Lorelai: I don't want the whole night to be about Luke.
Rory: It won't be. Don't worry. Just put it out there, and then when they attack you, whatever angle they're coming from, I will deflect.
Lorelai: How will you deflect?
Rory: Well, I don't know. Maybe I will talk about Bangalore.
Lorelai: You know a lot about Bangalore?
Rory: Don't you? Bangalore? Outsourcing? You know, when you call customer service, you're almost always talking to some nice dude in India who speaks perfect English. Don't you read Time magazine?
Lorelai: It doesn't seem like a rich subject area.

Michel: You owe me.
Lorelai: What? I do not.
Michel: Oh, yes, you do. Last November, when you were going out of town and nervous about boarding Paul Anka for the first time, you forced me, against my better judgment, to have Paul Anka over to my home for the day so he could acclimate to other dogs. Well, not only did he traumatize my poor chows, but somehow he managed to get into my closet, the door of which was firmly closed.
Lorelai: I know. I don't know how he does that.
Michel: ...and proceeded to poop in my Prada loafers.
Lorelai: Well, he knows good quality.
Michel: When I returned your foul creature and told you about what happened, you apologized profusely and then wrote an I.O.U. on several little Post-its, thinking it was all so clever.
Lorelai: Gosh, I don't remember that.
Michel: I thought as much.

Lorelai: Then they didn't react. Not one bit. It's almost like the absence of their reaction was worse than any freak-out they could have had.
Rory: Okay. Sure.
Lorelai: Then I thought, "Why? Why do I care if they freak out? I mean, what do I get out of it?" And then I thought, "Maybe their freak-outs are like some kind of compass for me, you know, like, I know I'm doing what I want to do if it freaks them out." And then I thought, "What if I don't want to do what I want to do because I want to do it, but because they don't want me to?"
Rory: Huh?
Lorelai: I mean, what if I don't like what I like because I like it, but because my mother doesn't like it and doesn't want me to like it? What if I don't actually like the music that I like or the movies or the clothes or the men? What if I don't like what I seem to like?
Rory: Ah, hence the Pop-Tart.