Let me start by saying that I know that this video is not new. It is something that I've been laughing at for quite some time now, but have been too lazy to post and share it with the rest of my Vox friends. Luckily for you, Oh Deprived Ones, I've finally decided to get off of my Hoffster and post it. You're welcome.
I also know that it is extremely cheesy, which is also what makes it so great. I'd say on a Cheesiness Scale that ranges from Brie to Processed American Cheese Slices, this video surpasses all normal boundaries. In my opinion, it ends up somewhere in the territory of the melted Velveeta Cheese that countless rednecks are dumping on top of their canned chili covered nachos and the cheese in a can that the same folks are squirting on top of Ritz Crackers and Lasagna and, well, pretty much anything else that they can get to hold still long enough to shake and squirt their Bacon and Cheddar Squeeze Cheese on. Not that I would know anything about that. I've certainly never opened all of my cupboards wide and gazed upon the contents to determine what all exactly I could take down to cover in canned squeeze cheese. And I've DEFINITELY never contemplated putting it on top of rolled up deli meats or good old Wonder Bread. I mean, really..a girl's gotta have at least a little bit of class you know!
But beyond that..I think we are all aware that the Hoffster is the King of Cheese. And I don't mean the good old string kind either, I mean the King of all that is tacky, gawdy, and just plain fun. He never fails to live up to his title in anything he does and not only does he supply us with our daily dose of tackiness and swarminess, he actually seems to ENJOY being the guy who the world as a whole likes to make fun of. Which is why, I might add, that I have quite the little obsession with him. In fact, I'd venture to say that my obsession with the Hoff way surpasses my obsession with Zach Braff, which I covered in a previous blog. It is definitely a different kind of obsession, seeings how I have never dreamt about the Hoff, nor have I ever gazed wistfully at his lips and wondered if they're as soft as they look. Actually, that's kind of sad. I'm positive that any dream that I might have that has the Hoffster in it would not be as sexily fun as my one Zach Braff dream, but it would be exciting in a different way, I'm sure. I'm not positive about what we'd be doing in my dream, but I'm pretty sure it would involve driving around Germany in KITT while wearing red bathing suits and pantomining running in slow motion down the crowded walkways of Oktoberfest. I also imagine that he would have some form of a mullet in my dream, because let's face it..mullets are supreme cheese and I think that we've already established that cheese (again, not the string kind, although I'm sure that's fun too) equals fun.
Dave (in my dream I'd probably call him Dave, since we're such good friends and all) has somehow managed to surpass all of his current levels of cheesiness and tack in his latest music video. The song ITSELF is a verifiable cheesefest, for crying out loud. The video just enhances the cheesiness of the song. In short, it's completely perfect. It has the Hoff in it along with tacky graphics, a talking car, supremely bad dancing by a middle aged white guy, and best of all, a slow motion running shot. But best of all, it has the Hoff doing what he does best; making fun of everything that he stands for, which brings me back to my point (bet you thought that I'd never get back to it, huh?). My point of all this nonsensical rambling is: The Hoff rules you all. And you know it too. Now go watch his video and enjoy. Go. Now.
Ok, so MAYBE I've recently developed a little bit of an obsession with Zach Braff. I blame this entirely on the fact that I've been recently catching up on Scrubs with such a fervor that I've kind of developed my own little J.D. style monologue that runs through my head constantly. And MAYBE I MIGHT have had a dream about him that involved me working at Sacred Heart with my boyfriend J.D. and my bff Carla. But the details on said alleged dream are sketchy and will not be discussed after this blog ever. EVER. So don't even try.
So, yeah. Back to my point. I have a recently amped up obsession with Zach. I was starting to feel kind of awkward about it, and my little inner monologue J.D. voice was kind of starting to freak out and worry that I should march my happy butt over to Sacred Heart to get the whole mess sorted out..when I found this baby.
Not only is it the funniest thing I've seen in awhile, but it also makes me feel a lot better about my Braffamania. I mean, it could be worse..I could have done what this guy did. *Actually, I 'm kind of jealous that I didn't think of doing this first, but that little confession won't be discussed after this blog either. So again, don't try*
So..enjoy. And then go watch a Scrubs marathon, followed by a viewing of Garden State and The Last Kiss. If that doesn't make you happy, then something is wrong with you and I'm not sure why you're still reading this blog. *shrugs* Enjoy!
And on the first day of the 30th year, there was a feast. This feast lasted for almost 90 days and only subsided when the feaster became so engorged with food that her fat pants felt like they were getting kind of snug. After the feast ended, the feaster was filled with such a feeling of despair and embarrassment that she headed for the nearest gym with such grim determination that she practically flew.
After she ate a bacon, egg and cheese biscuit sandwich from Burger King, of course.
I realize that this may sound like a tale of Biblical proportions, but it's really not. In all honesty (and by honesty I mean shamefacedly admitted), it's truly a tale of Biblical PORTIONS. Portions that probably should have been halved and then halved again and then put away to eat for lunch throughout the week, rather than in one setting.
You see, this past year, in the month of November, I committed one of my own personal cardinal sins. I started the 30th year of my life overweight. I know, I know...there are way worse things in the world. I could be plagued by constant hiccups or have a rain cloud over my head at all times. I could have a rascally coyote trying to blow me up at every turn or I could be forced to prance around for eternity with a Scrunchie entangled in my massively permed hair. I understand that my circumstances could be much worse.
But, you see, I have always imagined my twenties to be a time that I'd look super hot with pore free skin and ridiculously toned thighs. Instead, I spent this time bearing children and eating the leftover macaroni and cheese of their plates, consoling myself with the reasoning that it was OK that I ate their leftover kajillion calories and 467 grams of fat, because I hadn't eaten any dinner myself! My twenties was also a time that I became enthralled with the glossy lives of TV's favorite thirty-somethings, the casts of Sex and the City and Friends. I watched Jennifer Aniston and Courtney "I don't have an ounce of fat on me, look at my amazingly toned arms!" Cox-Arquette and dreamed that one day, when I hit the big 30, that I too would be living in Manhattan right by a trendy coffee shop and would have a rock solid group of equally fit and trendy friends to get into all sorts of highly comedic hi-jinks with. We'd make endless, witty jokes and sip cappuccino out of huge, calorie filled mugs, eat cranberry-walnut muffins, and not have to worry a bit about all the calories in it, because even though none of us worked out regularly, we'd still be beautiful and funny! Those of us who had kids would mysteriously never seem to have to take care of them, because they'd be off under the supervision of faceless babysitters and relatives while we all stayed young and hip, drinking our coffee and only to be interrupted from our own stream of jokes to take a comic relief break delivered by a platinum haired waiter named Gunther. It was going to be fabulous!
My rose tinted views of my future perfect life were further enhanced by another group of Manhattanites, my beloved girls from Sex and the City. They, like the cast of Friends, were thirty-forty somethings who obviously were having the times of their lives in Manhattan. So I added an all girl group of friends to have in my little, Manhattan fantasy. We'd eat breakfast and go shopping and unabashedly talk about our sex lives in public, the rest of the world be damned. We'd spend every night in the newest club and dance the night away in our little, shiny designer dresses. We'd wear Prada and Gucci and none of our shoes would cost less than $200, unless we got them from the sample closet of the fabulously trendy magazine we worked at. It was going to be grand! My thirties were going to be completely rockin'! That is, as long as I was back in shape by my 30th birthday and a resident of the ever glamorous Manhattan.
Unfortunately, I started my 30th year with the unique ability to fit both Olsens and a half of a Simpson into my body and the small German town that I live in is, while completely nice and pretty, a far cry from the streets of Manhattan.
Somehow, it all went wrong.
But, alas, there is hope at the end of the chocolate creme filled tunnel. Because, you see, even though I started my thirties off completely different than I'd imagined, I have one thing going for me that my dear, glossy television friends don't have; My show hasn't been canceled.
So while their days of sipping iced coffees and looking glamorous 24/7 may be a thing of the past for my tv families, it is still a hope for me. It may take a while and it will definitely be a lot of work, but it's manageable. And I may not do it on the streets of Manhattan, but I am in Europe, and that's pretty darn cool too. Carrie and Phoebe may have Manhattan, but I have a freaking castle twenty minutes from my house and Paris only a few hours away.
So this, my new non-glossy friends is the beginning of my journey into fabulousness. Join me if you'd like. It will be a long, cranky trip, but we'll make it. One Manolo Blhanik kitten-heeled step at a time.
In which fictional world/universe/land/city would you most like to live?
Submitted by glenn is the new chuck.
I'd like to live in either:
A. The fictional world of a Larry McMurtry novel, such as Texasville or The Desert Rose.
B. In Anita Blake's world.
or
C. Cicely, Alaska.
And if you know what i'm talking about when I say that, I just may love you forever.
You know, it's very rare that I get completely baffled at something. Very, very rare. It takes a lot to stump me and it takes even more for something to render me speechless.
And then, while I was browsing Collegehumor.com, I saw this.
Ummm..yeah..I just don't know. I mean, what kind of thought process does it take to come up with that absurdly fascinating little contraption? And even worse, what kind of person looks at it and say, "OH, how handy! I think I'll wear that out today in case I have an emergency nose or butt wiping situation! Tra-la-la..my life is complete now that I have the Portable Toilet Roller 2000!"
On the other hand, she could make a buttload of money by hanging out around public restrooms and offering the people stuck in stalls with no t.p. use of her personal stash for a quarter. See, folks? There really is a brightside to everything!
So here's a mini "I'm-bored-of-my-tush" quiz for you guys.
Is the color of my tongue in this photo the result of:
A. Eating a piece of Wonka's Magic Chewing Gum after Mr. Wonka warned me not to. I soon after turned into a giant blueberry and had to be rolled from the room.
B. A strange and unnamed disease
C. Eating a horrid, blue cotton candy tasting ice cream
D. My involvement in indecent activities with Papa Smurf
So..what's YOUR guess? Guess correctly and you get..well, nothing really. But I will have helped you waste a few minutes of your time here and isn't that enough of a prize?
What movie can you quote by heart?
Submitted by clamhead.
Oh, there's WAAAAY too many movies I can quote by heart. Eurotrip, Sixteen Candles, National Lampoon's Vacation, Dazed and Confused..I'm sure there's more. I have a really bad habit of watching movies over and over and over again.
You know, there's a lot of things that I love about Germany. I love the food (especially schweinbraten and klose), I love all the cool little villages that you can drive through on the back roads, I love listening to the language and I love how clean it is. I also love how nice everyone is and I think it's rad that they have so many holidays and festivals. I even have an appreciation for German bier, and I HATE beer normally.
But those above mentioned items aren't what I love most about good old Deutschland. Oh no, not at all.
What I love most about Germany is the fact that it is probably the only country in the world where you can go to a carnival and find a ride that is basically a homage to the one and only David Hasselhoff. I mean, really..could you go to a fair in the States and find a ride that features his picture not once, not twice, but six or seven times on the cars and backdrops?
I think you know the answer to that question, my friend. And I think that when you think about that answer, you'll understand why I think Germany is so sweet.
These were taken at a Volksfest in Bavaria. Enjoy them, my friends. Immerse yourself in the glory that is the Hoff.
