Hellacious

Gail: Oh that Michelle could drive like Jason Bourne--then she'd be perfect. The Bourne Ultimatum, the last in the Bourne trilogy, was a thrilling ride that kept Michelle and me on the edge of our dollar theatre seats for the entire two hours.

Jason Bourne (Matt Damon) is James Bond (notice the initials) sans the sex, language and tacky special effects. Grossing 220 million, the movie commanded an intelligent mix of CIA operative chases, politics and ethical decisions.

Michelle:This flick’s got the three components of a bona fide crowd pleaser – a doomsday CIA scheme, a few over-the-top car stunts and Matt Damon.

I hadn’t seen parts one and two of the Bourne series. But there’s so much karate, gun battling and shaky camera movement in this latest installment that I’m convinced I could speak a Slavic language and still comprehend the entirety of the plot.

Bourne Ultimatum is dazzling, mesmerizing, and graciously free of arbitrary sexual tension. For $2, you don’t get much better than this.

NoHo: Fun in Rain or Shine (or Soap)

I thought I was content watching everyone else have fun.

However, once I realized I had the serene, laid back face of a mom watching her kids play in the pool, I knew I had to go in. I'm not grown up, yet.
Heck no.

North Horton had a slip'n slide on the front lawn that was graciously organized by Nate Mitchell, our AS senator.

It was awesome!

You can't beat music, burgers, soap, water and tarp combined. All that plus awesome Horton people? I'm there.

Michelle unfortunately had a Chimes meeting, but she showed up later for food and conversation.

This is the simple college fun people talk about.

The People Have, Once Again, Spoken

This week's poll was a nail-biter. It came down to the wire, but fortunately our loyal readers were quick to offer their submissions on one of life's pressing little questions:

Do Gail and Michelle look like sisters?

The people have spoken, and we are proud to offer the democratically-decided results.

YES.

(as in, yes, Gail and I do look like sisters. According to 66% of readers.)

Thank you, and please vote again. It is your patriotic duty.

A Weekend with Base (Our Dorm Floor)

Santa Barbara floor retreat. That's where Gail and I were this past weekend. Although it would take a lot of time to describe the entire event, we hope to provide you soon, dear reader, with a rundown of some of the highlights of our expedition. They include, but are not limited to:

- Encounters (through the glass) with a transient who made his bed outside the church in which we were sleeping.

- The tale of the Burning Bug (along the same vein as the burning bush, although it occurred significantly later and was somewhat less supernatural)

- The Life and Times of Dennis, the mystery maverick we met when Gail lost her ID card, a guy tracked us down, and we had to retrieve it from a Camarillo Taco Bell.

Sinners Sit in the Front

It's easy come, easy go, right? The "sinners" usually sit in the back of the church, but at Our Lady of the Angels Cathedral, it was just the opposite. Arriving about 5 minutes after the service had started, our tardy crew was marched up to the front pews as Cardinal Mahony looked on from his stained wood throne.

Michelle and I--both fairly new to Catholic services--looked on intently while at the same time trying to take in the design of the new cathedral. I stumbled through what little of the Apostle's Creed I remembered from my Foundations of Christian Thought class and tried to guess the next words of the liturgy. The real hard part, however, was when we went to take communion. Following the middle aisle queue to the front, we went to the nearest sacrament giver and stared blankly. I'm sure I saw an amused smirk on the eyes of my priest as he gave me a blessing and put the wafer in my mouth.

After we got our bread, neither Michelle nor I knew where to go next and we accidentally converged on the wine lady at the same time. I walked up to the small grandma (I'm sure she was) as she was wiping the spit off the rim goblet from the person before. Great. "Dude, I'm actually supposed to drink from this?" Michelle and I both peered into the cup until Grandma put our hands on the cup and started tilting. Bradley, who was looking on from the front row, was highly amused.

Though the communion was slightly unnerving, I really enjoyed the service a lot more than I expected to. Cardinal Mahony, recently known for allegedly neglecting the punishment of sex-offenders in the Catholic priesthood, was very down to earth in his message on forgiveness. The scripture passages were beautiful, the choir was stunning, and the sermon challenge hit home.

I found myself being happy in the fact that my God is one of....JOY! I'm so glad I can come into his presence without ceremony and praise Him.

Michelle in the Cardinal's chair.

Muy Sabrosa: Dia de Independencia Mexicana

The multicultural escapade continued this week as we ventured to Olvera St., one of the oldest neighborhoods in L.A. (est. 1825). It was Mexican Independence Day today, and we thought it only fitting to celebrate with a mariachi band and enchiladas.

We decided that this afternoon, we would speak solamente espanol. Claire, who just studied abroad in Costa Rica, is pretty much our resident Spanish expert and latinophile. She took care of prayer time and helped us order at El Paseo when we were having trouble conjugating on the fly.

Other highlights included shopping, checking out the latest fashions and looking like bona fide tourists.

The Readers Have Spoken

In a scientific, democratic poll, we asked you readers this week where Gail and I should travel next. Chicago took an early lead, but it wasn't long before underdogs like Mexico and Charleston S.C. threatened to win over.

But alas, time expired, and the winner of this week's poll -- edging out Seattle, WA by a single vote, is The Windy City.

Thank you for your votes, and please take this opportunity to weigh in on whether or not Gail and I look like sisters.

Boba with Mood Lighting, Please.

In any other city, "multicultural rampage" would do fairly well in describing our weekend, but in L.A, the center of multicultural-ness, our rampage wasn't as crazy as we'd like to think it is.


So we tried the Greek gyros and baklava, but I've never heard of famous Greek tea--we left that to another ethnicity--Asian! I know this involves quite a few countries, but I'm pretty sure they all make good tea, so excuse me for lumping them all together.


Twenty minutes down Beach Blvd., past the Buddhist temple, there is an artsy tea and boba cafe where James Browning, Marcelo Crivella and Michelle and I retreated to study.

I refer to this cafe with a vauge name like, "Asian Tea Bar" because I'm not sure what kind of Asian it is and I can't read the language of the sign. I just know that everyone in there is Asian and they serve really, really good tea. Hence--Asian Tea Bar.


Marcelo and I whipped out our psychology books while Michelle started plowing through editing and design reading. I'm not sure what James was doing, but he probably didn't get as much of it done once they started projecting the movie "300" on the wall above our table.
Ironically, it seemed like the longer we stayed, the more romantic the lighting got. Every half hour, the lights would go down a little more, making the table candles more obvious. Correct me if I'm wrong, but "300" isn't very romantic.



Still, I sipped my strawberry-pineapple boba and got through a good 25 pages of psych with my little votive candle before we headed back home.

If you're looking for a place to get reading done, I recommend the Asian Tea Bar. The hours are long, the menus are in English, and you can pretty much mix whatever drink you want. I've never had a bad drink from this place, but I'll let you know if I do because I'm going back soon.

Opa!

The Cathedral

Rule #1: A Greek Fest must never be irreverant.

So here is the breathtaking, ornate Saint Sophia Greek Orthodox Cathedral -- complete with a larger-than-life Mary presiding from the dome. We stopped by during the festival. With gold filigree and mosaics all around, it's a must-see.

Latin Lovers and Other Things You Might Not Expect to Find at Greek Fest 2007

When you go to an event dubbed Greek Fest 07, you expect gyros, blue-and-white, a fair share of Catsopouloses and Stephanopoulouses.

What we didn't really expect was salsa dancing. But considering this is smack-dab in the middle of an area of LA known as the Byzantine-Latino Quarter, I guess it wasn't too much of a stretch.

Anyway, it is a commonly known fact that Gail loves to dance. Combine that with her dashing good looks and some spirited Latin men, and you're in for quite the evening...

Gail and I staked a claim on the very edge of the dance floor, the only nook from which we could get a good view of the band. We settled down in the corner of the linoleum, ready to hear some good music.

But no sooner had the band played a few bars than I turn around to find that Gail is GONE!! I scan the dance floor anxiously until I see her curly hair bouncing up and down. There she is, in the arms of slight, middle aged man with faint body odor who is wearing -- suspiciously -- all black.

He's intent on her. She's intent on the moves. The whole scene is just downright intense.

I quickly grab the camera to get some shots, but it's difficult. There's a whole lot of twirling, pretzel-twisting and hip-swinging. The "AUTO" mode on my camera is having serious issues trying to catch the dancing without major blurring. I'm clicking away like the paparazzi, when all of a sudden, I see a flash of movement --

Gail is on the floor!

Apparently her partner got a little too into the dance and attempted a dip. But he didn't really know what he was doing. He dropped her. Yikes.

Fortunately, a guy from the crowd noticed Gail's skillful moves and swooped in to the rescue for the second dance. He was portly, in his 20s, and indubitably the best dancer in the house. He even had white patent-leather loafers. He didn't mess around.

The result was some definite heat on the dance floor. The clip above is a sampling of that. Warning -- definitely some PG dance moves going on, so exercise discretion when viewing with small children and/or the elderly.

So, it was a spectacular evening -- at least for Gail. The belle of the ball, I think she danced every song. In fact, I practically had to pull her away from one partner, who, after the last dance, was desperately trying to convince her to participate in the Greek dancing competition that was about to take place.

As for me -- for all my trying, it was a tough evening. Here I am, obviously befuddled at what my partner is doing. I think I'll keep these moves in storage a little longer and focus on videography for the time being...

Wow-level Architecture

This weekend Gail and I helped out with the AV crew at an evangelistic crusade in LA. We were designated to do on-camera interviews with the bands performing: Group 1 Crew, Vicky Beeching and The Katinas. The crusade was held in the gorgeous Orpheum Theater in downtown L.A... see the wonder...

Clifton's

Broadway St. in downtown LA had a surprisingly perky ambience yesterday.


Maybe that's because Michelle and I were feeling perky, or maybe it was the gentleman who stopped to politely compliment our smiles. Other than that, I'm sure the sunshine, palm trees and crocodile cowboy boot-filled shops had absolutely nothing to do with the sheer alegria-ness of the afternoon.

We were in the part of town that has a predominantly Hispanic population. You know, the area where walking past all the garage-shaped vender stalls is an education in Spanish music: one blares Spanish hip-hop, another salsa, and, of course, the ubiquitous reggaeton. Good news for all you students trying to learn Spanish! You don't have to go abroad after all!


Michelle and I were walking back from the historic Biltmore Hotel (where we stalked in authoritatively to use the pretty bathrooms) and we were hungry. Muy, muy hambre.

So like I said before, Broadway St. was feeling perky, especially after we found Cliftons. We stepped seamlessly from our bright skylined world to a haven with a Disneyland themed twist(edness). The indoor landscaping was what got us.

Yes, sir.

I almost expected John Henry to walk out of the dense plastic trees and ivy with his big axe. He didn't, but Michelle and I took precautionary measures and retreated to the upstairs loft. This restaurant was many things, but there are also some things it most definitely was not.


It was: a cafeteria, a place to practice Spanish, floral decorator hell, team man heaven, freakin' hilarious.

It was not: a place to feed the bears (per the sign), and, most importantly, not a place to get enchiladas.

While I proudly label myself as a "Beef, it's what's for Dinner" kind-of-girl, I couldn't appreciate....whatever was in those enchiladas. For all you Pennsylvanians out there, it tasted like someone took scrapple (leftover pieces of animal con hair), put it in a blender and added corn and tortillas.


However, Michelle and I did not let the food dampen our perky mood and enjoyment of Ella Fitzgerald's soft crooning in the great mood lighting. If you're looking for a historic (circa 1930's), woodsy place to test out some award winning cheesecake near the Fashion District, then Clifton's is your place.

Meet gailandmichelle

Here we are, Gail and Michelle, two friends-turned-roommates who occupy a palatial dwelling known as Horton 212. This blog is where we're sharing our thoughts and documenting our adventures, talking about the news and musing about life.

Check back, and check back often. Though we only have a semester together as roommates, we promise, there will never be a dull moment if we have anything to do with it.