What the hell did you trade Jay Buhner for?! He had 30 home runs and over 100 RBIs last year! He's got a rocket for an arm… You don't know what the hell you're doing!
Look, sister, go get yourself a cup of coffee, all right? Beat it! [pushes Elaine out the door and closes it] All right, now here's the lowdown. Through a certain connection, I've been able to locate some black market shower heads. They're all made in the former Yugoslavia. And from what I hear, the Serbs are fanatic about their showers.
That's right, Elaine. White lotus. Yam-yam. Shanghai Sally!
...
PPeterman
I know what you're going through. I too once fell under the spell of opium. It was 1979. I was traveling the Yangtzee in search of a Mongolian horsehair vest. I had got to the market after sundown. All of the clothing traders had gone, but a different sort of trader still lurked about. "Just a taste" he said. That was all it took.
Mr. Peterman, I don't know what's going on here. I am not addicted to anything.
PPeterman
Oh, Elaine, the toll road of denial is a long and dangerous one. The price? Your soul. Oh, and by the way, you have till 5:00 to clear out your desk. You're fired.
[after smelling the calzones] Constanza is in the building! And he's not in his office! Constanza! He's got the calzone! I've got you! [runs out of his office]
No, no, no, no no. Listen to me. Most days, the post office sends one truckload of mail to the second domestic regional sorting facility in Saginaw, Michigan.
But, on the week before holidays, we see a surge. On Valentine's Day, we send two trucks. On Christmas, four, packed to the brim. And tomorrow, if history is any guide, will see some spillover into a fifth truck.
