Norm: A thirsty guy walks into a bar. You finish it.
Well, I never met a beer I didn’t drink.
Norm: My blood-alcohol level.
Norm: See you later, Vera [his wife]; I’m going to Cheers.
Norm: I am going to need something to kill time before my second beer. How about a first one?
Norm: Well that’s tough to say, Coach. Let’s see I’m overweight, unemployed, separated, depressed, starting to drink too much. My problem is I’ve never been happier.
Norm: I know, if she calls, I’m not here.
Another layer for the winter, Woody.
Norm: A transfusion with a head on it.
I dunno, I usually finish them before they get a word in.
Norm: Have I gotten that predictable? Good.
Norm: No, I’d like a dead cat in a glass.
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.
Norm: My butt cheeks on that bar stool.
Norm: The warranty on my liver.
Norm: Like it caught me sleeping with its wife.
Norm: I’d like to see something in a size 54 sudzy.
Norm: All four cheeks & a couple of chins.
Norm: A reason to live. Give me another beer.