Editor’s note: The following is a continuing journal of a fictional college student. It is intended to be a humorous and enjoyable feature about an average Joe. Though written by Iowa State’s own Scott Jacobson, a Daily staff writer, people, places and events detailed below are not analogous to a real student.

April 2, 1999

So there I was, sitting naked on the couch with only the latest copy of GQ and a smile to protect me from the elements, when Taylor walked in, dropped her Jimmy John’s on the floor and stared, mouth wide open, unable to form complete thoughts, much less questions.

I just sat there and nodded, wearing only the curious, clueless look on my face that simply said, “Who knew?”

She tried to cover her eyes but then kept peeking between her fingers. I was just mad because she was standing in front of the TV and blocking the remote’s path, so I had to watch the Ames High track team competing at the Dickinson Relays.

Don’t get me wrong, I like track. And I support the Little Cyclones as much as anyone who’s watched their basketball and football games or athletic banquets on public access.

In fact, I learned all about Bill Gates by watching the wax museum show on that station, and I enjoyed the middle schoolers lip-syncing to the Backstreet Boys during their talent show.

But I was nude, Taylor was confused and watching the 3000-meter run didn’t make things any more comfortable.

Finally she moved, I flipped it to “Wings,” and she sat down on the other couch, still avoiding eye contact — or contact with any other part of my body.

“Bet you’re wondering why I don’t have any clothes on.”

No reply.

“Well, I’ll tell you anyway while the commercials are on.”

I began replaying the morning’s events. After hitting snooze several times, I hopped in the shower while Eddie and Chet were engrossed in the morning showing of “Party of Five.”

Right as my shower began, Chet popped in the bathroom to brush his teeth.

This didn’t seem unusual. We have an open-door policy and if someone needs something out of the bathroom, the person showering usually doesn’t mind.

Although for some odd reason, Eddie always needs to clean his ears and floss his teeth when Melissa’s in the shower.

Anyway, Chet brushed and gargled, then told me he and Eddie were running to Des Moines and that they’d be back later in the afternoon.

After I finished up my 15 minutes of lathering, scrubbing, rinsing and repeating, I stepped out of the shower to find that my towel had been grabbed from the hook on the door.

I hate April Fool’s Day.

The joke got better, though, when I stepped out of the bathroom to find my bedroom door padlocked shut with Eddie’s bike chain.

So there I was, dripping, freezing, swearing and searching for any piece of cloth, when I remembered the dish towel drawer.

So I streaked to the kitchen, ducked down by the microwave and opened the top drawer in hopes of finding shelter from the elements, and there was nothing but a matchbook. Real funny.

Then I decided to break a golden rule in our household. I had to raid someone else’s room.

Sure, I sneak into Eddie’s room to steal his “Monsters of Rock” CD every now and then, but this was going to be good old fashioned looting.

After all, I think all rules go out the door when said door is padlocked shut.

Sure enough, though, Chet’s room and Eddie’s rooms were both locked from the inside, as were the three girls’ rooms. The girls secured their rooms out of paranoia, the guys because they’re squirrelly bastards.

Every blanket, towel, potholder and curtain had been cleared from the apartment and locked in someone’s room. The cushions from the couches were gone, the phonebooks were missing and the posters were taken down.

They’re good.

Admitting defeat, I sat down to watch the end of “Party of Five.” It was then that I saw the mailman drive away. I ran outside to the mailbox in all my glory, and there was my latest issue of GQ and a postcard from my grandma.

Thank God for men’s fashion.

By this time Taylor was in tears. When she could finally talk, she asked me if I wanted to borrow some flannel pants until the boys got home.

I thanked her profusely and wondered how one person could be so kind.

Then she tossed me the key to her door.