Throwback Writing: The Hunt

This bit of writing portrays me in my early twenties (you’ll see a lot more vulgarity at one point) and gives a view into why I don’t drink myself to oblivion anymore.

Place: Pamela’s Cantina in NYC
Date: April 1, 2002
Time: 10pm

Dre’s Brain: OK, let’s do this! Time’s to party and meet some chicks!
Dre’s Penis: Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww shit!
Dre’s Brain: Relax, relax.
Dre’s Penis: Relax? This is one of the few times you and I are on the same page! How can I relax?!?
Dre’s Brain: Er, we’re in public. I’d say it’s pretty imperative that you not get excited. Now let’s hit that dance floor.
Dre’s Feet: Fuck, fuck, fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck… This isn’t cool, man.
Dre’s Brain: Wha – what the hell are you doing? You’re totally off beat!
Dre’s Feet: Abort! Abort! I’m taking us to a dark corner before we embarrass ourselves any further. Besides, you can’t just throw me out to the wolves, dude. I need to loosen up.
Dre’s Penis: Ditto.
Dre’s Hands: Yeah, man.
Dre’s Mouth: I need to loosen up.
Dre’s Brain: Fine. You might be right. Let’s grab a drink.
Dre’s Mouth: A shot of Jose Cuervo, please.
Dre’s Brain: Better, but not good enough.
Dre’s Mouth: Another shot, please.
Dre’s Feet: I’m starting to feel the music, fellas!
Dre’s Mouth: Another shot.
Dre’s Liver: Not cool, guys. Not cool at all.
Dre’s Mouth: Oh, hmmm. Now what should I order? Hmmm. Shot!
Dre’s Eyes: When did so many hot women get here?
Dre’s Mouth: Uno mas, por favor.
Dre’s Brain: Did we just order in poorly spoken Spanish? Ooook… we, uh, need to slow down here. You ready yet, bro?
Dre’s Feet: Let’s go.
Dre’s Eyes: This chick looks good. Let’s go for it!
Dre’s Brain: OK, Mouth. Let her know you find her attractive and you want to dance with her.
Dre’s Mouth: Gawd damn, baby, u so fine… lemme get up on dat… on dat fine ass…
Dre’s Penis: Awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww shit!
Amy’s Brain: What? What’s going on back there?
Amy’s Butt: Uh…
Dre’s Penis: Don’t mind me!
Dre’s Feet: I’m fairly sure I’m more awesome at dancing when we’re drunk!
Amy’s Feet: Yeah… I can’t keep up with whatever this guy is doing.
Dre’s Brain: Everything… everything’s so fuzzy… what’s going on down there, guys?
Dre’s Hands: I’ve got the hips! We should tell her something sweet.
Dre’s Mouth: Mmmmm… You smell like buhnanuh bread and sinuhmen, baby. I wish I cood eat some right now. Hahahaha har har innuendo har har LOL!!!!
Dre’s Brain: Jesus…
Amy’s Brain: Jesus…
Amy’s Mouth: Hey, I’m sorry. I really need to use the restroom.
Dre’s Mouth: Aw man. Yo lemme get yo home and/or work address then, baby.
Dre’s Brain: Wow… no, dude… bring it down to a level five.
Dre’s Mouth: Yo number. I meant yo number. Lemme get it.
Amy’s Mouth: I don’t like giving my number out at clubs.
Dre’s Mouth: And I don’t like the fact that you don’t like tah give yo number out… uh… what was we talkin’ about?
Amy’s Mouth: My number…
Dre’s Mouth: Oh yeaaaah…… Lemme get that.
Amy’s Mouth: How about you give me yours?
Dre’s Mouth: Yeah? OK! Here it is. You gonna cawl me?
Amy’s Mouth: Yeah, sure.
Dre’s Mouth: Really?
Amy’s Mouth: Yeah.
Dre’s Mouth: Really? You sure? Cuz I feel like may have come on sorta strawng. Also I cry when people don’t cawl me, but… shhhh… no one knows that 😉
Amy’s Mouth: Yes, yes. I’ll call. Pinky swear and everything.
Dre’s Brain: Zzzz… huh… whuh? What’s going on guys? What the hell is Mouth saying?
Dre’s Mouth: I think I love you… with yo cute, blurry face…
Amy’s Brain: Jesus…
Dre’s Brain: JESUS! Has he…? How long has he been babbling on without me? Abort! Abort!
Dre’s Penis: Yeah, man. He’s buzz killing me here. Feet, get us out of here!
Dre’s Feet: I got a feeeelinnng… Oooooooo hoooooooooo…That tonight’s gonna be a good night… That tonight’s gonna be a good night… that tonight’s gonna be a good, good niiiiiiiiight….
Dre’s Penis: Damn it… The Black Eyed Peas…
Dre’s Brain: His only kryptonite. Can someone do something? Anyone?
Dre’s Stomach: I can do something.
Dre’s Mouth: Scuse me, baby. I think I’m gonna be si-
Dre’s Stomach: BLARG!
Dre’s Mouth: BLARG!
Bouncer’s Mouth: That’s it, buddy. You’ve gotta get out of here.
Dre’s Feet: But tonight’s supposed to be a good night. A good, GOOD night. told me so.
Dre’s Mouth: Get off me, you mark ass bitch!
Dre’s Brain: No, no, no! Not good! He’s speaking like Ice Cube in Boyz in the Hood, again!
Bouncer’s Mouth: What was that?
Dre’s Mouth: Maybe you shood take your boyfren’s dick outta your ear then yood hear me better har har har…
Bouncer’s Fist: Aaaaand the tiger’s unleashed!
Dre’s Chin: Ahhhh! OUCH!!!
Dre’s Brain: Wh-why’s every… thing… getting darrrrk?…. Zzzzzzzzzzzz…

Place: Obrien’s Pub in NYC
Date: 04/13/2008
Time: 5pm

Jerry’s Mouth: Wooooo! Happy hour!
Dana’s Mouth: Hey, Andre! You’re not drinking?
Jerry’s Mouth: I think Mr. Griffiths needs some tequila!
Dre’s Brain/Dre’s Mouth: Nah, just a beer

Peace out, party people.

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