Next, Rory chooses the letter from U Penn. Once again, they are pleased to inform Paris of her acceptance. Celebration ensues once more, though Paris thinks she detects a noticeable drop-off in excitement, which she assumes is reflective of Penn's reputation as compared to Harvard and Yale. "I would say," Rory insists, "we're just as impressed, wouldn't you, Doyle?" But no, now Paris is spiraling. She says she should consider people's perceptions when deciding on a school -- despite Rory and Doyle not having any such perceptions -- and that the reaction one gets when one says "Harvard Medical School" counts for something. Rory and Doyle attempts to talk sense to her about her great options, but she's not having it. "This is a huge decision!" she says. "Law school or med school. I have two passions, and obviously I am vastly talented in both fields. What muse do I follow?" Pausing for a deep breath of crazy, she tells Rory to open the others. Columbia is please to inform her...Doyle attempts a whoop, but Paris goes immediately to full-on panic. "Paris, you're just being silly," Rory says. "It's good to have options." Paris snorts. "Yeah, right, you can say that because there's only one thing you want," she says. "Talk to me if you don't get the New York Times fellowship and you have to choose between six other papers." NICE. Even Paris realizes she's crossed the line. "You have a great shot at the Reston," she says, placatingly, and Doyle agrees. Rory is worried, but says she hopes so. She quickly changes the subject back to Paris, opening the next envelope: "Hey, HEY, you got into Staaanfoooord!" This time, both she and Doyle resume the cheering full force, but Paris has gone over the edge. Curling into the fetal position on the couch to consider her decision, she declares that their hooting and hollering isn't helping matters.
Lorelai is on the phone with Gypsy about the crapped-out Jeep when Sookie arrives to drop off Jackson. "What do you mean you can't fix it, Gypsy?" Lorelai pleads. "It's only eight years old!" She goes into the kitchen to continue, telling Jackson to make himself at home. "Uh-uh," Sookie snarks when Lorelai is out of ear shot, "you are absolutely not to make yourself at home. Don't leave your clothes lying all over the house. Don't touch anything! And hang up your wet towels!" Here is where one might expect the modern-day recapper to admonish Sookie for being such a harridan to Jackson, ordering him around, harassing him for being himself, treating him like a bad child. "Sookie," he says, offended. "I have stayed at other people's houses before." Sookie: "Yeah, I know. Why do you think I'm saying all this? Just try not to annoy Lorelai." Jackson is even more offended. "Believe it or not," he says, "I don't try to annoy other people." Sookie: "Well, congratulations, because you have a natural talent." So mean, you say? But here, in fact, is where Al Lowe reminds you that she is married. To a man. Possibly the neat-freakiest, military-trained husband in the world, yes, but still one who manages to cause some unnatural disaster on nearly every visit to a home other than his own. My beloved father was the same way -- in fact, he was twice as bad. So, as far as Sookie's pain goes? I'm feeling it.