Drunk Thoughts on Being Popular, Exotic, and Cute

Tweedle Dum was home for the weekend and as usual, we had problems trying to figure out where we should drink. Tweedle Dum likes to keep it local, as in the same town we live in, and won’t really venture outside. Then there’s me, I hate drinking in our hometown and I also hate drinking in the next town over. I like driving 20 minutes or more to get my drinking on. Tweedle Dum wanted to go somewhere we both hadn’t been and that’s pretty much impossible. Or so I thought. A new bar had opened up in Elgin and another one had undergone renovations with new owners. Well I won’t share my scathing reviews, but I was so disappointed that we left within the first 10 minutes at each bar and wound up at Hoppe’s.

Needless to say, I wasn’t that happy and even less so when I saw someone I went to high school with. I talked to Bad-Ass after we left. This is one of the happier conversations I’ve put him through.

Lynx: “Ran into some bitch from high school. I hate it. She was one of those preppy popular bitches. She was fucking anorexic and you know what, she’s still anorexic! There were two different popular cliques and I was not in her camp. The other group, those girls were more down to earth and that’s why I liked them.”

Bad-Ass: “Okay…”

Lynx: -still rambling- “I wasn’t an outcast and I wasn’t in the in-crowd although I did party with them occasionally. There’s two kinds of popular. There’s the one where everyone knows you cuz you’re friendly and the one where you’re in that core of ‘it’ kids. I was definitely the first one. And yet all these bitches thought I was a threat. I don’t get it.”

Bad-Ass: “I do, but you’re drunk. You’re exotic and cute.”

Lynx: “No seriously, I’m not exotic and I’m not super cute.”

Bad-Ass: “Now you’re just fishing for compliments! I can’t even reason with you.”

Lynx: “I’m not fucking kidding!! I don’t have small eyes and I’m not feminine!!”

Bad-Ass: “Well I would bone you in a heartbeat but you won’t listen to me. Give me a call in the morning and then I can talk to you.”

Slapbag

June/July 2007

Slapbag is a drinking game I discovered in the summer of 2006, when I went camping in Wisconsin with the brothers Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum and their Wisconsin friends. It’s a very simple concept. You take a swig of Franzia and then slap the bag, trying to make a cracking sound. Those slaps are the best. And then you pass it on to the next person until the bag is dry. Now I know this sounds a little stupid, but once you get going and the alcohol is flowing, this is fun as hell. Seriously. FUN.

I had so much fun that I had to share this with the rest of our friends. Now I thought that I had had fun playing it with Wisconsin folks. Well the friends that the Tweedles and I share, are a very creative bunch and took Slapbag a step further. Whereas the Wisconsin folks just slapped a bag and passed it on, Sloppy Shot, Ricky Rousse, Honey, and Lyle Harris came up with different ways to pass it on and slap the shit out of that Franzia bag. Can you high five the shit out of Franzia? Maybe do an Eiffel Tower? Backhand it? Do a flip and then see if you can whack it? We started off 5 strong, then there was 3, but Sloppy Shot and Ricky Rousse were the brave men who sucked that Franzia bag dry.

I can’t really remember what happened after we had nothing left to drink. At some point we decided to walk Honey home since she literally lives right behind me. I can tell you that I don’t remember me physically walking to her house, I was pretty fucked up. All I remember is that from the short walk from my house to hers, I had to call Langdon. You know, that urge of MUST CALL YOU and ADMIT DRUNKEN THINGS TO YOU.

Langdon and I met in February 2007 when Butch and I went to ISU. I was digging him and then after 2-3 hours of meeting him, I found out from Butch and Slim that he had a girlfriend. So of course I was disappointed. Well they broke up a few months later and he started asking about me, but Leo and I were back together so nothing happened. Langdon couldn’t get me out of his mind, so he asked Butch for my number and made a call. But I never got that call or the voicemail he left me. Apparently Langdon called some girl he thought was me and left a voicemail saying, “I think you’re an awesome girl and I’ve had this big crush on you since we met. Can we hang out sometime?”

Only to realize that he called the wrong person. He was completely horrified, “I just poured my heart and soul out to a complete stranger!”

I’m pretty sure that Butch (with the encouragement of Slim and Tad) purposely gave Langdon the wrong phone number so they could laugh about it. Well I had been thinking about it, and I don’t know how I got his number (I think it was in a voicemail and I couldn’t hear the digits), but I dialed away.

“Hi Langdon, it’s Lynx. How’s it going? You know what, I totally thought you were really cool when I met you. You were cute and funny, and I’m not gonna lie, I totally wanted to make out with you! But then you had a girlfriend so I thought you were a douchebag. Like a really BIG douchebag! Anyway, so maybe you are a douchebag, maybe you aren’t, why don’t we try to be friends? See where it goes? I really just want to be your friend.”

Yeah well guess what. I had dialed the wrong number! Of course I told Butch about it and he thought it was absolutely hilarious.

I was so sick the next morning, instead of driving to my 8 am summer class, I drove over to Sloppy Shot’s because there was no way I was going to be able to sit through 3 hours of American History without passing out or puking. Which I tried to sleep, puked a bit, got dragged out to breakfast by Sloppy Shot and Ricky Rousse, puked some more, got back to Sloppy Shot’s and perhaps puked more and then finally slept it off. All while he was running around helping his mom with computer stuff.

I have pretty much sworn off Franzia since that night. WORST HANGOVER EVER!