Norm: Have I gotten that predictable? Good.
Norm: Like a baby treats a diaper.
Norm: See you later, Vera [his wife]; I’m going to Cheers.
Norm: I know, if she calls, I’m not here.
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: Yeah, now let’s get Joe Beer nipping at my liver.
Norm: I need something to hold me over until my second beer.
Norm: We never go beyond this room.
Norm: All four cheeks & a couple of chins.
Just the usual, Coach… I’ll have a froth of beer and a snorkel.
Norm: Like I just ran over its dog.
Norm: Boy meets beer. Boy drinks beer. Boy meets another beer.
Norm: I am going to need something to kill time before my second beer. How about a first one?
Norm: My butt cheeks on that bar stool.
Norm: The question is, “What’s going in Mr. Peterson?” A beer please, Woody.