X: Rough day?
B: Stop flicking at me.
X: Work with me here. I'm finally an essential part of your college-y life. No more looking down on the townie. I'm the new bartender over at the pub. Got my lighter, my rag, my empathy face.
W: Aren't you too young to be a bartender?
X: Au contraire, mon frere.
B: "Mon frere" means brother.
X: Mon girl-frere. Behold. < shows patently fake ID >
W: I don't believe this is entirely on the up-and-up.
X: What gives it away?
W: Looking at it.

X: Now I'm the bartender, I kick people out.
B: You know there's more to it than wiping and kicking? Mixing drinks, for instance.
X: Oh, I've seen "Cocktail." I can do the hippy-hippy shake.

B: Well, even if I had a pretend cigarette, I couldn't tell you my pretend problems. Real ones have clogged up my head space.

W: I'm pregnant by my step-brother, who'd rather be with my best friend, and he's left me with no place to live, no food except for this bottle of Wild Turkey which I drank all up. < pause > That was me being tanked and friendless for ya.
X: Gets my Oscar nod.

B: Don't guys sometimes keep the girls they really, really like inside these deep little brain fantasy bubbles where everything's perfect? I mean, they do that, right?
X: How's that fugue state coming along?
W: Parker!
B: Maybe I'm in his bubble, and then, pretty soon, he's gonna realize that he wants more than just bubble Buffy, and he'll pop me out, and we'll go to dinner and... it could happen, right?
W: Buffy that is my best friend, you need to think about not-Parker. He's no good. There are men - better men -- wherein the mind is stronger than the penis.
X: Pfft! Nothing can defeat the penis! Too loud. Very unseemly.

W: I'm sorry to be so coarse, but I feel strongly about stinky Parker-man.

B: I'm telling you, I think that he has intimacy problems because of the death of his father.
W: Not interested. You got troubles, tell 'em to the bartender.

X: Ice water. Do you want that on the rocks?

B: Oh, Riley - so sorry.
R: You know, most people go around. I'm not saying you can't tunnel through me, I just think the other way's quicker.
B: In my defense, you do take up a lot of space.
R: I do. I'm ungainly.

R: Parker and his latest conquest. You know, that boy should
have his attention span checked.

SG1: It sounds like the two of you were having quite the meeting of minds, possibly debating the geo-political ramifications of bioengineering. You have a take on that?
X: I've got beer. You want some beer?

B: If he were tied and gagged, and left in a cave that vampires happen to frequent, it wouldn't really be like I killed him, really.
X: Buffy...
B: I'm a slut.
X: No.
B: Idiot.
X: No.

B: I just... I seem to be bumping into people today.
SG2: Can't imagine anybody minding.

SG1: You're a very beautiful girl who should be covered with men. And, can we be those men?

O: Hey, you got a table.
W: I had to kill a man.
O: Well, it's a really good table.

SG1: The thing that the modern-day pundits fail to realize is that all the socioeconomic and psychological problems inherent in modern society can be solved by the judicious application of way too much beer.
B: My mother always said beer is evil.
SG1: Evil, good - these are moral absolutes that predate the fermentation of malt and fine hops.

SG1: Beer! Had the earliest morality developed under the influence of beer, there would be no good or evil, there would be "kinda nice" and "pretty cool."

B: You guys really love to hear yourselves speak, don't ya?

W: "My name is Veruca. I'm in a band." "Oh, I'm Oz. I'm in a band, too. Oh, and this is Will." "Oh, how fun, a groupie." Groupie! Buff, have you heard of this Veruca chick - dresses like Faith, voice like an albatross?
B: TV is a good thing. Bright colors. Music. Tiny little people.
W: What have you done with Buffy?
B: I'm suffering the afterness of a bad night of... badness.
W: You didn't. Not with Parker again.
B: No. With four really smart guys.
W: Four?? Oh. Ow.

B: I went to see Xander. Then I saw Parker. Then came... beer.
W: And then group sex?
B: Pffft! Gutterface. No! Just lots and lots of beer. It's nice. Foamy... comforting. It's... beer.

W: He deserves a torturous and slow death by spider bites. Well, for today we'll just have to throw spitballs at his neck in class.

W: Two Veruca shows in two nights? You sure you want to share your groupie? I think I'm just gonna study. 'Cause of the fun.

B: Huh, huh, huh! It sings. Like it.
X: It's time to go home, Buffy.
B: Want more singing. Want more beer!
X: No, I've cut you off.
B: Did it hurt?

B: Want beer. Like beer. Beer good.
X: Beer bad. Bad, bad beer. What the hell am I saying? Buffy, go home... and go to bed.
B: Say 'bye.
X: Bye.
B: Bye.

W: I'm tired of you men and your... man-ness.

W: In fact, she's in need of a big mental tidy.

W: She shared something very intimate with you, and you act like it's nothing more than a bag of... some kind of snack food.
P: Willow, I'm not sure I need to explain my actions here. But if that's what you want...
W: Yes. Followed by an admission of undeniable guilt, but go on.

SG1: Fire... fire pretty.
X: Fire angry!

X: We got a problem. The guys... they... they're... Some of your patrons are turning into cavemen.
Jack: They had it coming.

Jack: That's the great thing about beer. It makes all men the same.

Jack: Neat, huh? My brother-in-law's a warlock. He showed me how to do the...
X: No! No neat.

X: Uh, how much beer would you say a person would need to consume before they seriously started questing for fire?

X: You're a bad, bad man.

G: I can't believe you served Buffy that beer.
X: I didn't know it was evil.
G: You knew it was beer.
X: Well, excuse me, Mr. "I spent the 60's in an electric-kool-aid funky-Satan groove."
G: It was the early 70's, and you should know better.

W: You know, I'm wondering something about you.
P: What?
W: Just how gullible do you think I am? I mean, with your gentle eyes, and your shy smile, and your ability to talk openly only to me. You're unbelievable.

W: That's right, I've got your number, Id-boy.

W: I mean, you men! It's all about the sex. Find a woman, drag her to your den. do whatever's necessary, just as long as you get the sex. I tell you, men haven't changed since the dawn of time.

G: Well, she doesn't appear to be in any immediate danger. Maybe you should stay with her.
B: Boy smell nice.
G: Or perhaps she should be left alone.

B: Buffy want beer.
G: You can't have beer.
B: Want beer!
X: Giles, don't make cave-Slayer unhappy.

X: Can't find the beer? Good. Freshman girl not able to hold the beer. Shouldn't have it. Get into trouble.

B: Fire bad!

X: Did you guys have enough fun for one night?
W: Yes, please.
B: Buffy tired.

X: And was there a lesson in all this, huh? What did we learn about beer?
B: Foamy!
X: Good. Just as long as that's clear.

X: Anyways, I think the boys in the car are contained for time being. This will give them some time to ponder the geopolitical ramifications of being mean to me.

G: Whose car is that?
X: I don't know. It wasn't locked.

Credit: The Sunnydale Slayers