But Lorelai looks at the room. It's filled with books, which means I wouldn't mind having to stay there every night. There's a fully loaded mini-bar with soda, candy, and tiny bottles of hooch. Mmm. CD player, CDs, and a DVD library. Oh, yeah. Keep going, Digger. Faster! Faster! Digger hits a remote and a plasma television raises from the foot of the bed. My boyfriend is now dating Digger. "Oh, come on, now that is cool," Digger says to Lorelai. She admits that the room is good. Digger wishes this were his own room, but that if he has any distractions, he can't sleep: "TV, reading material, absolutely gorgeous woman." Lorelai scoffs that she should at least get billing over the television. "It's plasma," Digger says. Lorelai: "Oh. Well." He tells Lorelai that the bathroom is stocked with Kiehl's, and now I'm dating Digger. Lorelai says that if she leaves it won't be that big a deal. If she leaves, I'm going over there. Lorelai says she'll stay, adding, "Freak." He thanks her, kisses her, and goes off to his sensory-deprivation tank. Lorelai jumps into bed and turns on The Daily Show. Yep, that's a perfect night, right there.

Rory is asleep in her bed. Paris comes home, wanting to chat with Rory, so she makes as much noise as possible as she enters the room, slamming the door, sighing, and making a general racket. Rory pretends to be asleep. Paris tells Rory that it's "late, late, late, late, late, late, late." She asks Rory if she wants to know where Paris was. Rory says she doesn't. Paris says she lost track of time, and should probably remember to take her watch. Rory rolls over in her bed. Paris says she didn't think it would go that late tonight, and that she had quite a night. Rory says she doesn't want to know where she was, what she was doing, or whom she was doing it with. She says she covered for Paris with Doyle, so tomorrow she has to tell Doyle her aunt died, or whatever. Rory says she doesn't want anything to do with any of this or what she was doing or whom she was doing it with -- "Especially who." Rory plops back down to her pillow. There's a beat, and then Paris beams, "I smell like pipe tobacco." Hee! Rory moans and covers her head with her pillow. I love Paris.