03.03.04 - 8:16 p.m.

I was NOT being poisoned. But now I can die happy -- again -- because I have finally set foot in Stars Hollow. Didn't you know? I've spent the last week in a fictional town in Connecticut. Or maybe I was in L.A., on the First Annual Table in Hell Tour, starring Casey, Dan, Heather and Lauren. Details get so fuzzy when you've spent the past week laughing your ass off.

At Disneyland, the weather so convienently decided to unleash its full rainy power just as we reached the ticket line. Luckily, my last-minute purchase of the flowery Anthropologie raincoat saved me from complete drenching sadness (though it did give me a Hunchbutt when I wore my bag underneath it), and all I can say is that my mesh Pumas were a very awesome shoe choice for the day. I was miserable for the first 15 minutes of our time in the park, and then suddenly everything became very funny -- the stubborn decision to press on to Anaheim even as the clouds darkened around us, the lack of peripheral vision caused by our coat hoods, the fact that we didn't even have a map and were lost somewhere around Adventureland.

But without lines for any of the rides, the soggy toes really weren't that big of a deal. Things dried out in the afternoon and we were able to ride the Teacups AND the Alice in Wonderland caterpillars, both of which had been closed in the morning. I found the secret Nightmare Before Christmas store and saw Primeval World for the first time, with the little waggling T. Rex hands.

But the creme de la creme (or the Dannon La Creme, if you will) of the tourist portion of our trip was the WB Tour. Since there were only 12 people per golf cart, and since I opened my big mouth early on in the tour, we spent nearly half the time on various Gilmore-related sets. Driving through the entire town, standing on Rory and Lorelai's porch, seeing the huppa, Miss Patty's School of Dance, Luke's, walking through the entire Yale set including the dorm bathroom (not yet seen on TV!) and the newsroom. It was an honor to see Paris's Noam Chomsky poster and her craft corner.

Oh, we also briefly saw the building that served as the Hudson St. Home for Girls in Annie, which is partially the reason why Hunky Editor is now Mr. Bundles. Even if Heather doesn't agree, three out of four of us can't be wrong. And four out of four Hobbits agree!

The rest of the week was both drunky and funky -- and a little bit chunky, since we made four different kinds of dip AND sausage bites for the Oscar party. Thanks to the magic and unconditional love of Tivo, I now have the Jack Black/Will Ferrell segment nearly memorized. (hushed tone) "Music...by Sting." Hee!

Other than the dip, I was reunited with my beloved Chipotle fajita burrito, which I can now eat in New York but for some reason have yet to do. Dan fell in love with the Coffee Bean Sunrise Ice Blended, while I developed an affinity for their Chai Latte. Seriously, how do they make those things nonfat? Heather decided that Pop-Tarts were "God in toasted form." We had many beers Friday night at the Snakepit (where wee Frodo stopped by only one night later!), many more beers, fish & chips and sundry apps at O'Brien's and Sonny's, and met Bob and Harvey Weinstein. Not that those are their real names, or that they're even brothers, or food-related items, but they were there. And highly amusing they were.

Most importantly on the food-related front, Dan and I were introduced to what is possibly the greatest song after "Horny": "Fast Food Song" by the Fast Food Rockers. Hot dog! And thank you, Johnny A, for making it the theme of the latest Scary Go Round banner.

It was a wonderful week and I can't wait to do it East Coast-style later this year. Think of the awesomeness -- Daddy Warbucks' mansion should be enticement enough, but there's also Old Town and the orange Mixmaster. We can attempt to stalk members of The State. And sandwiches. Oh yes, there will be sandwiches.