Lorelai: Rory, I love you. I would take a bullet for you. But I'd rather stick something sharp in my ear than go to the club with you. Rory: Fine. Lorelai: I'd rather slide down a banister of razor blades and land in a pool of alcohol than go to the club with you. Rory: I got it. Lorelai: 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 get my face surgically altered to look like that 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 ya? Thanks. I'd rather cut off my head and use it as a punch bowl than go to the club with you.
Lorelai: Wait, close your eyes and breathe. I smell snow. Rory: Ah, it's that time of year. Lorelai: Can't you smell it? Rory: You know, it's like dogs and high-pitched noises. I think it's something only you can smell. (Rory sits down next to Lorelai and pulls a blanket over the both of them) Lorelai: I love snow. Rory: Really, I had no idea. Lorelai: Everything's magical when it snows, everything looks pretty. The clothes are great. Coats, scarves, gloves, hats. Rory: Thermal underwear, wool socks, ear flaps.