Cliff: No, no, it's a well-documented fact that the female of the species is irresistibly drawn to men in uniform. Yeah, just yesterday, some lonely, frustrated housewife saw me coming up the garden path, you know, peeking through the window, and she tries to coyly titillate me by pulling down the shade so I wonder what's going on behind it.
Carla: Let me dispel the mystery. She was puking.
Cliff: Carla, don't you get bored just hanging around here all day waiting to take cheap shots at me?
Carla: Yeah, I should get a beeper.
Cliff: All right, look. That's it. I am sick and tired of being your whipping boy. Today the worm turns. You are not going to insult me any longer, because I am not going to give you the chance. As of from right now, I am shutting up, zipping my lip. [applause] And my friends support me.

Norm: [enters] Morning, everybody.
All: Norm!
Woody: Can I pour you a draft, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: A little early, isn't it, Woody?
Woody: For a beer?
Norm: No, for stupid questions. Pour.

Woody: I know I'm not very sophisticated, but I don't think what Sam is doing is right.
Cliff: Well, look, don't you put yourself down with me, and I happen to agree with you.
Woody: I mean, standing around tending bar all day is like the worst thing a dancer could do for his calves.
Carla: Speaking of calves, Woody, was it painful when the cow kicked you in the head?
Woody: You get used to it.