messaging score, my facebook popularity score is killing it as well. I am sure I will have more on this in the next post.

I have a couple of big ups to extend in this edition of the blog. The first obvious one goes to Chapel Hill, North Carolina and the University of North Carolina for showing me an amazing weekend. The second goes to Ace, Booman, b-wim and Ceej for making the memorable treck with me. The third goes to my main man Mark Coogan for taking 14 texts to wish me a happy birthday and just pushing my score through the roof. I guess I will also give credit where credit is due and extend one to Ally Smith and Lindsey Haupt for ending their year long embargo against spending time with me and going out Wednesday night. Finally I have to give a big ups out to the first female employee of Sack Artists International (and the only female to apply)...remember there are still plenty of spots available, and this joke has not gotten old yet (at least not to me). So if you are a female/minority please apply

Marketing Consultant (St. Louis Office)/Vampire?: Emily Hagnauer (on a side note I do not understand the vampire reference Emily wanted me to make so if you have seen that Twilight movie and see a connection to Marketing...please let me know)

Back in Beloit this week with a fresh take on the blogging scence

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

#1 on Google and The Sack Artist Sees America...Part Deux

Dear Readers,
as all 6 of you who have read my facebook status know, my blog has recently reached another milestone that cements its legacy as one of the best pieces of internet writing ever conceived. That's right if you google "The Sack Artist" my blog will be the first site on the first page. That's right, all of my wildest dreams have come true. All I had when I started this blog was a computer, a slightly disturbed train of thought and a dream. This blog has grown from its small time mom and pop roots and become a corporate force with 245 share holders, 4 regional offices and over 10 of the most qualified white males between the ages of 20-22 you will ever find as corporate board members. I know what all of you are thinking, "Jesus Sack I haven't seen a corporation rise this quickly since Anheuser Busch started brewing Budweiser (aka God's nectar) in 1876"...and you are right about that. Between Easter and the 4th of July this blog has undergone a transformation not seen in that time span since Christ died, resurrected, signed the declaration of independence and co-hosted a 4th of July BBQ with Ben Franklin some 3,000 years ago. And even I can't compete with Jesus' starting the world's largest religion and the world's greatest country all within 3 months.

The Sack Artist Sees America...Part Deux
The second part of my Travel Channel series features my journey from St. Louis to the 3rd largest city in the United States...Chicago, Illinois. Chicago is known to many as the city that is ruining the virtues of hardworking farmers in the Midwest with it's capitalist agenda and trendy nightclubs where bro haters wear navy blazers over their v-neck graphic t-shirts. However I dug deeper to discover the true essence of the city...and here is what I found.

Friday, July 10
1:04 P.M.-Leave St. Louis with Paul and Dan and cross into the state of Illinois. I pass through East St. Louis...otherwise known as the land of opportunity where legitimate businesses like Strip Clubs, casinos and prostitution rings cause the local economy to thrive even in the recent economic recession

3:20 P.M.-Stop at a Subway in McLean, Illinois and load up on a couple of foot long subs covered in jalapenos. As anyone who has lived in the Sigma Chi fraternity house in Beloit know...jalapenos don't do my digestive system any favors. Wait...is this entire blog just one giant way to ensure no chicks will ever get with me?

5:15 P.M.-I find the Cubs/Cardinals baseball game on the Chicago radio. When the game comes on my radio almost instantly shuts off. Is it possible that the Cubs have somewhere cursed my beloved car Eduardo? Is there some sort of goat hidden in my 1998 Ford Explorer?

5:20 P.M.-Turns out the radio shut off because the battery in my car is dead. After 11 years my car has suffered its first serious problem...outside of projectile vomit. Also I had just chugged a 24 oz. monster at this point...so it's safe to say my heart rate was a little elevated, which clearly didn't help anything.

5:25 P.M.-I call AAA and tell them my car is stuck in Joliet, Illinois...home of the legendary Michael Kovach. The tow truck driver asks me to cough twice if I'm being held up a gun point. He says to hide in the bushes and he will be there in 20 minutes with his 12 gauge

5:50 P.M.-The Tow truck driver arrives. He has a total of 2 teeth and no discerneable ability to speak coherently. I later find out that his name is Johnboy and his parents were sharecropping cousins in Mississippi. As I step into the tow truck I can't help but to think this seems a lot like a scene from Deliverance...and we're not even in the South.

6:35 P.M.-The driver drops my car off at a repair shop in Naperville, Illinois. From some reason I was expecting a train to run right up to the repair shop and take me directly into the city. I mean this is Chicago, one of the largest cities in the world, and it is supposed to have some of the best public transportation this country has to offer. Why isn't there a train running from the middle of a suburb 38 miles from dowtown Chicago directly into the city?

6:42 P.M.-Walk into a gas station and find out the Naperville train station is like 15 miles away? This has to be the largest city I have ever heard of. I call my good friend Matt Davis to see if he can give us a ride to the station...but he is busy with some hooker he just picked up on the South side...is it a bad thing that our quarterback loves black hookers more then Hugh Grant?

6:44 P.M.-Me, Dan and Paul are shit out of luck stuck in some BS suburb with no mode of transportation. Just when I am praying for a homeless guy to run up to us pulling a rickshaw, some random guy in the gas station offers us a ride. Turns out this gentleman's name is Phil, and he couldn't have been nicer. I love Phil like a father, and I am pretty sure he loves me, Paul and Dan like sons as well.

7:05 P.M.-We get to the Naperville train station and discover that the last train into the city doesn't leave until 8:33 P.M. and doesn't arrive into Union Station till 9:30...so we obviously have some time to kill.

7:10 P.M.-Paul, Dan and I stumble into some bar which is right next door to the Naperville train station. We immediately order 6 shots of tequila and a couple rounds of whiskey and cokes. The bartenders look at us like we're nuts, but we're not...we're just from St. Louis, where real men admit their alcoholism and don't try to hide it publicly or privately

7:45 P.M.-About 7 shots and many whiskey and cokes later Paul, Dan and I are wandering around the town looking for a liquor store to buy a bottle for the train ride into the city. Real men cannot stop drinking for an entire 1 hour long train ride. I mean did Charles Barkley stop drinking after he got that DUI and offered to blow the cop to get out of it? God I hope not

8:06 P.M.-Walking the streets we are unable to find the liquor store when some Cubs fan makes a wise crack towards me. I remind him that Theodore Roosevelt was the president the last time the Cubs won the world series, which upsets him a great deal. Don't worry...he's not mad at me, he's mad at his dad.

8:15 P.M.-Still unable to find a liquor store we stumble back into the bar and take down 2 or 3 more shots of tequila. It's at that point when Paul turns to me and asks if we should get some road beers...I reply with "Hell yeah we should get some road beers." To make a long story short we boarded the train with an 18 pack of Bud Light bottles

8:33-10:15 P.M.-Ride around on various trains chugging beers like the bro I am.

10:15-10:30 P.M.-Get off the train and walk around Wrigleyville in search of my friend Jeff's apartment. I stop in a local Subway to use the facilities, and as I am leaving the Arab guy behind the counter asks if I am going to buy anything. I tell him I am not and he says "well the bathroom is for customers only." Too bad the ship sailed on that one buddy...unless you call Stephen Hawking and get him to take you back in time and prevent me from pissing I guess you are shit out of luck. Besides this is America...and that means every man has the right to piss in any open drain, free of charge or stipulation.

10:37 P.M.-I finally arrive at Jeff and his girlfriend Emily's apartment. Their apartment is packed with people hanging out, some I know, some I don't. Instead of acknowledging any one's existence I instead reach for the Canadian Reserve Whiskey as soon as I walk into the door. No Coke? No problem, you can drink this stuff straight, it's the finest Whiskey the Yukon Territory has to offer...for only $8 (Canadian) a bottle.

10:45 P.M.-After 8 straight minutes of chugging whiskey I finally decide it would be alright to acknowledge the other people in the apartment (besides Jeff who I obviously embraced when I walked in). Included in the group where Emily, Ellen (apparently I've been going to school with her for 3 years...who knew?) and her friend Stephen, and of course my pal and frequent blog mentionee Nicole Odom and several of her friends...I would mention her friends' names but I was pretty drunk and still can't remember them. This is not odd for me, when I was in kindergarten I told my teacher I couldn't spell my name so I could avoid writing it down. Could I spell my name? Of course I could, I just couldn't remember what it was. I actually thought it was "get me a fresh beer" for a couple of months because that is all my father said to me during that time span. So remembering names has clearly been a recurring problem for me.

11:38 P.M.-I finish the 5th of whiskey and decide it's time to move out into the real world...otherwise known as the Chicago bar scene, where $9 beers and $12 mixed drinks fill your belly and destroy brain cells at a slightly slower rate then their $3 counterparts in St. Louis.

Saturday, July 11
12:04 A.M.-I walk into some bar on the North side of Chicago with the crew. This place is the size of a large to medium sandbox and I am pretty sure it has Hawaiian shit all over the wall. I wish I had worn Russell Brand's Tommy Bahama shirt from Forgetting Sarah Marshall then I would have fit in real well with this clientel

12:06 A.M.-I realize it is now technically Odom's birthday and somehow am the first person to offer her a celebratory drink, despite the fact she is with at least 20 girls who have known her way longer then I have. I know buying birthday shots for chicks is not a very bro move, and it is not something that a person with my lack of consideration for other people usually does...but I am pretty drunk at this point, and if I buy Odom a shot of tequila that gives me a good enough excuse to get my own and not look completely like a John Daily Esq alcoholic

12:37 A.M.-I make best friends with the Asian lady sitting next to me at the bar...or maybe she is Mexican? or maybe Australian? I'm not sure what ethnicity she is, not because of my incredibly high level of intoxication at this point, but instead due to my level of acceptances for all races which prevents me from noticing fairly obvious human characteristics like skin color. Anyways, this lady is at least 55 and way into me...jackpot.

1:02 A.M.-I buy Odom a strong island (so I am told) just so I can chug the rest of my 7 and 7 and start drinking one of those sweet 5 alcohol concoctions myself. I now have more different kinds of liquor in my system then Ulysses S. Grant did the day he got the South to surrender in the Civil War...and who says drunk people accomplish nothing?

1:42 A.M.-The bar is closing and I am wrapping up with my conversation with the old broad next to me, and possibly sealing up an invite to her apartment for a night cap, when she tells me that she is married. Way to lead me on and crush a young man's heart. (did I get this lady's name? No, but I wouldn't have remembered it anyways so who cares)

1:58 A.M.-We get back to Jeff's apartment and I reach for an ice cold beer. Jeff and I start having an intense conversation centering on Greg Oden's knees and his real age (at least 38), while Emily starts talking in a Southern accent. Like my tow truck ride earlier in the day, Emily's accent makes me feel like I have again been tricked into a replicating a scene from Deliverance

9:37 A.M.-I wake up naked on Jeff's floor sweating my ass off and my blood alcohol level is still way above a .2. Where the hell did all my clothes go? How many times in my life can I wake up naked in a strange apartment without making some sort of life style change? Have I really become Jay Leonard (Beloit equivalent-Sam Bauman)?

1:15 P.M.-I meet Paul, Dan and Charlie at a Wrigleyville bar 2 hours before the Cardinals/Cubs game we are planning on attending. My drunken excitement from earlier in the morning has quickly changed to some sort of hungover hell that is torturing every part of my body. Can I really start drinking right now? Hell yeah I am a bro...and bros love pregaming (http://www.broslikethissite.com/2009/06/35-pregaming.html), besides the Cardinals need me to at least have a semi-buzz.

3:05 P.M.-After about 12 Bud Lights and 2 shots of tequila I am feeling good again as I walk into Wrigley Field

3:23 P.M.-Charlie slips me a flask of Captain Morgan as we begin to spike the Cokes we just bought. How does security not know we brought hard liquor into the game? Yeah 4 college kids from St. Louis show up to an afternoon game at Wrigley Field barely being able to stand and reeking of alcohol and buy a round of Cokes...that's real logical

3:24 P.M.-I mix myself up a delicious beverage and proceed to knock the cup over, spilling it all over the guy in front of me. This guy was wearing a Tour De France shirt, a live strong bracelet, a pair of Nike sunglasses and a bicycle helmet. I am pretty sure he thought he actually was Lance Armstrong because after I dumped my rum and Coke all over him he turned to me and said "Come on man I only have 1 testicle...don't you think I've been through enough?"

6:31 P.M.-We leave the game and go back into the same bar we were drinking at before...only now the bar is handing out free hot dogs. I eat 42 hot dogs in 5 minutes before vomiting everywhere...that's right I am the Joey Chestnut of eating hot dogs.

6:45 P.M.-We are still drinking in this bar when some 41 year old chick decides it would be cool to hit on me...I guess fairly unattractive cougars just love me in Chicago. After about 1o minutes of this chick trying to put her tits directly in my face I am a little freaked out and pass her off to my good friend Kyle Kitsch who has just walked in. Is Kyle interested? Of course he is, he is much more of a bro then I am and bros love cougars (http://www.broslikethissite.com/2009/06/39-cougars.html)

9:03 P.M.-We are all now back in Jeff's apartment drinking when Charlie decides he has to leave. Instead of saying goodbye to everyone and walking out of the apartment like a normal person, he decides it would be better to run away like a frightened 15 year old girl who was just propositioned by Mark Chmura.

10:14 P.M.-We arrive at Noah Reinisch's house for a sweet kegger. Many of my friends from Beloit including Noah, Kalman Huettel and the legendary Sven Lyndon are in attendance. This party has the possibility to be a pretty sweet little fiesta when Ryan Ream walks in about an hour later. Ream was my big brother in the fraternity house, but he is also a Mexican immigrant to the United States who was recently deported. I obviously have a great deal of loyalty to the man, but it is nothing compared to my loyalty to the great United States of America, so I do what any responsible American citizen would do...call the INS and report him.

Sunday, July 12
12:07 A.M.-The INS raids Noah's house. Fortunately I am able to escape carrying both the keg and Sven Lyndon on my back

1:09 A.M.-I have run at least 5 miles while carrying Sven and chugging at least 2/3rds of the keg. We stop at a parking garage and start a sweet new drinking game that is taking over college campuses...you can read about it at http://theubersapien.blogspot.com/

12:13 P.M.-I wake up and board the Brown Line train to get downtown and visit my friend Kyle Kitsch and the cougar at his sweet bachelor pad. Some guy in a Frank Thomas jersey boards the train and starts walking down the aisles preaching about Jesus Christ. Could he find a bigger group of sinners then the people riding Chicago public transportation on a Sunday afternoon? Every single person is hungover from the night before, and at least 3/4ths contracted some sort of STD from their unprotected sexual escapades the night before.

1:02 P.M.-I enter Kyle's apartment building when the security officer tells me she needs to perform a full cavity search on me before she will let me upstairs. Man these Chicago apartments have pretty strict security, but I don't argue...this is the most action I've gotten in a long time

1:24 P.M.-I finally make it up to Kyle's apartment and pass out because my body cannot function in any way, shape or form at this point.

Monday, July 13
8:15 A.M.-Paul and I get off the train we have just taken to Naperville to pick up Eduardo. Matt Davis has agreed to pick us up and give us a ride to the repair shop. The entire ride I cannot tell if Matt is asleep or not. He tells me he can't function because 8:30 A.M. is just too early for any human being to accomplish anything. Will he ever have a real job or a successful career? You be the judge

8:38 A.M.-Matt drops me off and I go in to pay. It turns out Eduardo needed a new alternator and battery, which somehow adds up to $15,000 in labor charges in Chicago. It might cost $200 in St. Louis...congrats Chicago, I have now dumped all my money into your ridiculously expensive society.

Text Updates and Big Ups
My accumulated text score since the last post (July 9) is +461 I think (329-inbox, 284-sent, 90 from females...3 unresponded to, once again all from the same person who is laughing at his/her crippling effect on my score)...but it is inexact because of the large sample size which is hard to handle despite my well earned B+ in Intro to Statistics my sophomore year.

My Big Ups have to go to every person who hung out with me in Chicago including (but not limited to) Paul, Dan, Charlie, Jeff, Emily, Ellen Kurney, Steve, Odom, her friends, Noah, Kal, Sven, Ream, Kyle Kitsch, Clare Brady and of course...the 2 cougars. I will also throw out an advanced big ups to Joey Scherer (big guy is finally a man) and Richboy Krajewski for giving me some great blogging material you will hopefully read about next post. Finally I have two very special big ups to extend. The first goes to my friend Corey Kossman. Tonight during a very intense game of beach volleyball my phone managed to fall out of the pockets of my LeBron James brand nike shorts. Just as I thought all hope was lost, Corey was able to corral my phone buried under 20 feet of sand directly under the net. The second one goes to Lisa McClure who became the first person to email/facebook me any possible topics for the blog in the future. Congrats Lisa, you have boldly gone where no one else has and have gotten a well earned mention (your 1st?) in the big ups section.

Finally I would to like to add a recruiting pitch for Sack Artists International. As I mentioned in the opening, of our 10 corporate employees all are white males between the ages of 20 and 22 (or 25...I am really not sure how old Adam Puls is). I would love to add some diversity to the corporation, so if you are a minority, female or person not between the ages of 20 and 22 feel free to apply...and don't think I gave you the job simply because of the pressure the government is putting on me to meet my quotas.

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

The Sack Artist Sees America and All You Can Eat Scrimps

Dear Readers,
This has been a busy weak for the Sack Artist...to say the least. While this post will certainly provide tremendous insights into one of the busiest and most action-packed 7 day sequences of my life, it certainly will not tell the whole story. I know what most of you are thinking right now...man Sack I wish I could put my foot in your Nikes and be you just for one day. Well I got news for all of you...just because I have my own internet webpage, and I'm a Q-list celebrity, doesn't mean my life is better or more interesting then yours. In fact the opposite is probably true...if you laid on your couch for 16 straight hours, moving only to get fresh beers and bags of doritos, and rotated your TV watching evenly between ESPN and TBS, you would have accomplished the entire Sachary L. Poelker experience and your life would be complete. However, there are three key principles to the way I live that makes my life seem interesting, entertaining, and made for the internet. First, I have a severe lack of emotional attachment that prevents me from feeling any sort of compassion or sympathy for anyone else. Second, I have no fear of social awkardness which allows me to excel in social situations that others avoid. Finally, I mock and belittle everyone around me as much as possible (including myself) with complete saracasim and an amazing grasp of the irony present in their words and actions. If you want to live your life in this fashion I suggest you practice by doing things like pushing down small children and laughing or farting in crowded places and yelling "who did that!" when everyone knows it was clearly you...and then tell everyone it was the dorky 13 year old kid next to you (who's life is already tough enough) and get the entire room to point and laugh at him. If you don't want to partake in these type of activities, and prefer to be a normal member of society, that's your decision but I'm not laughing...and neither is anyone else.

All you can eat Scrimps
As many of you have read in earlier posts, I am obessed with scrimps (shrimp) and have had the biggest craving over the past several weeks to devour an entire shipment worth of Bubba-Gump's finest. I wish I could describe to all of you how the name of one of America's most beloved ocean dwelling shell fish (shrimp) got changed to its more fitting and appropriate name (scrimps)...but if you haven't sat with Charlie Schlafly in a Captain D's drive through on North Grand, you just wouldn't understand. Anyways all my previous attempts to eat my bodyweight in seafood had been thrwarted by poor corporate advertising and a lack of culinary imagination. However, my fortunes have changed thanks to one of my favorite places in the world...Lumiere Place. Many of you know Lumiere Place as home to St. Louis' finest casino, where I lost my government tax refund but also met such A-list celebrities as the Minnesota Timberwolves' Al Jefferson (the only non-guard on their team) and the guy with a mohawk from No Doubt (Gwen Stefani's band...don't worry, I didn't know anyone besides Gwen existed either). However, it turns out Lumiere Place is also home to some of St. Louis' finest culinary delights, including their burger bar where I ate one of the manliest burgers of all time last night (1/2 lb. of angus beef, pepper jack cheese, bacon and a fried egg...of course all topped off by some fine homemade chilli), but that's not part of this story. Lumiere's exisquist buffet has a variety of specials including my personal favorite...Scrimply Tuesday. And this buffet does not lack imagination...I never seen such a scrimp spread in my life. We're talking buttered scrimp, fresh scrimp, fried scrimp, popcorn scrimp, spicy popcorn scrimp, coconut scrimp, jumbo scrimp and of course scrimp fried rice. Add in a tremendous Asian section, every different kind of chicken imaginable, some great brick oven pizza and delicious homemade ice cream, and I've never felt like such a glutton in my life. For only $26 (or about a 25 cents per pound of food I ate) you can eat away a lifetime of insecurity and depression. A starving ethopian could go 13 years without food after one visit to this fine buffet establishment. I think it's safe to say scrimpsfest '09 was a great success.

The Sack Artist Sees America: Part I
I would like to welcome all my readers to the first part in my travel channel series "The Sack Artist Sees America." For my first trip I decided to visit an America treasure known for it's skunked beer, incredible sausage production and insanely overweight residents (any connection there?)...that's right Milwaukee, WI. Here is my complete, 100% accurate diary of my travels through the midwest this past weekend and my time in Milwaukee with friends like Richboy Krajewski, Mike Kovach, Megan, Matt Kees and Snake Majeski.
Friday, July 3
10:10 A.M.-Leave St. Louis and enter the state of Illinois. I prepare for my 4 and 1/2 hour trek through the state where the only scenary of any kind is cornfields and a hooters in Springfield

12:03 P.M.-I stop for a piss break at a gas station in McClain, Illinois. A hooker has a snazy piece of advertising on the door of the bathroom stall...and let's just say her number is now saved in my address book

2:46 P.M.-Stop at Everett's liquor in South Beloit, Illinois to see my friends from the school year. Do they recogonize me? Of course...I have a frequent customer card (do they have frequent customer cards? Oh wait that's a video club card)

3:53 P.M.-Arrive at Rich Krajewski's apartment to start my weekend of drinking, sleeping and drinking again. It's a vicious cycle...but it's how I live my life

4:08 P.M.-9 beers deep...Mike Kovach's got a good lead on me, but it won't last

4:39 P.M.-Milton Bradley makes his 14th error in the Cubs/Brewers game

4:42 P.M.-Easy pop up to Milton Bradley...and he actually makes the catch for the 3rd out of the inning. However, Milton is so scarred from his past experiences he refuses to believe the inning is over and won't leave the field.

4:45 P.M.-Kovach and I switch to Vodka and monster...it lifts you up and calms you down

6:30 P.M.-I got a pretty good buzz going as we prepare to head down to Summerfest, the largest outdoor music festival that takes place in downtown Milwaukee over 4th of July weekend. Kovach steps into the restroom before we leave and decides Rich's bathroom needs some better lighting.

6:31 P.M.-Kovach takes the light bulb out of the lamp and drops it, laughing as it shatters into a million pieces on the bathroom floor.

7:02 P.M.-Arrive down on 8th street to park at Kovach and Megan's friend's apartment. What's this young lady's name? Katy Snotty...no jokes, that's just too easy

7:08 P.M.-Board a Milwaukee city bus to get down to Summerfest. What's being on a Milwaukee city bus like? Ever seen the rape scene from American History X? Well it's nothing like that, actually I felt quite safe...but I will use any excuse to get the image of Edward Norton being raped in all of your heads

7:48 P.M.-We've driven at least 15 miles and we're still not at summerfest? But we were on 8th street? That means 8 blocks and then the city ends. What's at the end of the city? A lake? Mountains? An empty abyss that leads directly to hell? I don't know...but I should've found out by now

8:08 P.M.-We finally get into Summerfest and I buy 4 shit beers and hand one to Kovach and one to Rich for their enjoyment

8:12 P.M.-We are walking around the Summerfest grounds when security runs up to Kovach and asks for his ID. As I look around I see at least 137 underaged kids walking around with alchohol free of harrasment. There is a baby in a stroller chugging a bottle of Jack Daniels. Why is security picking on Kovach? Could it be his green and white tank top (somehow Kenny Chesney is playing and Mike is the only guy wearing a tank top? wow, that's a shocker)? Could it be his boyish good lucks and his 12 year old equivalent IQ? Anyways, despite Kovach's believable plea that he left his liscense at home (1st time they heard that one), he's kicked out.

8:18 P.M.-Kovach and I scale 3 fences and tightrope over a moat filled with hungry sharks to get back in

8:20-10:30 P.M.-Drink beers and listen to music

10:35 P.M.-I walk over to the Gavin DeGraw stage just in time to hear the One Tree Hill theme song performed live. My life is now complete, especially since I get to share the moment with Richboy (no homo...hah turns out that comment wasn't gay after all, plus we're athletes).

11:15 P.M.-We've been drinking with Jake Majeski all night. As we all are getting ready to leave Snake decides it would be a good idea to smack a nearby female on the ass...and I couldn't agree more. Somehow this upsets the chick...I think she should feel pretty flatered. Her boyfriend wants to throw down until he see's Jake's 5'6", 135 lbs. frame (it's all HGH). He then runs to the cops who arrest Jake and throw him in a taxi...that's profiling if I've ever seen it

11:20 P.M.-We decide to walk back to our parking spot on 8th street

11:58 P.M.-We've walked about 34 blocks when I walk up to a street sign that reads "1st street." so 1st street is 6 miles west of downtown? What the hell Milwaukee...that just doesn't make any sense. I am not a statistics major, but shouldn't 1st street be the 1st street? I mean it's written in the God damn name

Saturday, July 4
1:03 A.M.-We get back to Richboy's apartment and I lay down on the couch to fall asleep. Matt Kees gets a hold of the remote and decides to turn on Dirty Dancing. After seeing Jennifer Grey, who also happens to play Ferris Bueller's sister, Kees asks me if this movie is just a sequel titled Ferris Bueller's Day Off 2. I explain to him that it is not, and actors can play different characters in different movies...he refuses to believe me.

1:46 A.M.-Kee's asks me if Dirty Dancing is really just Ferris Bueller's 2 for the 250th time...if I hear Kees say one more word I'm going to burn the apartment down and put a bullet in my brain.

1:47 A.M.-I call the Brookfield fire department...the entire apartment is up in flames

10:35 A.M.-Wake up in Libby (Rich's roomate and Joe Davis' girlfriend...nice) bed naked. Is Libby here? God I hope so. Too bad she is no where to be found...my dreams are shattered and I feel used.

12 P.M.-Start drinking

12:30 P.M.-Go to lunch at Habeineros Mexican resturant. They make guacamole tableside and it's phenomenal. Kovach has a new high fat liquid to replace his ranch dressing fetish. Megan makes best friends with Miguel, the guacamole maker.

12:45 P.M.-The waitress asks me if my order is correct and I tell her "I forgot what I got or what I'm getting isn't what I got." If you can't follow that sentence don't worry...you're not alone. Kovach and Richboy are laughing harder then when they found out I pronunce the name of the largest state in America as "Colifornia"

1 P.M.-12 A.M.-I'm either drunk, sleeping or listening to the band Jet perform their new album at Summerfest. How many people have bought Jet's new album? Can't be that many...these guys are no Jonas Brothers I can tell you that (although they are probably also virgins)

Sunday, July 5
8 A.M.-1 P.M.: One of the most amazing tennis matches of all time is going on as Andy Roddick is battling some European douche in the Wimbledon final. Kovach strolls in during the 5th set and looks at the score. Seeing Federer is up 11-10 in the 5th set he proclaims "Federer's up a set...shouldn't this match be over?" No Mike it shouldn't be...in fact it might still be going on.

1:15 P.M.-We return to Habineros because Kovach's body can now only digest guacamole

1:20 P.M.-The guy making our guacamole isn't Miguel from yesterday...and Megan is very upset. She insults the new guacamole maker, Carlos, who proceeds to pull his pants down and start to add his own special sauce to a guacamole. Luckily his boss walks in and sees this yelling "Not at the table Carlos!"

1:30 P.M.-Kovach, Rich and I all order the macho grande burrito. Kovach thinks it would be a good idea to challenge me to a burrito eating contest. I finish my macho grande burrito while Kovach is still spreading enourmous amounts of sour cream all over his. Don't let that mustache Kovach sometimes grows fool you...he is a child.

2 P.M.-Rich and I head down to Potawatomi Casino...God bless Native Americans

4:30 P.M.-I have lost all the money from my bank account, the shirt off my back and even the stash of hash browns I keep in my pockets. I think every Indian tribe in Wisconsin has put some sort of curse on me forcing me to lose huge sums of money at their casinos. Richboy on the other hand won $250,000. How you ask? He snuck Kovach in the casino with him...try telling Mike counting cards is hard because he practically bankrupt a casino (and an entire Indian tribe) and he's a semi-functioning re-tard.

5:15 P.M.-I leave Milwaukee probably never to return...God that Miller shit can ruin a weekend, and the image of an entire city, real quick

Texting Update and Big Ups
Due to the incredible length of this post I will keep this short and sweet. My new phone has allowed me to save every text message since the last post, so I can give you post to post updates on my text messaging score. My current score is +346 (243-inbox, 203-sent, 63 from females)...that's a lot of math.

Got several quick big ups to give out. First to Richboy, Kovach, Megan, Snake, Kees and everyone else who spent time with me in Milwaukee. Also to Paul Beauttenmueller and Charles Schlafly for enjoying the SAI St. Louis office scrimps buffet trip with me. Got to give it up to Nick Swardson for reading my last post and emailing me back saying he thought it was funny...that's big time if he's telling the truth. I also would like to announce the one new employee of Sack Artists International (SAI) I hired this past week...remember there still plenty of positions available

Regional Manager Wisconsin Province/Least Paid and Respected Employee: Scramuel Booman

Finally I would like to take this time to give a very sincere and serious big ups to Steve "Air" McNair. Steve was a true competitor and a champion, and he inspired millions of people myself included...and he will certainly be missed.

Back soon with part 2 in the Sack Artist Sees America

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