George Wendt

by David Lauterbach
2008 November 12


Woody: What’s going down, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: My cheeks on this barstool.

Woody: Hey, Mr. Peterson, there’s a cold one waiting for you.
Norm: I know, and if she calls, I’m not here.

Woody: Hey, Mr. Peterson, what’s the story?
Norm: Boy meets beer. Boy drinks beer. Boy gets another beer.

Sam: Hey, what’s happening, Norm?
Norm: Well, it’s a dog-eat-dog world, Sammy, and I’m wearing Milk-Bone underwear.

Coach: What would you say to a beer, Normie?
Norm: Daddy wuvs you.

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: 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 your pleasure, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Boxer shorts and loose shoes. But I’ll settle for a beer.

Sam: Whatta’ you up to, Norm?
Norm: My ideal weight, if I were eleven feet tall.

Norm: Women. Can’t live with ’em, pass the beer nuts.

Sam: What do you say, Norm?
Norm: Any cheap, tawdry thing that’ll get me a beer.

Sam: What’s up Norm?
Norm: God’s in His Heaven, [pause] something, something, something.

Coach: How’s it going, Norm?
Norm: Daddy’s rich and Momma’s good lookin’

Woody: Hey, Mr. Peterson, what do you say to a cold one?
Norm: See you later, Vera, I’ll be at Cheers.

Coach: What’s up, Normie?
Norm: The temperature under my collar, Coach

Sam: Well, look at you. You look like the cat that swallowed the canary.
Norm: And I need a beer to wash him down.

Norm: [coming in from the rain] Evening, everybody.
All: Norm!
Sam: Still pouring, Norm?
Norm: That’s funny, I was about to ask you the same thing.

[Norm goes into the bar at Vic’s Bowl-A-Rama]
Off-screen crowd: Norm!
Sam: How the hell do they know him here?
Cliff: He’s got a life, you know.

Woody: What’s happening, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: The question is, Woody, why is it happening to me?

Sam: What can I do for you Norm?
Norm: Well, I am going to need something to kill time before my second beer. Uhhh, how about a first one?

Woody: How’s life, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: The plots all right, Woody, but it kind of falls apart at the end.

Sam: What’ll you have, Norm?
Norm: Fame, fortune, and fast women.
Sam: How ’bout a beer?
Norm: Even better.

Sam: Hey, how’s life treating you there, Norm?
Norm: Beats me. … then it kicks me and leaves me for dead.

Coach: How’s the world treating you, Norm?
Norm: Like I just ran over its dog

Sam: What’s new, Normie?
Norm: Terrorists, Sam. They’ve taken over my stomach. They’re demanding beer.

Coach: What’s the story, Norm?
Norm: Thirsty guy walks into a bar. You finish it.

Sam: What’d you like, Normie?
Norm: A reason to live. Gimme another beer.

Woody: What’s going on, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Let’s talk about what’s going in Mr. Peterson. A beer, Woody.

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.

Woody: How would a beer feel, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Pretty nervous if I was in the room.

Woody: How’s life, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Oh, I’m waiting for the movie.

Woody: Hey, Mr. P. How goes the search for Mr. Clavin?
Norm: Not as well as the search for Mr. Donut. Found him every couple of blocks.

Woody: What can I get you, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: Clifford Clavin’s head.

Sam: How’s life treating you?
Norm: It’s not, Sammy, but you can!

Sam: How’s life in the fast lane, Normie?
Norm: Beats me. I can’t find the on-ramp.

Norm: Well Woody, I’m off to the pool to do a couple…
Woody: Laps, Mr. P.?
Norm: No, Cannonballs.

Woody: What’s shaking, Mr. Peterson?
Norm: What isn’t?

Pardon us please, while we pay for beer...

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one hilarious Heffer that will live in infamy. i still watch Cheers to this day. norrrrrm!

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