Carla: Woody, here's your dinner.
Woody: Oh, thanks, Carla.
Carla: Oh, boy, I'm going to be glad when I drop this double load. My veins are killing me.
Norm: Your veins, huh?
Carla: Yeah, varicose veins. I had them stripped twice already.
Woody: How do they do that?
Carla: Surgically. They cut a hole in your leg, and they pull the vein out.
Woody: No kidding? [eats spaghetti]
Carla: Yeah, it's like pulling a long, slimy worm out of you flesh.
Woody: Gee, imagine that. [continues eating]
Frasier: Can you believe maintaining that postcoital tristesse is gender oriented.
Woody: Do you mind, Dr. Crane? I'm trying to eat.