Thank you for returning to my site even after I proclaimed my sobriety in my last post. I know that is no easy task given the percentage (100%) of people who go from being awesome to sucking once they give up booze (or blow or heroin...just look at Lindsay Lohan or Robert Downey Jr.). However I am here to announce that I am once again on the wagon, or off the wagon, or whichever expressions allows me to get hammered drunk on the reg. I'm back to my old ways, which include guzzling beers by myself on a Tuesday night while watching the Adam Sandler comedy Grown Ups (and yes this movie can be blamed for me breaking my 2 days sober streak...you try watching it and not pounding liquor). I'm back to drinking Jim Beam and blacking out just long enough to forget my insensitive and politically incorrect tweets (yeah we'll stick with that excuse). Finally I'm back to inexcusably getting so shit housed that I piss my pants more often than Betty White on the set of The Proposal. Basically I'm back to being the same old crippling, Mel Gibson style, alcoholic Sack that you've all come to know and love...and I just hope you enjoy the ride.
Chicago St. Patty's Day vs. StL Mardi Gras
I once again put on my big boy drinking pants last Saturday, for the City of Chicago's St. Patrick's Day celebration. For those of you who don't know, St. Patty's day is a big deal in Chicago...it's the closest the Irish will ever get to Christmas. However, was it more epic than my Mardi Gras Saturday from the weekend before (which you can read about in my earlier post)? Let's find out by looking at the 7 categories that can turn a day/night drinking fest into an epic, blog worthy adventure.
Day Drinking-In St. Louis I was pounding Bud Lights by 8 A.M. and drinking screw drivers by 9:30. By 11:20 I was tweeting how drunk I was and daring someone to be more of a man than me. By 12 P.M. I had "accidently" entered my first gay bar and by 1 P.M. I had suffered my first black out. Add in my shotscapade with Brumm and my removal from McGurks by the St. Louis Police Department, and it was the kind of start that every day drinker dreams of.
However this is one area where St. Patty's Day can put up a fight. While I didn't start drinking quite so early, by 9 A.M. I was pounding Jameson Whiskey like a 1890's Irish immigrant. By 11:30 I was carrying a full mix drink into a Chicago cab (the first of many times I'd pull the stunt on the day). By 2 P.M. I was celebrating Harrison Barnes 40 point effort in the ACC tourney with more shots of Jamo and soft pretzels. By 5 P.M. I was pounding a double quarter pounder at McDonalds while thinking I was actually eating a Filet O' Fish. I kinda wish that mix up was the other way around...it woulda tasted a lot better. And while I never blacked out, me mistaking Beef for Fish is enough to give any level of drunkeness a decided edge. St. Patty's 1, Mardi Gras 0.
The Streets-At St. Louis Mardi Gras, when the weather is nice, the streets are king. You walk around hammered, having no idea where you are, hoping to run into some hot chick from high school who might recognize you as the creepy guy who took her to Junior Prom but was too nervous to talk to her the entire night. Now that you're hammered who knows...you might actually have a shot (she has to repay you for that prom invite sometime). However, this year didn't live up to the hype. The weather sucked, the crowd was relatively small, and my time on the streets was spent semi-blacked out (browned out if you will) walking around with a Police Escort. So St. Louis did kind of let me down here.
However, even though Mardi Gras disappointed in this aspect, it still blew St. Patty's Day out of the water. There was nothing in the Wrigleyville streets last Saturday. No beer vendors. No gyro sellers. Damn sure no STD riddled prostitutes. Nothing but the homeless people and rodents that make the city of Chicago so renowned for its cleanliness and economic prosperity. So, although Mardi Gras may have been a let down, this one was still no contest. St. Patty's 1, Mardi Gras 1.
The Bars-I have not traditionally spent St. Louis Mardi Gras (at least the day portion) at bars, but this year was a little different due to the terrible weather. I spent significant stretches of time in a gay bar, a Kansas bar, a bar where I was nearly arrested for having too much fun, and later a classy Suburban bar where I pissed my pants. Since the strip club and casino don't really count here (we'll get to these later) it looks like the StL Mardi Gras doesn't have much of a leg to stand on.
It's not like St. Patty's day was really all that better. In Chicago last Saturday I was in a bar that didn't show college basketball because there was an Ireland/Wales rugby match, a bar where I was one of the 3 best looking dudes (because there were only 3 people in there) and a bar where a whiskey and coke cost $9. Not a great bar scene Chi City...but enough to give you the edge here. St. Patty's 2, Mardi Gras 1.
The Rally-This is always where the story really gets interesting. Look...anybody can day drink. It's really not that hard. You set an alarm, get up and start pounding liquor. I mean monkeys have been doing this for millions of years. The real question is how do you recover. Do you go to bed at 6 P.M.? Or do you man up, party up (DMX dog!) and get as f'ed up as possible? This is the category that separates the men from the boys...and an epic day/night from a fun afternoon cocktail party.
The St. Louis Mardi Gras rally was unreal. I was passed out for an hour, maybe, before the party was jumping once again. Consider what happened after my rally. I started pounding whiskey. UNC won the ACC Title. I peed my pants. I took a walk through America's promiseland (aka East St. Louis). I went to 2 different strip clubs. I saw quality strippers riding a gigantic dildo. I won hundreds of dollars in a casino. And I peed my pants again. I mean come on...that is pretty much unbeatable. And, while we did rally from a 2 hour nap in Chicago, we could never regain the momentum due to the ridiculous drink prices, the unwillingness of anyone else to party all night, and me not having a lot of friends to begin with. This is the easiest (and most important) decision of them all, and St. Louis wins it more handily than a World Series trophy contest between the Cardinals and the Cubs. Mardi Gras 2, St. Patty's 2.
The Peak-There can (and should) be more than one peak in your drinking when you do it for 18 consecutive hours. This category is considering the drunkness peak (explanatory) and the funness peak (not a word...but you get what I'm saying) when deciding which event had the superior ceiling.
On Mardi Gras it could be argued that there were at least three drunkness peaks (1 P.M., 4 P.M., and 3 A.M.) and at least 2 funness peaks (3-4 P.M. and 11 P.M.-12 A.M.), so it's hard to even decide where the true peak is. I mean it is a lot like Michael Jordan's career...every year is so good you cannot really, 100% factually, decide when it was really at its best. For the purpose of this post, I will put the drunkness peak at my 4 P.M. explosion from McGurks and my funness peak during my time at Larry Flint's Hustler Club. I mean a police escort out of a bar paired with a hour plus spent at the world's greatest strip club (while watching Willy accost people with a gigantic dildo)? Can this be beaten?
Certainly not by my St. Patty's Day experience. Both my drunkness and my funness peak can easily be placed between 3-5 P.M. at Mullen's Bar. Was it fun hanging out at Mullen's with 3,000 Chicagoans dressed in green? Yeah. But I wasn't blacked out. I wasn't removed from the premises by the cops. And I sure as hell didn't get to see/touch any boobies (we'll get more on this later). So, no matter how you slice it...it ain't even close. Mardi Gras 3, St. Patty's 2.
Babes and Breasts-And this is where the boys become men. There are two questions that define every single moment of day drinking/street parting. 1-How hot were the chicks? and 2-How many boobs did you see? And you need both to secure a truly awesome party atmosphere. For instance when I went to that live taping of Jerry Springer I saw upwards of 40 boobs, from upwards of 20 woman who were less attractive than Roseanne Barr and/or Aunt Jemima so...that day probably wouldn't win this category (unless you are John Goodman).
And honestly it looked like StL Mardi Gras wasn't going to win here early in the day. The bad weather/inside bar nature of this year's event made the classic bead for breast drunken exchange much more difficult to pull off. In fact I didn't see one pair of breasts my entire time day drinking in Soulard. However, for those of you who read my last post (or this one), you know that the night included a trip to Larry Flint's Hustler Club. This was the Cadillac of strip clubs with girls whose bodies were compared to either "Softcore Porn Stars" or "Athletes." Either way you look at it, those are my two favorite groups of people so...it's a win-win-win (with me being the third winner and athletes and softcore porn stars being the first 2).
And there is no way Chicago St. Patty's Day can (or did) compete with that. I saw zero pairs of breasts, zero total breasts, and zero hot chicks who were not wearing some form of the color green. That will never compare to Randy Moss/Nicole Sheridan hybrid strippers...NEVER. Mardi Gras 4, St. Patty's Day 2.
The Finish-Hmm winning $100 in my favorite casino followed by riding in a cab listening to Willy give a UN lecture on African poverty while holding a strip-tested dildo vs. Angelas California Burrito...just barely going with the dildo here. Mardi Gras 5, St. Patty's Day 2.
Bonus Category: Ethnic Heritage-We know all the stereotypes about 19th and 20th century Irish immigrants. They are short. They have red hair. They can lead us to life-chaning pots of gold. And they eat a diet consisting of only Potatoes, Guiness and Lucky Charms. But they did inspire Boardwalk Empire, plus they are competing against the French so...an easy win for the Green Isle in this one. Mardi Gras 5, St. Patty's Day 3.
So there you have it. Chicago hung in there for a while, but in the end it was no match for the economic/partying behemoth that is St. Louis. But hey there is some good news for Chi City here, your St. Patty's day won three more games than the Cubs will ever take in the World Series so...congrats on that one.
Text Updates and Big Ups
Despite my severe text via tweet problem, my text messaging score since March 11 is still a robust +1625 (1080-inbox, 997-sent 458 from females). Also my twitter account has slowly but surely been blowing up (reaching a high of 136 followers till the 4 God related people made the rational decision and unfollowed me), so...I am becoming one of the most influential social networkers in the world.
I only have a couple of Big Ups to extend in this post. First to everyone who hung out with me on Mardi Gras or St. Patty's Day...mad props. Also to SI.com's Extra Mustard for helping me find this week's youtube video as well as the Australian dude in it who made everyday life just a little more hilarious.
Back soon with the insight of a Homeless Man.
Sachary L. Poelker
"The Sack Artist: Jack of All Trades"
I would like to welcome you all back to my internet behemoth that has recently topped several European, streaming porn sites to crack google's very exclusive list of the 5,000,000 most attractive internet destinations. This is no doubt a great honor for thesackartist.com, something that will only strengthen my stranglehold on the sorta funny, only 99% a complete waste of time, internet web site market. However, with this new found power comes more responsibility, and I understand that. That is why I am here to talk to each and every one of you about a very serious issue...alcoholism.
I know all of you are thinking that alcoholism is just a made up disease reserved for fictional Ad Executives and rich, California housewives who are bored with all their money, beach front real estates, and rebellious children. And for a long time I agreed with you...but not anymore. I've recently come face to face with alcoholism in my own life. You see lately my drinking has gotten out of control. I'd have 2 beers one night. Then 3 the next. Then 2 more a week later when I was taunting Charlie Sheen through my TV during his 20/20 interview (Charlie Sheen reference #1). I could feel myself spiraling out of control, but I couldn't stop. I wouldn't stop...until I hit rock bottom. Well ladies and gentleman, last Thursday night that's exactly what I did. I drank 8 beers in a span of 7 hours...and I knew I had a problem. I knew I had to stop. I knew that writing a blog post when you're already 4 beers deep at 9:30 on a Wednesday night was just too much for me to handle. So I did what any logical person would do in this situation. I moved into Charlie Sheen's Silver Valley Lodge (Sheen referenece #2), refused to go to AA, and gave up beer and whiskey using only my mind power, a pack of Malboro Lights and a pound of 7 gram rocks to fight my addiction. And now? I'm living clean, sober and free while raising Charlie's twin sons with the help of 2 former porn stars (Sheen reference #3). It really is a surreal ending, the kind of thing dreams are made of. And I couldn't be happier.
The Sack Mardi Gras His Way Into Your Heart
However, before my journey towards sobriety was complete I needed one last hurrah, one final blow out. And that's exactly what happened last weekend during St. Louis' annual Mardi Gras celebration (the second largest in the country. Stupid New Orleans...they beat us in the 2000 NFL playoffs and now this?). Here is my story.
Saturday, March 5th
7:55 A.M.-I wake up giddier than a 6 year old on Christmas morning. You'd think you're last day of drinking would be a somber and depressing experience signaling the end of your youth (kinda like Sunday night signals the end of your weekend, and makes you super sad), but the opposite happened. I was so excited I raced down the stars to see what Santa had left me.
7:57 A.M.-Turns out Santa left a case of beer and a half dozen eggs. And, if you think I didn't combine those two gifts by adding my Natty Light to my eggs (in lieu of milk or water)...then you'd be wrong. Mixing Natty Light and Egg Whites gives you 1/2 the carbs, twice the protein, and...4 times the babes. TFM.
8:35 A.M.-Danny, Chuck and Sam have all arrived at my house and are ready to head out, but we are missing somebody. I call my friend the Woody, and it turns out he slept through his alarm and has yet to wake up. Look I can understand sleeping through a job interview, your child being born, or even College GameDay...but I will never comprehend sleeping in when you could be pregaming or day drinking. Total GDI move Wood Man.
8:54 A.M.-Woody finally shows up and I am about 6 beers deep. Did I mention that I had a drinking problem that I magically cured by just deciding to be sober? Thanks Charlie Sheen (4th Sheen reference...with much more to come)
9:10 A.M.-My mom drops us off at my friend Scherer's new apartment in the downtown St. Louis. Do I mind being driven around by my mom like a 3rd grader? No way...she let's me drink in her car. If only I knew I could do that when she used to take me to soccer practice. (insert Daniel Tosh joke "Why would I watch soccer? This is America...where we already have entertainment.")
9:14 A.M.-I walk into Scherer's new pad, and I must say...it's pretty baller. It would be even more baller if Scherer didn't have to get his couches from Rent a Center. What'd you bring that love seat over to your apartment on the city bus Scherer? I can smell the crack and homelessness (yes...those smells are the same) seeping through the couch's fabric. God...at least I (I meaning my mom) bought my air mattress.
9:16 A.M.-Open the handle of vodka and make my first screw driver. This day is going downhill very fast. Or is it going uphill? Eh you be the judge.
9:49 A.M.-I'm a couple of screw drivers deep when I figure out how to tweet via text from my pre-razora era flip phone. Will my t9 text skills translate to twitter? I don't see why not.
10:04 A.M.-My friend Charlie has arrived and is the subject of my first text, tweet. "Charlie is a gay...winners win, loser's prepare." Sorry if I offended any gay people (and or Wanda Sykes) by lumping Charlie in with you, it was actually meant to be a compliment...sure let's go with that.
10:11 A.M.-Gucci Mane is pumpin through the speakers when Scherer tells me "Gucci Man is one of my favorite rappers." Hey Scherer, it's Gucci Mane...no wonder black people think we don't understand their culture.
11:20 A.M.-I tweet "If anyone is drunker than me at 11:20 A.M...then touche." And I meant every word of it.
11:46 A.M.-We finally make it down to Soulard and I go to meet Dan and Chuck, who are watching the Mizzou/KU basketball game at a sports bar called Johnny's. For those of you who have never been to Johnny's, let me say this. If you have ever seen the South Park episode where all the 3rd grade girls go to work at a restaurant called Raisins wearing nothing but underwear and bras...then you can imagine Johnny's. In fact Johnny's is just like Raisins, except with adults...and somehow that makes it even more uncomfortable. I am actually glad I can't get in at this point.
12:02 P.M.-Me and Sam go to another bar, whose name is leaving me at the moment, to try and watch the rest of the game. However, something at this bar is not quite right. The clintel is almost 100% guys who are wearing cutoff jean shorts (despite it being 38 degrees outside), and the TV's are showing BIg 12 men's swimming. I ask the bartender, a 60 year old dude wearing glasses and a sleeveless shirt, to change to the basketball game...and he tells me he "doesn't know how to work the remote." Finally it hits me, this is a Gay Bar. And I don't mean a "wow this bar sucks" kinda gay bar, but a "wow the guys in this bar suck" San Francisco style Gay bar...not that there's anything wrong with that (there's not), but I decide to leave.
12:45 P.M.-We've fled the gay bar and ended up in some other establishment watching the end of the game. I am surrounded by Kansas people (who can obviously neither read nor write) just as Mizzou is about to lose and I am not happy. However, just as the final buzzer sounds and my rage explodes, the first blank spot in my memory starts to surface, and everything becomes blurry for a while.
2 P.M.-Everything becomes clear, and I am in my favorite St. Louis bar McGurks. At this point I unite with my friend (actually Charlie's friend from college who I have since claimed) Brumm and the tequlia starts to flow. Brumm and I love going shot for shot, and we never stop until someone pukes on the bar or nearly gets their head sliced off by a barbwire fence (both have happened). I order the first round...and we are off to the races.
3:15 P.M.-We have takin down several shots of tequilia, and I am starting to lose control. I mean...I haven't even tweeted in like 4 hours.
4 P.M.-I am rudely escorted out of McGurks by a bouncer and a St. Louis Police Officer, and it's not the first time (once I was removed from the bar because I was pretending to be gay and hitting on too many dudes...or something like that). Why was I kicked out on this fine afternoon? Was it 1-Brumm and I went shot for shot until we both ended up lying naked on the floor (name that song?), 2-The cop and I got in an argument about the best way to treat red wine stains on our fine linen table clothes or 3-I insulted Tyler Perry to a black person? I wish I could tell you, but at this point your guess is as good as mine...although those are clearly the only three options.
4-6 P.M.-I'm not really sure what I am doing, but I know that I am wandering the streets and at some point I run into my friend Erin...based on the facebook pictures I would see later. How did people piece together their black outs before facebook anyways? Have to ask my dad about that one.
6:37 P.M.-I find Sam and Dan just as my dad arrives to pick us up. How old do you have to be before you are just forced to sack up and drive drunk instead of getting rides from mom and dad? Apparently older than 23...that's for damn sure.
7:09 P.M.-I am back home watching the UNC/Duke game, and it looks like we are heading towards a night abortion. My pants are off, Dan is passed out on the couch, and Sam's is making some sort of farm noises in his sleep.
7:21 P.M.-I am about to mail it in when I get the call. Charlie, who I haven't seen in roughly 7 hours, is going out and hitting the bars. Looks like it's time to rally.
7:35 P.M.-Sam and I are up and ready to leave, but Dan won't move. I try everything. Punchin him in the chest. Slappin him on the face. Smackin him in the nuts. Nothing. He won't move. He's done. And like Bubba in Forest Gump...we have no choice but to leave him behind.
7:55 P.M.-My mom drops us off at a bar in Clayton. So far my parents have driven me a total of 15 miles...which means I've saved at least $400 in cab fares.
7:59 P.M.-Take a shot of vodka and chase it with a 5 hour energy...TFM.
8:33 P.M.-Go to use the bathroom at Kilkenny's Pub, and when I come out my pants are very wet around my crotch. Did someone spill a drink directly on my penis? Or did I have an accident? You be the judge
8:39 P.M.-I'm afraid to walk back to my friends due to my pee pants so I sit on the other end of the bar and tweet with my nokia. I haven't been this nervous about wearing piss pants since I was in kindergarten...or like 4th grade.
9:04 P.M.-UNC beats Duke to claim the ACC title. I am so exctied I pee my pants just a little more. (On a related note, remember when everyone thought Duke was gonna go undefeated? Sorry guys, but if your coach looks like a rat, then God probly doesn't like you enough to let you win every game...unless you are the US national team).
9:48 P.M.-Me, Sam, Joey, Charlie, Mather, Flavin, Willy, and Charlie's girlfriend Katie are in a cab chugging vodka and traveling to Larry Flint's Hustler Club in East St. Louis. Has there ever been a more random group of white people to head to a strip club and/or the economic prosperity that is East St. Louis? Not unless the entire cast of Friends was there in 1996.
10:12 P.M.-We get to Larry Flint's, but just like my birthday, there's a problem. Flavin is too drunk to get in. Either that or the bouncer is offended by Flavin's pastel red slacks (Andy Bernard style) and refuses to let him in on fashion grounds. Either way Larry Flint's has become my white whale...and I begin to wonder if I will ever get to see it in all it's glory.
10:15 P.M.-We are walking to another strip club down the road. Does anyone else think that 9 white, upper middleclass 20 somethings walking all alone down a poorly lit East St. Louis road is the perfect plot line for a horror film? It is...as long as Ryan Reynolds plays me, and Charlie Sheen plays my dad and/or father figure who goes in downward spiral after my death (Sheen reference #5).
10:33 P.M.-We've been chilling in this seedy titty bar for a while, and we're all wondering the same thing...where's Willy? Did Jeffrey Dahmer get him? It would make sense that he was the first person to die, at least if I wrote the movie (which I later will). Just as we are starting to get really concerned, Willy comes stroming through the door...holding the biggest dildo you have ever seen. And I thought he was murdered by a serial killer...so it looks like God pulled a complete 180 on this one.
10:42 P.M.-We're back at Larry Flint's and this time they let us in. Like Moses returning to Israel, I finally get to see my true home...and it is beautiful. 4 full stages. Tens of Illinois farmers, wearing overalls and dropping their entire profit from the winter harvest (winter harvest? Eh...go with it). And, most importantly, strippers who might be hot enough to make an appearance in a Cinemax softcore porn. Is this heaven?
11:25 P.M.-I tweet "A stripper just asked me how I feel, and with each whiskey...the answer is better." Truer words have never been tweeted.
11:26 P.M.-I tweet "But I probs got an STD now so...thank God I can tweet via text." Yeah, I have no idea what this means...because those strippers are very clean, nice and innocent ladies.
11:27 P.M.-A bouncer threatens to kick me out for using my phone. He thinks I am taking a picture of the strippers with my camera phone, but little does he know...my phone doesn't have any of that hot, new-fangled technology.
11:34 P.M.-Katie keeps telling me the strippers look athletic. Am I missing something here? When Deshaun Jackson or Randy Moss starts dancing on a pole during the NFL lockout, then I will focus on a strippers athleticism. Until then I watch only their feet...Rex Ryan style.
11:56 P.M.-The strippers start using Willy's dildo in some creative ways. It's official...this blog is now too graphic to become an HBO documentary.
Sunday, March 6th
12:19 A.M.-The bouncer at Larry Flint's informs me that Flavin has been kicked out and I am cut off for providing him alcohol...and we all know what that means. No alcohol=No Charlie Sheen=No Sack (Charlie Sheen reference #6).
12:35 A.M.-2 eyes, 2 ears, a chin, a mouth, 10 fingers, 2 nipples and a penis. What did I just describe? The Loch Ness Monster. And you're reward for catching him? All the treasures in Scotland. So the question is...what are you doing here?
1:02 A.M.-We get in the cab outside of Larry Flint's and tell the driver to head to Lumiere Place Casino. However, the cabbie refuses to go anywhere until we pay him $40 in cash, up front. Is Lumiere a $40 cab ride from Larry Flint's? Probably not, but the cabbie has a mouth (and a crack addiction) to feed...so I toss him a couple Jacksons and tell him to shut the fuck up. We are on our way.
1:24 A.M.-We arrive at Lumiere, but we get stopped just as we are walking onto the casino floor. Turns out security has discovered Willy's dildo and they are questioning him about it. And then, just as they are going to let him bring it in...he decides to continuously flash it to an elderely black couple. Why is there an 80-year-old black couple at Lumiere at 1:24 in the morning? I don't know. But I do know that if you are out past 1 A.M. then you might get accousted by a dildo. I mean that is just common knowledge.
1:32 A.M.-I tweet via text "Finally got into the casino. I just walked up to the bar and ordered a couple of double whiskey and cokes...#winning" (Charlie Sheen reference #7...even if I didn't mention is name)
1:45 A.M.-I finish the first drink and find a seat at a blackjack table. I have $100 to get me through an hour worth of drinking, and probly two hours worth of gambling...and that's more than enough for someone as thrifty as I am.
2:03 A.M.-The waitress comes over and I order 2 more double whiskey and cokes. I then tell her to make sure the drinks keep coming and throw her a $10 chip. Turns out that's how much my drinks cost so she didn't really get a tip. I know that's a dick move, but hey if she doesn't like it she can call her union. They still have those...everywhere but Wisconsin.
3:03 A.M.-Last call has come and gone and it's time for me to stop gambling. How'd I do? I am not exactly sure. But I did wake up with 2 crips 100 dollar bills in my wallet so...jackpot.
3:12 A.M.-I tweet (via text) "Piss self once shame on you. Piss self twice...shame on me." I'll let you guys connect the dots and figure out what happened there.
3:23 A.M.-Sam, Willy and I leave the casino and grab a cab. As usual we make conversation with the cab driver, and somehow Willy shifts the tone from harmless drunken talk to a serious discussion on the current issues in Africa (like poverty and war and stuff). Even in my drunken state I can see the irony of a drunken, upper middle class, white kid telling an African cab driver how to fix problems in his native continent while holding a gigantic dildo. Wow...I never thought I'd write that last run on sentence in my entire life.
3:41 A.M.-We finally arrive at my house where Danny, after passing at roughly 6:30 P.M. (so he's gotten a good 9 hours of sleep at this point), is dead sober and watching reruns of the office. He also starts complaining about a dull pain in his testicles...but I don't know nothing bout that.
9:13 A.M.-Willy's mother walks into his bedroom only to see her eldest son passed out on the floor, clutching a monsterous dildo. But hey she should have expected it...some guys just can't handle Mardi Gras.
Text Update and Big Ups
My text score since February 27th is a nice +310 (253-inbox, 237-sent, 41 from females). However, I have recently realized that tweeting via text hurts my text score, since it counts as sent messages and I have no chance getting a reply. But, twitter has redeemed itself by texting me whenever someone tweets at me, and with my new found twitter popularity (110 followers sucka)...that's at least 10 free texts a month.
I have several big ups to extend in this blog post. First I'd like to thank Sam, Danny, Chuck, Woddy, Scherer, Charlie, Katie, Joey, Mather, Flavin, Brumm, Willy and of course that dildo for spending some remarkable time with me this past Saturday. I'd also like to give props to my man Rich for introducing his buddy Mike Hogan to both my twitter account and this very blog. Unreal. Once again I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Joe Davis who discovered this weeks youtube video (see below) and introduced me to the terms "bizzed" and "bizz city" with the help of his boy C-Murder. Finally, you know I gotta give it up to Charlie Sheen (Sheen reference #7) for giving me the most unreal twitter and blog material I could ever imagine.
Back next week with a closer look at Chicago St. Patty's day.
Sachary L. Poelker
"The Sack Artist: Jack of All Trades"