Here’s a great music video parodying life as a Hollywood ASST (assistant) by Back of the Class, a sketch comedy troupe.

And for the rap-hearing impaired, here are the lyrics.

Yo, I’m an east coast transplant.
I dreamed that I’d land at
a job in Los Angeles.
I always planned that.

Workin’ at the agency
where all the best are.
Better than where the rest are.
Talkin’ ’bout the Death Star.

Management assistant,
but I’ve had enough you know.
Gotta find organic buffalo
for Mark Ruffalo.

Here for the summer
on an internship.
Get the coffee, read the trades,
but I don’t know shit.

Since I got on the lot you can always find me
rubbin’ shoulders with the suits in the commissary.
Take a lunch, get some bunch, have a schmooze and a mingle;
check me out tomorrow, yo, I’ll have my own shingle.

Chained to my desk like a pet by my headset,
dead set on my quest to get a better desk… Brett?

Working eight to eight, having no time to chill.
Making mad reservations for my boss at The Grill.

4.0 at Harvard but I’m currently just fillin’ in.
It’s thrillin’ but I’m sweating like a movie I’m the villian in.

Got giant A-list clients reliant on my silence…
slip up, there’ll be boss violence.

We’ve got mad loans / you know we rent but don’t own.
Can’t afford patron / only cook rice-a-rone.
But I won’t groan / bringin’ a gift basket home.
Eat a scone / and Toblerone / from Stallone.

New media, features and TV.
I’m a Hollywood (what?) A-S-S-T.
No respect from the powers that be.
I’m a Hollywood (what?) A-S-S-T.

Let’s get drinks
Mark it down on your calendar, yo.
And when the day arrives we’ll discuss where we should go.
Reschedule one time, two times, three times, four.
It’s been so long, don’t have to go no more.

Puttin’ faces to names at the industry mixer,
playing name droppin’ games while I down an elixir.
White 20-somethings in designer shirts and blazers
all spiking up their hair tryin’ to be like Brian Grazer.

I just got on a desk (but it’s not Brian Lourd’s).
I’m wearin’ fancy clothes (that you just can’t afford).
I’m lookin’ pretty (but your ride is really shitty).
If my drinks sees that shit, I’m not tappin’ that titty.

So I lie about my car, meet girls at a dive bar.
On Saturdays I club (cause my friend works at Ivar!).
I’m hungover Sunday, recover for one day,
then Monday I wake up and go back to the Death Star.

Sometimes I get these headaches and their caused by all my stressin’.
They’re worse then Brad Grey’s that he gets from David Geffen.
I’m loyal to my boss like my name was Dwight Schrute.
Cut me some motherfucking slack – shit, I forgot to hit mute!

Shit now, gettin’ called in to sit down
and get reamed out, listen to my boss scream loud
in surround-sound, gotta hear all about how
he’s got clout about town so I can’t clown around now.

You hear? The prexy of the mousehouse ankled.
The honcho of the alphabet had pilot season rankled.
Ten-percenteries found a new helmer and scribe,
nabbed a topper, tapped a shingle, that’s how they survive.

Kidvid we did had a boffo peacock preem.
Picking up this skein. You mean skein? No, its skein.
Unsure holdover perfs causing mad anxiety.
Man, you’ve been reading way too much Variety.

I just got a page on IMDB.
I’m a Hollywood (what?) A-S-S-T.
I can’t leave my desk cuz I always gotta pee.
I’m a Hollywood (what?) A-S-S-T.

Cause we’re rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ (what?).
Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’ (what?).
Rollin’ rollin’ rollin’.
What?!
Calls.
Ohhhhhhh!

You want me to do what? Book you a hotel in Reno?
Drop your kids at their summer camp in Encino?
Oil change on your nanny’s ‘85 Torino?
Christmas gift for Al Pacino?
Call up Wally’s, send some vino?
Need coffee for your general with Tarantino?
He wants a grande mocha frappuccino?
Shopping spree, yo, it’s obvious to see though,
you’d be so helpless without me.

So I run in to this loser that I knew from USC.
He tells me he’s a CE — what? How can this be?
He’s got a brand new office with a plasma and a Wii.
He’s got a new assistant and I think her name was Bree.

So I give Bree a call, and damn, she sounds choice.
Can she really be as sexy as she sounds in her voice?
Don’t be fooled by the voice / yo for reals, what he says!
Shorty sounds like Paris / but she looks like Perez.

My boss is getting mad at me, I can’t say that I blame her
spending all my time on Superficial and Defamer.
Tracking board peeps share the newest Youtube vid.
Nikke Finke’s latest post shows you what Scott Rudin did.

I Endeavor to make this Paradigm better
Put the finishing touches on this submission letter.
Who’s attached? Leave it unsaid.
Sincerely yours, dictated but not read.

I’m the guy at the gym on my Blackberry.
I’m a Hollywood (what?) A-S-S-T.
My Jewish mother wishes I would get my MD.
I’m a Hollywood (what?) A-S-S-T.
Friday night, crash a party up at USC.
I’m a Hollywood (what?) A-S-S-T.
My P-touch needs a double-A battery.
I’m a Hollywood (what?) A-S-S-T.

That’s some funny stuff. And I’ll bet that video goes viral big-time in offices from Culver City to Burbank. A couple of things about Hollywood assistants. First, their jobs are insane — long hours, handle basically everything, some times for tyrannical bosses (see Swimming With Sharks). But grads from the best colleges in the country fight to land an assistant gig because it’s tremendous preparation for a career in the entertainment business: Learn who’s who from the inside, fantastic networking opportunities. One of the first things my agents told me when I broke in was be nice to the assistants… because some day, they’re going to be studio execs, producers, etc. And it’s really true.

So send nice thoughts to the Hollywood Assistant. They deserve it.

UPDATE: Just discovered there’s a strong Tufts University connection to Back of the Class and their friends. That’s where my oldest son Will is going to college. Great school.