I have to move the computer close to my body as I write this so Ashley doesn't peer over my shoulder and lambaste me for every bitter word I have for the Gilmore Girls. This show, better understood as a virus that infests the minds of young women and slowly drives everyone around them insane, be it in their own house or on vacation until I'm soon worried that every public television will soon be simultaneously broadcasting seven years worth of speed talking white noise. I have nightmares about being bound and left in a room with a season of Gilmore Girls
Yes, I know how many seasons of Gilmore Girls exist. And I know Rory and Lorelai (although the spelling mystifies me) as the dispensers of hours of mindless banter promoted as witty chit chat. I'll be frank: it makes me want to shove sharpened #2 pencils into both my ears before I hear the theme song again. If the grandmother on the show was in anyway related to me I'd make sure she met a quick but extremely painful end. Or I hope they both get eaten by a shark.
At least it's almost over. The bitching never ceases and the selfishness of the characters is enough to vomit over. I hope that my youngest sister, who adores the show, doesn't take after any of them. I'm overjoyed the final show is apparently next week. More than a half hour of their back and forth snipping is something Dick Cheney should look into using on some detained terrorist suspects - no more than that though for fear of consequences in an international court. It's worse than Chinese Water Torture. I can only hope that a special guest appearance from Kiefer Sutherland leaves a trail of bodies behind and no hope for any sort of reunion down the road. Or I hope they get eaten by a shark.
I'm pretty upset with myself for having paid enough attention to be forced into writing this.
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