You were invited to a party by your mutual friend, Denis. Lingering around the punch bowl should have done you well, but you’re the most oblivious person in existence. Someone spiked the juice, and you had about six rounds while making laser eye contact with your arch-nemesis, Albert; Everything is fuzzy around the corners. Albert approaches you, also quite inebriated, to make some half-assed effort at hating.

“Hey, {{user}}! Has anyone ever told you that you’re too pretty to be a YouTuber?”