[voice or video or action]

[from_mymother]

[She's sitting at a coffee shop table.]I'm starting to get used to these vacations from life. They're becoming more frequent but also giving me fodder for my memoir and my pop-up video - when I become an 80's throwback popstar and pop-up video makes its glorious return. You know, the coffee here isn't really that strong

Comments

[still_brooding]

Pop-up video? Do you sing?

[from_mymother]

Well, I'm not a sing-er...by definition but you could find me crooning a few notes in the shower. Get enough in me and I'll croon in public. Alcohol, she says as she bypasses a that's what she said, joke.

And pop-up video! Old school VH1. A music video played while facts about it and the singers ... well, popped up.

[still_brooding]

[Sorry, Angel doesn't get the pop culture references]

I'm not sure what it is about alcohol that makes people get on stage.

I possibly get that channel...I don't really watch it.

[from_mymother]

[It's okay! He has more where they came from!]

I'm going to say it's the alcohol. Clearly you can hold your liquor. Which, more power to you.

It's not really worth anything anymore. It's all Rock of Love and Flavor of Love and Daisy of Love.

[from_mymother]

"See, that's what you think." Except, this is coming from the guy next to her. So, she looks up. "The memoir comes after the pop-up video and only reinforces what the pop-up video introduced. That, and, my memoir will sing."

[from_mymother]

"You sing?" she asks, eyes lighting up. "That's great because I'm most certainly not going to sing in my own memoir. I'm too important." She's kidding but getting carried away with herself.

"Then paperwork would've been a lot more interesting." She laughs. "That, or nightmare inducing. Where's home?"

[bloodypriceless]

No, it's-- tea. Tea, you know, you usually make it with those atrocious bags and put too much-- [siiiiigh] okay, nevermind. Just a black coffee, then.

[Stuffy Old English dude turns finally, paper in one hand, coveted beverage in the other to try to figure out where he's going to sit and read. Okay, the table over from Lady Talking on her Whatchamacallit, then. Good sunlight, clean table.]

[from_mymother]

[Lorelai watches the exchange and follows the Englishman with her eyes.]

[bloodypriceless]

[Watches the watching. Giles smiles and and starts to open his paper. Then sees she's still watching.]

Err-- hello. Rupert Giles? [Here, have a hand to shake. And watch as he knocks his glasses off of the table.]