I watch Gilmore Girls.

In fact, I’m addicted to it in a way I am to shows like Law & Order: SVU.

It’s bad.

Wait, no, it’s not.

I won’t even begin to try to explain to you how the Gilmore family dynamic resembles the Adair-Morris family dynamic … you’d get caught up with the disconnect between Lorelai having Rory at age 16 while my parents did the whole marriage-and-then-kids-later thing … but damn if Emily Gilmore doesn’t remind me a lot of my maternal grandmother. It’s hilarious.

It’s also just a really well-written show … and I’m confident enough in my masculinity to admit to you, dear reader, that I watch a really girly show. Religiously. [Well, except for the fact that I’m ignoring the present season because I don’t want to jump way ahead. I just finished Season One last night.]