Jonathan Goldman Turns 21!!

The other night Lynx & Crew were out in Wrigleyville celebrating Jonathan’s Goldman’s 21st birthday. We did a mini-barcrawl and it was the second place we stopped that warrants a mention in my chronicles.

Since living in the city, Jonathan Goldman has always wanted to go to Cubby Bear. It’s not my type of place, although it is a staple of Wrigleyville. So we honored his request and when we showed up, this reggae band was playing. There was maybe roughly 30 people there, half of whom I rolled in with. Honey dragged all the girls out to the dance floor, where I got creeped out by guys coming up to us and I headed back to the bar so that I would be left alone.

One minute I’m talking to Kooter Kake and the next I’m talking to a bachelor party. I don’t remember how it started and I couldn’t even tell you what was said, although I did diss the groom-to-be because he was from Michigan and some doofus was a Hoosier. They looked like idiots in these bright red t-shirts which they had specialized for the “Bachelor Party Bar Crawl.” One of the guys, forgot his name, got all up in my space. But it was okay, he was a pretty guy. And that’s when one by one my friends came up to us, saying it was time to go. G-Spot. Once wasn’t enough. Ricky Rousse. Twice wasn’t enough either. When Sloppy Shot came up, I still had half a beer left and I was in the middle of a conversation with a guy.

Sloppy Shot: Come on, we gotta go.
Lynx: I still have to finish my drink. -looks to bachelor party guy-
Sloppy Shot: Is it the only thing that’s keeping you from going to the next bar?
Lynx: …Yes… -meaning no-

And then he took my drink from my hand and finished my beer! And then he basically dragged me out of Cubby Bear! I didn’t even wait til we had turned the corner (Cubby Bear stands on the corner of Clark and Addison) before I started yelling.

Lynx: Why the fuck did you do that?!
Sloppy Shot: You were talking to douchebags!
Lynx: AND THAT’S A REASON TO COCKBLOCK ME??
Sloppy Shot: Uh…they were douchebags…that should be enough reason.
Lynx: But that’s perfect! They don’t want to stay til the morning!

I kept yelling as we crossed the street. I was still yelling when we came to Goose Island and discovered it was closed. I didn’t care who heard, the hobos or the skanks or the bros, anyone and everyone on Clark Street heard that I had been cockblocked. It escalated when we went into Mullen’s. G-Spot and Ricky Rousse cornered me to calm me down. At least I think it was Ricky Rousse? It may have been Boomp.

G-Spot: Would you rather have fun with your friends or have sex with a douchebag?
Lynx: …Yeah I choose sex.
Boomp/Ricky Rousse: But it’s Jonathan Goldman’s birthday. Don’t you want to be there for him?
Lynx: But it was a fucking bachelor party!

Let me first of all say, I fucking love Jonathan Goldman like I love Tucker Max. Jonathan Goldman is like a god in my eyes. I was just Hurricane Bitch out of control. Of course Jonathan Goldman & Crew are more important than random ass with a stranger who went to Mizzou! But my poor vag, they all had someone to go home to! After Mullen’s we stopped at Taco Bell for drunk munchies. On our way out, I saw the bachelor party come in. My ire was reawakened. Hurricane Bitch came out and Ricky Rousse and I got into a physical altercation back at Jonathan Goldman’s apartment. Lesson here? They obviously didn’t pay attention to Scruffelhauser’s words “You don’t want to get in Lynx’s way when she wants to get laid.”

Crotch Is Where The Heart Is

G-Spot: Lynx, I know exactly where your heart is. Your crotch.
Kooter Kake: No, that’s where her penis is.
G-Spot: Also her brain.

The White Sox

Tweedle Dum: “We know why G-Spot likes the Cubs, he’s a drunk Irish. We all know why I like the Brewers, I’m a drunk German. Lynx likes the Sox because it rhymes with a body part.”

 

Hurricane Bitch

January 2009

Buttersauce, Jonathan Goldman and Ricky Rousse planned a surprise 23rd birthday party for Boomp.  Boomp was lured out to Chicago under the pretense they would be barhopping. Birthday boy was quite surprised indeed and never saw it coming. We were stocked up on hard liquor, in particular we had a huge bottle of Ciroc which Boomp and Ricky Rousse are really fond of.

So I started off with cranberry vodkas, unusual for me to do since I’m a beer drinker.  As the night wore on, more people showed up and more people got drunk. I had been a really good happy drunk I was jolly (yes Jolly) and stumbling over myself. I was a happy drunk until I discovered we were out of Ciroc. Upon making the switch to beer, apparently I bitched out Ricky Rousse and Jonathan Goldman. I don’t remember any of this but since I am one of the loudest (sometimes angry) drunks in the group, I’m not too surprised.

Buttersauce came up to me, wondering if pizzas should be ordered. I love to eat so there was no way I was going to tell her not to order them. I was in the kitchen when the Pizza man came. I got drunkenly excited and started waving to the guy, asking if he wanted beer. And then G-Spot ran over and held me in place to prevent me from actually going up to the  Pizza man. I got angry.

Lynx: “I have to give him beer! Let me go!”

G-Spot: “Hey it’s okay, Sloppy Shot already did it.”

Lynx: “That asshole tipped the Pizza man before me?”

G-Spot: “Yes he did, now calm down!”

Lynx: “NO! I’M SUPPOSED TO GIVE THE PIZZA MAN BEER! HOW COULD HE DO THIS TO ME??”

G-Spot let go of me and I stormed into the next room where Boomp, Ricky Rousse, Sloppy Shot and Scruffelhauser were in the middle of a beer pong game. Not giving a shit, I belligerently got in Sloppy Shot’s face and began yelling at him. He claimed not to know what I was talking about, I called bullshit and then I angrily poured the rest of my cranberry vodka into his cups of beer. I visibily saw that Scruffelhauser and Boomp were surprised and disgusted with what I did. In my drunken state I didn’t care. I seriously felt like I’d been disrespected by not being able to give the Pizza man beer.

I started walking back to the kitchen when I realized that I had been so angry, I forgot about the pizzas. I sniffed the kitchen and asked where the pizza was. Someone made a comment that G-Spot and Jonathan Goldman’s lady had taken it to his room. My ire once again was ablaze and I ran from the kitchen to Jonathan Goldman’s room screaming, “THOSE MOTHER FUCKERS!!! THEY’RE HIDING PIZZA FROM ME!!”

Right before I reached the room, G-Spot slammed the door shut and I began banging. I was about to try and hulk the door when it opened and I saw the two with cheese and pepperoni hanging from the side of their mouths. I wound up getting my share and everyone collectively decided that I had to be cut off for the rest of the night. I played nice for a while, biding my time before I could start drinking again. That opportunity arose when one of Sloppy Shot’s friends, Vick and his girlfriend,  showed up.

Sometimes I unconciously slip into a hostess role when my friends throw parties. This comes from my time spent in a frat house. I won’t get into the details, but when I see people come in not really knowing anyone or looking like they’re not having fun, I just have to give them beer. I went to the kitchen and was in the process of taking beer from the fridge when I heard,

Person: “What are you doing, Lynx?”

Lynx: “I’m getting beer for Vick and his lady friend…”

I grabbed one beer for Vick, then another beer for his lady friend. Then I grabbed a third one, “And this one’s for me, HA BITCHES!!” and took off running from the kitchen before they could take my beers away from me.   Lazer soon took me and G-Spot home after this. I don’t know if it was because he was genuinely partied out or if it was because they didn’t want me to get worked up again.

I was such a huge, raging bitch that G-Spot started calling me Hurricane Bitch this night.

Lynx Babies and Company

March 2008

It was the morning/day of G-Spot’s birthday party, and for the life of me I feel like we did something fun the night before but I can’t remember at the moment. Boomp, Scruffelhauser, Sloppy Shot, and I were doing Power Hour and then played other various drinking games. G-Spot came out of his room to see what we were doing.

Being that we were all there for G-Spot’s 22nd birthday, and I’m the oldest in our group of friends (well used to be the oldest until Lyle Harris started hanging out with us), I started thinking about the future. I don’t know if this was because the booze was brought out the serious Lynx in me or if it was because I was getting “older.” I’ve got a pretty awesome group of friends and for whatever reason, I was wondering what traits they would pass onto their kids. Will they be calling me Lynx, or Aunt Lynx, Auntie Lynx, or perhaps Lynxie? Will our kids surpass our awesomeness? Time will tell!

Lynx: “I can’t wait til we all have kids and they sit around playing drinking games.”
G-Spot: “I’m not letting my kids hang out with your kids, ‘Stay away from those Lynx boys.’ Because you know you’re having boys, Lynx. I don’t think you have any X chromosomes to give!”

37 Dicks

September 2006

I was visiting G-Spot and Sloppy Shot down in Champaign along with Azami and her boyfriend at the time. We started out at a Christmas party in September at the Jewish Dorm. The party was cool in theory. Christmas when it’s hot as balls out? Why not! It was kind of awkward though. It really was a bunch of very nerdy 18 year olds running around. I’m sure they were very nice 18 year olds, but being 21, I just wanted to go to the bars. I spent most of my time in Santa’s room talking to Sloppy Shot or smoking a cig with G-Spot outside. At this time I was still a social smoker. Santa also had an awesome view of the Illini campus.

We let early and spent the rest of the night at Brothers getting drunk. We stumbled out drunk onto Green Street after last call, when all of a sudden I hear G-Spot yell to the other people walking by and he’s pointing at me.

G-Spot: “My Girlfriend sucked 37 dicks!!”
Random Guy: “In a row?”
Lynx: “What the fuck?? I am not his girlfriend! I haven’t sucked 37 dicks!”

I was angry. He kept shouting it to new people and they either responded with “With in a row?” or “Wow, that’s a lot of dicks!” Then G-Spot came across some guy walking with a pizza and it was like they were long lost brothers. G-Spot did the “My girlfriend sucked 37 dicks” line and the guy was like, “In a row?” They laughed and then started speaking a language they only seemed to know. It was the language of Borat. Then G-Spot took the pizza box out of the guy’s hand and tried to run off with it. He gave it back to the guy because his roommate would have been very pissed if he had shown up without a pizza.

We made it back to G-Spot and Sloppy Shot’s apartment. Kooter Kake also lived with them during this time but I have no idea where he was this night. He missed out on our shenanigans. G-Spot for whatever drunk reason, stripped down to his boxers and challenged Sloppy Shot to a wrestling match on their living room floor. Sloppy Shot never to back down from a challenge, only took his shirt off. I forgot who won.

I would learn at some point between Borat talk and passing out that the “My girlfriend sucked 37 dicks!!” line was from the movie Clerks. It made me more forgiving about G-Spot trying to make me look like a whore on Green Street. When I was telling the tale to Jack, who would become the Champaign Cockblock 4 months later, he was not too pleased. He also had not seen Clerks and was thinking he wanted nothing to do with a girl who had sucked 37 dicks or who G-Spot claimed was his girlfriend (in jest).

 

Picnic Time: My Face

So today’s entry is about what took place last year at Honey’s 21st birthday celebration. My friends and I refer to this night as “The Infamous Picnic Table Incident.” We celebrated at Alumni, however, K-Ho and I managed to get Honey way too drunk the night before so Honey was drinking water.

I rode out with Boomp and Ricky Rousse. We stopped for gas when the boys decided that they were hungry and were going to run across the busy intersection to get McDonald’s. Never mind having had some drinks and cars are coming at you. That’s not dangerous at all! When they got back we made a pact: since we were arriving at Alumni together, we would also be good friends and leave together. I also told them that Langdon was possibly going to be there and that they should make sure that I keep away from him and/or not go home with him.

We made it to Alumni and upon entering the beer garden, we came across Butch and company. Sloppy Shot, Butch and Jeremy had a reunion and did a round of lunchboxes at the bar. Langdon was trying to chase me around the beer garden, buying me drinks and nachos. Langdon and I were standing around talking at one point and next thing I know, we’re making out. Now in all fairness, he started it. For whatever reason he then took me out to the grassy area, where there were picnic tables, far from everyone. He sat down, made me straddle him, and we continued making out hardcore. I thought I heard G-Spot yell, “HE’S GONNA GET HIS DICK WET!!” but G-Spot denies having said this. Scruffelhauser swung by to take a picture of us making out, that’s how awesome my friends are.

So we’re drunk and making out, totally oblivious to our surroundings. And that’s when the picnic table FLIPPED OVER!!

I was stunned. One minute we were making out and the next minute we were on the ground with the picnic table up in the air. We heard cheering and shouting. Everybody in that damn place whipped out their digital cameras and camera phones to take pictures of us. I was so drunk and embarrassed. I got up and left Langdon behind, but I can’t remember where I went. The making out didn’t end there. Oh no, we became that obnoxious couple sucking face at the bar.

Lazer, Boomp, multiple other friends, were having a field day with me and Langdon making out. They would take pictures of us and be the creepers in the background. You know the creepers I’m talking about. The guys giving the camera thumbs up or high-fiving each other.

Ricky Rousse: “So how do you guys know each other?”

Lynx: “This is how we know each other” -proceed to make out with Langdon-
Ricky Rousse: “Oh, okay…”  

At one point Langdon wanted to take me back to Butch’s. I knew what he would try to do if I went with him. We had hooked up the summer before and he was going to try to do it again. I told him that the only way it was going to happen was if he promised nothing would happen. He drunkenly promised and I went to tell some folks I was going to leave.

Ricky Rousse came up to me, “What are you doing? What happened to us leaving? I hope you don’t do something you’re going to regret.”

I like to think that I’m a person of my word and that I’m a loyal friend. Langdon was not the person I should be leaving with. Ricky Rousse, being the friend that he is, said he would drive me home instead. I went back to Langdon and told him that I changed my mind. I would be going home with Ricky Rousse. Langdon was angry at being cockblocked.

Langdon: “Are you going to let your friends tell you what to do?”
Lynx: “You won’t understand, I’m sorry…just give me a call tomorrow, okay?”

He went back to his table to go sulk. He couldn’t even look at me when I said goodbye. I didn’t know this at the time, but Butch told me a couple days later that Slim and Tad made a bet that night on who would take me home. Slim thought Langdon would be triumphant, after all that hardcore making out, how could Langdon go back empty handed? Tad thought Ricky Rousse would be the one to take me home, and he was right.

Boomp, Ricky Rousse and I left. I went into drunk hysterics while in the car and Sloppy Shot had to come out and calm me down. Unfortunately we had bigger problems on the way home. That problem was a road block teeming with police. I’ll spare you the details, but Ricky Rousse almost got a DUI that night.

Ricky Rousse: “Officer, I’m the designated driver. I only had a few drinks.”
Officer: “If you were the designated driver, you shouldn’t be drinking at all.”

Out of our friends, we were not the only ones who got stuck in this predicament. I did feel guilty, because it was my fault that we were in this situation. I would have felt worse if Ricky Rousse had gotten a DUI. Lucky for us, we did make it home that night. But for future reference, never tell an officer that you’re the designated driver and that you’ve been drinking!