Diane: How dare he chastise her? She can barely scrape out a living. How much suffering does the poor woman have to do? She's raising four children, not to mention that one of them is Sam's...
Coach: One of Carla's kids is Sam's kid?
Diane: No. No, I didn't say that.
Coach: Wait a minute. Let me figure this out, now. Uh... Sam knows Carla five years, right? And Carla's youngest kid, Gino, is seven and a half. That's it. It works out.
Diane: Wait a minute. Gino is seven and a half years old?
Coach: Yeah.
Diane: And Sam and Carla have only known each other five years?
Coach: Right, but who would ever figure that Gino was Sam's kid?
Diane: She lied. She deliberately lied.
Coach: You mean that Gino's not Sam's kid?
Diane: No.
Coach: Holy mackerel! This is gonna break Sam's heart when he hears this.

Diane: I reached out to her. That weasel. Coach, what do you do when you are so furious you have to do something?
Coach: Well, I know you'll think it's kind of crazy, but I bang my head on the bar.
Diane: Doesn't sound crazy to me. It might do me a lot of good right now.
Coach: Well, OK. [bangs his head on the bar]
Diane: No, don't. Stop that, please.
Coach: You feel better?
Diane: Yes. Thank you. How about you?
Coach: Oh, I feel fine. I mean, to me, it's kind of a picker-upper.

Carla: Hello. My name is Carla. I'll be your slave for the evening.

Coach: All right, locking it up. Who needs a ride home? Come on, who needs a ride home?
Man: I guess we're all sober enough to drive ourselves tonight.
Cliff: Yeah, looks like you get to go straight home for a change, there, Coach.
Coach: I've never driven straight home. I wouldn't know how to do it.
Norm: OK, Coach. You can take me.
Cliff: Ah, what a prince.
Coach: Thanks, Norm, I owe you one.
Norm: Any time.
Cliff: Goodnight, Norm.
Norm: You can drop me off at Kenmore Square. I can catch a cab from there to take me back here to my car.

Carla: What the hell do you think you're doing?
Diane: Just having a little late-night fun.
Carla: Listen, pencil neck, you're starting to get on my nerves.
Diane: Please don't call me pencil neck. I am not a pencil neck.
Carla: I'm sorry. I didn't mean to call you pencil neck, gozzlehead.
Diane: Name calling. The last refuge of the monosyllabic.
Carla: I don't know what that means but I heard slob in there.

Carla: You know... Thank you. You know, there are moments when I wanna spill my guts, know what I mean?
Diane: Yes.
Carla: I've got things, one thing in particular, that I've been carrying around inside of me for a long time.
Diane: Tell me.
Carla: I barely know you.
Diane: Well, Carla, you brought it up. You obviously want to get it out.
Carla: Maybe I do, but...
Diane: Carla, I swear, I'll keep my mouth shut. I swear.
Carla: About five years ago, Sam threw a party here. The big guy was still on the sauce so every night was an excuse for a big bash. Anyway, this one time he was too tanked to drive home. So I took him. I helped him upstairs... to his bedroom. Well, one thing led to another. Nine months later, Gino was born.
Diane: Gino?
Carla: Sam's son.
Diane: [drinks straight from the pitcher] Carla, I don't believe this.
Carla: Me neither, you're gonna die.

Sam: Hi. Sorry I'm back, I forgot my bubblegum. I know that sounds crazy... Oh, my God, Carla, you killed her.
Carla: Don't get your hopes up, Sam. I just mixed her a drink.
Sam: Oh, Carla, you made her an Open Grave.
Carla: Yeah. And she leaped right in.

Norm: [enters] Afternoon, everybody.
All: Norm.
Coach: How's it going, Norm?
Norm: Daddy's rich, Mamma's good-lookin'!

Diane: Telling me that story was reprehensible.
Carla: Oh, lighten up. You wanna be my friend? You wanna get along? Let your hair down.
Diane: How about I take your hair and scour the sink with it? [Cliff runs away]
Carla: Is that a Brillo shot?
Diane: Only if it offends you.
Carla: You sound like a lady who is getting tired of her teeth.
Diane: I'm tired of your teeth and all the vermicelli in between. [Sam holds Carla back as she lunges at Diane]

Diane: Sam, could I ask a little off-the-cuff question?
Sam: Sure.
Diane: Who took me home last night? You or Carla?
Sam: You don't remember?
Diane: No.
Sam: We both did.
Diane: Who put my pajamas on?
Sam: Carla did.
Diane: You'd already left by that time, right?
Sam: No, no, I was still there.
Diane: You mean watching?
Sam: No. I was in the other room, minding my own business. On my good behavior. Trying on your lingerie.