Mike 'The Hoff' Hoff's Journal

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Hmm
		08:46pm 29/01/2004
	I guess I might raise this thing from the grave. Though, my mind is somewhat weary at the moment, and I have no capacity to do anything useful here. And of course, I imagine I am talking to myself right now. But sometimes, who else can you talk to?
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The Not-so-Great Trilogy of Hoff's Winter Break
		11:56pm 05/01/2003
	The January winds streak through the gaps in the teeth of the University at Buffalo campus. Whistling and darting here and there among the empty buildings, abandoned in the mid-winter seasons with only the derelict foreign exchange students wandering among the tunnels, and cleaning staff mopping up the footsteps of ghosts. Nestled safely in the comfort of his room, we find Mike, languishing in the obscurity of the season. Where as the dorms would cast him out, back into the wilderness to dwell among his clan of Hoffs, Flint Village offered him sanctuary from the rabble of his homeland across the Grand Island. Here we find him, reading over a book as he lies back on his bed. Drifting between thoughts of Timber Wolves with Elemental support, whatever books he’s reading, then back to thoughts of how much better of a movie he could make with $10 million than Eddy Murphy on the best day of his career after SNL. What does it really take to get into SNL? Could they clone John Belushi from all the sweat he left on every stage he performed on as Jake Blues? Would he have stopped the making of Blues Brothers 2000? What the hell was with that movie? What book is this anyway? All these thoughts are interrupted by the sudden crack of lightning that sends shards of his rooming flying in all directions. A piece of a Vietnam textbook crash into forehead, sending him spiraling to the floor. As he looks groggily up, he sees a mysterious hooded figure standing before him, standing ominously. Causing Hoff to sigh and wonder why he has to be intruded by such a cliché of a villain. “Greetings young master Hoff.” The Hoff stands slowly, and looks about his room, realization setting in as he takes in the surreal nature of the event. “Why am I inside a story about myself?” he asked “Because your personal record lacks the glowing entertainment of your peers.” “You mean Chip? I don’t think anyone reads that thing.I don’t think they can.” “Be that as it may, your entries lack excitement and insight, which is what people viewing it desire.” “Hey, I’m insightful. I can pull out theological and philosophical gems when I want to. I can break down people’s minds like a Lego pirate ship.” The cloaked figure moved in a way one would have to assume represented chuckling. You have to assume that because that’s what I’m telling you. The mysterious stranger continued, “When you have more than a 3.0 GPA I’ll begin to believe that.” The Hoff growled through grit teeth, “All right, that was low. Listen, this is my story. I can just will you out of it with a thought,” With that the poor college student commenced a series of concentrated mental workings that resulted in perplexed and flexed expressions of his face, which turned purple from lack of breathing until he slumped back down to the bed from exhaustion. The villainous shadow tilted it’s head in curiosity, “What was that supposed to do?” “Well, this is a story. I was trying to will you away. Write you off.” “How?” “The writer would do it.” “Ah I see. And this writer you speak of, where is he?” The Hoff sat up slowly. “He’s…I don’t know. Up there,” he indicated towards the sky, and then pointed to the side, “Over there. I don’t know. He’s just sort of everywhere.” “I see. And what would he do about my presence here?” “Banish you, I’d hope. He can do whatever he wants.” “Ah, well, I’m sorry, but I am not frightened by your omnipotent invisible friend. Perhaps another time.” “Yes, well, another time will be fine. Can you go now? I’m really not in the mood for terribly predictable villain types.” “It is time for you to do something interesting, and entertain your readers.” There was pause as he thought, and shook his head slowly, “I…had a really interesting dream last night? How about I go to sleep, and you jump out a window somewhere?” “I’m afraid that will not do,” the figure said as he quickly snatched up the frog bamboo fountain/pond that Paul gifted him for Christmas. “Put my damn fountain down. I’ve got find that thing's spot yet, you freakin’ Russian side show clown!” “Good, you are interested in this object. It will serve the purpose of getting you out of this room.” “Hey, hey. Let’s not go nuts here.” “We’ll see who goes nuts. And I’m sure you’ll be the nuts when it is all over.” “What does that mean?” “You’ll soon see. If you want this water mover, find me in the campus,” The figure cackled, as ominous hooded figures do before they disappear into thin air. The Hoff stood in perplexed amazement. And this time he had a reason. “I was gonna put a beta fish in that fountain.” The Hoff looked around, and thought a moment of what course of action to take at this point. After short debate, he knew what should be the first course of action. And with that, he laid down for a nap. TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR PART 2 OF THREE, (being the second part of the three part triolgy that is divided into three sections, the following having been the first.)
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Some test I found
		07:53pm 15/12/2002
	[ Name ]: Mike "the Hoff" Hoff [ Born in ]: Shelbyville, Indiana [ Resides in ]: Flint Village Apts. [ Good student? ]:Not on paper [ Eyes ]: green/blue [ Hair ]: brown [ Shoe size ]: 13 (oh yeah) Last time you.. [ Had a nightmare ]: It's all fuzzy [ Said "I love you" and meant it ]: Either my family or Liz [ Ate at McDonald's ]: Last time I went to the comic shop. [ Dyed your hair ]: I shudder to think [ Brushed your hair ]: I only have a comb, not a brush. [ Washed your hair ]: When I worke up today at 4 pm. You heard me. [ Cried ]: Funeral [ Called someone ]: some time last week [ Smiled ]: Not quite sure [ Laughed ]: Today is pretty fuzzy, from waking up late. Maybe yesterday. [ Talked to an ex ]: Many months ago. Do You... [ Smoke? ]: Tried it once so that I can do on a need to basis. [ Do drugs? ]: Not to my knowledge. [ Have sex? ]: People have more opinions on my sex life than I do. [ Sleep with stuffed animals? ]: When I was a kid I had a bear named Pokey. He now has a more useful function residing on my speaker at home. [ Have a dream that keeps coming back?]: Not really. Though some feel like they're repeats. [ Play an instrument? ]: Tenor Saxophone. Saxophone being the greatest wind instrument ever invented. By a German, no less. [ Believe there is life on other planets? ]: Wouldn't suprise me. [ Remember your first love? ]: Love is a fickle and abstract concept. [ Still love him/her? ]: I have destroyed my ability to answer this question with my last response. [ Read the newspaper? ]: As I find it. [ Have any straight friends? ]: Well, Chip is straight. (reworded version of Chip's response.) Skurski is straight enough to withstand gay people hitting on him. And Paul is definately about the ladies. I mean lady. I mean, Angela. [ Consider love a mistake? ]: I've considered chasing after certain women a waste of time. I mean, come on, I could have been taking naps instead of talking to them, or writing a book instead of stuff for them, or thinking about Battletech or class or something instead of them (Liz, this doesn't apply to you.) [ Like the taste of alcohol? ]: Beer makes me want to vomit on contact. But I loves a good Sex on The Beach. [ Believe in God? ]: I work for him, actually. [ Pray? ]: Yes. [ Go to church? ]: It's part of my job. [ Have any secrets? ]: Everyone does. [ Have any pets ]: No, but I want that Hissing Cockroach. [ Talk to strangers who instant message you]: They could not handle me. [ Wear hats? ]: I used to. I should again. Even I don't want to see my hair. [ Have any piercings? ]: I'm not a fan of paying people to stab iron through me [ Have any tattoos? ]: Nah. But I give credit to Skurski for brandishing the Spider Man logo eternally. It will will help blanace out that Polish Falcon if he ever gets it. [ Hate yourself? ]: I did. It was better then loving myself. But I found they were both not worth it because either one requires too much energy. So I've just decided to put up with myself. [ Have an obsession? ]: Tiney, plastic, clicking figures of war machines. Yes. [ Have a secret crush? ]: I supposed I couldn't have been less subtle of the women I went after. [ Collect anything? ]: Tiney, plastic, clicking figures of war machines. Yes [ Have a best friend? ]: Several. Collect them all. [ Like your handwriting? ]: It's encoded so that only I can read it. [ Have any bad habits? ]: Several. Collect them all. [ Care about looks? ]: Only if the occasion calls for it. Unless it's good, you get nothing out of me. [ Boy/girlfriend's looks? ]: I dn't mind when Liz looks particularly hot and/or cute. [ Friends and other people? ]: No. I don't pay them, why should they? [ Believe in witches? ]: In a sense [ Believe in Satan? ]: Yes. [ Believe in ghosts? ]: To an extenet, but not the normal model of a ghost. Current: [ Dress ]: Kakis, T-shirt, and sandals. All you ever need. [ Mood ]: Complacent [ Make-up ]: No. [ Music ]: "Bubbles" from the Mallrats soundtrack [ Taste ]: Pizza Flavored Goldfish [ Hair ]: Patchwork combing job. [ Annoyance ]: crink in neck [ Smell ]: Room funk [ Thought ]: Have to write a paper. [ Book ]: "Ghost War" [ Fingernail Color ]: Clear, and all white at the end [ Refreshment ]: Barq's Root Beer, The necotr of the gods. [ Worry ]: What will become of my GPA and career [ Favorite Celebrity ]: Dan Aykroyd Last Person: [ You Touched ]: Shook hands with all the LCM people on my way out [ You Talked to ]: Jon and Duffman. Though you don't really talk to Jon, you just sort of tune him out while his voice is going on about something incoherent and retarded [ You Hugged ]: LCm people [ You Instant messaged ]: Jim Magee [ You Yelled At ]: my contact lenses [ You Had A Crush On ]: Liz [ Who broke Your Heart ]: I think I was more pissed off then heart broken [ Kissed ]: Liz. Wow, she gets a lot of attention, doesn't she? Who do you want to: [Kill ]: Whoever made our graduation requirements [ Slap ]: Several people [ Tickle ]: Liz is funny when she squirms [ Talk To ]: God. [ Have Sex with ]: Well...there's that girl who...I mean Liz. Yeah, that's it. [ Kiss ]: Same. [ Be Like ]: Several ficitonal characters who don't live here.
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A blurb
		12:02am 15/12/2002
	Somewhere out there is a UB student who overheard how a flood is meaningless against a half-dragon, how halflings should be immune to tobacco, and how Wood Elves really do rule. Somewhere there is a Niagara University basket ball player who sinks her head after returning from Buffalo because they know those chants from the band were true, and they live in squallor. Somewhere a student at Rochester University wonders what motivates geeks from Niagara Falls. And my influence on the world is fealt. And as I see the vibrations I set out through existence in action, it makes me want to go back to sleep. I'm not tired by it, or anything. I just like sleep. The moral of this story is that you cannot type while you're sleeping. If you can, seek help. Of course, it wasn't a story in the first place. So, you shouldn't have learned anything.
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blah
		12:00am 15/12/2002
	Stupid finals, with their stupid reading. Getting damned tired of it. I just want to go home. Then again, I don't really want to go home. I love my family, I just love them more when they're 30 minutes away. Maybe I just need to be that old guy in a hut on top of a mountain. If I stayed there long enough, they might build a Wegman's nearby. But what really matters is that I beat that sheep headed-four armed demon. And that's what really matters. Him and his cheese will never read their particularly ugly heads at me again. So there.
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An entry

10:55pm 10/12/2002

mood:

sleepy

Yes, that is right. I am inputting data into the screen so that I may facilitate making an entry. It only took me roughly 2, 3 weeks. Or something like that, very typical of my time frame on accomplishing something.

How wise it is to provide an outlet for the bowels of my thoughts remains in question. I actually made a 'real' journal once, but entries are about 3 to 7 months apart, as I lack the motivation to think, let alone transcribe what few thoughts I have.

Of course, you won't get jack squat of my really personals thoughts, because let's face it, this a public journal.

So anyway, I should probably write something interesting. You know, gotta sell a book in your first few pages and all that. But...um, well, I don't really have anything write now. Unfortunately, the effects of UB owning my mind have taken over. As all I currently feel is the dread of my looming finals, and work, and all that stuff just waiting for me over the horizon. And it doesn't leave me in very high spirits exept for when I procrastinate.

So anyway, look for me to be more interesting in the future.

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	pinto
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