Frasier: All right, let's get this bris show on the road. Chop, chop. Ooh, sorry. Wrong choice of words.

Carla: Ok, everybody, I got a petition here I want you all to sign. Clavin, you first.
Cliff: Huh? No, no, Carla, I'm very particular about where I put my John Hancock.
Carla: If you don't sign this in the next 30 seconds, your John Hancock is gonna be a Betsy Ross.
Cliff: Right about here, you say?

Rebecca: [mumbling] Why... Why me?
Sam: You want to talk about it, or do you want to whine?
Rebecca: I guess I want to talk about it.
Sam: No, no. We can't do both.
Rebecca: Corporate wants me to throw some idiotic, stupid retirement party for some insignificant middle-management nobody.
Sam: You're retiring? Congratulations!
Rebecca: I wish. You know, I thought I was through with this sort of crap. Corporate hasn't bothered me for months now. In fact, I haven't even heard from those people in I don't know how long. Hey. Wait a minute. You don't think they have somebody else doing this stuff, do you? [gasps] Who's moving in on my turf? I'm gonna make a few calls.

Rebecca: Carla, how's your petition coming?
Carla: Well, it was a little slow at first, but since I started forging people's signatures, it's gone a lot faster.
Rebecca: That's nice. You know, I never did sign that.
Carla: Oh, yeah, you did.
Rebecca: Really?
Carla: Yeah, I worked you in right here between Tom Cruise and Mel Gibson.
Rebecca: Ooh, forge me again.

Woody: Well, I feel sorry for that guy. This is probably one of the last parties he'll ever have, and he doesn't look like he's having a very good time. You know, maybe we should liven it up. I'm great at parties. Back in Hanover, I invented the game "Hide Bob's Pants." Boy, everyone loved that game. Well, except for Bob.

Frasier: Hello, everyone.
Rebecca: Hi, Frasier. You through with the bris?
Frasier: Yes, yes, yes. My son is happy, healthy, and nowhere in the vicinity of this bar. Ouch! Say, uh, just out of curiosity, you know, does anybody in the bar happen to be lactating and in need of some quick cash? Well, if so, just, uh, meet me in the office. Ouch! Damn it, Frederick, give it up. It's just not gonna happen.
Woody: You know what? I think he's got the baby under that coat.
Rebecca: How did you know that, Woody?
Woody: Oh, it's the same basic premise as "Hide Bob's Pants."

Rebecca: No, Sam, I'm not gonna let you call and arrange a wet T-Shirt contest. It exploits women.
Sam: What, you got a better idea?
Rebecca: I'll call.
Sam: What about exploiting women?
Rebecca: Well, you know, when a man does it, it's exploitation. When a woman does it, it's good business. [on the phone] Hi! Is this Jiggly Party Queens?

Carla: Great. I did it! Eddie's gonna be honored after all.
Woody: Oh, terrific. So the Bruins are retiring his number?
Carla: No, no, the Bruins convinced me that Eddie wasn't a good enough player for that kind of an honor. But they offered me season tickets if I leave them alone, which was pretty much what I was after in the first place. Yeah, wait till I tell the kids. Maybe now they'll respect him.

Woody: Hey, everybody! My grandmother cleaned out her attic. Guess what she found?
Carla: Your grandfather?
Woody: No. He doesn't go in the attic. It's a memory quilt that all the women in my family made for me when I graduated from high school.
Frasier: Yeah, I've heard about these things. Lots of women get together and embroider patches that illustrate the happy memories of a young man's life.
Cliff: So these women were, what, authentic folk artists then, huh?
Woody: No, just bored housewives.

Sam: Uh, not that I'm questioning you, or anything sweetheart, but what are we signing here?
Carla: Well, you now, when Eddie passed away, uh, I wanted to do something special for him so I started this petition to get the bruins to retire his number, kind of like a memorial.
Norm: Yeah, that will show him that people of Boston won't forget old... Old... What the hell's his number?
Carla: 38.
Norm: 38. Oh, no, no. No, no, 38 will not work. That's like the most popular guy on the team, one of the top scorers.
Carla: Is he dead?
Norm: All right, Eddie's got him there, I guess.