Lorelai: Rory, I love you. I would take a bullet for you. But I'd rather stick something sharp thing in my ear than go to the club.
Rory: Fine.
Lorelai: I'd rather slide down a banister of razorblades and land in a pool of alcohol than go to the club with you.
Rory: I got it.
Lorelai: [giggles] Don't stop me, I'm on a roll. I'd rather eat my own hand than go to the club with you. Ooh, I'd rather surgically alter my face to look like the lunatic rich lady with the lion head than go to the club with you.
Rory: Would you like me to drive so you can continue your diatribe?
Lorelai: Would you? Thanks. I'd rather cut off my head and use it as a punch bowl than go to the club with you.