Hot Hot Phone

[hothotphone]

Hot Hot Phone is going on a quick vacation. We’ve been lagging a bit behind in responding to your awesome work you’re sending in, so we are going to take April off to get everything back in order and come back full force. 

Thanks for understanding and see you soon!

[hothotphone]

MSW [looking for a partner til the end of time :)]

important: MUST BE IMMORTAL

this is NOT negotiable. i'm not looking for any “cute” or “symbolic” long-term commitment, i'm talking literal ETERNAL love.

human beings need not apply! ideal candidates should be undead creatures, robots, or any kind of scientific marvel (please describe in DETAIL).

important: i myself am NOT immortal. preferred candidates will have the ability to also make me immortal (ex: vampires, werewolves, zombies). i am very scared to die, and even more scared to die alone.

i will not supply pictures of myself. i want you to love me for my passion, which is being set on fire and surviving – i would love it if we could do this together. :)

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UPDATE #1: it's been a few weeks since my last post, so i WILL expand my pool and allow submissions from Bicentennial Men. i would prefer a Bicentennial Woman, but hey, nobody's perfect (bonus points if you know the reference!!)

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UPDATE #2: a bit more about myself (at my friend's suggestion): i love watching movies, hiking in the mountains, and being completely unaffected by any kind of physical pain. i hope to hear from the perfect candidate who can numb me with love! also, with the inability to die.

all candidates: please submit pictures of yourself, description of your immortality/superpowers, and a short story about your most romantic date idea to this email

can't wait to meet you and live forever :)

serious replies only

[Vasia Ivanov is a filmmaker, writer, and comedian in his 20's living in Brooklyn, obviously.]

[hothotphone]

People who bought “Meninist” shirts have also bought..

A fedora

A fedora that says “You may have swag, but I have class”

A shirt with a fedora on it that says “You may have swag, but I have class”

Reddit Gold Account

”Cool story, now make me a sandwich” T-shirt

”Sorry babe, I can make my own sandwich” T-shirt

Panini Press

The Complete Idiot’s Guide to Divorce Lawyers (Available for free shipping only on Amazon)

Extra strength long-lasting lubricant

[David Kramer is an aspiring writer in Boston. You can read more of his nonsense at dkthingsetc]

[hothotphone]

The Seven Stages of Machu Picchu

1. Shock: During the holidays I received my photocopy of cousin Terri’s annual newsletter, which gets shared around so we can snicker at all the brags about her kids’ achievements in small town Nebraska. On page three, after the blow-by-blow about the county math meet, BAM! Family vacation to Machu Picchu! Terri? She’s only been to Omaha like five times in her life. California once. And now Machu Picchu!?

2. Denial: Yeah, right. I started emailing and calling relatives. Is this a joke? Did it really happen? Machu Picchu’s up on a mountain, right? I’ve seen Terri circle the block four times so she can park right in front of Derango’s Pizza, to save walking fifty yards.

3. Bargaining: Now that I’m literally the only person I know who has not visited Machu Picchu, how would the universe feel if I experienced Guatemala instead? All those ruins, pyramids, temples. Or Angkor Wat, which is just as spiritual? I could scale K2, elevation 28,500 feet. Whereas Machu Picchu is below 8,000. One in four who try to reach the summit of K2 die. It’s never been climbed in winter.

4. Guilt: It’s my own fault I neglected those magnificent stone structures and terraced fields. As if I were above contemplating the Incan celestial calendar with its amazing insights into our galaxy. How shallow, how selfish to ignore the dawn mists swirling around the temple of the sun.

5. Anger: What really ticked me off? A Yale scholar, Hiram Bingham III, “discovered” Machu Picchu. I’m gonna repeat his name: Hiram Bingham, the third. And I’m supposed to follow his tweedy footsteps? F that!

6. Depression: I pondered the series of life failures that kept me from reaching Machu Picchu. And if I went now, it would be so monumentally lame I couldn’t even mention it. After Hiram brought back his big news, National Geographic devoted an entire issue to Machu Picchu. April 1913. Yep, more than a century ago.

7. Acceptance: I met someone who says she’s never been to South America. Do the math! Peru is in South America, and Machu Picchu is in Peru. I gaze into her eyes and imagine us starting a counter trend. We’re too hip for Machu Picchu, which is so 2014. Or 1914, whatever. So, we’re making plans. We’ll start with Kilimanjaro and see how things go. We both fantasize about snowboarding the pristine slopes of K2.

[Tom Navratil is an emotionally accessible novelist seeking a literate partner for wordplay and -- wait, is this the right profile? @TomNavratilism]

[hothotphone]

Hello parents of P.S. 118, my name is Ryan Marhover, for those of you who don’t know me I am the new 4th grade Health teacher. I’ve called this meeting not because of the poor MAB test scores or any hygiene issues—though if Stinky’s parents could stay after for a bit that would be great. No, I have something a little more serious to discuss. Frankly, I’mextremelysurprised no one from outside the city limits has brought this up to you guys before—all your children’s heads are horribly disfigured.

Now I know this may be strange coming from an outsider.  As you all know I didn’t grow up in this neighborhood and I’ve had some trouble adjusting to your ways and the cold emotional-distance of city life.  I mean—you let an orphan boy grow up aloneon a stoop.  Then named him “Stoop Kid.” That’s not exactly warm community behavior.  

For the most part I’ve ignored your more strange behavior. Like that young girl I caught making out with a gum-sculpted figurine of another student—or that kid that just stands behind me breathing heavily—but I have to draw the line somewhere and I draw it at safety.

How as parents and grandparents have you not noticed that your children’s head shape?  They look like a race of mutated squash.  Our class picture legitimately looks like a cornucopia at a farmers market.  I have one student who does nothing but tell urban legends and has what Ibelieved was a three-foot high cylindrical Afro. NOPE. Turns out that’s what his head looks like under there.

That’s not all. One child’s head has such sharp points it looks like it a mosaic of broken soda bottles.  Ironically, he actually is the Yahoo soda kid. Oh Karen your boy Sid’s nose is two-feetlong—also it sort of looks like a dong. COMING OUT OF HIS FOREHEAD. But hey, let’s not forget the piece-de-resistance; I have a 4th grader with his little shrunken dwarf ears set two-feet apart on opposite ends of a gargantuan, sideways egghead. I am of course talking about Arnold.

Now a lot of things can cause the type of conditions I am talking about.  Most are fine in the long term and your kids can live a completely normal life.  However, I’m shocked that none of you—including you Bob as the Beeper King—have paged the EPA to do an inspection on your water. Don’t you think it’s odd that everyone in this neighborhood looks like this?  I mean you allown televisions; you can see that other people in other cities don’t have heads shaped like discount produce, right?  I’m afraid I have to insist that you as a community look into this before another generation of hip urban youths is affected.

I mean come on—Arnold is literally nicknamed “football head”. Look at that gigantic head he has to lug around.  Seriously, his neck is going to snap at like the slightest jostle.  Safety should be our main concern. Let’s help these kids.

[Joel Kane  is like the ugly duckling turned into a swan in the sense that he was hideously ugly and is now bigger.]

[hothotphone]

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["David Kramer is an aspiring writer in Boston. You can read more of his nonsense at @dkthingsetc]

[hothotphone]

I Refuse To Come Out Of The Woods

I make this address today because of the questions and concerns surrounding my withdrawal from society. And while I know that most were anticipating that I would abandon this great experiment, they were wrong. For here I stand, using this groin-high tree stump as a temporary podium, to inform my family and the public at that I refuse to come out of the woods.

When I retreated to the woods, I know that I worried many of you. Certainly I was seen as unprepared for such an endeavor, having no formal survival training and equipped only with a picnic basket of raw Indonesian horse beef. But now you see that I am alive and well and have finally decided to wear clothes. I have survived the woods. I will not be leaving their splintery embrace just yet.

Why did I go into the woods in the first place? To find peace and solitude. To be one with nature. To elude the authorities. To make primitive tools with my hands out of stone and wood, tools that do not leave fingerprints.

I see you are still not convinced, and that this groin-high tree stump can't help but draw your attention to my groin. Friends, civilization is not for me. I would like to be able to grow a beard without anyone saying "You're just trying to be trendy" or "You need to clean your beard." I would like the caked-on dirt in my body crevasses to be signs of ruggedness, not examples of "some of the complaints we've heard from your coworkers." I would like to wrestle an animal to its death without being asked to leave the zoo. Simply, I am asking for freedom.

The individualist spirit is alive in the woods, entrenched in the American psyche ever since Henry David Thoreau described the thrill of pooping outside. In the woods you are free from the constraints of the modern world. Clocks don't tell you what time it is; the sun does it telepathically. Lighting fires is not looked down upon, and the forts one makes here from twigs and timber are much more durable than the ones made of the bedsheets and couch cushions at the airbnbs I’ve been asked to leave. And in the woods, you don't have to clean up blood. The elements do that for you.

Yes, I spend most of my time in solitude, often reading poetry, Scripture, and the Thoreau pooping journals. But it is untrue that there is no one to converse with in the woods besides the usual hunger hallucination. In fact, across the pond from my current dwelling is another man who has taken to the forest, a man who bathes nightly in the pond under the pristine moonlight. We have crossed paths on occasion, trading trinkets fashioned from beechwood and sharing sensuous glances. Though he speaks only gibberish, from his intonations I can tell he thinks the same things about the government as I do. If he takes it upon himself to visit me in the night, I will not refuse his touch, for we share an ancient bond that is sloppy and blessed by the woods.

I'm not naive about the dangers of the woods. Nature is constantly trying to kill you, be it by falling trees, ravenous storms, or Pilgrim ghosts. Sinkholes are much more common than you would think. And sometimes lightning just seems to be everywhere. There's also a rare venereal disease that affects only the hermit community in this particular forest.

There are things I miss about the civilized world, I miss submitting cartoons to The Watchtower magazine. I miss blaming my problems on the elderly. That might be it. 

For I have grown used to waking with the rising sun. I have breathed in the peace of a soft wind. I have heard the music of a calm stream. I have felt the powerful sting of urinary tract infection. And I have called attention to my groin again. With no reason to return to civilization, I say once more, I refuse to come out of the woods! Please inform the elections board that I suspend my mayoral campaign in favor of a life in the woods, but know that I will retain my seat on the city council in absentia. You can deliver to me the necessary paperwork with the next care package. And please, keep those care packages coming: they are the only thing keeping me from certain death.

[David Guzman writes sketch comedy at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre in New York, and you can see his other work in McSweeney's, Splitsider, Above Average and on Twitter @davidjguzman.]

[hothotphone]

Leaked Kanye West Tour Rider

 6 x bottles of Moscato

3 x pairs of house slippers (Fendi, Givenchy, surprise us)

10 x Nobel Prize winners

4 x cultural luminaries

1 x inquisitive puppy (real puppy)

1 x $100,000,000

Assorted rare fruits (surprise us)

20 pairs of new Adidas Yeezy shoe, which event workers must wear (please make it look voluntary)

1 x bad bitch

5 x bad bitch

1,000 x bad bitch

1 x babysitter (Kim pre-approved)

1 x bowl of YE’S FAMOUS SAFFRON BUTTERNUT SQUASH RISOTTO (recipe below)

Assorted culture

5 x throne in dressing room for various stages of emoting

5 x mini-throne in dressing room for various stages of North’s emoting

1 x Aziz Ansari (or replica)

3 x awards from various fashion designers (“you are best at fashion,” “dressed most in Christ’s likeness,” surprise us)

1 x president (living)

NOTE: All above is subject to Kim rider

RISOTTO RECIPE

1/2 tablespoon of Chi-town

Add Nas-flow

4 x beets that Hov threw away

Heat 30 min. in limelight

Strain out haters and wack shit (SAVE THE HITS THO)

2 x Chainz

Preheat oven 400 degrees, peel and cut squash, toss with olive oil and roast, heat chicken stock and melt butter on shallots, add rice and stir, cook with stock while adding saffron and rice.

Cook for 18 years (18 years!? Yes.)

[Ben Jurney’s writing has been featured on the New Yorker Blog and in The Best of McSweeney’s Internet Tendency. He is on twitter at @benjurney.]

[hothotphone]

This is some holy hot content, yall!

[Danny Behar is a writer from Boston, MA. Follow him at @dj_behar]

[hothotphone]

*An excerpt from a highly anticipated fan fiction novel*

Driver please stop for a minute at that middle school.” said JC Chasez from the backseat of his very expensive stretch limo. “Yes sir, Mr. Chasez” stated his driver named Jeeves. “What is going on in there, Jeeves?” JC asked. “It appears to be a middle school dance, sir.” Responded Jeeves. “Would you care to attend?” “Yes” the gorgeous music singer replied. “I’m feeling a little lonely tonight and I have a feeling I might meet someone special there.” Rebecca C. pushed up her Victoria's Secret AA cups to get his attention but JC did not even notice her as he walked past her and her teal Uggs from last year. “My name is JC Chasez” he declared cutely. “What is yours?” “Samanthia Donna Bella.” replied the girl. She was Spanish and Italian and Jewish. “Why are you alone?” He questioned. His dark hair flowing like a dark hair river. “Why are YOU alone?” She flirted confidently. “Because me and N*Sync broke up.” He confessed. “But I cannot understand why you are alone. You are such a pretty girl. Are you Jewish, Spanish, and Italian?” He was right. She was pretty in a very subtle way that not everyone understood at first, just as her mother, Renee told her. JC took Samanthia Donna Bella by the hand and they slow danced for hours and hours. The chaperone Mr. Cherry, the gym and social studies teacher, did not enforce the 12 inch rule. And their bodies were touching because he saw how important this was to Samanthia and to JC Chasez. At that moment Mr. Cherry decided to give Samanthia an A.  “I am so glad I requested my driver to stop in Landenberg, Pennsylvania.” Uttered JC Chasez. “I want to tell you that you are very different from the Los Angeles girls I’ve met but in a good way. Also you will get your period soon. Would you want to be next in my music video?” “Yes.” Samanthia spoke, “But first I must ask you something that I have been thinking about that has also been on my mind.” “Am I being punk’d?” “I would never punk you.” JC pronounced. “Ashton Kutcher and I are not that close and besides Samanthia, I am in love with you.” They kissed french style. “Next stop, Hollywood.” Jeeves announced. “Jeeves you are the best.” JC concluded. “After Samanthia of course” JC added. JC got back in his black limo and drove back to Hollywood. Samanthia took out her new pack of cigarettes she hadn’t yet told anyone about, and started to smoke one confidently. “What a good night.” she exclaimed to herself. Rebecca C. suddenly appeared out of nowhere and asked if she could have one too. Samanthia said “Ugg boots aren’t my thing, music stars are now.” Samanthia walked away confidently like a Los Angeles girl would probably, smoking her new pack of cigarettes. This was going to be a good night.

[Sam Reece is an average sized, 20-something girl with hair who writes and performs at the Upright Citizens Brigade Theatre, Story Pirates and writes for CollegeHumor.]

[hothotphone]

Quiz: Are You On A Camping Trip Or In A Car Commercial

Who asked you to go camping?

o   My spouse.

o   My friends.

o   Celebrity spokesman Matthew Broderick.

·      How did you get to the campsite?

o   Mostly backwoods.

o   A long, winding mountain road, completely devoid of other cars, and set to AC/DC’s “Highway To Hell”.

o   The highway.

 How was the trip to the campsite?

o   There was heavy traffic.

o   There was no traffic.

o   There was just enough traffic to show the new features in our brand new Kia Sorento, including the Talk To Action interface.

 What conversation did you have on the way to the campsite?

o   We talked about work.

o   We talked about how the new Kia Sorento is revolutionizing the way we travel.

o   We talked about how the new Kia Sorento isn’t syncing to our phone’s Bluetooth and how that’s bringing up other issues in our relationship.

When arriving at your campsite, what did you find?

o   A lake.

o   Some field mice.

o   Three human sized CGI mice preforming choreographed dance numbers in front of our Kia Sorento.

How did you experience the outdoors?

o   We went on a nature hike.

o   We didn’t, thanks to the Kia Sorento’s XM radio and custom air conditioning, we can bring the indoors anywhere.

o   We didn’t, I stepped in poison ivy 10 minutes in and decided to call it quits.

 How did you decide to spend the night?

o   Snuggling in a tent.

o   Hand in hand, watching the stars.

o   Slowly driving through a colorfully lit downtown area of a major city with Matthew McConaughey.

What impression has this trip left on you?

o   The pure beauty of nature is something to be appreciated by everyone.

o   The peacefully silence and tranquility that an escape can bring.

o   The Kia Sorento’s 27 highway miles per gallon is a sure money saver, especially with no money due at signing!  

[Luke Strickler is a writer living in NYC. You can see more of his things here, @Luke_Strickler, and on his parent’s fridge./ 

[hothotphone]

Jordan Mendoza is a writer and comedian living in Brooklyn. Follow @JordyPizza on Insta and Twitter.

[hothotphone]

Online Dating Not So ‘Online’

According to industry insiders, there is not a single currently active online dating website that is providing its customers with actual online dates. Brands like Eharmony and match.com, which promise a dating experience over the internet, have reportedly been instead providing users with in-person, real-life dates. Perhaps worse, even fuck sites like tinder.com demand that you meet face to face with your partner to complete the interaction, according to government watchdogs.

Brooklyn 26 year-old Julio Singer reported “I used OK Cupid to find an online date, figuring online dating seemed like a promising way to meet and be in love with someone while never having to deal with them in person.”

Julio’s assumption doesn’t seem so far fetched—but apparently, it was.

“We exchanged messages over the internet for a few days, but after that I realized I was actually…just…being on dates with her, like real in-person dates—where I had to speak to her with my mouth,” Julio recalls of his experience. “OK Cupid had totally set me up on an in-person date just like in the regular world—only the first part of it was online, not all of it. It’s entrapment.”

Julio says he would never use the site again, and his disillusionment is shared by thousands of Singles in Your Area.

“Online Dating sounded perfect,” says 24 year-old Elizabeth Kosann who says she's a “TV Producer” but it’s a stretch. “I thought I could be on dates in my yoga pants.”

Kosann, like many others, found herself on a date wearing far from yoga pants. “I had to get something from Forever 21,” she says. “I had to eat in front of him. That’s just a date. It isn’t an online date. It’s just not.”

OKCupid, EHarmony, Match, Tinder, and a couple of the gay ones didn’t have any comment after several email attempts to get in contact with them*. For now all the Singles in Your Area can do is be wary of the faux-cyber nature of the “online dating” product they are purchasing, and know what they’re getting into.

*Unless they got stuck in this reporters drafts or he didn’t press send accidentally which does sometimes happen.

[Pat Regan is an comedian in New York, he improvises at the UCB theater, is on twitter at @poregan and tumblr at patregan]

[hothotphone]

ANSWER KEY

There is no God.

There is no hope.

My wife/kids stopped looking for me.

I haven’t spoken to another human in 5 months.

My captors have only given me cans of easy-open low-fat coconut milk to eat.

I’m beginning to think the sun was something I made up.

I’m convinced the chair is an illusion, but I don’t test that because I’ll probably lose my mind if I prove myself right.

I’m a fucking coward…

[Derek Shoemaker is a writer/comedian in Chicago. Read his stuff at cashplanet and follow him on Twitter at @derekrshoe]

[hothotphone]

Dear Stephanie,

Wow. We have received your play Hunt La Noche and are beyond impressed with this piece of drama. Thank you for sending it to Women of Theatre New Plays Festival in which you will not be participating.

You are in extraordinary company. We received 957 applications for a single unfilled slot (as our founder, Luna Moon, has taken it upon herself to debut her series of plays at the festival thus taking up nine of the ten slots that were previously available). And, as was the case with so many qualified writers, your application did not make it past our secretary Jana's desk. We were overwhelmed, in every sense of the word, by the wealth of talent to choose from  - such talent that you could only grasp at imagining for your play, though incredible, did not even begin to touch the genius we have decided upon - and only wish that we had more than one slot to give, but we just don't. We just don't.

You should know that our screening process was rigorous. Every application was read by our secretary Jana who just graduated college with a BFA in Playwriting and threw all of the scripts in the garbage except for her boyfriend’s. Our criteria for judging submissions included several factors in addition to the quality of the work, one included proximity to Jana and whether or not you were our founder Luna Moon. As you can surmise, you are not her.

We are committed to diversity and understand you are a Hispanic woman and the writers we did choose were completely Anglo and one was a man. Your voice simply was not diverse enough.

We also want to give the opportunity to a playwright who may never have had support of this kind, such as Jana's boyfriend who "wrote a play cause fuck it".

We are in your debt for trusting your work to us, which we are most assuredly rejecting. We hope that you will stay in touch with us and that we can keep you abreast of opportunities out there for other grants, fellowships and residencies by remaining on our mailing lists. It is important that you stay on our mailing list. Please do not unsubscribe from our mailing list or else you will never be accepted into our program. 

But more than anything else, we hope that you will continue to write. Never give up. Thank you for the privilege of allowing us to reject you and we hope to do it again in the future.

Gratefully,

Luna Moon, development coordinator chief and Jana, intern for free.

[Stephanie Weber runs misunderstoodconnections.tumblr.com]

[hothotphone]

Bear Psychiatrist, a comic by Sam Fox-Hartin and Ania Stypulkowski 

[hothotphone]

We found Where Waldo was. But How is Waldo?

[Derek Shoemaker is a writer/comedian in Chicago. Read his stuff at cashplanet and follow him on Twitter at @derekrshoe]