All for the sake of the Fund

Gail and I are considering starting up a scholarship fund with the intention of promoting Biola's journalism department. A $3,000 per year renewable scholarship, we hope the "McCurry Prize for Excellence in Journalism" will attract top notch recruits into the department.

Though our current funds consist of a paltry $66 (which we actually wanted to spend on a trip to Seattle), our dear friend Dustin, namesake of the scholarship, has graciously obliged to help fund the Fund, since he is anticipating a massive cash windfall once he graduates with a biochem degree.

I've drafted a logo for the fund. Comments and/or suggestions are welcomed.

Ready for takeoff

Gail has officially departed from Room 212 for a national PR conference in which she will be networking like a maniac... which means, for the next few days, I'll be tending to Skippy without her. Just thought I'd update. And be sure to vote Michelle in this week's poll. That is all.

The readers have spoken

Thank you, readers, for weighing in with your predictions as to our future wedding dates. Your opinions matter greatly to us (you've pretty much already told us we're going to Chicago over Christmas break and that we can't be pastors unless we're over women and children).

Here is the breakdown:

Michelle: Readers strongly agreed that Michelle would tie the knot at the age of 26, after spending time in the career world but before e-Harmony starts lookin' good.

Gail: Readers overwhelmingly concurred that Gail will wed at the age of 28, after a venture as a PR professional, before she starts asking "what's wrong?" but considerably after a posited elopement next month.

That said, we're currently looking into furniture that will work for the house we will likely share until the year 2014. Gail also volunteered to bust open her hope chest so we can use the nice china ... it's going to be awhile.

Meanwhile, we've got some big plans for our future together. Details forthcoming.

Mishaps in Room 212

Mishap #1: After Gail noticed an odiferous scent wafting from my beloved fountain, she took matters quickly into her own hands. What better way to deodorize a faux fountain than to pour in a cupful of laundry detergent?

Once the abundant foam had bubbled over its bowl and successfully damaged Gail's copy of the AP Stylebook, we realized that the idea wasn't as brilliant as we once thought.

And I quote: "Oops." -- Gail Patches.

Mishap #2: After the Horton Slip 'n' Slide (see post below), there were a few leftovers -- namely a giant case of Lay's original potato chips. Gail decided to bring it back to the room, presumably to sell it, but we were stopped by the words along the side of the packaging that read "Not for Resale." Dangit. So the chips have been guilty pleasures over the past few days as we try to cope with this week's very difficult commitment: giving up sugar for a week.

Mishap #3: We do laundry together, but it takes awhile before I actually get around to hanging up all clean clothes.

While rummaging through the laundry basket the other day, I noticed a cute pair of shorts that presumably beloned to Gail. Soon after I put them on her bed, we realized that this little cotton-spandex number was not ours, but in fact, a pair of guy's Abercrombie & Fitch boxers.

They are slightly anatomically incorrect, but nonetheless, one of us is thoroughly enjoying these as pajama shorts. To protect the innocent (or rather, guilty) party from online humiliation, we'll leave that to speculation.

La Reverenda?

Though public opinion has no authority on whether or not women should be pastors, Michelle and I asked our readers’ opinion and came up with the answer that women can be pastors, though only over women and children.

Thank you to all who voted! Gender philosophy is something Michelle and I have been discussing and it was great to hear feedback.

This week--something a little more lighthearted: How old y’all think Michelle and I will be when we get married.

Blah-Malah Pipeline

Blah-Malah (noun): A girl who has taken a surf board to the face and can't talk.
While the girls in Blue Crush are certainly not blah-malahs, Michelle and I are sure that both of us would be if we tried to surf. We opted to watch the movie instead.

Michelle: Often I scoff at staged movie lines that are way too perfect to be actual dialogue. But Blue Crush confirmed why screenwriters do that -- because actual spoken English, such as that in this movie -- sounds completely inane.

Nondescript dialogue aside, Blue Crush did amazing things with underwater camera work. I even watched the special features to find how they got those breathtaking shots from inside the tube.

But overall, this surfer-chick flick -- and the heroine's improbable rendezvous-turned-relationship with a chiseled NFL quarterback -- is about as shallow as a tidepool.

Gail : Oh that I could have arms like Kate Bosworth. Blue Crush tries to provide enough glamor footage of four bodacious surfer girls to make up for lack of a substantial story line. The beautiful surf, cool camera angles and suspenseful surfing sequences almost pulled it off, but sorry guys, it was just too predictable.
Anne Marie (Kate Bosworth) surfs Hawaii's coast at dawn, works as a housekeeping maid by day and....eventually sells her soul to a rich NFL dude at night. Trouble arises when her sister, Penny, skips school and hangs out with the wrong crowd. Anne Marie tries to correct her sister's life while she herself tries to decide what to do with hers. If hot girls in bikinis and oh-so-clique “do what you were born to do” dialogue does it for you, then go rent this 2002 movie. (Grimace alert: Beware of obese, speedo-clad men)