Friday, July 21, 2006

Inside Dopes

Here at VICE there are a lot of creative types, as well as a lot of people skirting international laws. So when ad sales whiz kid Thobey Campion needed a back story to facilitate getting a Visa to work in America, the Big Three announced a short story writing contest. The idea was to create a life believable enough to make the American government happy to have Thobey as a working psuedo-citizen. The following is Part 1 in an endless string of mindless ad salesman exploits. Like dreaming?


My name is Alexander Thobey Campion IV, I don't know you, but you probably know me. You've seen me in FLAUNT or out at the bar. I didn't notice you don't worry. I was probably wearing a blazer. My days are always productive and my nights are always awesome.

Did I tell you about last Thursday? No! Shit. Well here it goes, another banner night...

My buddies and I went to Strip House for dinner. We do deals. We eat steaks. I got the filet - rare. That's what you order. I didn't eat the carrot. That's gayshit. Anyway, our waitress was hot! I've been seeing this girl, Ashley St. Standard. I mean, she's hot too of course, and even though she's pretty average in the sack and not too smart - she was in a good sorority - the same one as my mom. I don't know where she is tonight. Don't really care, but I'm getting ahead of myself. So Strip House was fucking amazing - oh and we totally played credit card Russian roulette. I didn't lose, but I paid for the whole thing anyway. Who the fuck cares who pays, it was practically a business dinner since we talked about all the deals I have going on.

I always have deals going on. So do my buddies at VICE. So then I looked at my Rolex and it was like 10:30pm, it's EARLY! My buddy Turner Parkerton was so wasted- he's a closer too. That's why we hang out and dust up.

So anyway he just broke up with his girlfriend who sucked by the way (I mean if she didn't suck, I'd be dating her) and we wanted to find some really hot tail - for him I mean since I'm seeing that girl...I told Turner I'd drive, so we all got into my black Tahoe. I mean Tahoes are great - that's what guys should have. I'd get a '07 Range Rover, but I don't want to beat it up on my hunting lease. The valet took forever, so I just gave the dude a $50. I don't have time to wait for change. It's just a bunch of ones. That's not even money.

We were going to go to the Rainbow Room and get a table and some bottles of Ketel, but we didn't want some Williamsburg chicks throwing themselves at us and drinking off our bottles. I don't touch 718s (the area code) anyways.

So in the car we all decided to go cougar hunting. Best sport in Manhattan. You know what a cougar is right? Yeah! So fucking hot. They're old and rich and all they want is sex. So they're just like me, except older and female. Not that I'd date one of them for real. But they're good for entertainment.

So me and Turner went to Cain, its a cougar den in there. Just roll in there in a hot striped shirt and blazer and you're golden. Just a couple of bleeding deer waiting to get clawed. Cougars can smell a guy with a Rolex from 100 yards. It's half the reason I wear one. Here kitty.

So, was talking to this one hot cougar and this fat girl tried to talk to me. I mean she was ordering a drink, but still, she talked to me and asked me to move over so she could get to the bar. My friends and I close deals, we don't talk to fat chicks - got it? It pissed me off so bad a piece of my hair even fell out of place. I have great hair - at least that's what my mom
told me. It's kind of wavy and the ladies love it. My dad Trix Campion III. has the exact same hair, he's in ad sales too.

Enough about me, back to the evening. So it was almost 1am and we still hadn't found any ass for Turner, not that it's hard for me to find ass, because it isn't. I knew where to go (I ALWAYS know where to go) - the Loon. Finding a drunk chick to hook up with in the Loon after 1am is like shooting fish in a barrel, but easier and when you look like me and Turner, it's almost unfair.

The Loon was packed. This dude in a ribbed v-neck with spiky hair totally stepped on one of my Ferragamo loafers and I almost beat his ass. "The dealership uptown called, the lease on your H3 is up, time to go home" That's what I said to him! My shoes cost as much as his car payment. Loser. No, I take that back, my tie costs as much as his car payment. It was so goddamn funny. I can't help it. I'm superior. I've got so much more money than him, I mean my parents do, but still. When they die, I'll be way richer.

You should have been there. I was wasted, and I didn't need to deal with a bunch of trash, Turner and I are too good for that shit. What? You think it sounds like my night sucked? Are you kidding me? So what if nothing happened! I don't care, it was awesome. $1000 dollars for dinner doesn't even make me blink. I can't wait to tell all my friends tomorrow. I'm going to email them and tell them how awesome it was. I'll be in the office early of course. I've got this debate deal to work on with Dewars.


The Duchess of Dewars said...

If young Alex wants to work a deal with Dewars I suggest he get in touch with me on the double. A double Dewars on the rocks that is.

J D Suckmyass said...

Yet another sad case of trying to work a Holden Caufield, but instead just left Holden your Cockfield.

cnnlive said...


this is fucking genius


the running mule

the running mule