Listen to me: I am very good-looking. I am very, very hot. And you are not. …Because of this, you don’t get the problems that really hot people have, man. And how do I know that you’re not hot? I know that you’re not hot, because you’re reading this. Really hot people don’t read. We’re too busy starting our own line of handbags, appearing in the background of rap videos, and air-kissing those b-tches the Olsen Twins at fashion shows. No time to read stuff on the internet. And that’s how I know you’re not hot: you know how to read.
Being hot is exhausting, and if you think any different you’re a #hater. Frankly, I myself am exhausted. Mostly the exhausting part is fending off people who want to sleep with me. Stop begging me to sleep with you, ugly peons! …God, someone’s texting me right now, begging me for sex. Hold on a sec: “No. N. O. No!” God! I only sleep with celebrities who are slightly past their prime and no-name minor porn stars. Jesus. That’s what you do when you’re hot-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t-t. …Did you see how many “T”s I used there? Right. That’s the level of hotness that I’m talking about. Capisce?
And now, finally, there’s a song that speaks to my pain. Welcome to “Hot Problems,” by the singing duo known as “Double Take.” Welcome to the greatest song ever made, which I am now forcing you to listen to for the second time:
This is great. And the top comment under the YouTube video is this: “This song gave me cancer.” Yeah, it gave you ugly people cancer, probably. The kind that ugly people get? Because you’re ugly, zing. Hot people like me don’t get cancer, or if we do, we get sexy cancer. The kind of cancer that, like, doesn’t stand out in line in the cold, waiting outside your body’s cells, but just gets a free pass through the velvet rope, and then goes up to the Champagne Room, where it starts cancering sh-t up, and acts all… cancer-y? I don’t know what cancer is, to be honest. But hey, I’m hot. So-oooooo hot. Again, see the number of “O”s that I did there? Yeah. You did.
So this song by Double Take — I think they call themselves that because you do a “Double Take” at their hotness, plus there’s two of them — anyway, this song really speaks to my pain. The pain of hotness. “Paihotness,” we call it. No. We don’t. I’m not good at making up words.
But this song really speaks to my paihotness with lyrics like this:
I got the look,
I got the butt,
But those things
Don’t make me a [deleted].
…Just ’cause I’m pretty
I hafta be dumb.
I don’t care about wits,
I just wanna have fun.
Right? Awesome. This song is even better than that Rebecca Black “Friday” song, which was about Friday being the day before Saturday. Whatever. I’m just ending this essay now. I don’t really have to end essays properly, because — right, hot, you’re starting to pick up on that, good. But don’t forget that I have problems. Paihot problems. Okay, whatever, namaste, peace out.