A Meeting of Minds

Scene I: you and I stand by a water cooler, you stirring a coffee with no cream for longer than necessary, me pouring coffee out and pouring gin in.

You: haha everyone thinks we're sleeping together but we're not, Dallas is stupid people are crazy

Scene II: we're getting Starbucks coffee, you're paying, I'm winking at barista with ear gauges telling him to "hook me up with the good stuff"

You: that was some good sex

Credits roll

The Booze is Out There

Open scene: I'm (played by Duchovny, who else...I guess Hopkins could work) sitting on a bar stool, you see me from behind, hunched. The lighting is perfect. Profile close-up, Clint Eastwood as Clint Eastwood comes into focus as he leans forward from behind my head and asks a gruff, manly, but friendly icebreaker question. I begin turning my head...BAM an unidentifiable man in a cowboy hat with really curly edges stumbles into him knocking the renowned actor and expert bar conversationalist off his stool, killing him instantly. Nobody notices. "Hey blargh you will be SORELY missed walk me home there's cops." Pan wide shot from behind the bar, I turn my head to the man at my other side, still nonplussed. "The CATS are BROOOWN!!" Shrieks the derelict bastard at no one in particular, shaking with Parkinson's, spilling part of the well bourbon he pours into his other well bourbon.

Cut to the X-Files-style intro featuring stills of me drinking different booze in different bars with different lighting and snippets of drink specials from shitty chalkboards translucently floating across the screen as you see me flashing my license to a bouncer then extracting a credit card, then slamming said card on the CT bar as Misha simultaneously slams a dirty dusty on bar...duh duh duh BAM! THE BOOZE IS OUT THERE!

Alice Goes Camping

As told by the Russian-

I know you said you've gone camping but I think that actually meant you were once on a back yard patio deck. Here's how I imagine it would go down: first things first - you burn to a crisp, your color is so bright that aliens finally take note of our planet and pulverize the White House then proceed to mistake me for Fox Mulder, mixing genres where genres aren't to be mixed; once under the cover of foliage you encounter a knotty slope on which you trip and fly headfirst into the only big rock in the forest; at this point your single collarbone has become three from the half gallon of water in your backpack; resting for a moment, a squirrel comes up and greets you, the squirrel is friendly and you feed it some crumbs and the squirrel lets you pet it before scampering off to leave you with the realization that you are deathly allergic to squirrels and now need a tracheotomy; as night falls you breathe a sigh of relief as it seems your troubles have come to an end, but are immediately covered by every mosquito in a kilometer radius; the campfire keeps the mosquitoes away but you cannot approach it as it is already giving you your second sunburn from outside the wall of your tent; in the morning you realize nobody brought coffee so you give a young deer such a look of disdain that it bursts into flames. The one photo from the excursion is a 3/4 selfie with half a face covered by hair and three Instagram filters and a hashtag. #latergram