Happy new year! Before I get into my review of this episode, I wanted to say a big THANK YOU to you, the reader. Yes, YOU. Thank you so much for sticking with me through this, though Gotham, and through whatever other nonsense I’ve posted in this tiny corner of the interwebs. Thank you if you clicked here by accident one time, or just started reading yesterday, or have been with me from day one. THANK YOU.
In 2015, my blog received just over 10,000 views. Ten thousand. For someone who didn’t even clear 300 views in 2014, this is a huge deal. I never thought I’d get over 10,000 views! To be honest, I never thought I’d get more than 10. I know my view number might not be a big deal in the grand scheme of the Internet as a whole, but it’s a big fucking deal to me. I could not be more grateful. I cannot thank you all enough. You are the best.
I hope everyone’s 2016 is off to a great start. Mine, while great because of my aforementioned views, is not doing so great because I dropped my phone into a cup of coffee this morning. You read that correctly. I dropped a phone into a cup of coffee.
I was sitting on the couch (fat girl, couch, etc.) I have a lap desk that I use with my computer to attempt to keep the cats from sitting on me while I work (doesn’t work.) I put the desk on the arm of the couch to go do something, and my damn phone slipped off the desk and right into the cup of coffee sitting on the end table. It could have fallen anywhere. But it chose the coffee to spite me (probably because it knows I just finished paying it off. LOL SO FUCKING FUNNY, ASSHOLE PHONE!) It was exactly like that Bob’s Burgers bit where Bob tries to teach Tina to drive.
It’s sitting in a bag of rice. I have little hope.
The title of this episode of the Gilmore Girls makes me uncomfortable. Babies. Those are things. Hey, totally unrelated side note – you know what’s harder than you think it’ll be? Getting knocked up on purpose. Not that I would know about those kinds of difficulties or anything…
Paris starts this episode by being mad at Rory for something she did in a dream Paris had. I’ve had those dreams. Once, I dreamed that my husband decided he didn’t like our ceiling fan where it currently is, so he cut it out of the ceiling and hung it over the front door. He didn’t hang it properly so you couldn’t open the door, which is sort of a problem. When I pointed this, and the giant gaping hole above our dining room table, out to him, he shrugged and was like, “It’s fine.” No matter what I said, he didn’t seem to care, which pissed me off because he wasn’t taking my legitimate concerns into account. I woke up pissed off as fuck and feeling hella stupid because I was angry over something that had not happened. Unlike Paris, I know I can’t actually yell at someone over something that isn’t real; and, unlike Paris, I was able to figure out pretty quickly why I was so angry: My dream husband had acted exactly like my real dad would have acted in that situation. It was a fascinating glimpse into my psyche. Probably not for you. For me, totally interesting enough to relay here! And, as we all know, this blog is really just for me to work out my own bullshit under the guise of “TV reviews.”
Rory learns that her newspaper colleague, Future Spree Killer, had an article published in the New York Times. Surprisingly, that article was not a worn copy of his manifesto uncovered at the scene of a multiple homicide. Rory feels like she’s behind because she didn’t do an internship and fucked Floppy all summer instead. While I think the entire “internships for college credit!” system is bullshit and set up specifically to keep filthy poors out of white collar occupations (you can’t take a 40+ hour unpaid internship if you don’t have someone footing the bill for your living expenses), I do think Rory would have been better off doing anything other than Floppy. (I hope for Rory’s sake the nickname I have given him throughout this blog only describes his hair. I mean, if you’re gonna make bad choices…)
Norman Mailer is doing an interview at the Dragonfly Inn? Did New York run out of posh hotel lobbies and dark writerly bars? Whatever the reason for his appearance in the world of the show, Sookie is pissed because he’s a cheap old man who only orders iced tea. Weak, Now Dead Norman Mailer. Weak. Do you think they made Norman Mailer recite dialogue? Or did he just say what he wanted?
At the paper, Logan a.k.a. Smarmy, shows up because his father, a Rupert Murdock-type (I originally typed “Rupert Murdick” on accident. I’m not wrong) wants him to learn the business or whatever. Kevin from the Gilmore Guys podcast keeps saying that Smarmy is “charming.” I’m not seeing it. Smarmy is disingenuous to his core. He’s not charming, he’s a cocky, self-assured douche bro who has never heard anyone say no to him in his life because daddy has money. No matter how badly he fucks up, much like Spikey from Season 1, he will never suffer any real consequences and he knows it. He’s the Gilmore version of Ethan Couch, minus the dead people and the claims of “affluenza.”
Query: What exactly are in this jar on Smarmy’s desk? Fossilized assholes? A monkey?
It must be a monkey because Rory runs into a pretty blonde chick wearing an evening gown and a gorilla mask while trying to make another “Did you know people download music from the internet???????” story interesting. The girl says something in latin and jumps into an SUV like she’s part of the secret service or something.
While all of that nonsense is going on, C Money calls Lorelai. Dude. There is exactly one male love interest on this show that I can tolerate and that person is Luke. And even he pushes it sometimes. C Money is better than Digger, but BARELY. Why are all the dudes on this show so fucking terrible? Smarmy is punchable, Floppy is a philandering asshole, Broody is a whiny baby, Max Medina was about as interesting as watching toenails grow, and Digger is named Digger.
See, that baby C Money had with Pretty Hair is driving him crazy because Pretty Hair has decided she hates children and has vanished from the picture. C Money has no idea how to raise a kid because, well, it’s a kid. I’d wager 100% of new parents bring their kids home and think exactly the same thing, even if they desperately want that kid. No one knows how to raise a kid! You do the best you can with what you’ve got.
I’ve said before that I believe the thesis of the Gilmore Girls is “Children Ruin Everything.” Yet any woman who is not good with kids are cast as monsters, while at the same time the actual act of pregnancy and childbirth is cast as the most disgusting, gross thing that anyone could ever do. Maybe this is supposed to be a meta commentary on how women cannot win, regardless of their choices. If you have children, you will do it wrong because you’ll wait too long to have them or not wait long enough. You’ll raise them wrong. You’ll feed them the wrong food or wash their clothes with the wrong detergent. You’ll give birth to them wrong. You’ll eat the wrong thing while pregnant. And that wrong thing, whatever unknowable, intangible thing it may be, will be THE THING that RUINS YOUR CHILD’S LIFE. BAD MOTHER! BAD!!
If you don’t have children, you’ll be wrong because women are supposed to yearn for children in their bones! Why don’t you? What’s WRONG with you? Of course you want kids! You have a uterus, don’t you? You have fertility problems? Well, you’re a terrible person for waiting as long as you did (even though we would have shamed you if you had kids before you were married or if you had them with that guy who ended up going to prison – make better choices, you terrible woman!) No infertility? What do you mean, you selfishly chose your career/love of travel/just don’t want kids over having kids? Kids, the most precious thing EVER? OMG, BAD! Bad woman! BAD!
Maybe the lesson here is to never try. Never try to live up to all the expectations set by the amorphous “they.” You do YOU*. If that means a midwife-assisted home birth in a pool while you chant, DO THAT. If that means scheduling a c-section for whatever fucking reason you have? DO THAT. If that means not having kids and rolling in money? DO THAT!
* with the exception of getting your kids vaccinated. Please do that. PLEASE. There’s a reason most of us didn’t lose our childhood friends to polio. That reason is vaccines.
Rory, blissfully unburdened by children or the fear of fucking them up/being too old to conceive, figured out that the crazy bitch in the monkey mask is most likely a member of some secret society called the Life and Death Brigade. There’s a STORY THERE! Ok. I’m sure this will have nothing at all to do with Smarmy and his stupidly rich stupid friends.
But it does! Oh, the shock. I have just died from it. RIP, me. RIP Floppy & Rory because this is how Rory and Smarmy, a.k.a. Tristan With More of a Cocaine Habit, will get together.
Sookie finally figures out that she’s been acting crazy because she’s pregnant. I would vote for she’s always been crazy. Exhibit A – Why so much bread?:
Rory takes it upon herself to go visit C Money and tell him to stay the fuck away from Lorelai because C Money is a fucking life ruiner. 1000 points to Rorydor! Good for you, girl. Now if only someone would do the same to Floppy and Smarmy on your behalf…