After much study this afternoon—Plato, American legal history, sacramentalism in early Puritanism—and a phone call from Scott’s mother that encouraged him to get out more, Scott and I went to the social parlor. We played several games of ping-pong, though for me the primary entertainment was trying to hit the ball into the midst of dating couples. If their was no midst separating the couple (a thing that is not allowed here at BJU), I tried to hit them. I was moderately successful.

The ostensible purpose of our visit to the dating parlor was to play ping-pong; the real purpose was to find a girl for Scott. There were several girls who seemed to be pretty bad ping-pong players because their balls kept going out of bounds near him. I think they were really pretty but pretending to be bad so that they could get near Scott. He disagrees.

I even came up with a plan to introduce him to the hostess. In order to borrow the ping-pong equipment, one must have his ID card scanned by the hostess. I suggested that he attempt the following dialogue:

Scott: Hi. Could I have two ping-pong paddles please?

Hostess: Sure. Could I have your ID card please?

Scott: Here you go.

He hands her the id card. She scans it, noticing his name on the computer screen.

Hostess: You’re all set, Scott.

Scott: In a suave tone. You know my name now, so I find myself at a disadvantage. What’s your name, baby?

He wouldn’t go for it this week, but there’s always next Saturday.

Scott Culler -- He's still available