Gilmore Girls
Twenty-One Is The Loneliest Number

Episode Report Card
Al Lowe: B+ | 1 USERS: A+
YOU GRADE IT
Madeleine Albright. In Bed.

Rory is asleep in her old room in Stars Hollow. Ah, because she's dreaming. And in the dream, she is reenacting this scene (you're welcome, I looked it up) from Season 1 when she turned sixteen, except this time, her mom is Madeleine Albright. The former U.S. Secretary of State climbs in bed with Rory Gilmore. Well, everybody else seems to be doing it these days...oh, just kidding. How awesome is this? Albright is one fantastic lady -- what a coup for this show -- and doesn't do too bad a job as an actress, either. How I wish at the end of that scene, though, she had turned to Rory and said: "Now, get your ass back to Yale and stop whining and mumbling and having sex with the twerp. Do you think I became the mofo-ing Secretary of State by quitting every time someone had the audacity to suggest that I wasn't the embodiment of perfection? I fled Nazi persecution! I have a PhD from Columbia! I speak five languages! AND, I was all up in the middle of that whole Bosnian Serb thing that no one understands to this day! Plan a party for THAT." Alas, that is not what happens. Instead, we see Rory start awake, Logan at her side, and pout, probably realizing that her actual mom, though not a member of both the Carter and Clinton administrations, is not too shabby.

Lorelai walks across the square and runs into Babette and Morey coming from their Halloween shopping. They will be hanging Morey once again this year, and Babette is clearly disappointed to learn that Lorelai will only be hanging caramel apples from the trees, like she always does. "Not very scary," Babette says. Lorelai comments that, to a diabetic, dangling caramel apples might be downright terrifying.

At the pool house, Rory and Logan are (avert your eyes!) MAKING OUT on the couch. Actually, they are having a threeway with her Birkin Bag, and are interrupted when Emily knocks at the door. She sends Rory off to look for something in the bedroom so that she can surreptitiously ask Logan whether he has made any special plans for Rory's birthday. I must stop here to comment on Logan's jacket, which features a frayed collar and lapels and looks like he dug it out of the Oliver Twist costume trunk down at the community theater playhouse. Anyway, he raises his eyebrows, saying he has made no plans, and it's clear that he has planned nothing, because he didn't even know it was about to be Rory's birthday. Emily barely waits for Rory to emerge from the bedroom before asking how she would feel about a birthday party to be held at the house. Rory reluctantly agrees to a party, and Emily leaves, beaming about Rory turning twenty-one and ordering the youngsters to get back to whatever they were doing. "Hey," Rory smirks, taking Logan by the arm and leading him back to the sofa. "Grandma says." Logan can't believe Rory hadn't told him about the birthday, but she shrugs it off, saying she's just not that excited about it. Finally, it comes out that she's bummed, remembering her legendary plans with her mom. "My mom and I have been planning for my twenty-first birthday since...well, my first memory is kindergarten," she says, "but I have a feeling she was talking about it before then." Cute, but strange, seeing as how Lorelai wasn't even twenty-one herself when Rory went to kindergarten. Rory explains the whole scheme to Logan exactly as Lorelai explained it to Luke. "It was a pretty big thing," she says, "and now we're not talking and it's not going to happen." Logan says he knows she misses her mom, though the concept is a little hard for him to grasp, and he sweetly offers to take her to Atlantic City himself. ["Because he doesn't really understand her!" -- Wing Chun] She declines, saying that a party will be fine, and they celebrate by making out all over again. I miss making out on couches, man. Don't you? That is some fun, right there. Not that I'd ever make out on the couch with Brent Bracknell in the den while my parents were like ten feet away in the living room, or anything. I totally never did that. Repeatedly, every weekend for three years.

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