Speaking of yadda yadda, Paris, Rory, Lucy, and Olivia are hanging out, waiting to go to their ceremonies, acting like fools, drinking champagne straight from the bottle. Never, ever do this, young people -- it will go straight up your nose and you will spend the next thirty minutes coughing and sneezing your way through the speeches at your friend's wedding reception. Hypothetically, I'm saying. Anyway, they all tease Rory for not coming out to party down with them after the Grandparents' reception. She says she would have come out, had Paris not threatened her with pain of death to complete the spackling. "Hey," Paris says, "each unspackled hole is deposit money that our hygienically challenged sleazebag of a landlord will use to fund his freakin' porn habit." Awesome. I hope Paris is back next week, just for a final farewell. Sniff. Rory tells no one about the proposal from Logan, blithely describing the reception as no big deal. They go off to their ceremonies, toasting themselves. "I wonder if I'll actually get my diploma in my envelope," Lucy worries. "Why?" Rory jokes. "Do you have some overdue library books?" Y'all, don't laugh -- my late father almost did not graduate for this very reason. I attended his alma mater and, I swear, I could feel the librarians looking at me when they saw my name.
Emily is still bitching about Lorelai's lack of information about Rory's feelings. "I mean, aren't you two bosom buddies?" she digs. "Isn't the sharing of intimate information your thing?" Oh, beautiful. BEAUTIFUL! I love them for including that line, and for letting Emily say it. Lorelai says their "thing" right now is that she's letting Rory make her own decisions. Emily, however, won't let it go, and finally, Richard must step in. She is in such Emily Mode -- complaining about Rory, complaining about the seats, complaining about the late start to the ceremony -- that honestly, it's time to put a bag on her head.