Norm: My ideal weight if I were eleven feet tall.
I dunno, I usually finish them before they get a word in.
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: My butt cheeks on that bar stool.
Any cheap, tawdry thing that will get me a beer.
It’s not, Sammy, but you can.
Norm: I know, if she calls, I’m not here.
Norm: The Bobbsey twins go to the brewery. Let’s cut to the happy ending.
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: Boy meets beer. Boy drinks beer. Boy meets another beer.
Hi ya, sailor. New in town?
Norm: We never go beyond this room.
Norm: See you later, Vera [his wife]; I’m going to Cheers.
Norm: If you weren’t wearing that uniform, we’d all step outside.