You gotta love the wit in this show....
Here's to alcohol, a never-ending source of humor and absurdity.
Peter and Brian are often at their best when inebriated.
Lois: You're drunk again.
Peter: No, I'm just exhausted 'cause I've been up all night drinking.
Lois: Peter, what did you promise me?
Peter: That I wouldn't drink at the stag party.
Lois: And what did you do?
Peter: Drank at the stag pa-- ... Whoa. I almost walked into that one.
Peter (after coming home drunk): Oh, Lois thank God it's you! The last few houses I went to were very rude.
Lois: Oh, my God! You can only play the piano when you're drunk!
Peter: Now that's not true! I can also vomit, fall down and make dirty calls to your sister when I'm drunk!
Peter: Lois, you've got a sick mind!
Lois: Peter, I'm talking about making love.
Peter: Oh, I thought you wanted us to murder the children and harvest their organs for beer money.
Peter: (at the Drunken Clam)... yah and then Chris starts in with all this Yo! Yo! Yo! stuff and I don't know what the hell he's talking about. So I started beating him with a hose and then my arm got tired... so I came here.
Brian: Hey, barkeep, whose leg do you have to hump to get a Dry Martini around here?
Peter: Now kids, Daddy only drank so the Statue of Liberty would take her clothes off.
Peter: I told Lois I wouldn't drink
Quagmire: Don't feel so bad Peter
Peter: Hey, I never thought of it that way.
Peter: Woah! Is that really the blood of Christ?
Peter: Man, that guy must have been wasted 24 hours a day, huh?
Lois: Oh my God, my baby's drunk!
Peter: No I'm not! Oh - him. Yeah, he's a real lightweight.
Stewie: I'm tired and I want to go to bed. Everybody! I'm drunk and I wanna go to bed. Just the women!
Peter: C'mon, let's go drink 'til we can't feel feelings anymore.
Brian: I'm not drunk, all right. I just have a speech impediment... and a stomach virus... and an inner ear infection.
Peter: Relax Lois, when I had a toothache my mom used to give me whiskey.
(Flashback to young Peter Griffin)
Young Peter: My tooth hurts!!
(Peters mom throws a bottle of whiskey at him and it hits the wall.)
Lady (next to Brain at a bar): I think you've had about enough.
Brian: Well, I... I think you're wrong, you... you increasingly attractive looking woman. You know, youÕre... youÕre really pretty
Lady: Oh, stop!
Brian: No. I'm... I'm serious... you could... you could be in magazines. You could! And not just Juggs or Creamsicle...
(Lady walks away.)
Brian: Call me!
Brian (looks at bartender): She won't call.
Lois: What did I tell you?
Peter: You told me not to drink at the stag party.
Lois: and what did you do?
Peter: I drank at the sta- Whoa... I almost fell right into that one!
Peter: Wow, it's like I've died and went to heaven. But then they realized it wasn't my time yet. So they sent me to a brewery.
Lois: Have you been drinking?
Peter: Why, yes, I have. Thank you.
Peter: Lois, everyone has their sanctuary. The Catholics have churches, fat people have Wisconsin, and I have the Pawtucket Brewery.
Lois: For me? Please?
Peter: All right, all right, but you owe me. Later, under the mistletoe, open mouth, no matter how drunk I am.
Brian: I didn't know there was going to be an open bar. And the guy really knew his stuff! He made me a mojito. I don't think it's a gay drink. Mo-ji-to...
Peter: The lesson here is that abusing alcohol has absolutely no negative consequences. You have your trophy and my brain cells are just fine.
Peter: I feel kinda guilty, giving Chris his first taste of beer... but you turned out okay, right pal?
Chris: I'm gonna go get wasted.
Peter: Huh, whoever thought that getting drunk at a stag party would get me $150,000 dollars a week from the government?
Brian: That's why I don't vote.
Peter: Heh, maybe someone down there was drinking too eh?
(Flashes to a press conference with Clinton)
Reporter: Uh, Mr. President, why do you think that the American public continues to support you throughout these impeachment precedings?
(Moves to Clinton holding a Martini)
Clinton: Uh, Probably cuz your so fat! (laughing) Uh huh huh huh huh huh.
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