Chinatown Beer Store

2 thoughts on “Chinatown Beer Store”

1. Cheers “Norm-isms”

   “Beer, Norm?”
   “Have I gotten that predictable? Good.”
   “Beer, Normie?”
   “Uh, Coach, I dunno, I had one this week. Eh, why not, I’m still young.”
   “Can I draw you a beer, Norm?”
   “No, I know what they look like. Just pour me one.”
   “Can I pour you a draft, Mr. Peterson?”
   “A little early, isn’t it Woody?”
   “For a beer?”
   “No, for stupid questions.”
   “Hey Norm, how’s the world been treating you?”
   “Like a baby treats a diaper.”
   “Hey, Mr. Peterson, Jack Frost nipping at your nose?”
   “Yep, now let’s get Joe Beer nipping at my liver, huh?”
   “Hey, Mr. Peterson, there’s a cold one waiting for you.”
   “I know, and if she calls, I’m not here.”
   “How about a beer, Norm?”
   “Hey I’m high on life, Coach. Of course, beer is my life.”
   “How about a beer, Norm?”
   “That’s that amber sudsy stuff, right? I’ve heard good things about it!”
   “How’s a beer sound, Norm?”
   “I dunno. I usually finish them before they get a word in.”
   “How’s it going Mr. Peterson?”
   “It’s a dog eat dog world, Woody, and I’m wearing Milk-Bone underwear!”
   “How’s it going, Mr. Peterson?”
   “Poor.”
   “I’m sorry to hear that.”
   “No, I mean pour.”
   “How’s it hanging Norm?”
   “Oh, little to the left.”
   “How’s life in the fast lane?”
   “Dunno, can’t get on the on-ramp.”
   “How’s life treating you?”
   “It’s not, Sammy, but you can!”
   “How’s life treating you, Norm?”
   “Like it caught me sleeping with its’ wife.”
   “Normie, Normie, could this be Vera?”
   “With a lot of expensive surgery, maybe.”
   “Pour you a beer, Mr. Peterson.”
   “Alright, but stop me at one… make that one-thirty.”
   “Whaddya say, Norm?”
   “Well, I never met a beer I didn’t drink. And down it goes.”
   “What do you say, Norm?”
   “Any cheap, tawdry thing that’ll get me a beer.”
   “What do you say to a beer, Normie?”
   “Hiya, sailor. New in town?”
   “What will you have, Norm?”
   “Well, I’m in a gambling mood, Sammy. I’ll take a glass of whatever comes out of that tap.”
   “Oh, looks like beer, Norm.”
   “Call me Mister Lucky.”
   “What would you say to a beer, Normie?”
   “Daddy wuvs you.”
   “What would you say to a nice beer, Normie?”
   “Going down?”
   “What’d you like, Normie?”
   “A reason to live. Gimme another beer.”
   “What’ll it be, Normie?”
   “Just the usual Coach. I’ll have a froth of beer and a snorkel.”
   “What’s going down, Normie?”
   “My butt cheeks on that bar stool.”
   “What’s going on, Mr. Peterson?”
   “A flashing sign in my gut that says, ‘Insert beer here.'”
   “What’s going on, Mr. Peterson?”
   “Another layer for the winter, Wood.”
   “What’s going on, Mr. Peterson?”
   “The question is what’s going in Mr. Peterson. A beer please, Woody.”
   “What’s new, Normie?”
   “Terrorists, Sam. They’ve taken over my stomach. They’re demanding beer.”
   “What’s shaking, Norm?”
   “All four cheeks and a couple of chins, Coach.”
   “What’s the story, Mr. Peterson?”
   “The Bobbsey twins go to the brewery. Let’s cut to the happy ending.”
   “What’s the story, Norm?”
   “Boy meets beer. Boy drinks beer. Boy meets another beer.”
   “What’s up, Norm?”
   “Corners of my mouth, Coach.”
   “What’s up, Norm?”
   “Everything that’s supposed to be.”
   “What’s up, Normie?”
   “The temperature under my collar, Coach.”
   “What’s your pleasure, Mr. Peterson?”
   “Boxer shorts and loose shoes. But I’ll settle for a beer.”
   “Whatcha up to Norm?”
   “My ideal weight if I were eleven feet tall.”
   “Women. Can’t live with ‘em, pass the beer nuts.”
   “Would you like a beer, Mr. Peterson?”
   “No, I’d like a dead cat in a glass.”

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