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.

February 5, 1999

So there I was, hanging out at the M-Shop with Taylor, enjoying my lunch of bacon-potato soup and breadsticks, when Ned dropped his bookbag and a sack from McDonald’s on the table and asked if he could pull up a chair.

Reluctantly, I agreed.

I graduated with the guy, and his real name is Gary Flanders, but we’ve all called him Ned since our sophomore year, and now I think even his parents have forgotten his real name.

The thing is, I didn’t like him in high school, and I avoided him throughout college, but now that he works with me and lives in the apartment upstairs, he thinks we’re best friends.

His mom will stop my mom in the grocery store back home and tell her how great it is that Ned has someone to hang out with. The first time this happened, knowing that Ned is about as fun as an autopsy, my mom called in a panic to make sure that I hadn’t had a nervous breakdown.

But here he was, sharing a table with me and my still-just-very-good-friend, just waiting to make an ass of himself and embarrass me in the process.

The conversation didn’t get off to a good start when he started gnawing on his McRib and fries and made a comment about how much he enjoyed the various selections in the Food Court over the M-Shop’s menu.

Blasphemy.

Things got worse, however, when he pulled out his Trapper Keeper and started summarizing his studies for us.

At this point, I looked over at Taylor. She was sitting there, simply staring at this fine specimen of sheltered humanity sharing conversation with us. I mean, I’ve seen more evidence of charismatic personality watching Worf from Star Trek’s Next Generation.

I couldn’t help but shake my head and smirk at Ned when I thought back to the only class in which I found a direct correlation with life. It was Stat 101, and I used my findings to figure out how often I could possibly win playing craps for seven hours.

After doing the math, I went to Meskwaki.

My math was wrong.

When Ned finally gulped down the rest of his sandwich and put his notes away, he turned to Taylor and started complaining about women. At this point, I looked at the clock and was horrified to see that only nine minutes had passed since he first sat down.

“Do you have any single friends? I mean, we should all go out sometime. Where do you guys like to go? I’m sure that you know somebody that just wants to go out and have fun. I like to have fun. I’m Mr. Fun.”

Then he turned to me for moral support.

“Tell her how much fun we used to have back in Mr. Rosen’s German class, looking up dirty words. And senior year — tell her about all the laughs we had when we always stacked Tony Sampson’s locker! God, those were the days.”

“Yeah.”

Taylor hadn’t blinked for nearly three minutes. I had to get us out of there.

“Well, shoot Ned, where has the time gone? We’ve got a thing across campus in a bit, and we really need to head.”

“Well, all right, guy, but don’t forget what I said. If she’s got a friend that looks half as good as her, I’m in like Flynn.”

“Sounds great pal, I’ll keep it in mind. See you later.”

“Not if I see you first. Ohh, I’m just kidding. Nice meeting you Taylor.”

He was still yelling something as Taylor dragged me out of the M-Shop before she damn near broke into tears of laughter. When she finally caught her breath, all she could do was ask me what his deal was.

He’s intelligent, but he’s socially inept. He’s entertaining, but he’s delusional. He’s single, but he’s desperate. And he keeps his college studies in a Sesame Street Trapper Keeper.

And these are the people in my neighborhood.