Looking up in an open-mouthed haze, I admit that I just dipped my toe, oh-so-carefully at first, into spoilers for the upcoming Gilmore Girls season after determinedly looking in the other direction for months, now. Gobbled them up greedily until I am exhausted and lost. What's my name again? Where am I? Is this the televisional equivalent of sneaking down to your parents' liquor cabinet in the middle of the night?
Ohrrrr...I did care. I did care, I did. I still DO! Shit. Everything that's happened recently has conspired to kill my love, but yet it will not die! What if...what if next season is good? May I hope? Is it wrong to hope?
And I just don't think we're done seeing Scott Patterson without his shirt yet. There's got to be an erudite, well-written, witty way to make that happen, yes? More than once a season?
I think I'm going to be hungover tomorrow.