Lorelai: Um, what are you doing?
Michel: Hiding.
Lorelai: From me?
Michel: No.
Lorelai: From?
Michel: Suffice to say, my hiding is not costing the inn any income. In fact, I'm overdue for my 10. So consider this my 10, and you are now conducting business with an employee who is officially on his 10, which is in direct violation of union rules.
Lorelai: You're not in a union.
Michel: I'm in a union of oppressed Frenchmen.
Lorelai: Oh, the U.O.F. Got it. All right. Carry on.

Lorelai: It's a beautiful one and a half mile hike, there's a waterfall around this bend here, and over here are some of the oldest birch trees in the area, a rare butterfly nature preserve is off to the right here. Oh, excuse me. Michel, would you take over?
Michel: Oh, yes. Of course. Okay, so over here, by this semi-polluted brook, you will find large scary spiders and a fascinating display of poison ivy.

Lorelai: Oh, I'm desperate for those mats.
Michel: I had been working on the mats but you asked me to shovel the snow. And now I have a blister, a muscle spasm and a neck crick and I have a date tonight, and a crick will cramp my kissing move.
Lorelai: Well, I appreciate your effort.
Michel: Are you being sarcastic?
Lorelai: Just a tiny bit.
Michel: You know that I am light-boned and cannot take physical exertion. I work with my mind.

Lorelai: Okay, anything else to discuss before we wrap it up here?
Michel: Yes. We have a problem with some honor bar discrepancies. For the past few weeks, after I have checked a room and found the honor bar intact, the next day, Toblerones are missing.
Lorelai: What?
Michel: Only Toblerones, and only in certain rooms. I think we have thieves.
Lorelai: Or guests.
Michel: No, these are not the guests. The disappearances are happening in rooms no one is staying in. I think we have thieves and it's obviously an inside job. This person is waiting until I've made my rounds.
They're waiting until I've checked my list, 'till I initial my list, and only then do they steal the Toblerones.
Lorelai: Maybe you counted wrong.
Michel: I say we install surveillance cameras, fingerprint the staff, run the prints through the FBI and have mandatory searches before they leave at the end of their shift.
Lorelai: Oh, well, that sounds great. Everybody drop your pants for Michel before you leave. Meeting adjourned.

Michel: Wait, twelve? I thought there were six. Six little girls.
Lorelai: Six girls and their six dolls.
Michel: I beg your pardon?
Lorelai: This is a pancake breakfast for the girls and their dolls.
Michel: Get out of town.
Lorelai: I thought you knew that.
Michel: Dolls, as in they don't have stomachs, lungs or spleens? And we are serving them breakfast?
Lorelai: That's right.
Michel: Teeth? Throat? Colons? They don't have these things either? Unless they are Brides of Chucky.
Lorelai: I'm not paying attention to you anymore.

Michel: Sweating all over the desk.
Lorelai: He's paying a six hundred dollar hotel bill.
Michel: I don't care. He smells, they all smell. The whole inn smell like sweat socks and damp nylon shorts.
It's making me sick. I have to work at that desk, and I have no intention of catching jock itch on my forearm because Mr. Breaking Away over there can't shower before he invades my dance space.

Lorelai: Okay, room 5 just checked out, so let's give that to Jackson's sister Adele. Put Ccousin Rachel in room 3 and Aunt Pat and Uncle Rusty in room 6. Okay, that's two people in room 6. Aunt Pat and Uncle Rusty, they're gonna need two keys.
Michel: I gave them one. They can share. It's the least the freeloading hicks can do.
Lorelai: They're not freeloading hicks. They're our guests.
Michel: They are moochers. They go supermarket-hopping to gorge themselves on free samples and get their perfume from magazine inserts. You can recognize them from the paper cuts on their wrists.
Sookie: Oh, Jackson not here yet?
Michel: No, but his family's arrival is imminent, so I'm off to nail the furniture to the floor.

Michel: I see you're making liberal use of my pink neon Post-it notes.
Rory: I'm sorry, Michel. Would you like me to reimburse you for the seven pink neon Post-it notes that I have used? 'Cause I'd be happy to if you can break a penny.
Michel: No, little Lorelai, it's not the cost that is the problem, it's the disruption.
Rory: Disruption?
Michel: Of the system.
Rory: I see.
Michel: Do you?
Rory: No.
Michel: The pink neon Post-it notes I use for guests who are checking in. The green neon Post-it notes are for guests checking out. And the watermelon Post-it notes are for guests who have altered or canceled their reservations. As you can see, the pink neon stack is now woefully out of balance with the green neon stack, creating the illusion that more guests have been checking in than checking out, which, of course, is a physical impossibility unless we have begun murdering them.

Michel: What time are you picking me up tomorrow?
Lorelai: Noon.
Michel: Oh, noon is fine. That will give me plenty of time to get ready. You know, I hope you don't stay out too late tonight. You'll be tired for tomorrow.
Lorelai: I will not be tired.
Michel: I wouldn't drink too much, either. You'll be puffy.
Lorelai: Okay, I'll keep it to half a box of wine, max.
Michel: I'm just saying, tomorrow is a very special day. You need to be perfect.
Lorelai: Okay, I'm not getting married, Michel.
Michel: [chuckles] I know that, but you are going to be with me, and I'm going to look fantastic, and you know that who you are with is always a reflection of yourself, and I don't want my reflection to look like Judy Garland, the Mark Herron years.

Michel: [on the phone] This is a lawsuit. You do not fool with people's heads and bodies like this. No, you listen! You-
Lorelai: Sookie, emergency. I'm crashing.
Sookie: Fresh pot over there.
Michel: You know you wouldn't treat Nicole Kidman like this. Nicole Kidman. Red hair, tall. Okay, then, Julia Roberts. You wouldn't treat Julia Roberts like this. Red hair, tall. Okay, then, Scarlett Johansson. What are you, a shut-in?
Lorelai: Why is he prancing?
Michel: I will call my lawyer, and you'll hear from him when I do. Kiss my tush! [hangs up] Mmm. Damn it! You can trust nothing and no one ever.