Rory opens the door to tell Paris she's going and quickly slams it shut. "Whoa," she says. "They made up. Either that, or krav maga is way kinkier than I thought it was." Logan says that Rory can just call Paris tomorrow. "Yeah," she says, lackluster. "I can just call her from...home." She slumps toward the stairs, looking back with her big, sad eyes when Logan asks if they're okay. "Yeah," she shrugs. Like mother, like daughter. When are these Gilmores going to learn to express their displeasure with their relationships? It makes no sense that women who are so hyper-controlling about every other aspect of their lives just hem and haw around the things that are actually important to them, thus creating needless drama. Which I guess is what the writers think makes it compelling television when, in fact, it just makes me want to throw my TV into the driveway and chop it with an axe.