At Lorelai's house, Chris is dropping Gigi off for babysitting. He has to call her in from the yard, where she is chasing a cat that Lorelai warns him scratches, bites, and sprays. When she comes to the door and Chris suggests that she give Lorelai a hug hello, she SCREAMS no, throws her coat on the floor, and runs to the television. Chris asks her please to come back and pick up her jacket, but of course she doesn't and he doesn't go and snatch her by her pigtails to come back and do it. Lorelai uncomfortably bends to pick it up, instead, and Chris thanks her for watching his terrible kid. Lorelai says she's looking forward to it. She's found all sorts of games to play, including parts of both Candyland and Battleship. "Which I figure," she says, "we can mix together to form a fabulous new game, Candyship Battleland. War never tasted so good!" HA! Awesome. Not awesome: Gigi, who is already watching TV, and shushes Lorelai when she comes over to sit with her. "Oh, Full House," Lorelai says. "You know, I think the Olsen twins weigh less now than they did on that show." Gigi -- who is supposed to be three, but looks five -- gives Lorelai the glare of death. "Right," Lorelai says. "I get it. I don't like it when people talk to me while I'm watching TV, either."
Honor and the bridesmaids are all dressed and hairdo-ed now, back in the dressing room. A word about the bridesmaids' dresses: awful. Lavender? COME ON. If it's cold enough outside to wear a coat, ain't nobody should be wearing lavender, I don't care if you live in Alaska. I'm talking San Antonio prom awful, here, with these dresses. There are bows. And everyone's hair is PURE '93. Blah. Rory listens as Honor freaks out for a moment about suddenly feeling that the institution of marriage is totally archaic and insane: "Legally binding one woman with one man until they die? It's perverse! Why am I doing this?" Hey, baby, it's only perverse if you're doin' it right, you know what I'm sayin'? The biddies calm her down, reminding her that she loves Josh. She sighs, remembering Josh, and then announces that her slingback is not properly slung back. The drunkest bridesmaid, Walker -- whose hair is styled in a Farrah Fawcett tribute that would make any upstanding drag queen cringe with embarrassment -- lurches down to fix it, nearly spilling champagne on the bride's dress in the process. Honor asks Rory, her designated dresser, to step in, which she happily does. The rest of the 'maids take this opportunity to warn Rory of the handsy dignitaries who will be attending the wedding. The ambassador from Luxembourg, in particular, and a certain red-faced poet who just did a translation of the Bhagavad Gita. "He acts like he's gay," the sole brunette among them warns, "but it's such a ruse. Total perv." Rory nods, memorizing these notes. "Poet, red face. Not gay. Bhagavad Gita. Perv. Got it." Another side note: are we supposed to think these girls are in their mid-twenties? Because, they ain't. They make Rory look twelve.