Sam Malone: [about the organizers changing the Miss Boston Barmaid contest to a skills based contest rather than chest size contest] The whole contest has gone to hell. I mean, believe me, I really presented my case to the contest committee. Look, I made a graph, here, look at this.
[Sam holds up a line graph, the points which are pretty consistently high except for one very low point]
Sam Malone: Now these are the bust measurements of all the winners since 1976, and almost to a woman, they're over a thirty-eight.
Woody Boyd: What's this one that dips way down here?
Sam Malone: Ah, that's the year Diane won.
Woody Boyd: Carla, are you going to try out for this contest?
Carla Tortelli-LeBec: I don't think so.
Woody Boyd: You heard Sam. It's not about looks this year.
[unprovoked, Carla pushes Cliff off his bar stool]
Cliff Clavin: What did you do that for?
Carla Tortelli-LeBec: It's nothing personal. Just letting off steam.
Cliff Clavin: Why didn't you push Norm off his stool?
Carla Tortelli-LeBec: You don't know much about physics, do you?
Carla Tortelli-LeBec: Norm, I got to ask you a question.
Norm Peterson: All right.
Carla Tortelli-LeBec: Over the years, I've been pretty bad to Clavin. I've done some things that maybe I shouldn't have: called him names, punctured his tires, set fire to his hair...
Norm Peterson: What's your question?
Carla Tortelli-LeBec: Do you think he noticed?
Woody Boyd: Boy, that Carla sure is smart, buttering up to Mr. Clavin so she'll win. I wish I had those smarts when I was doing the county fair circuit with my hog, Mirabelle. Rule number one: you gotta schmooze. You gotta go to the right parties, you gotta sell out. I wouldn't, so I brought Mirabelle home a loser. Broke my heart.
Dr. Frasier Crane: How was Mirabelle?
Woody Boyd: Not bad with applesauce.