Norm: Boy meets beer. Boy drinks beer. Boy meets another beer.
Norm: We never go beyond this room.
Norm: The warranty on my liver.
Norm: The question is, “What’s going in Mr. Peterson?” A beer please, Woody.
Norm: Coach: I’m on top of the world… it’s a dismal spot in Greenland somewhere.
Another layer for the winter, Woody.
Norm: Wonders… doesn’t care… but she wonders.
Norm: Like it caught me sleeping with its wife.
Norm: If you weren’t wearing that uniform, we’d all step outside.
Norm: See you later, Vera [his wife]; I’m going to Cheers.
Norm: My ideal weight if I were eleven feet tall.
Norm: My blood-alcohol level.
That’s funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.
Norm: A thirsty guy walks into a bar. You finish it.
Norm: Terrorists, Sam. They’ve taken over my stomach and they’re demanding beer.
Norm: I need something to hold me over until my second beer.
Norm: A transfusion with a head on it.