Wing Chun: Hello?

Sarah: I think you mean “Mel-lo.”

Wing Chun: I…do?

Sarah: Yes, sugar tits, you do.

Wing Chun: Sugar what now? …Ohhhh, yeah, Mel Gibson. Hey, what’s the movie where he’s frozen and then he wakes up?

Sarah: Crap, I forget. Popsicle of the Christ?

Wing Chun: Heh. Mad Max Beyond Frigidaire.

Sarah: Brrrr…aveheart.

Wing Chun: Groan. …Forever Young, that’s it.

Sarah: Oh yeah, with Frodo. What brought that up?

Wing Chun: Well, I’m getting the feeling that that was based on Mel Gibson’s actual life.

Sarah: Mel Gibson is Frodo’s stepdad?

Wing Chun: No, because he — did you see it?

Sarah: Not that I know of.

Wing Chun: Okay, the gist is that his character was frozen in 1939 and then wakes up like fifty years later.

Sarah: Right.

Wing Chun: My point is that this actually happened, only Mel Gibson doesn’t actually know it’s not 1939 anymore.

Sarah: Did they have mullets in 1939? Because if I remember my Lethal Weapon correctly —

Wing Chun: Okay, but: what did they have in 1939?

Sarah: …Wireless sets?

Wing Chun: Anti-Semitism was acceptable to express in 1939. Like out loud. Also, Vatican II hadn’t happened yet.

Sarah: And people drove drunk all the time.

Wing Chun: And called each other “sugar tits.” Well, only in spanking pornos, but you see what I mean.

Sarah: Yeah, totally. So Mel’s not a crazy bigoted alcoholic, he’s just —

Wing Chun: — stuck in a time warp.

Sarah: Populated by Phoenicians.

Wing Chun: Phoe-nic-ians. Nice one. I’d have gone with “Assyrians.”

Sarah: An equally solid choice, in my opinion.

Wing Chun: …Man, he is a weirdo.

Sarah: Yeah, what’s his next project — Waterworld: Revenge Of The Mayan Ruins, something like that?

Wing Chun: Probably. I won’t be seeing it. Subtitles, beeyotch.

Sarah: Yeah, that was pretentious. Although actually I didn’t think the movie needed them, in the end.

Wing Chun: Well, the movie didn’t need Powder Satan’s wart baby, either, but he left that in.

Sarah: Wait, you don’t even like movies with subtitles.

Wing Chun: Not the point.

Sarah: And while I’m up, wait again: spanking pornos?

Wing Chun: Yeah, you just blew right past that.

Sarah: I did, but I’m coming back to it now.

Wing Chun: I don’t really have anything to add.

Sarah: I…don’t either.

Wing Chun: I…have never seen one. Just for the purposes of clarity.

Sarah: Duly noted, Slappy.

Wing Chun: Hee. …Ohhhh nooooooo!

Sarah: What?

Wing Chun: Well, I’m reading your poll on the TWoP homepage?

Sarah: My poll on the — oh, right. The Hasselpoll. You know, I left off a really good one that I only just now remembered.

Wing Chun: This is pretty comprehensive as it is. Revenge of the Cheerleaders, seriously?

Sarah: Oh, I know. I’d also forgotten completely that he was on a soap for, like, a decade.

Wing Chun: What did you leave ou– British Airways?

Sarah: Oh, yeah, you didn’t hear about that one?

Wing Chun: Hass-el-hoff, come on, dude!

Sarah: His publicist is claiming he was “sick.”

Wing Chun: Oh, I’m sure he was. Sick of being sober.

Sarah: That’s not the one I left out.

Wing Chun: You forgot Wimblehoff? …Oh, no, I see that’s on here. You know he’s suing the tabloids over that story, right?

Sarah: He is? Oh, God. Link me.

Wing Chun: “David Hasselhoff is suing an English tabloid newspaper after it claimed he went on a drunken rampage at the Wimbledon tennis championships earlier this month.”

Sarah: I can’t wait to see that filing on Smoking Gun.com. What exactly is his claim here? That it wasn’t a rampage?

Wing Chun: “Mr. Hasselhoff’s attorney insisted that his client’s behavior constituted more of a kerfuffle or a brouhaha than a rampage.”

Sarah: “Under British law, rampages must contain at least one soccer hooligan and a slurred mention of Lord Jeff.”

Wing Chun: So which Drunkelhoff story isn’t on here?

Sarah: Shavelhoff.

Wing Chun: Do I even want to know?

Sarah: Not really, but anyway. He cut himself shaving.

Wing Chun: Ohhhh, that. And he cut the shit out of himself, too, right? Like, severed tendons and everything?

Sarah: Yeah. With a chandelier, hello.

Wing Chun: He was trying to shave with a chandelier?

Sarah: No. …Well, actually, his publicist tried to make it out like he was shaving and hit his head on a chandelier —

Wing Chun: He severed tendons in — there are no tendons in the head, dude.

Sarah: No, I know. The story is that he bonked his head on the chandelier, put his arm up to shield himself from falling glass, and cut a tendon in his arm.

Wing Chun: I…but that…okay, no, he didn’t.

Sarah: Well, clearly not, so I think he was trying to shave with the chandelier and this is the best cover they could come up with.

Wing Chun: That is weak.

Sarah: Well, yeah, but: you’re Hasselhoff’s publicist. Do you waste time coming up with a convincing reason that Captain Mitch Tequilapants has an armful of leaded crystal? Or do you write up some “he walked into a door” bullshit and get on with your day, knowing you’ll have to have another statement ready in about ten minutes?

Wing Chun: Good point. God, that poor woman.

Sarah: Really. Every time the Hasselhoff Bat phone rings, she’s like, “It is eleven in the morning!”

Wing Chun: “Ohhhh, Daaaavey.”

Sarah: Ha!

Wing Chun: Do you think they have an office pool for Hasselstuff at that PR firm? Like, you pick what he was drinking and how he injured himself at the beginning of the year, and whoever is right the most times wins?

Sarah: Oh, totally. And it’s like Clue. “It’s sangria at the Plaza Hotel!” “It’s vodka marts at Dan Tana’s!”

Wing Chun: Aw, poor Hassy.

Sarah: I know.

Wing Chun: Now more than ever, I want a “don’t Hassle the Hoff” shirt.

Sarah: Me too.

Wing Chun: There’s a video? There’s…a video, oh dear.

Sarah: You haven’t seen that shit?

Wing Chun: No.

Sarah: Go on, I’ll wait.

Wing Chun: …What is going on here, Sarah?

Sarah: I don’t know.

Wing Chun: I…

Sarah: Yeah.

Wing Chun: …

Sarah: Did you get to the part with the fish yet?

Wing Chun: He’s singing to himself right now. …Oh, here’s the fish — what the hell?

Sarah: Exactly.

Wing Chun: No no no. I am asking. What. The hell.

Sarah: …Germany?

Wing Chun: I have to say, I don’t really understand Germany’s pop-cultural identity.

Sarah: Well, you know my Sanrio bomb theory?

Wing Chun: Your Sanrio…no.

Sarah: That the weird hothouse streaks in Japanese culture, like Kogepan and Tokyo club kids getting Afros, are a direct result of having the bomb dropped on them?

Wing Chun: Oh, right, you’ve mentioned that before.

Sarah: Because over here you have ronin, and then over here, you have Hello Kitty vibrators?

Wing Chun: Right.

Sarah: Not that I have anything else to back that up.

Wing Chun: Well, that’s why it’s a theory. It could be wrong, you’re just saying.

Sarah: Right. Anyway, maybe something similar is going on with German pop culture. Because…Wagner, and Mercedes Benz. And then…Hasselhoff.

Wing Chun: So you think it’s a post-war PTSD kind of thing.

Sarah: Yeah.

Wing Chun: So what’s America’s excuse?

Sarah: What do you mean?

Wing Chun: Well, America has the same thing going on. Jazz; democracy; Charo.

Sarah: Charo’s American?

Wing Chun: Charo’s an American star. Or is America’s fault.

Sarah: True.

Wing Chun: Or Britney. Or Making the Band.

Sarah: Right, I see what you’re saying.

Wing Chun: Because you like Making the Band.

Sarah: I do. Unapologetically.

Wing Chun: But do you like it because of 9/11? No. I mean, I assume.

Sarah: No, I’m sad to say I liked it before that awful day. …So, Sanrio bomb theory doesn’t hold up.

Wing Chun: It might. I just don’t know that it’s unique to Japan.

Sarah: Fair enough.

Wing Chun: Speaking of bombs…can we put M. Shite Shamalamadingdong in the GBC?

Sarah: Oh, God. I guess.

Wing Chun: Oh, right, you were that one person who liked The Village. Remind me, why are we friends?

Sarah: Because you pity me?

Wing Chun: Apparently.

Sarah: Here’s the thing, though. I like his movies better than you do, but —

Wing Chun: Narfs! And? Scrunts!

Sarah: That’s what I was going to say, actually. That he’s going to rename everything these ridiculous things and then get all pissy when nobody understands why calling a bike a “yolp” is a valid artistic choice.

Wing Chun: Oh, he won’t just get pissy. He’ll cry about it.

Sarah: Or insist that there’s a twist where the bike is actually a trike.

Wing Chun: “I see drunk people.”

Sarah: Wow, speaking of “groan.”

Wing Chun: I had to.

Sarah: Well, of course.

Wing Chun: And speaking of seeing drunk people…

Sarah: Osment!

Wing Chun: I had that story bookmarked for a few days, just so that I could visit it and laugh at Osment’s hair.

Sarah: The hair was really puzzling. Actually, the whole presentation is…something bugs me about him.

Wing Chun: Well. He’s annoying.

Sarah: No, seriously.

Wing Chun: No. Seriously.

Sarah: No — seriously. There’s something weird about how he looks.

Wing Chun: And it is that he is weird-looking.

Sarah: I need to put my finger on what it is, though.

Wing Chun: Oh. Um…he’s ugly?

Sarah: The sooner you start helping me figure it out for real, the sooner we can stop talking about Osment.

Wing Chun: Okay, okay. His hair looks like a permed walnut?

Sarah: No. I mean, it does, that’s just not it.

Wing Chun: Okay. …Each of his front teeth is the size and shape of a bathroom tile?

Sarah: DAWSON!

Wing Chun: I can probably make the connection on my own, but a little help h–

Sarah: No no no, not Richard Dawson. Dawson. Leery. Osment looks like Dawson Leery! With the brows that don’t match, and the mooshy nose?

Wing Chun: …He does, kind of.

Sarah: Thank God. That was really going to bug me.

Wing Chun: Well, I’m glad giving me nightmares was the solution. God, the eyebrows…now that you’ve pointed it out, it’s kind of uncanny.

Sarah: I know! I’m sorry. We can skip over talking about his choice of vehicle and go straight to Daniel Baldwin if you want.

Wing Chun: No, that’s okay. What’s wrong with a Saturn?

Sarah: Nothing. It’s just not that rock-and-roll a choice if you’re going to be flipping your ride.

Wing Chun: And he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, either, which…yeah, I see what you mean. Like, if he’d been taking a bunch of dead man’s curves in a vintage GTO?

Sarah: That would be different, right.

Wing Chun: A Saturn seems too…sensible.

Sarah: Exactly.

Wing Chun: Okay, that kid creeps me and always has, but I have to admire that he flipped it, actually. Like, he didn’t just get pulled over. He didn’t just sail into a tree. He wrizzecked it.

Sarah: That’s true. In a Saturn! That’s got to have a higher difficulty rating to flip than…I don’t know. An Escalade.

Wing Chun: Oh, definitely. You get the wind lined up right, you can flip an Escalade without even driving it.

Sarah: “…She says authoritatively.”

Wing Chun: Well, it’s no bomb theory, excuse me.

Sarah: Heh. Fair enough.

Wing Chun: Are we done with Osment?

Sarah: I think so.

Wing Chun: Great. Moving on. Daniel Baldwin.

Sarah: …You know, I don’t even know if there’s a discussion here.

Wing Chun: I know there’s a joke about him not needing a seatbelt because he’s so fat, but…it’s really hot here today and I just…yeah.

Sarah: Okay, here’s one minor point: he hit two parked cars.

Wing Chun: Rookie.

Sarah: Hee hee hee! Was that your Vince Neil voice?

Wing Chun: No. …Actually, yes. What was your point about the cars?

Sarah: Do you think Angelenos have, like, extra insurance in case Hasselhoff “rampages” though their neighborhood and crunches their cars? Like if they live in an area with a particularly high concentration of GBCers?

Wing Chun: Can you imagine finding a note on your windshield from the Hoff?

Sarah: Which is stuck on the roof with a piece of Trident because the windshield itself is destroyed?

Wing Chun: “Oops-a chocka oops-a chocka oops-a chocka chocka chocka! Love, the Hoff.”

Sarah: “PS: That’ll teach you street-park, mein Freund.”

Wing Chun: Maybe they have a special neighborhood watch in those areas. Or a Bat signal. Except it’s a Baldwin signal, and it looks like the outline of Alfred Hitchcock from the old TV series.

Sarah: And people are dashing out of their houses with no shoes on to get the cars into the garage before he gets there.

Wing Chun: And there’s an air-raid siren going the whole time.

Sarah: Meanwhile, a Girl Scout is walking down the street, iPod on, oblivious…

Wing Chun: Hee hee, now I’m thinking of your attempts to play that cab-driver video game, when you crashed into the same mailbox like twenty times.

Sarah: Oh my God, that was sad. But not as sad as the snowboarding game.

Wing Chun: Or the time you got really mad at the Dance Dance Revolution knock-off.

Sarah: Okay, first of all, Gen got mad at it too, and she’s actually good at that game. Second of all, let’s see you dance to Mozart using a footpad.

Wing Chun: Well, I’m certainly glad I brought this up.

Sarah: And you weren’t even there, also, is the last thing.

Wing Chun: So “the time” you got really mad at the Dance Dance Revolution knock-off is actually what is usually known as “now.”

Sarah: That game was mean to me, I’m sorry.

Wing Chun: You should have just face-planted like Ricky Smith in Better Off Dead and let everyone else dance on top of you.

Sarah: That’s actually pretty close to what ended up happening. Except I didn’t have plaid pants on.

Wing Chun: No wonder you’re still mad.

Sarah: I’m just mad, period. It’s too goddamn hot, and apparently the worst of it is yet to come.

Wing Chun: At least you get to stay inside, mostly, instead of picking up trash like Boy George.

Sarah: Picking — okay, is this metaphorical picking up of trash, or —

Wing Chun: No, he has to do community service.

Sarah: What did he do, again?

Wing Chun: Drugs, I think? …No, wait, he called in a burglary and then the cops found cocaine in his apartment. …Hey, he’s in New York! You can go visit him while he’s gathering litter in Chinatown.

Sarah: Okay, I have…six thousand questions. At least.

Wing Chun: I do not know who would burgle Boy George, so don’t bother asking that one.

Sarah: Well, but — seriously, who? Who needs an oversized, brightly colored fedora so badly that they couldn’t just go buy —

Wing Chun: Oh, it was fake.

Sarah: The cocaine was fake?

Wing Chun: The burglary was fake.

Sarah: So, let me…let me get this straight. He called the cops to report a burglary.

Wing Chun: Yes. But there was no burglary.

Sarah: There was no burglary, but there was cocaine in the house. So he…called…the cops. To…test them? I just don’t understand.

Wing Chun: The man used to use Hecker’s flour as makeup. Logic is not the answer here.

Sarah: Maybe he was lonely.

Wing Chun: He couldn’t have tried eHarmony before resorting to dialing 9-1-1?

Sarah: Or he’s an idiot, but it’s a marginally better story if he’s just lonely.

Wing Chun: Or if the bogus burglary call was actually placed by Rosie O’Donnell to make him look bad.

Sarah: She’s not above that, I bet.

Wing Chun: You saw that haircut. She’s obviously capable of anything.

Sarah: Can you imagine if she and Hasselhoff collaborated on…on…

Wing Chun: A cruise line? Please, no.

Sarah: Based on that video, that’s probably his sensibility.

Wing Chun: Not to mention where he’ll be reduced to performing.

Sarah: Maybe if it’s a rehab cruise? The Good Ship Bill W.?

Wing Chun: Hasn’t he gone to rehab like fourteen times since the birth of the Girls’ Bike Club?

Sarah: Something like that.

Wing Chun: Because it’s not going to take this time either. The minute that boat docks, he’s going to be charging down the gangplank to the nearest bar all “KITT, come get me” and chucking slow-moving seniors out of his way.

Sarah: And then he hallucinates that he’s facing off against Goliath again, but it’s actually just Rosie bitching him out for drinking an entire case of Scope.

Wing Chun: Or it’s…

Sarah and Wing Chun: …DAWSON!

Sarah: Or the ship itself is Dawson.

Wing Chun: Or Dawson drank all the Scope. And ate all the toothpaste.

Sarah: I guess we know why that ship really rolled a couple weeks ago.

Wing Chun: …And that’s how everyone learned a valuable lesson about permitting Dawson to play shuffleboard.

Sarah: And that lesson is: lifeboats taste great with spicy mustard.

Wing Chun: Hee hee hee.

Sarah: Hee. …Yeah, it really is too damn hot out. We’re laughing at stuff that isn’t that funny.

Wing Chun: Well, on the plus side, we’re going to see some dehydrated and exhausted in the next few days, and some of it is going to be true…but some of it is going to be champagne-related bullshit.

Sarah: Oh, that’ll be me, actually. Celebrate the cold fronts of our lives!

Wing Chun: Just don’t try to shave your legs with a brandy snifter, please.

Sarah: I’ll try to restrain myself.

July 31, 2006

Tags:   GBC