Carla: Yeah, I got to hand it to you guys: You are good. Not in the ballpark of Nick Tortelli, though.
Norm: Yeah?
Carla: Now, that was a hairy man. Yeah, you know, the first time I saw him naked, I couldn't even tell he was naked. But then who would've expected it at a Bob's Big Boy?

Kelly: I can't believe it!
Woody: Oh, wait, Kelly. It's not what it looks like.
Kelly: Don't make excuses, Woody. Now I see what's going on. You're busy every night and you won't tell me why. I walk in here and find the two of you kissing in the back room of a bar. It all adds up... You're in a play and you didn't even tell me!
Woody: Wait! Maybe I was just cheating on you!

Frasier: Sam? Sam, get this. Who do you think I look like with my beard this way?
Sam: Oh. Well, that's easy. You look like that little guy on the cans of deviled ham.
Frasier: No, no. Sigmund Freud, the father of modern psychoanalysis and one of the greatest minds of the 20th century.
Sam: He gave all that up to sell deviled ham?
Frasier: The man had to live. You know, lately, when I'm in my office taking notes about some patient who's pouring his guts out, I imagine I'm Dr. Freud and I'm back in Vienna, hobnobbing with the great minds of the era, exchanging quips with Jung, developing the original theories of psychoanalysis. Before I know it, the hour's up. I've discovered I haven't even listened to a single thing the patient's been saying. It makes a nice change.