Ethanolized dude from dorm whose name I vaguely know walks in and sticks hot dog in microwave, and when I glance up from my computer screen says, "Is it okay to use your microwave?"

"Yeah, sure." I go back to fruitlessly shifting fonts for my architecture paper. He asks if I'm the only roommate here, and I say that one's gone and one's asleep.

Somebody else steps into the door frame and asks if he can borrow a pair of shoes from the former one to get back to his dorm. First dude tell him to hold on, and turns to me and says, "Hey, wanna get naked?

"No thanks."

Turns to his friend. "Well, I'll be there in 15 seconds, when this hot dog's done. If she'd said yes, it would be 25 seconds, but she didn't."

Turns back to me ("Thanks for the microwave.") and closes the door.

Wait, did I say I loved Branner? Okay, I still do. But the events that transpired in the past three and a half minutes really crack me up. Anyway, it's June!