Rory: You're hiding your flowers?
Lorelai: Yes. 'Cause when people see flowers, they feel happy and welcome. It's important that my parents have as few positive associations about being here as possible.
Rory: Well, we could hit them over the head with mallets when they walk in the door.
Lorelai: No, but I do have this incredibly bad-smelling perfume that Luke gave me for Christmas last year that I could spray around the house. It's like a cross between Love's Baby Soft and Curious by Britney Spears, with just a hint of Lysol thrown in.
Rory: Delightful.
Lorelai: Well, God bless him, he tries.

Sookie: Okay, we've got mac 'n' cheese. We've got taquitos. We've got little bitty hotdogs.
Lorelai: Wait, Sookie, what is all this stuff?
Sookie: What? I made your favorites.
Lorelai: But my parents aren't gonna eat any of this.
Sookie: Your parents? I thought this was for you.
Lorelai: You thought I wanted to sit by myself and eat an entire buffet of the world's most fattening food?
Sookie: I don't know. I figured it was just one of your cravings or maybe just a fun way to announce that you're pregnant.
Lorelai: What?
Sookie: Well, you were saying something about being a sudden parent or expecting or being due soon. It's impossible to hear anything over that damn Cuisinart and all those gossiping busboys. So you're not pregnant?
Lorelai: No. I'm just expecting my parents over any minute.
Sookie: Oh. Yeah, that makes sense, too.

Lorelai: Okay, okay. Now, the food.
Sookie: Right. Okay. The mini hotdogs can be bratwurst. The mac 'n' cheese can be pasta à la Sookie. And presto, the taquitos are blinis.
Lorelai: And the chili fries?
Sookie: Are chili fries.
Lorelai: Right.

Emily: Richard, I've seen that boat. It's Luke's.
Richard: Well, it doesn't look very seaworthy.
Lorelai: It's a work in progress. It was his father's.
Emily: Luke keeps his dead father's boat locked away in your garage?
Lorelai: Mother.
Emily: What? I'm just saying, isn't that kind of morbid?
Lorelai: It's not like he's using it to hold his bones.

Emily: Well, well, I had no idea you'd had so much work done.
Lorelai: No, it's nothing extensive. A nip here. A tuck there.
Emily: This room's been completely redone.
Lorelai: A nip, nip, nip, tuck, tuck, tuck.
Emily: Apparently, you haven't installed the heat yet.

Emily: What's this?
Rory: That's Paul Anka.
Emily: You have a dog?
Lorelai: I just got him.
Emily: When?
Lorelai: Yesterday. Oh, fast learner, that one.
Emily: You should open an obedience school. You'd make a fortune.

Rory: Your parents are exhausting.
Lorelai: Not as exhausting as your grandparents.
Rory: That was Luke at the door, wasn't it?
Lorelai: Yeah. Okay, second wind. Now, the early-bird dinner made immediate eating unnecessary, so I say we go straight to the movie and pick up a pizza on the way home.
Rory: Perfect.
Lorelai: Or perhaps we could get pizza on the way there and sneak it in, just in case.

Lorelai: Come on, troublemaker. Put that evil mind to better use here.
Rory: Fine. Last half of Nanny McPhee, first half of Final Destination 3.
Lorelai: Brilliant. Now that is what a mind is for, my friend.

Lorelai: You're a realtor?
Kirk: Trainee, technically.
Lorelai: Well, take your training somewhere else, okay? You're scaring away all my customers. And my staff.
Kirk: Unfortunately, there is nowhere else. Trainees don't get offices. Or salaries. Or jackets, actually.
I'm supposed to be having this dry-cleaned for one of the senior brokers. Smells a little funky, but fits like a dream. [into headset] You've got Kirk. Yes, Mrs. Zellner. Right, the Dragonfly Inn. See you this afternoon.
Lorelai: Wait, you're meeting clients here?
Kirk: Only a few.
Lorelai: No.
Kirk: I promise I'll be out of your hair as soon as I make my bones. I just need a temporary place to conduct my business and potentially have sex with prospective clients.
Lorelai: What?
Kirk: That's Kirk's other thing. The young, virile, eye-candy angle for lonely widows and aging divorcées. Works like a charm. I plan on running it by Lulu, of course.

Lorelai: Kirk, get out of here. Take your jacket and your dippy Star Trek device and your creepy new career and scram.
Kirk: Fine. But I would've expected a little more cooperation from you, considering what I'm doing for your parents.
Lorelai: What are you doing for my parents?
Kirk: Oh, shoot. I should not have said that.
Lorelai: Said what?
Kirk: Nothing. I can neither confirm nor deny that your parents are looking for a place in Stars Hollow.
Lorelai: [gasps] My parents are looking for a place in Stars Hollow?
Kirk: I can't say. The realtor trainee-client privilege is sacrosanct. The manual's very clear on that.
Lorelai: How long have they been looking?
Kirk: I've already said too much. It isn't even my account. The entire firm is working on it.
Lorelai: How long, Kirk?
Kirk: All I know is they're looking, they're pricing. They've seen three gracious single-family Tudors this week, and they have a 2:00 p.m. showing tomorrow at 546 Oak Ridge Lane. But I cannot and will not violate their confidence.