NEW NOTE ADDED 7/22
Um, I don't really feel the feelings I express further down to Anon. The only reason I kept it is because it REALLY amuses me. A lot. So don't think anything of it. Think of it as, "Oh, another one of Hanna's meaningless rants."
Second chapter now. Prepare for some mean-Muffin, something you don't encounter usually.
Anon! Hey, you! Yeah, you. What kind of name is 'Anon' anyway, for starters? Too lazy too type 'Anonymous' out? And yes, it's possible, I just spelled it without spell check. My God, it's just five extra freakin' letters. Who do you think you are anyhow? I LIKE my rambling and I LIKE my so-called "cute-sy author's notes!" I like talking, mkay? And if you were a true Gilmore fan you would too. And the "endless shout-outs," as you call them, are FUN. I like to write them. People like to read them. And it is just not the same in an email. If you're so annoyed by them, just skip it to read the story! That's easy, isn't it? Not too much strain on your wrist. I promise you won't get carpal tunnel from clicking the damn mouse a couple of times. But apparently you couldn't even do that. My story "looks like it might be good"? What is that crap? Do you just open fics to glance at them and find out immediately what is wrong without even looking at the WRITING just so you can insult the author? I will do exactly what I damn please and you cannot STOP me. All you do, actually, is drive me to write longer and CUTE-SIER author's notes (whatever the hell cute-sy is. And you don't need that hyphen. Just 'cutesy' will suffice). Constructive criticism usually involves some actual advice. And telling me to cut my precious author's notes out from my fic definitely does not count as constructive in my book. Just so you know, you are the first person to ever have displayed negative responses towards my author's notes. Most people actually say that they read my stories partly because of my a/n's. And sure, maybe I'm scaring you away. But if you don't appreciate my ranting then, frankly, I don't want you here. – sticks out tongue- So just stick that criticism where the sun don't shine, little Anon.
Yeah, I can be mean. Don't provoke me.
Mkay, people, I have no guidelines for this story at all. You know, some people have an outline or even everything typed up beforehand. None of my stories have had that, though. My teachers always drilled into my brain that you should never, under ANY circumstances, write without brainstorming first. Well, I'm a bad listener. So the point of me telling you this is that I accept every suggestion and all suggestions freely and take them into serious consideration.
Oh, and happy dance time. This chapter's longer than the norm. To make up for my mad ranting a/n to irritate Anon.
Oh, and just for reference points, I have actually seen Casablanca. Actually, I have a Casablanca lunchbox. Don't even ask about that one.
Totaltvjunkie: You know what I've realized? The longest reviews I ever get barely have anything about my actual fan fic. But, ah, I love it that way anyway. You know what they say when your drug gets taken away. Glad I'm back to mitigate the pain. I love that I have the power to turn you into one of those crazy homeless ladies muttering to themselves. Even better in the corner of a room in a crowded camp. The setting is much more hostile. Kids with newly-acquired fencing skills can often go wrong… look what Paris did in "Secrets and Loans." I used to be obsessed with HP too. Ooh, I have an obsessive-HP story, These two girls in my fitness class at school are both obsessed with it. I was, unfortunately, in ballet that trimester, and I was in a group with them both. I said, "Oh great, now I'm going to have to do my dance to the Harry Potter theme song." I thanked my big mouth repeatedly over the next few months, as the girls had received my comment with delight. For the first two weeks I seriously thought they were joking. I begged for the entire time to please please choose a different song. But no. I did my dance to the Harry Potter theme song. We had to dress up in house colors. I was Slytherin. But I drew the line at their suggestion of flicking pretend wands and saying "expecto patronum" and told them that I would NOT cast a spell on the audience. That was a very low point in my life. Yeah, rambly's a word. It's a word cuz I said it. That's how words get made cuz people say 'em and them other people say 'em. Wow, now I'm quoting Shane, Jess's breathing device. Low point when you quote a character who has nothing to say.
L/L r Lobsters: Sorry about Frank. I know that must have been… hard… to deal with. Hmm, you know what I just realized? The first review you ever left me was for Safety Dance and all you said was, "I had a relatively close idea. Great job and please continue!" And look at you know. I have transformed you from a meek, unopinionated little reviewer into an eager rambler. My powers are amazing! I'm such an evil person to ask about new names. My friend wanted a new screenname and I spent about half an hour trying to convince her to be cHeESecAKeLUver77 because, as I argued, it was cool in cake form. After she yelled at me repeatedly that she didn't want it in cake form, I told her to make it cOOlNotINcAKeForM77. She got very mad and told me she didn't want anything with the word 'cake' in it so I offered cHeESe(star-star-star-star)LUver77 and cOOlNotIN(star-star-star-star)ForM77 and told her that if that wasn't cool, I didn't know what cool was. (I IM'd it with actual stars but they don't show up here.) She then, growing increasingly annoyed with me, screamed at me using my full name much like a disgruntled mother in an old TV show and told me she didn't want a screen name, just an idea for one. So I spouted of a list of random items, including striped socks, pants, mushrooms, Vietnam, midgets, cannibals, and Bambi. So, unless you want to pull out your hair… hmm, well, actually, cHeESecAKeLUver77 still isn't taken…
Gidget89 (aka Kosher): Wow. Correct direction scrolling? I really am loved. I love the 80s too, and it wasn't even my decade. Well, I've made it my decade. This current decade is sorely lacking, I personally think. Well, my kosher, Most Likely to be Blessed by a Rabbi friend, I love Monty Python. But he's not a person. He's six people. He's a show. Marshmellows are the picture of innocence, besides people in headbands. Bowties are pretty creepy.
pOnDeReSqUe: I'm so glad that I am your (self-proclaimed, admittedly) favorite person. And that my Desperate Housewives reference almost made you choke. See, I love hearing things like that. I love it when people tell me they choked on gum or fell out of their chair because of what I write. That is the most touching compliment a person could give me. Those rape vans scare me too! The big white ones? Whenever I see one I stare it down like I'm saying, "Just try to rape me, buddy, you've got it coming," and then they drive away. I like to think it's because I scare them. Don't get upset that people think you should be Bambi prancing. It's actually a good thing. You can get away with anything. I mean, just look at Baby Spice. A 97? What about the other 3 percent? What did I do to lose that? Let me guess…chapter size.
Lenina Crowne: You have no idea, babe. I've converted so many freakin' people to rambling it's insane. At least three people have already told me that they NEVER ramble but I just make them ramble, and they never ramble for anyone else but me! But I am rambling extra today because of that damn Anon person. Grrrr. And squealing is not bad. It's just a reflex to blame someone else for everything. Unless it's good. Then I take the credit. Something different about me than most other JavaJunkie writers is that I love writing dialogue more than 'getting Luke and Lorelai together.' It's so much fun. In fact, some of the stuff I write is stuff that I personally say in every day speakage. You were listening to that? Jump back! That's totally freaky deaky.
Oywidapoodles: That's the line! I love that movie. You totally should see it. And Airplane, which is by the same people. It's so funny… they're both spoof-movies, spoofing stuff. Spoof is a weird word, dontcha think? Spoooof. It's, like, a fake word. Yeah, doing them all would get pretty redundant. It's repetitive. And redundant. It's repetitive. And redundant.
Rrrrrusty: Wedding are fun. I get to go to one in Scotland this summer for a person I am related to that I don't know. That is probably the best kind. But I've only been to one, my aunt's a couple of years ago, and I drank buck fizz (half orange juice, half champagne) and I like thought I was drunk. Hey, I was 10. I love writing Lorelai. Well, actually, I love writing them all. But she kinda reminds me of me so it's fun to write her. – sigh – I know I'm a genius. Hmm, you always call me girly. When I was little I used to hate people calling me girly-girl because I was such a tomboy. Girly sounds really weird if you say it repeatedly in a high voice. I'm hoping you're surrounded by people while reading this.
Lukelaiandroryndean: You might be the only person I know that would celebrate when hearing that they're someone's property. I AM lucky to be getting long reviews from you. Sometimes when I'm reading fics and I occasionally look at the reviews for it, I see a person that reviews ramblaciously for me, but they say like two things there. And I'm like HA! I'M SPECIAL! I get the rambles!
Izzpuppy: Don't worry, I am a 'gal.' Seriously, what guy is as witty as this? None that I know. Maybe you do. That's so cool you have a guy friend that loves Gilmore Girls. Major props to him because most guys hate it before they watch it SIMPLY because the word girl is in the title. It's wrong, I know, but hey, the title is not the best marketing device. I hope you sit in your room, eating Fruit Loops out of the box, and pondering which side of your hair looks the coolest. I love Lorelai's Dean impression. Left side- cool, right side- not so cool. I love my disclaimer too. It just came rolling in on a wave of inspiration. I love shiny things. They're just so, you know… shiny. I lurve cookie dough. I eat it raw out of the tube so much. Sometimes, over like a week, I realize I've eaten the entire tube. But geez, it's so good! I thank the Lord daily that I'm not the size of a whale. Gotta love that metabolism, eh?
Mrschandlerbing: - sigh – I know I'm popular. And I did read your stories… I've actually read them before. I love 'em.
Is that long enough for you, ANON? I made this one extra long for you because I know how much you love it. I can go on for longer. Don't make me.
Video Killed the Radio Star
Chapter Deux: Luke and James Sitting in a Tree
Luke watched passively as Rick sat down with a customer after previously stating he would never do such a thing. Wow. Now if that's climactic, I don't know what is. He yawned inwardly. His mind started to wander.
But not to Lorelai. Not to how Lorelai was sitting next to him in a darkened room with her leg pressed up against his. Not to how his leg was feeling pleasantly warm all along where it made contact with Lorelai's, like the little blue sparks you saw when you shoved a plug in too fast. Not to how his arm was slung casually across the back of the sofa near Lorelai's shoulders. Not to how, if he just moved his arm a little, his arm would be encircling her shoulders and he'd be holding her. Not to how she smelled insanely good, like coconut or some tropical crap. Not to the way he could see Humphrey Bogart's face reflected in her glowing blue eyes as she watched, enthralled. Not to how amazing it was she could she could still be enthralled while watching this movie she had seen millions of times.
Luke cleared his throat, trying to vanquish all the not-thoughts roaming around his head. Lorelai turned her head. "Shh."
"I didn't say anything."
"But you made a distracting noise, causing me to say 'shh,' causing us to begin talking as we are doing now, which, as you know, is against Movie Night rules."
"Shh. I'm trying to watch."
"No, you're not. You've been completely unfocused for the past twenty minutes."
He sighed. "I'll watch. I promise."
"Okay." She eyed him for a few more seconds before she turned back, settling back a little onto the sofa.
It wasn't that he didn't like the movie or that he didn't want to watch it. He did. He was just having a pretty damn hard time concentrating, especially now that he could feel her head against his arm and her hair smelt like… well, he wasn't an expert on feminine-type smells so he didn't know, but all he knew was that it smelled good. He breathed in inconspicuously, just to make sure. Yep. That was definitely a smell in the good-category.
Lorelai leaning forward to dip her Oreo in peanut butter snapped him out of his reverie. He stared at the creamy concoction in her hand. "That's disgusting."
"Haven't you ever seen The Parent Trap? I picked it up from there, and that girl is right- it is good. I'm talking about the Lindsey Lohan version currently. Man, I used to love that girl. Now she's all slutty and dying her hair blonde. What's with that? I mean, they say it's for her new movie on a prairie or something like that but it makes her look so washed out, don't you think?" She paused. "Hmm. Who am I asking this? Forget all that." She popped the cookie in her mouth and licked the extra peanut butter off of her fingers with a flourish. Luke watched her nervously, heat rising through his body.
"You're breaking the rules."
"Look who's suddenly so concerned with the rules." She made a face at him, grabbed the bowl of Cheetos, and settled back onto his arm. She had just noticed how nice it looked, lying there on the back of her sofa, so she decided to lean against it. Purely for aesthetic reasons, of course.
Luke felt Lorelai lean back into him, and he could have sworn she was a little closer to him then before. Nestled in the crook of his arm, she picked a Cheeto from the bowl.
"Want a Cheeto?"
He paused. "I'm sorry, is this me you're asking?"
"Hey, it looks like a carrot. It's small and orange."
"And coated with MSG. That stuff can kill you."
"Yeah, I know, I've seen the Teen Girl Squad comic strip." She poked him in the nose with it. "Just eat it."
"No." He wiped the orange dust off of his nose.
"One won't kill you."
"I wouldn't be so sure."
"Come on, eat the Cheeto!"
He leaned back. "You're missing the video. Don't you want to watch the video?"
She shook her head. "No. Video killed the radio star." She poked him repeatedly with the Cheeto. "I won't shut up until you eat the Cheeto."
"Stop saying the word Cheeto, you're freaking me out."
"The thing is begging to be eaten, Luke."
"Then you eat it."
"No, he wants his daddy." She grinned.
He sighed. "Fine. Give me the damn Cheeto. But I'm stopping here. Give up on your dreams of making me eat cookie dough."
"Salmonella, right?" She poked the Cheeto against his lips. He opened his mouth to object and she slid it in, her fingertip brushing his lips as she withdrew her finger.
"Good boy," she said, smiling over her internal stuttering. That was a little weird.
He rolled his eyes and took a deep breath of annoyance (whose real purpose was to get oxygen to his brain). Not thinking about the feel of her warm finger pressing on his lips, he grabbed the remote and started rewinding. "We missed stuff while you were yammering on about Lindsey Lohan."
"Ah, so you do retain some of the information I give to you."
"Well, you yak so much, something has to stick."
Just then the phone rang. Lorelai remained in her seat, now having grabbed the marshmallows and stuck three in her mouth at once.
"Aren't you gonna get that?"
Lorelai looked at him like he had suggested for her to start drinking decaf for a change, her cheeks bulging like a hamster's, and swallowed with difficulty. "Um, noo. It's against the rules."
"Oh, come on. You've already broken the rules. And the movie isn't even playing right now. I'm rewinding."
"Rewinding is against the rules too. Naughty boy. Why do you have such a problem with authority?"
The answering machine sang, "This is Jenny! I'm not here, but if you really wanna make me yours, call back on my private number, 867-5309. Tommy, I'm waiting."
There was a click and Rory's voice filled the room. "Mom? Are you there? Pick up if you are."
Lorelai leapt up and grabbed the phone. "I'm here, babe, what's up?"
Luke paused the movie at a point he remembered, Humphrey Bogart's mouth hanging open attractively. From what he was partially listening to of the girls' conversation, Rory's date with that Yale putz wasn't working out very well.
Luke took a swig of his beer to get rid of the disgusting, fake cheesy taste from his mouth and tried to clear his head of his dizzying not-thoughts about Lorelai's finger on his lips, including the not-idea of her finger a little further in his mouth.
Lorelai roused him from his not-thoughts by whirling around and saying something about urine mints, to which he responded with an intelligent "What?" Lorelai said a little more to Rory and hung up, plopping back onto the sofa next to Luke.
"What's the deal with Rory?" he asked.
Lorelai sighed. "Her date's not going too good. The guy is sitting on the same side as her and she's all nervous because, you know, she's never really dated before. I mean, she's gone on dates, but that's a very different thing than dating dating. Dating and going on dates are worlds apart, though they may seem the same to the untrained eye."
"Too well, you mean."
"What?"
"You said 'too good.' That's incorrect grammar."
"Well, excuse me for thinking I could get away with it around Luke, grammar police."
"No one can get away with that kind of thing."
Lorelai grinned at him. "Except Devo."
He rolled his eyes and took a sip of beer. "What if she said there was a draft?" he said suddenly. "Like, the air is hitting her so she can move to the other side."
She stared at him. "That's perfect!" She stood, grabbed the phone, and called Rory back, quickly explaining Luke's idea to Rory. "Mkay. Yeah, later." She sat back down with Luke. "She says thanks."
He sighed. "God, I hate dating. I've always hated dating, even when I was a kid. I never understood those people who got a thrill out dating. It's time-consuming and nerve-wracking and pretty pointless. You dress up and pay for someone else you barely know who eats like a pig and talks incessantly about her ex-boyfriend's bad toilet seat habits and her dream of meeting James Spader because wasn't he just the sexiest in Pretty in Pink."
"Okay, Dennis Miller, let's ration the ranting a little." She giggled suddenly. "I can't believe I heard Luke say James Spader was sexy."
"Not me personally, I was speaking metaphorically."
"Sure, sure. What did you think of him in Boston Legal? Ooh, do you have pictures of him taped on your ceiling and you blow him a kiss every night?"
"I didn't say he was sexy!"
"Now, I have a very important question- do you find him sexier now, in the legal suits and whatnot, or in the mid-80s with those sunglasses?"
"You're cruel."
"I'm sarcastic," she corrected, flashing him a gorgeous smile. "That's what makes me so charming. But seriously, dating's the only way to get to know someone."
"No. There's the gut."
"Like the spleen and stuff?"
"No. It's like an instinct. I can tell immediately who I'm comfortable with and who I'm not. I feel it here, I felt it with Nicole and Rachel."
She smiled at him, a genuine smile. "Ah. You've got the gut thing. That's nice."
"It's knowing someone will let you be who you are and won't try to change you," he explained.
"I've kinda got that too," she mused. "I was comfortable with Max and Chris, and then Sookie and… you."
He smiled into her eyes momentarily, their gazes locking. Surprisingly, they didn't look away. "We've got the gut."
"That's always nice to know." She smiled at him for a little bit longer. Their friendship had shifted over the years from coffee-coffee-coffee to something more, something permanent she could count on. And she liked that idea a lot.
His eyes shifted away, a smile still his face, breaking the electric bond.
"You want dessert?"
"Depends what's for dessert."
"Cheeseburger for me, salad for you." Luke gave her an interesting look. "Don't look so surprised, you brought the food." She stood up and disappeared into the kitchen as the phone rang.
"Planning on getting that?" called Luke.
He was greeted with a loud growl from the kitchen and the sound of something metal falling. "Gah! Damn cookingware."
Luke sighed and picked up the phone. "Hello?"
"Who is this?"
"Isn't it customary for me to ask that?"
"This is Emily Gilmore. Who's this?"
"Um, Luke Danes, ma'am, Lorelai's friend from the diner."
"Ah, yes, the ice-man who hates the Romanoffs," replied Emily.
"Sorry? Ah, wait, hold on a second."
Emily heaved a sigh of impatience as she heard voices leaking through the phone. "Well, you answered it before. Then what would I be doing here? Fine, fine."
Then came Lorelai's voice. "Mom?"
"Lorelai. What are you and Luke doing?"
Lorelai sighed. "The same thing we do every night, Mom. Try to take over the world."
"What?"
"Nothing, Mom."
"I swear, Lorelai, the things you say to me sometimes, you'd think you were on drugs."
Lorelai took a deep breath. "What do you want, Mom?"
"Why did you tell Natalie Zimmerman she couldn't speak to me?"
"I didn't say that…"
"I was asking her to freshen up a room she'd done for me several years ago and she declined. I had to force it out of her that she had 'made certain promises to you.'"
"Mom, I just… fine, whatever, I'm sorry. Go ahead, hire Natalie. See if I care."
"Thank you."
"And while we are on the subject, is Natalie the one who told you about Sookie being pregnant?"
"No, she is not."
"Then who told you?"
"It doesn't matter, Lorelai."
"It does too. Tell me who told you."
"No. I'm not indulging this silly behavior."
"Don't make me break out into Duran Duran."
"I'm not telling you."
"Okay, you asked for it. Please please tell me now! Please please tell me now!" crooned Lorelai, amazingly off key.
"Lorelai!" snapped Emily, shocked at her daughter's lewdness.
"Is there something I should know?"
"Stop that."
"Is there something I should say?"
"Please, spare me."
"I told you it wouldn't be pretty," grinned Lorelai evilly. She turned around to see Luke carrying in the 'dessert' on plates. The steam told her he had heated up her burger. She smiled at him he walked past and placed the food on the barest amount of space left on the table. He didn't have to warm it up for her, but he did. That was just like Luke.
"…your father's waiting."
"Wha? Who?" asked Lorelai, jerking back into reality and realizing that obnoxious squeaking in her ear was her mother speaking.
"I said, I have to go and speak to your father. You know, your father, Richard Gilmore." A blank space in time as Lorelai watched Luke's jeans stretch tighter around the back as he sat down. "Or do you not remember him?"
Snap back to reality. "Oh, yeah, yeah, I do. Sorry. I just thought you said, 'Fort Lager fixed your billboard' and I was thinking, 'Wasn't it Fort Whiskey that I asked to fix my billboard?' and I was confused for a second there. But I'm back. Sooo, bye, you can go now."
"Stranger and stranger every day," mused Emily. Click.
Yeah, that's right. I used a Pinky and the Brain reference.
And also I've just realized I talked about the 2005 version of Lindsey Lohan which didn't exist back then. Sooooo, my apologies. Let it slip just this once. And seriously, what's with her new hair? I used to love her when she was in Parent Trap because I have red hair too. She looks like a ghost or something now. Or a vanilla ice cream cone.