Coach: What would you say to a nice beer, Normie?
Norm: Going down?
[Norm comes in with an attractive woman.]
Coach: Normie, Normie, could this be Vera?
Norm: With a lot of expensive surgery, maybe.
Coach: What's up, Normie?
Norm: The temperature under my collar, Coach.
Sam: What's new, Normie?
Norm: Terrorists, Sam. They've taken over my stomach.
They're demanding beer.
Coach: What'll it be, Normie?
Norm: Just the usual, Coach. I'll have a froth of beer and a
snorkel.
Coach: What would you say to a beer, Normie?
Norm: Daddy wuvs you.
Coach: Can I draw you a beer, Norm?
Norm: No, I know what they look like. Just pour me one.
Coach: How about a beer, Norm?
Norm: Hey I'm high on life, Coach. Of course, beer is my life.
Coach: How's a beer sound, Norm?
Norm: I dunno. I usually finish them before they get a word in.
Coach: What's up, Norm?
Norm: Corners of my mouth, Coach.
Coach: Beer, Normie?
Norm: Uh, Coach, I dunno, I had one this week.
Eh, why not, I'm still young.
Sam: What'd you like, Normie?
Norm: A reason to live. Gimme another beer.
Sam: What will you have, Norm?
Norm: Well, I'm in a gambling mood, Sammy. I'll take a glass of whatever comes out of that tap.
Sam: Oh, looks like beer, Norm.
Norm: Call me Mister Lucky.
Sam: What do you say, Norm?
Norm: Any cheap, tawdry thing that'll get me a beer.
Sam: What do you say to a beer, Normie?
Norm: Hiya, sailor. New in town?
Norm: [coming in from the rain] Evening, everybody.
All: Norm! (Norman!)
Sam: Still pouring, Norm?
Norm: That's funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.
Sam: What's the good word, Norm?
Norm: Plop, plop, fizz, fizz.
Sam: Oh no, not the Hungry Heifer...
Norm: Yeah, yeah, yeah...
Sam: One heartburn cocktail coming up.
Sam: Whaddya say, Norm?
Norm: Well, I never met a beer I didn't drink. And down it goes.
Woody: What's your pleasure, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Boxer shorts and loose shoes. But I'll settle for a beer.
Woody: What can I do for you, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Elope with my wife.
Paul: Hey Norm, how's the world been treating you?
Norm: Like a baby treats a diaper.
Woody: Would you like a beer, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: No, I'd like a dead cat in a glass.
Woody: Can I pour you a draft, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: A little early, isn't it Woody?
Woody: For a beer?
Norm: No, for stupid questions.
Woody: What's the story, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: The Bobbsey twins go to the brewery.
Let's cut to the happy ending.
Woody: Hey, Mr. Peterson, there's a cold one waiting for you.
Norm: I know, and if she calls, I'm not here.
Sam: Beer, Norm?
Norm: Have I gotten that predictable? Good.
Sam: What can I get you, Norm?
Norm: [scratching his beard] Got any flea powder?
Ah, just kidding. Gimme a beer; I think I'll just drown the little suckers.
Woody: Hey, Mr. Peterson, Jack Frost nipping at your nose?
Norm: Yep, now let's get Joe Beer nipping at my liver, huh?
Sam: What can I do for you, Norm?
Norm: Open up those beer taps and, oh, take the day off, Sam.
"Women. Can't live with 'em, pass the beer nuts."
