and can’t nobody unpack ’em like Courtney.
I mean moreso. Pre-rehab style. What can you say about Courtney Love that hasn’t already been said in an arrest warrant? But you gotta luv those Banana Splits!
From, obviously, The Manolo, with whose suggestion we beg to differ. 
Seems The Hoff is looking for a lovely lady to swank with him through the sad remains of his life as a popcult oddity.
Former Baywatch star David Hasselhoff is refusing to allow his recent divorce get him down – he already has plans to find a new “chick”…
He says, “I’m coming to England in September and I want to find myself a beautiful girlfriend. But I don’t want some dumb blonde. I’d like a woman who’s really intelligent.
“I saw this girl recently who must have stepped out of the office during her lunch break and was wearing work clothes and glasses, and I thought to myself, ‘That’s what I want, a chick who’s career-orientated.’”
Think of the lifestyle available to the consort of an icon such as The Hoff: rivers of champanski on the house, the valet lets you jump the line when picking up your Acura, unlimited partying with other superannuated action figures such as Jan-Michael Vincent and their wizened, bleached concubines of the moment, and fighting off hordes of deluded German blondes…ah, that’s the C-list life!
We at the raincoaster blog have a suggestion for the trophy doxy.
Think about it. She comes with her own load of Internet infamy. She’s already both famous and notorious worldwide, so it’s inconceiveable she’s not already popular in Germany. She’s apparently going to star in the Spanish Big Brother, despite perhaps not even speaking the language. She’s legal. And, most importantly, she’s an engineer, so when it comes time for The Hoff to capitalize on the new Knight Rider movie, she’ll undoubtably be able to whip up a new KITT for the occasion.
A match made in Internet Infamy heaven.
From the Archive
So this is the story:
There I am up in Vernon, staying with my friend James. His house is haunted. I told him that last time I stayed up there, told him that not only did his new house have ghosts, but they were very pushy ghosts, poking at me every time I got up to go to the bathroom.
And he just looked at me like I had just crawled out of the gin bottle, which I had but that was not related!
If I’d been sober I’d never have told him at all.
James goes to sleep early, but I stay up till all hours and thusly encountered the poky ghosts. They poked me all the way from the living room (which I think aught to be reserved for the living; I mean, just look at the word but you can’t get these dead people to listen to reason, you can’t even get them to stop poking you and pay attention. You sure can’t get them to agree to split up the house, even though it’s just so obvious that the basement room with the unexplained Indiana Jones tunnel just big enough for a coffin has to be ghost territory and the living room, I mean **hello?** the living room, should be for the animate to lie on the couch and watch Space Channel in peace with no spiritual visitors, no, not even if the Omen is on again) through the French doors, all the way down the hall and into the guest room, where they continued to poke at me from time to time as I lay in the bed, until finally, finally I was forced to address the issue directly.
Now normally there is nothing I avoid so much as addressing an issue directly. Now normally there is nothing I avoid even more so much as confrontation with a disincorporated intelligence; it’s faintly embarassing, as my own fleshiness points up the issue of their ectoplasmicism. We are both made uncomfortable. So this is something I generally avoid. I am not, however, normally poked at so agressively. Sure, one or two quick tentacle-feels, maybe even a tentative arrow prick, but nothing like what I was undergoing now. I **had** to take action.
“You’re dead. Leave me alone.”
And did it do me any good at all? Hell no! Got not a moment’s peace from that time on; poke-a-rama it was, with me all the time going, “hey, stop that, you’re dead! Leave me alone! Oh, fine, ignore me, but you’re still Dead! And I’m Not! Ow!” You know, it wasn’t my finest hour.
