The Perfect Storm

Kirsten to the boys: Sit. You are having eggs benedict Gruyère avec paté de foie.
Sandy: Something smells… fancy.

Kirsten: You know you’re going to be exposed to a lot of new things in college next year.
Seth: Yeah, horny co-eds and alcohol poisoning. I just don’t think they’re gonna have French fusion on the menu.

Summer: Look at her, all coy and texty. I bet it’s the dean. All like, “Come over to my creepy apartment, I’ll give you a lesson in discipline.” Be afraid, Cohen. Be very very afraid. If Taylor isn’t stopped who knows how far she’ll take her evil agenda.
Seth: Well you know she hijacked social chair. It’s not like world domination is inevitable.
Summer: Yeah, but school domination is. She’s got Dean Hess in her back pocket, front, and who knows where else.

Kirsten: Oh Julie. It’s a really good investment. And if you need help with the down payment—
Julie about the condos: I’m not destitute, Kirsten. I’m discerning.

Summer: You know, college fairs are kind of like shopping. It’s all about brand recognition.
Seth: Did you know Princeton was once called the College of New Jersey.

Sandy: Well. One kid dropping out of school and the other kid lying. I thought today was going to be boring.

Sandy: You have to keep trying.
Ryan: No. I don’t. I have been trying. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me, but I have to make my own decisions. And I am asking you to let me go.

Seth: He could be off joining the Foreign Legion. Joining a cult. Ryan could be… I don’t know, he could be taking place in a mass marriage right now. Drinking Kool-aid. With brand new sneakers. So many sick things…

Seth to Ryan: Dude, where were you? We were about to sound an Amber Alert.

Kirsten: So you want to, what? Throw him a going away dinner?
Sandy: That’s not a bad idea.
Marissa: Wait, where’s he going?

Seth: Ryan’s about a yellow slicker and a graveyard away from becoming the Gorton’s fisherman.
Summer: Huh. Yeah, not getting the reference.

Summer: Wait, we can’t text her an apology. Wait, we’re texting her an apology?
Seth: Mm mm. An invitation. I got a room at the Mermaid Motel.
Summer: You mean the place where Ryan may or may not have conceived Theresa’s baby and where Marissa’s mom and Luke got it on?
Seth: Newport’s very own den of sin.
Summer: Ew. But I like it.

Charlotte: Can I come in?
Julie: You really don’t want to. And no.

Seth: You realize Ryan, of all of our hair-brained schemes—of which there are many—quitting school for a life at sea, it may be number one.
Ryan: I can’t say the idea’s gotten an enthusiastic response. Except from your dad, who’s throwing me a dinner.
Seth: He’s calling your bluff.
Ryan: I’m not bluffing.
Seth: I would say it was working.
Ryan: I think he’s just hoping to give me enough rope to hang myself.
Seth: And instead you’ve fashioned said rope into a perfect little sailor’s knot.

Sandy: I for one, I love The Tofu. Tofuna. Tofurkey. Tobagel. Cream Tocheese. Too much?
Seth: It was a valiant effort.

Seth: Summer, your purse is buzzing.
Summer: Taylor took the bait.

Sandy: Well you’ve beaten the Sandy Cohen mind meld. I was hoping if we gave you the space you’s need you’d realize that this was not the answer to your problems.
Ryan: Maybe my problem doesn’t have an answer.
Kirsten: Sure it does, Ryan. If you keep out of trouble until you graduate at the very least you’ll end up at a good community colllege.
Sandy: Yeah, you post a couple of semesters of good work, you can transfer to a four-year school.
Ryan: Yeah. When you come from my family it’s not so easy.
Sandy: We’re your family now.
Ryan: I may not be an Atwood anymore, but I’m not a Cohen either. I don’t know what I am.
Kirsten: So you’re going to figure it out lost at sea?
Ryan: Lost at sea, lost on land. What’s the difference, right?

Sandy: Look, kid, we can’t force you to stay. But this is your home now. And the door’s always open.

Dean Hess: I take it from the surreptitious nature of your phone call that you had something serious to discuss.
Sandy: Surreptitious. Good word. No wonder they made you a dean.

Summer: I’ve got a huge mouth. And an even bigger buddy list.

Seth: Hey. It’s The Return of the Not-So-Ancient Mariner.

Seth: I came up with some other pitches for jobs with you, but I should warn you that it’s, like, wacky!
Ryan: Okay. Alright.
Seth: Okay. Ryan Atwood: Bull Fighter.
Summer: Oo! Big hat, like tight red pants and a little red coat.
Ryan: Alright, but I don’t speak Spanish.
Seth: Neither do bulls. Ryan Atwood: Bounty Hunter.
Summer: Yeah, you could have like a crossbow and a badge and steel-toed boots. You like those.
Ryan: How about Ryan Atwood: Coward.
Marissa: Oh, I think that may have been a little harsh.
Ryan: You think so?
Marissa: It got your attention.
Seth: Ryan Atwood: Fluffer.
All: Fluffer? What?
Seth: I’ll explain it later.