David Hasselhoff - My Fake Diary
Sunday, 18 May 2003
I met a great woman today, she was as fine as a type 4 afro-comb. Nice. She had these gorgeous....bristols.
Damn. Now I'm saying that word. I really shouldn't - but my English friend's always using his strange words and sometimes they rub off. He's always talking about women's bristols and jubblies. These words don't even sound right out of my mouth. I should say tits and bitch-trophies.
Anyway, the woman's name was Sandra...something. I can't remember her last name, I think it was Polish. That is, I think her last name originated in Poland, not that her full name is Sandra Polish. Ha! I make myself laugh sometimes.
Yeah, Sandra's got a brilliant body. If I told her that, I wonder if she'll hold it against me?...Ha! We're meeting up at some point over the next few days. She's got my number, but I bet she can't play it cool. Not when she's spending all her waking hour thinking about "The Hoff". That's me.
My penis extension's still a bit sore. It's okay and everything, but it keeps rubbing against my knee and it chafes the helmet. Sorry if that's a bit crude, but I thought I'd not leave anything out of my journal. You guys are the kind of people that...well, ordinarily, you kind of people would make me sick, but since you're reading this shit, you must be kinda cool and you wanna hear everything, doncha?
Kitt's been playing up a bit the last few days. I hope he's okay. He keeps calling me Ralph - but that's probably because of his Karate Kid obsession. He's got loads of pictures of Ralph Macchio all saved on his hard-drive. But it's harmless enough so I don't rib him too much.
I'd better go. I think you guys are great, really.
Kisses. The Hoff man. xxx
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