Frasier: Well, l, for one, applaud your desire to shake things up a bit, Cliff. Sometimes I think I'd give anything for a change - no matter how slight - in this deadly, unvarying routine of life.
Woody: What can I get you, Dr. Crane?
Frasier: The usual.

Carla: Hello.
Woody: Carla, what are you doing in? You're not due in for another hour.
Carla: I had to get out of my house. It was a zoo. Serafina took the hedge clippers to the shag carpet. Little Lotte unplugged the refrigerator to see if frozen peas melt faster than ice cream. Gino made a volcano for a science project in the microwave. And on top of everything else, me and Eddie had a big fight.
Cliff: Oh, geez, what about?
Carla: He had the nerve to say I don't know how to control my kids. [phone rings] I don't know. We just can't seem to see eye to eye on the right way to discipline 'em.
Woody: Carla, it's for you.
Carla: Oh God. [takes the phone] Hello. I thought we settled this. No, you definitely cannot hit him. No, you cannot lock him in the closet, and you absolutely cannot wash his mouth out with soap. Anne-Marie, you untie your stepfather right now!

Sam: What are you doing, there?
Woody: Miss Howe put moi in charge of refreshments for the book club.
Sam: Well, yeah, but what are those?
Woody: Finger sandwiches. You know, the part that takes the most time is getting that middle knuckle right.
Sam: Woody, they don't actually have to look like fingers.
Woody: Yeah, right, Sam.

Sam: [answers phones] Cheers. Yeah, hi, Carla.
Carla: [laughs maniacally]
Sam: Bye, Carla. [hangs up]
Cliff: Hey, what was that about?
Sam: Uh, it's just Carla reminding us it's her night off.

Woody: Parking, but it was my own fault. l, uh I let the meter run out while I was watching them film Spenser for Hire. [all talking at once]
Rebecca: What? Spenser for Hire? That's my favorite! Was Robert Urich there?
Woody: Oh, yeah. It's his show.
Rebecca: And you saw him?
Woody: Oh, my God!
Cliff: Oh, eh, well, Normie over here's met him.
Rebecca: You lie! What's he really like?
Norm: Well, you know, he just sped past me in his BMW, but he seemed like a real courteous driver.
Rebecca: You know, I've heard that about him.
Sam: Oh, would... [scoffs] Would you stop it? I mean, the guy puts his pants on one leg at a time just like everybody else. Why is everybody so gaga over actors? [mutters]
Rebecca: Hold it, hold it. I'm still picturing him with his pants down around his ankles.

Rebecca: Well, just have your pool tournament another night.
Sam: Oh, right! [laughs] Like we can, uh, rearrange our schedule here. Right.
Rebecca: Well, what about Monday night?
Sam: Yo, guys, we got a lady right off the boat here, doesn't speak any English. Tell her what happens Monday night, will you, please?
All: Football!
Rebecca: How about Tuesday?
Hugh: Darts Night.
Rebecca: Wednesday?
Cliff: Well, recovery from Darts Night.
Tim: Thursday's Poker Night.
Sam: Friday's a night to howl.
Cliff: And, uh, Saturday night is Date Night, so, uh, where does that leave us?
Norm: Horny on Sundays.

Frasier: Say, excuse me. I don't mean to be rude, but, uh, do you ladies comprise a book club?
Sylvia: Yes, that's right.
Frasier: Well, the salon of the '80s. You know, it's encouraging to meet a group of adults who still read in this day and age rather than pay homage to the great god, television. I can't tell you how heartened I am...
Sylvia: Excuse me. I have a cigarette going back there.
Frasier: Of course.

Cliff: So, uh, Normie, you think you'll be, uh, through, uh, painting my apartment tomorrow, or what?
Norm: Yeah, I'll finish up tomorrow. Can you have a, uh, check ready for me, Cliff?
Cliff: Well, I'll, uh give you one now. Uh, okay, pay to the order of Norman Peterson one zillion dollars! [laughter] There you go! Buy yourself a yacht, young fella.
Norm: Cliff, uh, you are going to pay me for this job, aren't you?
Cliff: Hey, Normie, look, you, uh, didn't charge me last year when you painted Ma's house, did you?
Norm: Well, that was before I was a professional.
Cliff: Oh, I'll say. We never did get those windows unstuck.

Norm: Cliff, I finished half your place. I'll be happy to come by and finish the rest of it, okay? I'd appreciate a check. If you've got a problem with that, why don't we work out a payment schedule right now?
Cliff: Look, uh, Norm, money is not a problem. You know that. It's just, uh, well, I'm not a cheap man.
Norm: Oh, a statement I'll wager has never been uttered by anyone but a cheap man.
Cliff: Look, Norm, if I knew you were going to charge me for all this, I would've demanded a better job. Now, I've been letting you slide, buddy.
Norm: If you think the work is so worthless, just finish it yourself, Cliff.
Cliff: Well, uh, not that I couldn't. I mean, it doesn't exactly take a Phi Beta Kappa to stick a brush in a bucket, slap it on a wall, does it? I mean, any monkey can do that, huh?
Norm: Oh, yeah, as opposed to the high level of skill and precision it takes to shove a postcard through a slot.
Cliff: That's enough, enough, okay, enough, Normie. I'm, uh, waiting for an apology.
Norm: Fine. I'll drop it in the mail. That way, you'll never get it.

Norm: You know, it's actually a good paint job, Cliff.
Cliff: Oh, yeah, thanks, there, Normie. You know, l, uh you know, I thought I could do this by myself, but, uh, when I started, I realized that I needed somebody with your specialized skills and talents, eh...
Norm: Well, well, takes a big man to admit that, Cliff. Glad you appreciate the value of professional labor.
Cliff: Oh, yeah, I sure do, uh... Listen, if you guys don't mind, I'd like to introduce you to the, uh, skilled artisan who did this fine work. [all muttering] Yeah, he's in the, uh, bathroom over here, finishing up. Uh, hey, Duane, come out here.
[The guys, with the exception of Norm, laugh as a monkey in overalls walks out of the bathroom with a paintbrush in his hand. Norm gets up and walks out.]