Dear Readers,
As all of you St. Patty's Day 2012 has already come and gone.  That's right, the holiday which commenorates St. Patrick's fictional banishment of the fictional snakes that were terrorizing very real and very poor Irish people is now in all of our rearview mirrors.  St. Patrick the man is dead, as is St. Patrick the holiday. Well, at least for the next 360 days or so.

And I for one am devastated. Now the Sack is not now, nor ever has been, Irish.  My grandparent's weren't detained at Ellis Island for having lice.  My home nation's livlihood is not completely wiped out when Lays decides to buy 7 less potatoes this fiscal year than they did in 1902.  I do not have one single relative who serves on the Boston Police Force.

However, there is one characteristic which I proudly share with my Irish brethern. And no, it's not an undying love for the color Green (they say that geniuses pick green. If that's true then I can tell you one thing...Irish people didn't pick their own color). You see both me and my Irish homeys truly love one thing, and one thing only...alcohol.

So inventing a fictional holiday about a person who did fiction things just so you can have an excuse to black out, urinate in public, and throw empty Jameson bottles at homeless people?  That's right up my alley. 

So way to go Irish people, I salute you.  You may not be smart...but through your stupidity you've convinced everyone else not to be smart either.  Even if it's just on March 17th.

Was this racist? Naw, Irish people are technically white so...not making fun of them would have been racist. Yeah...that makes sense.

Sack Gets a Little Irish In Him
So what happened on the one day in 2012 where Irish people and my own passion most intimately come together?  Well let's take a look at my March 17th.  And remember any references to drunkeness, drug abuse, sexual activity, human trafficiking, tooth brush shanking people in a Joilet prison, and me ever speaking to women have been greatly exaggerated.  Or something like that...

Saturday, March 17th
7:52 A.M.-I wake up and laying in my bed with me is my good buddy Jimbo...who just happens to be wearing only his tighty whities.  I just happen to have a erection.  I reach over, and just happen to feel my snerk sauce (aka the lube I use for uh, doing stuff to myself) laying in the bed between us.  My butthole just happens to feel like it had about 47% of a Subway footlong tuna sub shoved in it repeatedly.  Do you guys get the subtle hints I am making towards homosexual sex acts (not that there's anything wrong with that) here yet? No?

8:13 A.M.-Jimbo pours his first drink, which consists of Jameson, Ginger-Ale and five 5 hour energys.  Jim's now got 25 hours hours of energy. By 9:13 A.M. tomorrow his heart will burst and he will end up like that giant bug man in the original Men In Black. Hey there are worse ways to go out than swallowing Tommy Lee Jones and having him plant an explosive inside your vital organs I always say...

8:29 A.M.-We've been to McDonald's breakfast. I've eaten a steak, egg & cheese bagel, 2 breakfast burriots, 6 hash browns, copious amounts of sausage biscuits, and a Lilo & Stitch toy outta some little douchy kid's happy meal. So let's just say...that my heart is a lot closer to exploding then Jimmy's is.

8:33 A.M.-My friend D-Boi has arrived, and yes...he is a ginger. If I had a gun with 2 bullets and I was in a room with any ginger, Osama Bin Laden and Hitler...I'd shoot the ginger twice. Osama and Hitler are already dead I'm pretty sure so...

8:49 A.M.-We are already a couple Jameson drinks deep when my friend Ace shows up on his killer bike (it's a Schwin I think).  He quickly shows us our new secret handshake which includes several high-fives, black flips, exposed genitals, some sort of Asian style dildo and a prostitute's vagina (probably the one John Edwards bangs every other Wednesday).  Hey smell my finger...through the computer. It's pretty rank huh?

8:50 A.M.-Watching the new Footloose. Hey...there are no black people in Footloose.

8:55-11 A.M.-I was drankin...but I wasn't mf'in driving. Everyone knows that everything besides driving is completely legal if you are drunk.  Anybody got any heroin or a pirated video of Game of Thrones?

11:02 A.M.-My "friend" Tyler shows up. Kid is about as cool as a kid that you hate and aren't afraid to say it to his face. Kinda like a less famous version of someone famous that no one likes and makes fun of to his face. Who am I thinking of? Joey Fatone maybe?

11:09 A.M.-Me, Corey, Jimbo, D-Boi, and Seal get in a van cab which takes us north to wrigley. Everyone in the car is openly drinking Jameson. At one point we open both of the sliding doors in the van and are yelling out at people on the street.  I spit tobacco juice out the window and it lands on some clown who is JOGGING without chugging liquor or wearing green on St. Patrick's Day. He deserved it in my book...aka the bible and/or Tim Tebow's autobiography.

11:59 A.M.-We're at Mullen's bar where me, Jimbo and Corey have been playing a virascious game of Golden Tee. We're tied, and I'm on the 18th fairway. Do I lay up? No. I go for the green...and hit it in the water. Then I do it again, and again, and again, and again. Someday I'll be a hero, cause no one remembers major champions...they remember qualifiers who lose them like idiots cause they are dumb as a rock. Hey wait a second...

12:00 P.M.-The game tells me that I've reached my stroke limit before I ever make the green. Hold on...this isn't how it happened in the movie. Kevin son of a bitch.

12:55 P.M.-I get my bar tab and it's something like $155. Do I have the money? No. But I do have an undershirt worn by screen legend Anthony Quinn.  I am not sure who that is so...I run away without paying.

1:33 P.M.-By now we've gotten to Kirkwood and I walk up to the bar to get a drink. As I order I notice a yet-to-be-served plate of food sitting in front of me. So I do what any good American citizen would...I shove tater tots into any and every crevice of my body.

1:38 P.M.-Some lady walks up to the bar to complain cause she hasn't gotten her tater tots yet. I fart...and a tater tot pops out right into her mouth. Wow...that was pretty f'in gross.

2:34 P.M.-I walk out into the alley to take a piss. Next thing I know I was rubbing white powder into my gums with some homeless guy so I don't get addicted to the ridiculous amounts of it that I am also snorting. Turns out it was baking I obviously shoot the homeless man for lying to me.  Hey this is a society...and rules are rules.

3:38 P.M.-We are back at my apartment and one of my neighbors on the ground floor of my building is hosting a bachelorette party. So what do we do? Throw glass bottles down at them from my 3rd floor balcony. Uncalled for? Maybe. Possibly deadly? No doubt. But hey, nothing spices up a bachelorette party like being bombarded with shards of glass you guys.

4:12 P.M.-I walk downstairs to try and make piece with the bachelorette party.  Next thing I know I am being mobbed by 22 pretty unattractive chicks in their mid-to-upper 30's. It's pretty sexual and violent. By this point I am really starting to miss Jimbo and our boner, lube sleepy time.

4:27 P.M.-I look up at our balcony where Jimbo is standing in his tighty whities, his package gently kissed by the fading sun. A Christ like figure glistening in the twilight, exposing the entirety of himself to his admirers below.  A man ready to lead. A group of bachelorettes ready to follow. A penis and 2 balls jammed into stitched white cotton...ready for their time in sun.  A moment, and a set of genitals, perfectly captured and frozen in time forever...

And people say that I can't write beautiful prose about cocks and balls.

7:03 P.M.-By this time my apartment has become a revolving door, tons of people coming and going. Noah, Ream, Jeff, Emily, Hort...some homeless guy trying to sell me baking soda with a bloody bullet wound. What happened?  Who banged who?  Why does my finger still smell weird?  You tell me?

7:45 P.M.-Jimbo, Ream, Ace and I have started a game where Jimmy flips his athletic sandals off his feet and sends them flying towards your ballsack at warp speed.  It's a lot of fun. Approved for ages 9-84.

8:12 P.M.-I walk into the living room where I see Jimbo squating, his ass, cock and balls sticking out of the window. Ace is holding his handing, rubbing his head and saying "Let it out Jimmer...let it out." I look outside and see two fairly large brown projectiles falling from the sky and smashing into a pile of mush on the concrete below. That's right ladies and gents...Jimbo took a shit out of the window in my 3rd story apartment. That's just how we roll.

8:42 P.M.-We are outside and started playing a game where we stand on the four corners of an intersection and play catch with a handle of whiskey. If you catch the whiskey take a pull.  If you drop the whiskey, pour it in your pants. Approved for ages 6-139.

8:46 P.M.-Jimbo flips his athletic sandal into the air. It lands on a girls face.  Like Jan Brady, her nose is devastated...and she will never be as pretty as her sister. Oh wait that happened to Marcia? Oh well...she'll still always be hotter than Jan. Not sure this chick can say the same.

9:31 P.M.-Ace's cock has turned bright red due to its repeated athletic sandal attacks. I'm aroused. Wait...what?

9:38 P.M.-Jimbo nails some chick in the ass with his sandal.  This chick, cause she hates fun and has a brain that uses, uh--female logic--can't understand that we are playing a game and gets very offended.  She grabs the sandal and starts spanking Jimbo. Hey lay off lady...that's is my butt.

10:12 P.M.-Somehow me, Jimbo, Ace and Ream end up walking somewhere in Wrigley when Ream decides to chase some guy on a bicycle. I'm not sure, but I'm pretty sure that it was Dupree you know...from the hit film You, Me and Dupree.

10:15 P.M.-Dupree has come back down the street and gotten in Ream's face. Ream, as any logical 5'2", 128 lbs. Mexican would, decides that fighting is his best option.  Next thing I know these guys are wrestling in some dude's front yard. If only I had some KY jelly and a referee's shirt.

10:16 P.M.-Some guy comes out on his porch and tells us his alarm is gonna go off if we don't stop, xo Jimbo grabs Dupree...and chokes that mother f'er out. Literally like the guy can't breathe.  His face is turning purple. But Jimbo won't let go, instead constantly asking the guy if "he's done." Hey can't be too safe when you are choking out an Owen Wilson character on some dude's front yard while his alarm is sounding. That's the first lesson every child learns. I think it's on Sesame Street or Barney or Downtown Abbey or some shit.

11:02 P.M.-We're walking down Clark Street, and there's apparently been some type of horrible accident.  The streets are blocked off.  People are openly having sex and sticking other people with AIDS infested heroin needles.  Some dude slit a guy's throat and drank his blood. 

11:03 P.M.-Turns out they were actually just shooting the new film Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter. I'm gonna be in da movies bitch!!!

11:26 P.M.-Ace, Jimbo and I are riding in a cab and once again yelling out to the people in the streets.  At one point a hot chick walks by and Jimbo yells "Hey you're the movie" as the cab speeds off. I've never seen someone so offended in my entire life.

11:56 P.M.-We are struck at a stop light when we see the hot chick sprinting towards the cab and yelling that she is gonna murder Jimbo at the top of her lungs. She came out of now where...and must ran like 20 miles.

Sunday, March 18th
1:02 A.M.-We've been drankin at Kincades for a while when Jimmy sees a guy walking around with a WCW Championship belt. Turns out this guy has no job and no money, but still manage to scrounge up the $600 necessary to buy this authentic belt by suckin' dicks and selling encyclopedias (the two lowest jobs in the world).  That's that's being a true American like my boy...HACKSAW JIM DUGGAN

1:19 A.M.-Someone tweets me, saying that I look like a dracula (see youtube video below). Wait like a cartoon Dracula? Is it my teeth? Or my hairline? It's my hairline? Got it. Thank you.

9:13 A.M.-Jimbo's 25 hours are up. His heart explodes. Now I need to get to work on recreating the plot of Men In Black 3 (skippin MIB 2 for obvious reasons) in real life. Only got 364 days to make it happen...

Text Updates and Big Ups
My text message score since March 9th is a staggering +672 (540-inbox, 467-sent, 55 from females), which represents the most chicks I've sent dick pics too who still text me back in the history of my life. Also my Twitter popularity score has slightly increased to 246 followers so...looks like I am taking over the social media world one penis pic at a time.

The only big ups I have to extend in this edition of the blog go to Corey, Ace, D-Boi, Seal, Ream, Hort, Jeff, Noah and of course Jimbo for helping me get into all of the exciting escapades I detailed above. The rest of you...pick yo' games up if you want a mention.  No one does though so...

Back next week with a look at something slightly less offensive to Irish people (but still offensive enough).

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



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