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Hofftacular Spectacular!

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Hear ye, Hear ye! Today, December 4, 2006, shall remain in history a holy day! A day of mystery and wonder, a day all shall look on in remembrance and awe! Today begins the five day Feast of The Hoff, the Hofftacular Spectacular.

It all began Thursday last when, whilst visiting an ailing friend’s bedside, I became possessed of a powerful urge to own David Hasselhoff’s staggering work of literary brilliance, “Don’t Hassel The Hoff.” I did then beseech my puking friend thusly: “Get up, bitch, we’re going to Barnes and Noble!”

With much protesting and great dramatics, my ill companion did roust herself and managed to cloth herself in some sweat pants that we might make the journey to yon B&N.

Oh, but my heart did race all throughout that thirty minute drive! My palms did sweat and I might have dropped an f-bomb or two at cars keeping a snail’s pace in traffic. Finally, finally, we reached our destination. I raced inside, my emetic companion lurching feverishly behind me.

“I need the David Hasselhoff book!” I sang out in anticipatory chorus as I approached the gleaming beacon of the information counter. “I need it real bad!”

The booksmith looked at me with something akin to admiration tinged with fear. “I’m afraid we’re sold out. But we do have the Chuck Norris autobiography, ‘The Secret Of Inner Strength,’ if that helps.”

“No!” I cried, the Hoff-hungry demon in my breast crying out for satiation, “I already have that one! I need the Hoff! How can you be sold out?”

“There are other silly people in the world, Jennifer,” a woman in the employ of the great B&N commented, and I reluctantly conceded that point.

Such an admission did not soothe my raging Hoff fever. Meanwhile, a fever of a different sort afflicted my companion. “Jen,” she begged, her eyes bright with sickness, her brow beaded with sweat from the exertion of not emptying her stomach onto my dashboard, “Take me home or I’ll kill you.”

“No!” I cried, gripping her shoulders and giving her a hearty shake. “I will not give up so close to the end of our quest!”

But she would not be swayed, and all the long journey back to her apartment I did employ my cell phone to contact other area bookstores, in vain. The Hoff’s popularity thwarted me at every turn, when each store on my speed dial informed me that all of their copies had flown from the shelves.

Finally, I reached the bottom of my alphabetical list. A Waldenbooks, in Portage, Michigan, had the cherished tome. “Donna!” I exclaimed in glee, “Save a copy for me!”

After leaving off my feverish friend, I once again took up my cell phone, to contact another of my most dearest and trusted allies. “Jill,” I shouted, my wonder and rapture emanating over the cellular waves as surely as raindrops disturbing gentle spring puddles, “Do you want to go on a wonderful adventure?”

I raced to her side, finding her as excited and ready for our quest as ever. Once again I made the interminable trek across town, wailing and gnashing my teeth at every delay. But soon enough we reached our destination. The Hoff was within my reach.

Every step I took across the parking lot brought me closer to my Mecca. My heart beat its self fearfully against my ribs. Closer and closer I came. Every second seemed infused with the holy importance of my task.

Donna, the smiling, helpful book peddler, seemingly unaware of my heightened state of agitation, rang my most radiant of purchases and slid the venerable tome into a plastic bag; the Hoff’s tan glowed through the white of the bag.

“Wow, you’ve really been looking for this, huh?” she observed, finally noticing my mania. “Who’s this for?”

Confusion! As if I would hand such a treasure over as a mere gift. This book was a thing to be cherished, perhaps willed to future generations after my passing, but it would not leave my hands! “It’s for me,” I stuttered, barely able to comprehend this world, where such a treasure would be callously given away.

“Oh.” Donna appeared perturbed at this, but it mattered not. I possessed the book of my desires! I had Don’t Hassel The Hoff!

My fingers itched to caress the pages. My mind worked like a hamster in an improperly weighted wheel as I drove to my destination. When I arrived, I pulled the book of Hoff from its plastic prison. Freed at last, the shocking blue and orange of the cover blazed with a godly light. The culmination of my efforts was upon me! A tear crept from my eye as I lifted the cover for the first time.

And my eyes landed on the word “Hofftastic.” And I realized that anything I really, really think I desperately need on a day when I’ve had only one hour of sleep the previous night is probably something silly that I could do without.

However, dear reader, you’re about to benefit from my insanity. Right here, all week long, it’s a Hofftacular Spectacular. A week-long celebration of the Hoff, from Monday to Friday. Every day, a new and Hofftastic post will bring you one step closer to a deeper understanding of El Hoff (for our Spanish speaking friends) or Hoffski (in Russian).

The week will include a review of the Hoff’s masterpiece of literature, Hoff quizzes, Hoff quotes and of course, plenty of Hoff eye candy. And, as if that weren’t enough, at the end of the week, tune in for “Jen vs. The Hoff,” which I can assure you will be a bloodbath.

Tell your friends! Tell your enemies! Tell them, one and all, to come, come see the amazing, the astounding HOFFTACULAR SPECTACULAR!

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  1. What a Hofftacular post!!!

    PS today's the 3rd. It's my mom's birthday 😉

    December 3, 2007
  2. Did Puking Pal vomit before or after you mentioned Hoff shopping? 😉

    You know what this means, don't you? You pretty much have to do a book review in honour of the momentous occasion.

    Have a Hoffly day! 🙂

    December 4, 2007

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