Diane: Poor Sam.
Sam: "Poor Sam", you kidding me? Poor everybody. No win day. Upsets right across the board. Hey, I defy anybody to predict how those games turned out. How did you do?
Diane: Well, I'm afraid I didn't do very well either.
Sam: Oh, yeah?
Diane: I went entirely with cities whose symphonies are led by foreign-born conductors.
Sam: You're kidding, aren't you?
Diane: No.
Sam: Bet you did great with that system.
Diane: Well, not really. I only got eleven.
Sam: Well, the heck you did. You... You got twelve. Twelve out of thirteen.
Diane: You're right, I miscounted.
Sam: And not only that, the one you missed, you missed by a mile here. Hey, hey, there's a new rule around here. All blonde waitresses out of the pool. You don't get to bet on football any more. I'll tell you something, you are destroying the sport of football.
Diane: OK, fine. If it's so important to you. But this makes it impossible to test my theory on state flowers.