Episode Report Card Al Lowe: B- | Grade It Now! YOU GRADE IT All Dressed In...Blush?
By Al Lowe | Season 6 | Episode 11 | Aired on 01.09.2006
Especially since the next scene involves Paris. She's giving Rory the tour of the apartment building in which they will now reside. I have a hard time believing that such a crap place exists mere moments from Yale's campus, but then again, I have never been there. I'm not even smart enough to enter the city limits of the town where such a school is located. Paris reports that the lady in 5 steals mail, and that they have named the guys in 6 The Chili Cheese Boys, and to "take that description at face value." She doesn't know who is in 7, she says, "because meeting 5 and 6 was enough It Takes A Village for me." They then arrive at their place, 8. "8 is great," Rory says with a scared look on her face as Paris runs down the procedure for unlocking the door. There are about five deadbolts on it, and a complicated system of unlocking and kicking is necessary to open it. Rory is trying not to freak, and is reassured by Paris that the neighborhood is only as scary as you make it: "Those guys downstairs? They just look deadly. Believe me, they don't bother you if you don't bother them. When you have guests over, just tell them they're a doo-wop group."
The tour continues inside. Paris explains that she and Doyle have set up a pretty comprehensive crime-prevention system. Whenever they leave, they keep the radio on and tuned to Rush Limbaugh "so they know we have guns in the house." The lights are all on a timer and they have a recording of barking dogs that they play whenever anyone comes to the door. "You've got it all covered," Rory says. She does wig a bit when she hears a series of loud bangs, and asks if that was gunfire. "No," Paris says, "that was just a car backfiring. The real gunfire actually sounds fake. You'll pick it up eventually; they call it 'ghetto ear.'" Heeee. Thank goodness for this scene. It makes the rest of the episode totally worth it. I, myself, have ghetto ear after living for more than two years in the middle of town where, one fateful night, some kind of situation erupted over my neighbor's Cadillac Escalade. FYI, young people: when you drive an Escalade and your roommate drives a rusted out '87 Tempo...something bad is bound to happen. There's an imbalance there that will lead to gunfire. Paris points out the two bedrooms, and says that Rory need not worry about the hours she keeps, since Doyle sleeps through anything. "I, as you know," she reminds Rory, "haven't slept through the night since the first time I saw The Wizard Of Oz, thank you, Mom." Me neither, Paris. I mean, I love the film, but...well, let's just say it: the flying monkeys. It took me years to figure out what it was that had caused me to grow up hating both monkeys and birds. Seriously, I hate monkeys. That's right. I said it. Especially chimps. I had a serious distrust of Michael Jackson long before that first kid took him to court, just because he lived with a monkey. Anyway, monkeys that fly? Are you kidding me?