Dwight: What was your mile time?
Toby: About seven.
Dwight: I could beat that on a skateboard.
Pam: This isn't even a stopwatch. It's a digital thermometer.
Michael: You're very exotic-looking. Was our father a GI, or...?
Andy: I'm always thinking one step ahead, like a carpenter that makes stairs.
Karen: It smells like a funeral home... never mind, I think I'm just allergic to your perfume.
Phyllis: Bob Vance bought this perfume for me in metropolitan Orlando. It's made from real pine.
Michael: Tony, please join your cohorts on the table, if you will.
Michael: I'm under this hock here... I'm right in your crack!
Tony: It's just not a good fit.
Michael: We'll squeeze you in.
Michael: They put a hate note under my windshield wiper. Check this out - it's so hateful: "You guys suck! You can never pull together as one and revenge us. That is why you suck."
Ryan: Sometimes he brings more costumes.
Michael: Sometimes what brings the kids together is hating the lunch lady. Although that'll change, because by the end of the fourth grade the lunch lady was actually the person I hung out with the most.
Karen: I'm at the grocery store buying a corkscrew to give myself a lobotomy.
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