Pants on Floor: Oh God, did you see what Mike brought in last night?

Shirt on Floor: Oh god, I barely made it in the room before those fake nails of hers tore me off so hard my zipper nearly broke off. I still smell like a Bacardi Breezer.

Pants on Floor: I just wish Mike would start getting with a girl whose clothes can have a conversation, not these bus station quality sluts. Like that girl he was dating for a few months. She was great, nothing but tasteful sweaters and khaki pants.

Shirt on Floor: Shhh he's coming!

(Mike walks in from shower, singing and talking to himself)

Mike: Somethin something somethin she's just bein Miiiiiley... What to wear, what to wear tonight. Hmm... I heard there's something going on at the frats.

Attitude T-Shirt: Yes, it's my time to shine baby! The world will remember Anchorman quotes once again! You ready, Cheap Stars and Stripes Hat Mike Bought at Walmart?

America Hat: Hell yea bra, I am ready to make some sort of vague, possibly ironic statement about patriotism. Or something.

(Mike gets off of the phone)

Mike: Hmm...looks the frat party got called off. A few dozen pledges get alcohol poisoning and ruin it for the rest of us. I hope they die in the hospital. Ha.

Sweatpants: Oh well. Looks like you should just stayin tonight. You did go out yesterday, Thursday, Wednesday, and Monday, anyway. Throw me on, grab a Coke, chill.

Sweatshirt: Yeah bud. Relax, watch some Family Guy with us.

Slippers: Ah, who are you kidding, you know the deal. We come out during Midterms for a week straight, come out stained and smelling like shit and go unused until Finals.

Approach 1: Single out my dream girl.

Tricia and Kara, two extremely hot girls, are laying out in the quad.

Tricia: Oh my god, Kara, take a look at Henry Popper over there laying on the bench.

Kara: Wow. Look at that healthy, full gut. He must be like, totally well fed and wealthy.

Tricia: Seriously. He must get to eat rich, dairy-based foods and meats, like, all the time.

Kara: Compared to Biff Ryland over there playing Frisbee, all sinewy and shirtless.

Tricia: Effing gross. Look at those abs and well-defined delts. Uhh, can you spell "field laborer?"

Kara: Haha, you're such a bitch, Tricia.

Tricia: It's true! Ew, and that bronze tan? Girl I want a man that owns the land, NOT works on it.

Kara: Ew, Biff even has that "cut V" thing going on near his crotch.

Tricia: Sheesh, why doesn't he just wear a sign that says, "I don't get to eat figgy pudding with gravy very often."

Stomach: Cool, he's napping. That's good, I need all the energy I can get to work on those two crunchwrap supremes he just plopped down here.

Colon: Sorry, gotta do my 'thang.

Stomach: Colon! You just woke him up! I'm not even halfway done with this yet. Whatever, sounds like he's up and about now. You're trigger-happy, Colon. It's not safe!

Colon: Sorry.

Stomach: What's that, Skin? He's in the shower? Sounds good. Whadaya say, Balls? He's using a lot of soap? Nice!

Balls: I know!

(splash)

Stomach: What the hell? A beer? A freezing-ass beer in the shower? Whatever it's just one, but really?

Computer:Monitor, display this document, ok?

Monitor: No prob, boss.

Computer: OK, now it looks like Mouse is moving around so, Monitor, will you move the pointer icon accordingly?

Monitor: Anything you ask, boss.

Computer: Great, great. OK, Mouse, where are you going now?

Mouse: Over to the icon panel, sir.

Computer: Hmm, Let me know if he clicks anything, OK?

Mouse: Of course.

Keyboard: Sir, he's pressed control and P simultaneously.

Monitor: Oh God, here we go.

Computer: *sighs* Printer, are you there?

Printer: No.

Computer: Please, Printer. I know you're there.

Printer: NO! I'm not here! Leave me alone!

Computer: Jesus. OK look, you really ne...

Mouse: Sir, he's clicked on the printer icon.

Computer: Printer, now you have to print it twice.

Printer: NO! NO! NO! I don't want to! I hate you! I hate printing! I'm turning off!