Wednesday, May 16, 2007

How we threw our heads back and laughed

I know what you're thinking, but it IS the man himself.

You know, there are days when you think that life just couldn't get any better, one of those rare moments when both the forces of creation and elements of nature coalesce in a swan song of rapture and joy.

Well, today was not one of those days. However, something rather special did happen.

As a child I longed for K.I.T.T. Aged 11, I knew it wouldn't be long before my father substituted his lemon Ford Falcon sedan for a vehicle that actually contained some hint of street-cred and a touch less of suburban hell. Talking cars were but a moment away in time I thought, and naively assumed that my own first car would be black, sporty, and capable of speech.

It wasn't to be. I lived disappointment on a daily basis through my early teens, until I thought the best way to capture that certain je ne sais quoi of Knightrider would be to emulate, if not the personality, then a least the hairstyle of The Hoff. I can proudly that without any hint of irony that no teenager carried longer or more assiduously, with greater care or more hair-care products, the Hasselhoff-inspired bouffant that made me the envy of every... where am I going with this?

The Hoff has arrived. On my doorstep.

God, what a reunion it's been. It's been a non-stop love-in since he fell out of my early birthday present bubble wrapping.

A reunion of gargantuan proportions, we threw caution and good taste to the wind and dived deep into nostalgia. The man himself launched into a Hoffologue that has sent me into an emotional time machine as I've relived every episode of perhaps the best public television program ever to have graced the television screen in my lifetime.

I was treated to stunts after posing for my Hello magazine.

We've laughed and cried. Tears of joy, shrieks of hysteria and moments of pure tristesse have accompanied his constantly entertaining plethora of tales, on-screen, and perhaps more interestingly, off-screen. Pamela's woes, the difficulty of shooting boogie boards from certain angles and those annoying crevasses full of sand are only the tip of the iceberg. I was treated to a no-holds-barred, access-all-areas, intimate and at times undeniably personal insight into the lives of the greatest multi-talented artiste of our times.

There are so many things I'd like to share with all of you out there. However the betrayal of friendship for the glib satisfaction of fleeting fame on the blogosphere is a poor trade indeed. The Hoff knows my word is my word. There is just so much that will forever stay between us both, unknown to those of you looking in from the outside.

Blokey talk: The Hoff gets intimate

But I will say this: the Hoff has lost none of his edge, none of that esprit that kept him and continues to elevate him beyond the peak of his field. As with Sylvester Stallone, plastic surgery has been kind in the medium-term and further small surgical procedures will ensure he maintains the mystique and charisma of stars such as Melanie Griffith and Mickey Rourke, well into the middle of this century.

Action pose and face shots. A physique like this at 54. Never!

And even though I know not an iota of German, The Hoff entertained me for several hours with a new soon-to-be rereleased version of 99 Luftballoons, all the while allowing me to rub peppermint massage oil into his tired but famous feet. I am left with no shadow of doubt that he is indeed Germanophonia's answer to Edith Piaf. What that wizened old crone did for French chanson the Hoff has done for Teutonic rock. So it's no wonder that today almost every German speaker on the planet goes about his daily Arbeit humming some ditty or another a la Hoff.

I was enraptured. Perhaps in love? Certainly in awe.

The Hoff's busy schedule didn't allow greater intimacy, but since he comes with a neat gold-plated fastener I attached him to me. We're inseparable.

I love my Hoff. And I'm fairly sure the feeling is reciprocated.

More than just affection... the magnetic attraction is undeniable.

Footnote: This article is based upon the rather brilliant creative mind displayed at See her Etsy link for more fabulous present ideas for me.


Simone said...

I knew you'd be in love with The Hoff (well, the little version anyway). I'm so glad he's made your life so complete! We're lovin' his work. And I'm sure he loves our work too.

Simone said...

I'm bored. You need to write more stuff to amuse me. Otherwise I'll publish photographs of your moustache.