Lorelai and Rory leave a boutique. Rory's got two bags of finds ("Thanks, random temp job I totally ditched after one day!"), and swears she's going back to pick up a sweater she's coveting if she still can't get it out of her head in twenty minutes. I think Lauren Graham's got the flu or a stomach virus or something because she looks miserable as she complains about not finding anything for her make-up date. Lorelai says there are no more clothes out there for her: "The Lorelai look is over. I wish someone had told me." She sees someone wearing an outfit she likes and suggests that they follow her. Rory doesn't want to. While Lorelai goes on about wanting to wear the clothes that girl is wearing, Rory's attention focuses elsewhere. Across the street Logan sits with a girl at a coffee shop. They are chatting, laughing, flirting. Lorelai calls Logan a jerk just as Logan kisses the girl on the cheek. Lorelai wants to hit him with a rock. Rory swears it's fine. Lorelai asks how this can be okay if Rory's still seeing him. Rory tells her mom they're keeping this casual. "Casual?" Lorelai blinks. Rory says she and Logan both agreed to this. Lorelai's all, "Okay. If you both agreed." But she's thinking, "I remember when I tried this with Christopher. Ended up making a baby. You know. Casually." She asks, for clarification, whether Rory and Logan are sleeping together. "Mom!" Rory says. "It's college!" Watch a Girls Gone Wild video and catch up, Old Mom. It's called a fuck buddy, Mom. Like, get over it. Gah. Lorelai: "Friends with benefits. I get it. No problem! I watch Oprah." Rory tries to distract her mom with shiny objects so that they can stop talking about the casual sex Logan's having with random strangers.
Dragonfly. Lorelai gives the photographer a tour, looking for the perfect place to take some shots. He needs to shoot the exterior first, since they're losing light. Lorelai goes to get Michel to help. Michel is on the phone shouting at someone. He tells Lorelai that everything's fine: "Lots of sunshine!" He then turns around and delivers a mumbled threat about poking someone with a stick very hard. Lorelai offers to show the photographer outside herself.
"Yale" "Newspaper." Logan finds Rory hard at work. A man leaving the coffee shop just leans down over me and asks if I'm writing the greatest play in the world. He sees my desktop, which has this Word document open and a tiny window of Logan and Rory staring at a computer, in this weird meta self-aware moment. I explain that this isn't a play at all. "I write plays," he says to me. "Oh," I say, because that's all you can say to a stranger who is touching your shoulder, leaning over you to read your laptop screen. "Is this a screenplay, then?" he asks. "Are you writing the best screenplay in the world." "No," I say. "Are you writing that television show?" he asks, like this is some Super Sims that I can control with my words. "I'm writing about the show," I say. "I don't write for the show." "You write about it?" he asks. "Like a critique," I say. "Is it the best critique in the world?" he asks, and for a moment I worry that he's about to shout, "Because I got banned from TWoP three years ago and you fuckers won't let me back on your Nazi forums because you're a bunch of fascist losers and I can't believe you got Wonderfalls cancelled, you bitch!" So I say, "No, it's not the best critique in the world. That's a lot of pressure." "You should do that," he says. He points at himself. "I get paid to write those kinds of things," he says, confusing me. "Good luck with that," he says, and then leaves. I think I'm supposed to do something life-changing with that exchange, don't you? When crazies talk to you in movies and television shows, you're supposed to take that moment and turn it into the rest of your life. With my luck, that was Berlanti. Perhaps, after this hiatus, I'll have figured out my new destiny.