(at a club)

Drunk Girl: C’mon, man! Just play one request for us! This is Tina’s birthday!

DJ AM: I told you girls 400 times. I don’t take requests. I am not a DJ. I am the club’s executive music producer. So please don’t approach the table again. I’m trying to put Robyn’s voice over this beat from a Doves song.

Drunk Girl: But your name is DJ AM!

DJ AM: That DJ stands for Dax Julian, not disc jockey. If you want to make requests, buy a jukebox. Otherwise, please leave me to ply my craft.

Drunk Girl: You’re suck a jerk! You’re ruining my friend’s birthday! Where’s management? Can’t anyone help us out?

(door flies open)

Matt: BRAH!

Nick: BRAH!

Matt: Brah, this club sucks, brah!

Nick: I knah, brah! Too many girls here are over 100 pounds, brah! And they’re not wearing any Pradah, brah!

Matt: Or Oscar de lah Rantah!

Nick: Brah, you can’t show up to a club wearing middle tier brands, brah. That reminds me… (sends text message) I’m texting my stylist, brah! She’s gonna hook me up with some new scarves, brah.

Drunk Girl: Guys, guys! Can you help me? That mean old DJ won’t play my best friend’s song. We’d do anything for you if you could just help us out (bats eyelashes).

Matt: What song, brah?

Drunk Girl: Um, “Love Is A Battlefield”? Tina’s a huge 80’s fan.

Nick: Pat Benetah? BRAH!

Matt: BRAH!

Nick: You don’t wanna listen to that shit, brah. That shit is old. Let Uncle Nick play something for yah, brah. I got somethin’ that’s fucking tight, brah! (shows girl his iPhone) Peep this…


Drunk Girl: No, no, no! It has to be “Love Is A Battlefield”!

Matt: Dude, that’s a sweet iPhone, brah.

Nick: Check out how many texts I got today, brah.

Drunk Girl: C’mon man, help us out!

Matt: Who’s the DJ? We’ll maybe consider thinking about possibly entertaining the idea of helping you if you help us, brah.

Drunk Girl: Oh, you guys are so sweet! What do you want us to do? (bats eyelash)

Matt: Score us some blah.

Nick: Yeah, we need some blah, brah!

Drunk Girl: Oh, cocaine? I think Jenna might have some.

Matt: Make sure you get the stuff from Columbiah, brah.

Nick: Yeah, and get a lot of it, brah. ‘Cause our friend is coming, and our friend needs a lot of it.

(door flies open)


Paris: OMIGOD, I NEED COKE! WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE? EVERYONE HERE IS PATHETIC. I WANT COKE! SOMEONE HELP GET ME SOME COKE!

Nick: Oh Paris, you’re so hawt. We’ll help yah score some blah, brah.

Matt: I wish the girls here were as smart and grounded as you are, brah. You’re so down to earth and such a great businesswoman. Have you seen Nick’s new iPhone? 3G, brah.

Paris: YOU CAN GET THIS IPHONE AT A FUCKING STORE! IT’S NOT FUCKING EMBOSSED! FUCK YOU! I WANT SOME FUCKING COKE! I’LL FUCK ANYONE HERE FOR SOME COKE!

Matt: Hey, whatsyourface, get us that blah!

Drunk Girl: Okay.

(ten minutes later)

Drunk Girl: Hi, Jenna didn’t have any coke. But she knew a guy in the club who knew another guy who knew the bathroom attendant. And he got me some of this. Now, I paid $2,000 for it.

Paris: GIVE ME THAT! (snorts it all) I NEED MORE FUCKING COKE! I CAN BUY YOU ALL! NONE OF YOU ARE AS FUCKING TALENTED AS I AM! I’M TOO PROMINENT TO BE HERE! MORE FUCKING COKE NOW!

Drunk Girl: Can you guys please get the DJ to play my song now?

Matt: Whah? Nah, brah. You didn’t get our friend enough blah to make her happy, brah.

Nick: Yeah, what’s she supposed to do with just that small amount of blah? Go back to Encinah with you and your cheap friends, brah.

Drunk Girl: I paid $2,000 for that coke, man! Please. I’m begging you. I’ll have sex with both of you right now.

Matt: Brah, I get another text message! Wait, you’re still here? Fine, fine. I’ll let you have sex with me. Just point out the DJ.

Drunk Girl: (has sex witH him, points at DJ AM) It’s that guy.

DJ AM: Is that you, Matt?

Matt: BRAH! (hugs him) That party is hawt, brah. You get my text, brah?

DJ AM: Yeah. Sorry. I’ve just been getting harassed by fat girls asking for old 80’s songs.

Matt: Oh my gah, are you serious? Fucking lame, brah. Play some more Hooastank remixes, brah. That shit is hawt, brah.

Drunk Girl: Oh my God, you’re not gonna play my song?

Matt: No way. That song is stupid, brah. I’m helping you out by NOT playing it.

Nick: For reals, brah. If he plays that shit, then he has to play songs by Devah and Tahtah and shit, brah. Do you see any of those guys on this iPhone? Nah way, brah!

Paris: WHERE’S MY FUCKING COKE?! I NEED MORE COKE! EVERYONE HERE IS UGLY AND STUPID. I WANT MORE COKE SO I CAN GO DRIVING! FUCKING GET ME MORE COKE! THAT DJ FUCKED NICOLE! I FUCKING HATE THAT BITCH AND SO I HATE HIM TOO. IF YOU DON’T GET ME MORE COKE, I WILL FUCKING TEXTCOMMUNICATE YOU!

Matt: Shit brah! I don’t wanna be textcommunicated! Hey, fat girl, get us some more blah and I think about maybe letting you perform fellatiah on me again, brah.

Drunk Girl: You people are the worst human beings on Earth.