Rory comes in, saying she's cleared out all the comfortable stuff in the house and has lowered the thermostat to fifty-five degrees to "insure minimal post-meal lingering." Lorelai smiles: "Yale-educated." They continue to try to get stuff ready until Rory runs in to say that the Gilmore Jag is in the driveway. They go outside to find The Grandparents wandering the yard, judging the paint job and casting aspersions on Luke's boat in the garage. Typical delightful behavior. I'd say it's unrealistically written, but honestly, the reason I had to take away my own mother's key to my home was not because I was afraid she'd walk in on me in flagrante but because I'd occasionally get in from work and find my furniture rearranged. It happens. When Emily is done berating the outside, she comes in to bash the inside, saying that the wainscoting done in the living room was clearly not done by a real professional. "Well, since mine was a fake professional," Lorelai says, in the best line of the episode, "I got to pay him in Monopoly money." Sookie walks in, like the maid or something, to announce that dinner is served, but they can't even make it to the kitchen before Emily disappears to snoop around upstairs. "Three minutes gone," Lorelai says, "and they're already in my bedroom." Rory sighs that they'll find it particularly impressive with all the throw pillows, blankets, magazines, and books piled up and hidden in the bathtub. "Ugh," Lorelai says. "That's gonna take some explaining."
Zach has returned to Mrs. Kim's to get her official review of his demo: "Nothing catchy." She says that there are good bits here and there and that Lane can really pound the skins (hee!), but that none of the songs is a hit. Zach says that tons of great bands don't have hits, but Mrs. Kim says that she doesn't care about those bands; she cares about his and Lane's band: "Don't you care about your band?" "I care a buttload," he insists, and says that he can't just pull a hit out of the air. "You will," says Mrs. Kim, "if you want to marry Lane. You write a hit, you become husband!" I absolutely love these scenes with Mrs. Kim the rock critic/pushy musical svengali. Next week she'll have a big afro like Phil Spector and shoot someone in her foyer. Mrs. Kim and the Great Wall of Sound! Oh, yeah, that's a totally accurate spoiler. I read it on the internet. Zach says that he'll do his best and try to write a song. "Don't try," she tells him. "Do." She supplies the formula: "Three and a half minutes, tops, and radio-friendly!"