Norm: Carla, do you suppose?
Carla: Oh, no, no. No, Norm. Don't look at me. I got four kids and I sure ain't looking for anymore.
Norm: I'm not asking you to have sex with the guy.
Carla: Doesn't matter. I'm what you call a fast breeder. A man winks at me and I'm three months along.

Norm: [enters] Afternoon, everybody.
All: Norm!
Diane: Norman.
Coach: How's life, Norm?
Norm: Not for the squeamish, Coach.

Diane: Norman, perhaps I can give you an idea that you could actually use. I think parties are the most fun when you can shed your everyday mundane identity and be someone else. Back in college, I held a party where everyone came as their favorite Elizabethan poet. I remember... It was so great, I chose Christopher Marlowe because I was deeply into Dr. Faustus at the time. But I still get letters from people who loved it, Norman. Loved it.
Sam: Say, didn't we used to have a weekly Elizabethan Poet Night?
Norm: Yeah, started getting too rowdy.
Cliff: Oh, yeah, yeah. Yeah, I remember the night you were charged with practicing iambic pentameter without a licence.
Diane: You know, Sam, if I'm to serve both as a waitress and the butt of jokes, I should make more money.
Carla: Yeah, what does a good butt make in this town?
Diane: Okay, Norman, in keeping with the spirit of this establishment, and its patrons, I suggest you get totally down in the mud and throw a toga party.
Norm: A toga party? You mean, where they dress up in sheets?
Diane: Oh, I'm sure you'd love it. It's a stupid fraternity tradition where a bunch of borderline humans stand around swilling beer and vomiting on themselves, until the inevitable denouement when they raise their robes to reveal the depths of their personalities.

Sam: Listen, believe it or not, I'm really sorry this happened. I know you must be feeling hurt and angry right now.
Diane: No. No. I'm not feeling hurt and angry. I brought this on myself. Actually, I'm feeling kind of...
Sam: Cheap?
Diane: All right, yes, I feel cheap. I saw an attractive person, a little glamour, and I wanted to meet him so badly that I pushed everything aside and threw myself at him. Totally sacrificing my dignity and my pride.
Sam: What's wrong with that? I do that all the time.
Diane: Ugh. For one terrible moment I actually saw myself through his eyes. I saw nothing but a cheap harlot.
Sam: Oh, come on. We all know that you'd starve to death before you made a living with your body.
Diane: Thanks, Sam.
Sam: You're welcome, Diane.

Cliff: Norm, what's the problem there? You're shaking like a meringue in an earthquake.
Norm: My whole career as an accountant, I just sat in my cubicle, kept my mouth shut, right? Today I made the mistake of volunteering for something.
Cliff: Oh, what?
Norm: Every year, the firm has a company party.
Cliff: Yeah?
Norm: Guess who's party director.
Coach: Wait. Let me guess. Let me guess. I'm good at guessing. Uh... Julius LaRosa?
Norm: Warm, Coach. Me.
Coach: Gee, I should've taken more time, huh, Sam?
Sam: Probably.

Norm: Diane, strippers aren't enough here.
Cliff: Ah, Norm, will you relax? Life's too short.
Norm: Cliff, you don't understand. We're talking about 100 accountants. Their lives are incredibly dull all week long. I gotta do something special to turn those guys on, wake 'em up.
Coach: Norm, the best party I was ever at was in a locker room, right? We were all standing around in our underwears, pouring champagne on each other. Guys flinging guys into showers. It was terrific, Norm.
Sam: Coach, that was right after we'd won the division championship.
Coach: That's right. That's why we were all in Cleveland.
Sam: Right.

Cliff: Hey, Norm, I've got a great idea. Have yourself a hot-tub party.
Norm: What?
Cliff: Yeah, it's the latest craze out there in California. You know, your Weirdo Central.
Norm: Yeah?
Cliff: You get a bunch of people in a hot tub, you never can tell what's gonna happen. I mean, just today, I was delivering two copies of, what was it, Star Parade magazine. Guess who's on the cover in a tub?
Coach: Julius LaRosa?
Cliff: No, it was Burt Reynolds, Coach.
Coach: Boy, I used to be so good at this game.

Carla: Boy, this party stinks.
Diane: Well, maybe we should do something to help pick it up, huh?
Sam: I got an idea. Listen, why don't you go back to my office? In the top drawer of my desk you'll find two tassels and a G-string. I'll hum Night Train...

Carla: Normie, I like it. You look like the Pillsbury Dough Monster.
Sam: How come you're late?
Norm: I had car trouble. You try flagging down help dressed like this.
Diane: Where's your wife? Why isn't she at the party?
Norm: She didn't hear about it.

Diane: Let me see if I've got this straight? You want me to entertain a man I've never met.
Norm: All I'm asking you is to pour the guy a few drinks and chat with him. You don't have to go home with him or anything. Though if you do, I'll drive. I'm joking around, Diane.
Diane: Norman, I'm going to walk away and pretend that you never asked me to do this.
Norm: Hey, Diane, this could work out for you, too. You might like this guy. He's intelligent. He went to Harvard Business School.
Diane: Sam?
Sam: It's true. I can't believe your job depends on you finding this guy a woman.
Diane: That's right. What you're doing is demeaning and dehumanising, not just to me but to yourself.
Norm: I get it. You think I'm a kissy, right? It's easy for you two to talk. Diane's attractive, she's got brains. Sammy, hey, good-looking guy, a baseball star. I've got nothing. My only hope in life is to find someone with something and try to make them like me.
Sam: Norm-
Norm: Yes, yes. So as long as there are boots to be licked, apples to be polished and fannies to be kissed, I'll be there.
Diane: First time I saw a man strut and grovel at the same time.