Same Name: Country Hoff, City Hoff

Hola Gasmii!  P-Baby here ready to bring you the full recap of the new summer show on CBS, Same Name, where everyday people get to switch lives with their celebrity name doppelganger for four days to experience how they live.  Simple premise, fish out of water scenarios and a whole lot of seeing that celebrities are richer than us.  I try to tell myself that celebrities need to make more money than commoners because they’ve got  more personal upkeep, stylists, trainers, and the public spotlight to deal with and then I remember that they often look like this:

And realize they are hustling the shit out of all of us.

The first celebrity featured tonight on the series premiere is David Hasselhoff of Knight Rider/Baywatch/America’s Got Talent/European Singing Megastar/Cheeseburger fame.  He’s due to swap lives with a bald chap by the same name from Lake Jackson, Texas who enjoys fishing and works as a high power electrical technician.  We are first treated to a montage of Famous David (henceforth known as Big Hoff) and his rise to stardom.

I’m not even going to pretend like I 1. Didn’t watch Baywatch or 2.  Didn’t find Hoff attractive when he was strolling around in his red trunks saving people and defusing hostage situations.  I also won’t pretend like his son, Hobie, didn’t turn into a goddamn hot mess while Mitch was busy hitting the sauce and chowing down on cheeseburgers:

I just want to put it out there before moving further that VH1 straight up needs to do a Celebrity Rehab: Baywatch edition.  I’d watch that nastiness until my eyes fell out of my head.

Back in the realm of normal, we are introduced to David Hasselhoff, Jr (Henceforth known as Bald Hoff).  He’s a 27 year old average joe, hard-working electrical technician, new father to son Braxton, and also a integral part to the family landscaping business.  I already like him about 100 times more than any celebrity ever because he possesses a certain humility and humor that celebrities seem to lose grip on after their first appearance in Us Weekly’s Who Wore It Best.

Big Hoff touches down in Texas on his private plane (really?  Does Big Hoff have the kind of clout to pull off a private plane?) and is greeted by the Texas Hoffs.  Big Hoff passes out a bunch of autographed pictures and then hands over the keys to his EIGHT CARS to Bald Hoff.  Damn it, Big Hoff.  These people be from rural Texas.  They’re poor.  They’ve got a 75 year old woman running a landscaping business when she should be retired, knitting socks for her grandbabies.  Stop wiping your ass with money and pretend like you live in reality for a minute.  Shit.

While the Texas Hoffs are busy trying to figure out how much money they can make from eBay for Big Hoff’s head shots, Bald Hoff is off on the plane to Los Angeles with nary a goodbye to his wife Corey or crying baby Braxton Beelzebub.  So there are no secrets between us, I don’t like babies.  They’re not cute, they’re needy, and they never shut the fuck up.  I already know my seat on the bus to hell is reserved.  I’ll see you all there.

At Bald Hoff’s house, Big Hoff is getting the grand tour of the place.  He’s also holding Beelzebub, trying to get it to stop crying.  Corey’s pretty lackadaisical about handing her potato head off to a complete stranger, famous or not,  but I’d hand my baby to a drunken hobo if it meant getting to have my tired ass a nap.  Corey tells Big Hoff she might need some help with the baby during the night.  Big Hoff, King of Normal Behavior, pops a lifeguard flotation device out of his suitcase in response to Corey’s request for help.  I guess flying on a private plane can afford such luxuries.  The rest of us are trying to pack the lightest shoes we have, forgoing personal hygiene and wearing 19 layers of t shirts so we don’t have to pay a $1000 at the airport for an overweight suitcase.

Touching down in LA, Bald Hoff is picked up by Joe-B, Big Hoff’s bodyguard.  This.  Big Hoff is like a regular Gulliver at Bald Hoff’s house, making the Texas Hoffs look like six-inch citizens of Lilliput.  Does Big Hoff need a bodyguard in the US?  Are there people out there bigger than Hoff that pose a threat to him?  While we ponder these questions, Joe-B takes Bald Hoff to the LA palace that Baywatch paid for.  On the inside, Bald Hoff meets Taylor (Big Hoff’s oldest, hottest daughter), Hilda (the personal assistant), and Maria (the housekeeper).  They take Bald Hoff on a tour but I abruptly need to shut the TV off when they come across this abomination:

Let’s have a closer look.

Still not convinced?

Jesus tap-dancing Christ.  Understand it was for a movie but, what the bloody fuck?  Was the movie filmed at his house?  Fucking no, because it was the Spongebob movie.  Put that shit in a storage unit, in the garage, in the basement, sell to some crazy person, DO ANYTHING BUT KEEP IT IN YOUR LIVING ROOM.  If I’m Bald Hoff, I’m packing my shit up and demanding Joe-B take me to a hotel.  No fucking way am I sleeping under the same roof as that thing.

Big Hoff’s hot daughter babbles a little bit about how Big Hoff’s been busy in Europe the past four months slaying a bunch of German pussy and singing showtunes.  Bald Hoff opines that he’s only been gone a day and misses the crying Beelzebub to which I say…bullshit.

Back in Texas, the Texas Hoffs are sitting down for dinner and literally have about 50 people at their house right now.  Big Hoff likes having a bunch of people around him because it provides an automatic audience.  They serve up a typical Texas meal of burgers and beans.  I’ve been a burger and beans gal since as far back as I can remember, but this here looks like legit prison food.

Big Hoff decides dinner is the appropriate time to tell everyone he’s being investigated for bird abuse.  And that he’s thinking of buying a castle in Croatia.  Corey has this to say:

Candy?  Thoughts?:

P-Baby, how was dinner?

Time to rise for Big Hoff.  After a fitful night of sleep, Corey wakes up Big Hoff for work at 6AM.  I know Corey’s just trying to do the right thing by getting the big man up and out the door for work but I’m kind of annoyed right now.  She condescendingly tells Big Hoff he’s already running late and to get the fuck out after providing him two Cherry Pop Tarts for breakfast.  First of all, is she not the one that woke him up at 6?  Why didn’t she get him up earlier if he was already late?  And don’t say Hoff is grown and should be getting himself up.  I’m the last person to make excuses for celebs but Big Hoff doesn’t know that schedule and is also on California/European time.  Secondly, Big Hoff is not nine, thus serving Pop Tarts as breakfast is rigoddamndiculous.  Pop Tarts are one of the reasons why everyone in this country is fucking huge.  I just watched a MTV True Life episode about food addiction and this slobby bitch was talking about how she was buying only healthy food, throwing Apple Jacks (because she and her mom decided they were healthier than Honey Nut Cheerios) and hot dogs (“Protein, right?”) into her shopping cart.  It’s called fruit, lady.  Try it once in awhile.  Anyway,  if I’m Big Hoff, I’d be throwing the Pop Tarts in Corey’s face and telling her that she can feed them to Beelzebub, since he’s already destined to be fat when he grows up.

Back in LA, Bald Hoff meets Big Hoff’s sister and dad over breakfast.  Grandpa Joe is the cutest person alive and I want him to sit in my living room and tell me stories.  They are both super nice and probably exhausted after being related to Big Hoff for 59 years.  I also want to eat everything on the breakfast table.

Big Hoff is at work finally, ready to get dirty at Tidal Power Services, LLC.  His task today is to clean oil out of a circuit breaker that looks like what I imagine Nicolas Cage came to earth in.

While Big Hoff is busy getting his clean on, Bald Hoff is getting the dogs groomed, getting his body hair groomed, and meeting with Big Hoff’s agent.  The agent tries to elicit sympathy from us by saying that Big Hoff is busy all the time and he never has a spare moment on his calendar.  The wench on this side of the TV has no sympathy, however, as the schedule consists of all self-imposed commitments designed to boost Big Hoff’s ego and keep him relevant.  Big Hoff also doesn’t have to do laundry, vacuum, return library books, or deal with a 20 items or less checkout line where people pay in pennies.  So, Big Hoff’s agent, here’s a little something from me to you.

Next is personal training and another one of Big Hoff’s team I want to fuck off and die.

I’ve read about this Barry’s Boot Camp gym and now I know exactly where my Hell Bus is heading in 60 to 70 years give or take.

Big Hoff is home from a hard day’s work and ready to kick it with some TV and nachos.  Wet Blanket Corey is all, “How can you be tired after cleaning for 12 hours?  Get your ass up, we got a family reunion to get to.”  Big Hoff’s all “Fuck.” and off they go off to the American Legion to meet more Hasselhoff’s than I ever though could exist at one time in one room.

Here, Big Hoff gets some props for bucking up and exuding a manic amount of enthusiasm to meet these sweet people.  Big Hoff might only have a fleeting grip on reality but he sure seems like a nice guy and that can do wonders in this world.  Mr. P-Baby reminds me that meet and greets like this are what people like Big Hoff live for and I have to agree.  Dude owns that room.  Can you imagine another TV has been being so gracious?  For that matter, a Lohan who’s a has been in every sense of the word at 25?  The answer is no.  She wouldn’t.  Because Lohan still thinks we live in 2004.

Bald Hoff indulges in a night out on the town, heading to a meeting of a David Hasselhoff fan club.  Everyone acts excited to meet Bald David when really, they’re all wondering why the hell they just flew in from Indiana and waited five hours only to have someone who is decidedly not Big Hoff show up.

Bald Hoff entertains these freaks for awhile, signs a few autographs, and meets a guy who’s never having sex.  Ever.

Meanwhile, Corey is waking up Big Hoff because Beelzebub is awake and crying, shocker.  Instead of telling Corey to whip out her tit and feed him herself like I would have, Big Hoff gets up and gives the little creep a bottle, cooing him to sleep.  The next day, Candy (Bald Hoff’s mom as a reminder) tells Big Hoff it’s time to mow some lawns.  They’ve got twelve to do today but there’s a problem as the truck gets stuck in the yard.  They finally unfuck the truck and head off to the next yard.  Candy has three mowers for his business but out of the three, two are busted, which sounds like a pretty piss poor business to me.  Big Hoff finds out that just one of the mowers costs $6000.  I’m sure they could get at least half that in exchange for Beelzebub on craigslist.  Business is business.

Bald Hoff, in stark contrast, is off to Geisha House for a night of wining and dining with Big Hoff’s manager.  He gets TMZ’d for a few minutes until Joe-B rescues him and pulls him inside.  He indulges in food still containing eyeballs, declaring it looks like fish bait. In Texas, Big Hoff is off to Kicks, a country and western bar full of this:

Big Hoff takes Candy out on the floor and they dance the night away, refusing to let anyone cut in.  It’s adorable and really makes me like Big Hoff because he’s being so nice.  Big Hoff then takes the stage because he’s never met a stage he hasn’t peed on and charms yet another crowd.  I almost understand the rampant fandom.  Sure, he’s an attention whore and I’m sure a raging narcissist but he loves his fans and treats them as such which is more than any other famous person can say.

Finally, it’s time for the swap to come to an end.  Joe-B surprises Bald Hoff by letting him drive Kitt to the airport.  Bald Hoff gets home to Lake Jackson and reunites with his family and Big Hoff.  Before Big Hoff takes off, there’s hugs all around and a surprise waiting in the garage.  Turns out Big Hoff has hooked the family up with two brand new lawn mowers.  He also gives Bald Hoff and Corey two tickets to Germany to see him perform and provides a scholarship for Beelzebub’s college education.  1.  Going to Germany for a David Hasselhoff concert is absolutely on my list of things that I can die happy never completing and 2.  I give it five seconds before Beelzebub’s scholarship is drained and spent on a new lawn mower.  Like that kid was going to college anyway.