My Girl's Night. By Myself.

Tonight I got to watch Gilmore Girls. This is a semi-rare occurence, because the husband hates Gilmore Girls. A lot. A LOT. Unfairly, I think, because he's only ever seen five minutes of it. But he maintains that they talk way too fast and there is too much drama and he just can't take it. (Incidentally, he's probably right. But I like that they talk too much and have too much drama. It makes me feel like my life is nice and put together and simple.) So anyway, in deference to his feelings and sanity, I only watch it on days he has class or study groups. Which means that sometimes I really don't know how the heck things got the way they are, because I'm skipping through every fifth episode. I'm like, woah, when did they break up? When did Rory decide to go to Yale instead of Harvard? Why is the grandpa dude listed as a special guest when he's in every episode? You'd think I would know these things from watching it when it first aired, but I was in my pretending-I'm-not-a-girl-who-likes-drama-and-love-stories-and-attractive-men stage. So I still don't know what the heck is going on, and I have to go look it up on wikipedia. And when you look it up on wikipedia, you lose the witty banter and fast talking and emotion-manipulating background music, and it just sounds like a soap opera, and I wonder why I'm reading about Gilmore Girls instead of the page on blue whales or Dick Van Dyke. Maybe I'll quit watching the show altogether and just rewatch all seven seasons of The West Wing. Because it's got plenty of drama and fast talking too. But Jessie likes that one. Hypocrite.