Top 100 Quotes From Pam Poovey

Pam: You're ruining your life, you idiot! And making it hard to drop a deuce.

Cyril: Oh, my God, I must have embezz-arassed myself last night, huh?
Pam: Don't talk like black people. And how should I know? I'm still ripped.

Lana: God, I should definitely get checked. I am so bad about doing the self-exam.
Pam: Hey, about we check each other?
Lana: So, what's next? Do you, um...
Pam: [pokes Lana's breast] Boop!

Ray: No, shut up. We go in, drop the journal, and get out. No snooping.
Pam: Aw, come on. I just wanna see if me and her have stuff in common like.
Cheryl: Tons of cock porn lying around?
Pam: I don't have cock porn just laying around. But sometimes you just, you know, forget it's in the VCR.
Ray: How do you forget?
Pam: You rub one out, flip back to regular TV, Superstars is on, and all of a sudden here's Joe Frasier's dumb ass drowning and you forget it's in there. Until mom and dad come to visit to tell you she's got Lou Gehrig's Disease.
Ray: Why would you think it's okay to share that?

Sterling: Are you shitting me?
Pam: I wouldn't shit you, you're my favorite turd.

Pam: Okay, so Cyril got in over his head.
Malory: Jesus. God, did he kill her?
Pam: No, no, no. He ran from her to go confess to Lana. But then this one starts freaking out and long story short, I kinda had to drown her in the tub.
Malory: So you killed her?
Pam: Apparently not, so good news.

Pam: Fighting the war on the war on drugs.

Pam: What's the poem going to be about when Cyril snaps and murders you?
Cheryl: I don't know. World's gushiest orgasm?

Cyril: This isn't my fault.
Sterling: It's exactly your fault, idiot. When mother found out you cheated on Lana...
Cyril: You cheated on Lana plenty!
Sterling: Yeah, but with starlets, models, oh, and one time two actual princesses.
Pam: Two at the same time?
Sterling: Yeah, they were sisters.
Pam: Sploosh.

[Malory has attacked and is choking Cheryl in the restroom when Pam peeks over the wall between stalls wearing her bra under nothing else]
Pam: Hey! Is it too much to ask during the goddamn workday for two separate sessions of 80 uninterrupted minutes each of quality dump time?
Cheryl: [gasping] I mean, I'm not a labor attorney...
Malory: Yes! It is entirely too much to ask!
Pam: I thought so, yeah. I'll pass that on to who or whomever asked.

Pam: [Sound of machine-gun fire] Oh, my God, did you hear that?
Cheryl: What do you think it is?
Malory: Immigrants! That's all they do, you know - just drive around listening to raps and shooting all the jobs.

Cheryl: Yeah, what does a blimp do, Pam?
Pam: Uhh, kick your skinny ass?

[Mallory and Lana are watching Archer from across the pool]
Malory: Ugh. Now damsel up and get over there. And remember, you have to pretend you don't have a history together.
[they watch the waiter bring Archer a drink; he sips it, then immediately spits it out and starts coughing]
Sterling: For the... sour mix? In a margarita? What is this, Auschwitz?
Lana: [sighs] I always do.
[she walks away]
Malory: Like a big brown giraffe.
Cheryl: Oooh, or an ostrich.
Malory: [sighs] Remind me why I let you idiots come.
Pam: For the free rooms? 'Cause the only thing you are more than mean is cheap?
Malory: Oh, shut up. And just because you own this place...
Cheryl: I think I just own the conglomerate that owns the holding company that owns the hotel chain that owns it.
Malory: Don't even think about screwing up our plan to cure Sterling's amnesia.
Cheryl: His what?
[across the pool, Archer is still yelling at the waiter]
Sterling: Five ingredients: tequila, Cointreau, lime juice, ice, kosher salt! Oh, and sorry about the Auschwitz crack, that's... that's not like me. I've been under a lot of stress lately.
Waiter: I'm not Jewish.
Sterling: Did I ask for your life story?

Cyril: Why would Ms. Archer give us until Friday?
Pam: I did that, because somebody in this building is going to have sex with me.
Sterling: Yeah? You think between now and Friday you can score some roofies?

Pam: And that wet clingy shirt she wears the whole time, nipple towwwwwwn!

[at poker night]
Cyril: Jeezy petes, an inside straight? Damn it!
[everyone groans and complains as Ray rakes in his chips]
Ray: Got three on the hip, I need four for the weekend! I'm goin' to Hotlanta!
Cheryl: Have fun, I hope you get hate-crimed.
Cyril: Hey, whoa!
Doctor: Goddamn, woman.
Ray: Seriously.
Pam: I'll hate-crime your ass right here!
Ray: You know what?
Cyril: Guys! Come on! Can't we have one poker night without a hate crime?
Cheryl: Okay, A, the thing last month wasn't a hate crime...
[cutaway to the previous game with Cheryl on top of the poker table, screaming and sticking a gun in Pam's mouth, while everyone watches in horror]
Cheryl: Because I will straight-flush your brains out the back of your SKULL!
[cut to present]
Cheryl: ... it was just a regular crime.
Ray: And obviously now I put my gun in the timelock safe until the game's over.
Cyril: And so basically, the only thing keeping you from murdering each other is a lack of access to firearms.
Pam: Works for Canada.
Cheryl: Nothing works for Canada.

Pam: Jeez, LaRue. Can you believe this? A mandatory meeting at 7 am? Wonder what crawled up her butt?
Cheryl: Ugh, there's no telling. Our bodies are aswarm with microscopic organisms, Pam. Literally, a swarm.
Doctor: [Shows up with a thermos] Wait, what? What have you heard?
Pam: About the staff meeting?
Doctor: Oh, right, yes. Never mind.
Cyril: [Shows up with Ray] Then may I suggest we get up there, so we don't have to find out what "grave consequences" means.
Cheryl: [Scoffs] It means...
Cyril: In the context of her memo!

Pam: [to Cyril] Dude! Your balls are made of pussy.

Pam: We're a go on operation. Ooh, what should we call it?
Cheryl: Dick Sledge!
Ray: You wanna?
Pam: No, but it's like sour milk. You just gotta take a whiff. What's the story, Neckbones?
Cheryl: Sophomore year at my stupid college I had a huge crush on the quarterback, this super hot guy named Dick Sledge.
Pam: Sploosh!
Ray: Jinx.
Cheryl: It was like I was invisible. He wouldn't even sign my cast when I broke my own arm. But I thought if I knew what he liked then I'd have an in. So one Saturday when he had a game, I broke into his dorm room to see what kind of music he was into or turtles or roll around in his clothes or whatever.
Pam: But you were so busy sniffing his jock you didn't hear him come in?
Cheryl: Because he totally snuck up on me! I guess I blacked out because I don't remember stabbing him at all.
Pam: What? Why did you have a knife?
Cheryl: I didn't! It was a stupid pair of scissors. And it was his fault for grabbing me with his throwing hand! That's how his tendon got severed.
Pam: Holy shit snacks.
Cheryl: Yeah, they said he could have gone pro.

Cheryl: Let me guess - you got all butt hurt because Lana hired an actor to shoot you so you wouldn't endanger the baby. So you went to Vegas and went on a bender and now you're broke and need me to bail you out so you can fly home.
Sterling: Let me tell you everything that you got wrong. Sending the money would be great except that I'm on the no fly list.
Pam: How did you get on the no fly list?
Sterling: Shut up Pam!
[flashback - Archer is on a plane pounding on the cockpit door with an empty Mai Tai and fighting off airline personnel]
Sterling: I wanna fly the plane!
Cheryl: So you need me to send you money for a train ticket?
Sterling: Well that would be great except I'm also on the no train list.
Cheryl: I didn't know there was a no train list.
Sterling: Neither did I.
[flashback - repeat of the plane incident, except on a train]
Sterling: I wanna fly the train!

Lana: But if you didn't, uh OK, so where would Archer get that much cocaine?
Malory: Well, who knows with him. Maybe wherever he got that new kind of V.D. none of the doctors had ever seen before.
Lana: Wha.. when was that?
Pam: Yeah, when was that?
Cheryl: Seriously, when...
Malory: Trust me, if you had it, you'd know.
Pam: Whew!
Lana: I loathe knowing that I had sex with the same person as you two.
Pam: What? You had sex with *me*.
Lana: No, I...
[gasps]
Lana: Oh, my god, that's right.
Malory: Ha!
Pam: What are you laughing at?
Malory: Oh, my god, that's right.

Lana: We're stuck inside a space nautilus somewhere between his colon and his cloaca.
Pam: What's a cloaca?
Cyril: It's an organ that's used for excretion and also intercourse.
Pam: [chuckles] Smart.

Pam: And I for one am fed up with it!
Cheryl: Yeah, fed full of muffins and denial!

Pam: These nutsacks want to take us to Mars to be baby factories.

Malory: Oh, that reminds me - Pam! At 9:00 AM Friday all Isis employees are required to take a drug test.
Pam: [Pam is smoking a joint, begins coughing] Crack whore!
Malory: And knock off that damn beat boxing!
Pam: [sighs]
Malory: Last week it was free styling.

Pam: But this time, get in there! All you've been doin' is giving one side hell!

Pam: Oh, please. You're so hot for him I could reheat this chili in your cooch.

Pam: My cooch has cobwebs!

Pam: Christ on a bike!

Pam: What a hunk!
Cheryl: Total sploosh!
Lana: Actually, yeah. Gotta give him a sploosh.
Ray: And whatever my equivalent of sploosh is, which I guess is just sploosh. Only with semen.

Pam: [to Cheryl] If your brain were a drug, I'd snort the shit out of it.

Cheryl: [as Malory takes a grape off the serving table and pops it in her mouth] Holy shit, did she just eat a grape?
Pam: Must be her cheat day.

Cheryl: Pick one. Either A, I tell Lana what happened on that scratchy green office rug or 2, you get inside me.
Cyril: Or C, maybe I just jam this mop into the engine and kill all of us.
Cheryl: I don't think that's how blimps work.
Cyril: Darn! Right, we just sort of float around. Stupid naturally safe helium.
Cheryl: But I am liking the jamming imagery. And the killing!
Cyril: And are you just gonna sit there?
Pam: Yeah, until she tags me in!
Cyril: What?
Pam: I'm kidding. My back's all messed up.

Pam: The soup kitchen was a sex club.

Malory: [to Cheryl] Will you please cover yourself?
Cheryl: With what? I don't have any
[aerosol can spraying is heard; Cheryl's breasts are revealed to be covered]
Cheryl: there; happy?
Malory: No, I didn't mean with whipped cream!
Pam: It's actually whipped cocaine, so
Malory: [Malory groans] That explains where some of it went.
Cheryl: Ummm, and the tingling numbness of my nipples.
Malory: And why are you dressed like the whore the rest of the trailer park finally decided they had to stone to death?
Cheryl: Duh! We were shooting my album cover.
Doctor: [Scene shifts to flashback of cover shoot] Yes. Good. Yes. That is perfect.
Pam: Perfect for what? C'mon, it's an album cover, not a... Amish Bible.
[squirts whipped cocaine into her mouth]
Pam: You gotta sex that shit up sexy.
Doctor: Ummm
Cheryl: I think it's pretty sexy.
Pam: You think that's sexy? With the rocket pops outside of you?
Cheryl: I mean...
Doctor: But if she eats them, we lose the whole red, white, and... . oookay.
Pam: Yeah - not talkin' about eatin' 'em.
Cheryl: Wait, what are you You want me to put a rocket pop in my vagina?
Pam: Well, for starters, but let's not rule anything out, ya know. Let's kinda see where that leads. We've got a shit-load of film.
Doctor: [Looking at the camera he's holding] I'm supposed to have film in this?

Sterling: [outside the bathroom] So, uh, hey, hi, I'm, uh, Sterling Archer. You- you may remember me from the strip club and hopefully also from what was hands down the most incredible sex that I've personally ever had. Uh... hello? Oh right, so, uh, I know, uh, we had an- an implied oral agreement about heroin, but...
[Archer opens the bathroom door]
Pam: Heroin?
Sterling: What-?
Pam: [on the toilet] That's the last freakin' thing I need!
Pam: [straining] I'm bound up tighter'n Dick's hat band.
Sterling: Oh no, no, no, not- Wait... were you? Did- did we...?
Pam: Yeah, we did it and you loved it!
Sterling: [weakly] No, that's not... I can't...
[Archer passes out. Pam strains out a fart]

Sterling: [after sword fight] Wow! Aleister, you're hired.
Aleister: Thank you, sir. You would have had me if not for the leg. I can suggest some rehabilitation exercises.
Sterling: [Looks lovingly at Aleister] I'd... I'd like that.
Pam: Should we leave?
Cheryl: I'm staying.

Pam: Well, thank God for them internets.

Pam: We gonna make some cooch chili, or what?

Malory: Pam, get me some poison, because I am already dead inside.
Pam: Too dead to read good news?
Malory: Is it my obituary?
Pam: Well, it's not that good.

Sterling: I have cancer.
Pam: Of the tits!

Pam: I don't even know who peed on your sofa.

Malory: [sobbing] Oh, I just wanted it to be all white!
Cyril: Jeezy Petes, this drawer squeaks exactly like the old one did!
Lana: And is this... is this Brett's blood?
Cheryl: Ugh, no, just the same type. We had to fudge it a little on the stains. Some of which actually were fudge!
Pam: And some of which merely resembled it.
[Malory sobs anew]
Ray: But *why* would you *do* this?
[Cheryl snickers and holds her arms down and forward toward Malory, as if saying, "Obviously, for this!"]

Cyril: Do you know how hard I worked on this budget? Nights, weekends, cancelled my vacation, and, and now it's all wasted.
Pam: Wasted. Exactly. Let's go be that. C'mon, happy hour at Pita Margarita's, chikka chikka chow.
Cyril: Ugh, is that what it sounds like?
Pam: Only if it sounds like a shitload of tequila and some A-rab hoagies.

Pam: Hmm? Infiltrated the enemy, huh?
Nurple,: The what?
Pam: Enema! Just talkin' about enemas, and how clean and fresh they make you feel. I mean, not you, per se, but people, you know, in general, I guess. And kids also, maybe, I don't know what kids are into these days. Are whippets still a thing? Point is... shitter's clogged.

Sterling: I'm sorry!
Pam: For what? Space-blastering me in the frickin' tits? Or tricking me into that fart-locker to get blasted into outer goddamn space on the off chance you might wanna bang me?
Sterling: Both I guess. Look...
Pam: After you blew me off for Katya the big-titted cyborg! Little Miss, uh...
Sterling: R2-double-D2?
Pam: [chuckles] Nice.

Pam: Shut up. We're gonna go to prison.
Cheryl: No, we're not. Say the right stuff and they just send you to a mental hospital for ten months.
Ray: ...I just this second realized why you do macrame instead of knitting.
Cheryl: Yeah, no sharp objects on the ward. They were super strict about that.

Noah: I'm an anthropologist.
Sterling: A spider scientist?
Noah: A what?
Pam: That's an arachnologist.
Sterling: Like you would know!
Noah: No, no. It is. An anthropologist...
Sterling: I know what an anthropologist is!
Pam: No, he doesn't.
Sterling: Nobody does!

Malory: [Cheryl is lying unconscious in a pool of water] Oh, my God! What the hell happened here?
Pam: Well, she and Cyril were getting it on, and Cyril lost it...
Malory: So he killed her?
Pam: No, no. And then Cheryl got all freaked out and, long story short, I had to drown her a little bit.
Malory: So *you* killed her?
Pam: [Cheryl comes to, spluttering water,] Apparently not.

Pam: [Listening to gunfire in the distance] What the hell is all of that, you reckon?
Malory: Immigrants. Cramming their low riders full of free healthcare and... snow.

Dr. Sklodowska: Mission Control, this is Nereus. We are ready for miniaturization. Over?
Pam: Speak for yourself! Holy shrink-snacks!
Cheryl: Yeah, this is kinda terrifying.
Pam: So why are you messing around with this crazy shrink ray? It's not like you need a million bucks.
Cheryl: Wh- Are you kidding? It's not about the money. Pam, we are going on a voyage of medical discovery unparalleled in not only the history of mankind, but also, perhaps, its future. Hippocrates, Galen, Percival, Sharp. For thousands of years, physicians have dreamed of having the power to see what we've been given the chance to through this truly awe-inspiring process of miniaturization, which, I think you'll agree, is the very embodiment of Arthur C. Clarke's Third Law, which states that "Any sufficiently advanced technology is indistinguishable from magic," or, if you like, a miracle.
Pam: I...
Cheryl: Plus, I'm going to use the money to buy an orphanage and then bulldoze it.
Pam: Why?
Cheryl: Shits and grins. And screams. "Wah, porridge, wah, aah!"
[Cheryl gives an evil laugh as she walks away]
Pam: Well, maybe she'll die.

Cheryl: Deaf people are so gross.
Pam: Not as gross as the hook hand ones.
Cheryl: Ehh.

Agent: Uhh... Kill... Kill... God, when do I get to the end so I can see what Cyril said?
Cheryl: You seriously don't think that's hot?
Pam: I seriously think you're scary!
Cheryl: No, no no no... Like, a big sweaty fireman carries you out of a burning building, lays you on the sidewalk, and you think, "Yeah, okay, he's gonna give me mouth to mouth." But instead, he just starts choking the shit out of you, and the last sensation that you feel before you die is him squeezing your throat so hard that a big, wet, blob of drool drips off his teeth and just "flurr", falls right onto your popped out eyeball...
Pam: Jesus Christ!
Cheryl: I know, right?
Agent: What the hell!
Cheryl: I'm wet just thinking about it.
Agent: Cyril! Cyril, you get your ass out here right now!
Cheryl: Is she freaking 'cause Cyril said he wanted to bang Danny the Intern?
Pam: No, I think it's 'cause he said he wanted to marry her.
Cheryl: She's so weird... Hey, will you choke me a little bit?

Ray: [Trying Krieger's drug-cleansing tea] Oh, god! It tastes worse than it smells!
Pam: Man, if I had a nickel for every time I heard a guy say that... I'd have eight nickles.

Malory: Because I don't want Sterling to end up with a woman like Lana Kane? My god, a black
[pause]
Malory: ops field agent.
Pam: Thought she was going in a whole other direction with that.

Agent: [over building intercom] Um, attention. Hi, this is Agent Kane, and if you want to have ball-slappy sex with me on Cyril's desk, please line up and take a number.
Pam: [a group of guys show up immediately, Pam pushes to the front] You heard the lady. Take a number!
[holds up #1 card]

Lana: [cradling a baby] But you said I could hold him!
Trinette: You've been holding him, and you've been drinking, and your hands are so damn big.
Lana: But...
Trinette: I don't want you to crush him.
Lana: But I'm gentle.
Pam: Lana...
Ray: Give her the rabbit, Lenny!

Cheryl: Breast cancer? Oh, you poor thing!
[hugs Malory]
Malory: Pam! What is wrong with you?
Pam: I can't help it. It's like a disease.
[keeps texting]
Malory: Pam!
Pam: Do you not know what disease means? Oh sorry, I forgot you might have...
Cyril: Breast cancer?
Malory: Oh, for the love. And would you get off? Breath!
Cyril: Malory, if there's anything we can do you just say the word.
Doctor: My entire laboratory is at your disposal.
Malory: Thanks. I'll let you know if I need a hybrid pig-boy.
Doctor: A what? That... what are you...? I don't have one of those!
[Flashback to Krieger's laboratory with a lot of squealing and a gun shot]
Doctor: ... Any more.

Pam: Come at me, bro!

Malory: Baby A.J.! She's missing!
Cheryl: [simultaneously gasp, say] Oh, my god!
Pam: [simultaneously gasp, say] Oh, thank god!

Lana: Did you see me?
Ray: Yeah.
Lana: Holding the baby?
Ray: It looked like Tyson holding that dove.
Lana: Listen, bitch...
Ray: Ahh! Careful, because in about three drinks you're gonna get all boo-hooey and ask me to pump a baby in you.
Lana: What?
Ray: You watch.
Lana: No I won't.
Pam: You guys should totally do that! The mochaccino ones are the cutest! Guess he'd be half-gay, too, though. So, can you say "Best Dancer Ever"?

Lana: Oh, my God, I am exhausted.
Ray: Whereas I am merely confused. If you told every guy the same thing, then they all know that none of them had sex with you, so they're all gonna realize they're all lying.
Pam: Hey, yeah.
Lana: But remember, they're dudes.
Ray: Lana Kane, you magnificent bastard.

Lana: Since when do you care about other people's feelings?
Sterling: Well, unlike you, Lana, I have empathy. Oh, wait. Uh, sympathy?
Pam: I think it's "symphony".

Pam: Oh, come on, haven't you ever snooped on somebody you thought was dreamy?
Ray: No. Well, except for Randy Muckler, who, turns out, was just leading me on to get out of the draft, so I made a phone call to the draft board and now who's laughing, Mr. Hooks For Hands?
[long pause]
Ray: A booby trap blew his arms off.

Pam: I, for one, am going to go watch Hooper and masturbate until my fingers bleed.
Cheryl: [pause] Just tape 'em up.

Malory: [On the phone] What? Yes, I heard what you said! I can't believe the head of the DEA has the balls to say it! Oh, is that a fact? Oh, it is!
[Hangs up]
Sterling: So, how did that go?
Malory: Oh, fine. He was just explaining to me how ISIS won't be collecting the bounty on Calzado.
Lana: What are you talking about?
Malory: Because apparently there's no proof that we did.
Lana: [Angry] But we literally handed Calzado to him!
Malory: And in return, did they hand you a signed receipt?
Sterling: No... oh, shit.
Malory: Well done, because that's exactly the brand of unparalleled professional excellence I've come to expect at ISIS.
Pam: [Running naked by Malory's office] NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! They'll never take me alive.
Malory: What was I saying? Oh yeah, unparalleled professional...
Doctor: [Following Pam with a tranquilizer gun] Oh, for the love of god! Seal the exits!
Malory: Professional...
Cheryl: [Sitting naked with Ray on his wheelchair] That's our pee, and that's the last I better hear about it, because this stupid building is a tinderbox, and I'm going to burn it to the ground.
Malory: ...Excellence...
Sterling: Oh, speaking of excellence, did you hear we met a tiger? But... he... got... murdered.

Sterling: Where'd you learn all that stuff?
Pam: You know I grew up on a farm, right?
Sterling: Really hoping that's not relevant.

Cyril: Is Trexler buying ISIS just to get your mother to marry him?
Sterling: No! Yes. Look, shut up.
Pam: That is some high priced milf.
Sterling: Hey. Shut up, and think of a way to make Trexler not want my mother.
Pam: We could give her a milf-ectomy.
Sterling: If you say milf one more time I will shoot you in your eyeballs.

Pam: So then he's all like, you gotta go before my roommate gets home. And I'm like, who cares? And he's like...
Cheryl: You're a moped.
Pam: How'd you know? What's it mean, anyway?
Cheryl: Mopeds are fun, but you don't want your buddies to see you riding one.
Pam: Oh.
Cheryl: Yeah.
Pam: I thought he meant I was fuel efficient. Only had 10 beers.
Cheryl: 40's?
Pam: No. Yes. Hence the shandy. My head feels like a bunch of monkeys fighting over a bucket of marbles.

Sterling: There's a sniper out there whose bullet can start World War 3, and you idiots are tying up ISIS resources on high school bullshit!
Pam: Yeah.
Cheryl: Yeah.
Ray: Nooo...
Sterling: Cause I really don't see a downside to that Archer-wise...
[picks up a gunbelt]
Sterling: Here load up... should be a big box of grenades around here somewhere.

Pam: I think these uniforms are awesome! Here, let me get some pics of you!
Lana: To masturbate to?
Pam: [laughs] Pfff, please...... ..Please?

Cyril: For God's sake, Pam. Have you no sense of decency? That bathroom's like a war crime.
Pam: Don't blame me. It's those new low flow toilets. With the old ones you could flush a dachshund puppy. I mean, not that you would.

Pam: [after head-butting an archduke] Oh, sorry, your archdukeness.
Ray: I wouldn't worry about it. It's not like violence against an archduke ever led to somethin' bad.

[Archer drives off in a limousine Malory wanted]
Malory: Son of a bitch!
Pam: YOUR words.

Pam: Sploosh.

Pam: [Answering phone] Yello.
Cyril: Pam. Listen.
[Chuckles awkwardly]
Cyril: I need you to come to L'Orange. Archer stuck me with a huge tab, then left with my coat, which had my wallet in it, and there's a menacing busboy who won't stop staring at me.
Pam: And you want *me* to come over there and blow a busboy, so he'll forget about your dinner tab.
Cyril: What? No! Come with money to pay the tab.
Pam: Oh... lame.

Pam: Ummm, I maybe, kinda slightly, took it.
Ray: Why would you do that?
Cheryl: Did you think it was meat?
Pam: I... shut up!

Lana: Pam, you okay?
Pam: [very angry] Do you people even give a shit? Cheryl's dumb ass gets me kidnapped and the shit kicked out of me all day, and nobody even tries to rescue me?
Ray: Archer's fault.
Sterling: Shut up!
Pam: YOU shut up, Mister "Pam's Not Worth It!" Then you stupid a-holes shoot a jillion stupid a-hole bullets at me!
Malory: Not me! I wasn't shooting!
Pam: And YOU, the worst of the bunch!
Malory: Me? Why me?
Pam: Five thousand measly dollars?
Malory: You know, maybe I lowballed him at first, but I-I-I had some wiggle room!
Pam: Yeah? Well let's see how much you wiggle when I'm whipping five thousand bucks worth of your ass!
Lana: Hey, whoa, Pam!
Sterling: Lana. Let her have this one.
Malory: Sterling! Somebody? Anybody?

Sterling: Face it, Lana. Angry's basically your default setting.
Lana: Says who?
Sterling: Besides everybody?
Cyril: Well, not everybody.
Lana: Thank you!
Pam: Just the people who've actually met you.
Krieger: Ehhhh, possibly a few others.
Lana: Hey, assholes! I'm not, like, perpetually angry!
Sterling: Ha, ha, ha, ha. Really?
Lana: Yes, really!
Sterling: Scale of one to ten, Lana. How happy would you say you are, in general?
Lana: Oh, easily a six.
Sterling: A six? Then what's a seven? Yea! I've got tons of cancer!

Pam: [Covering Malory with a blanket] Aw, look. She's almost not terrifying.
Lana: [sighs] Thanks, you guys. I think the spa day took her mind off Archer being missing... even if it almost got weird.
Cheryl: She made it weird.
Lana: No, you did. Nobody wants an enema.
Cheryl: Some people...
Lana: Not with yogurt.

Pam: You're kidding.
Sterling: No, I'm dead serious.
Pam: Yeah?
Sterling: I want to file an HR complaint against Conway.
Pam: On what grounds?
Sterling: He touched my penis with his penis!
Pam: Wow.
Sterling: Yeah. He just came up to me and was like, bwoop!
Pam: Where?
Sterling: All of it! Head and shaft.

Pam: State dependent memory!
Cyril: So your plan is for us to get as black-out, knee-walking, shit-faced drunk as were last night in the hopes that we remember the password.

Pam: Son of a shit-snacking whore.

[last lines]
Sterling: ...I was here...
Sterling: [drinks] ... half drunk and having amazing sex.
Pam: Well, I wouldn't say amazing.
[pause]
Pam: What? Come on, you were pushin' rope!

Mallory: New rule! No more office gun play.
Pam: Fine by me; knives and chains are so much more... intimate.
Pam: You know you got shot, right?
Cheryl: For your information, this is a prior wound.

Malory: You tell me, does it look like I'm allergic?
Pam: Jesus Jones, yes!
Malory: So when I asked for cucumber slices, which one of you idiots sent up zucchini?
Cheryl: Oh, well, um, that would be...
Pam: That would be Jane.
Malory: Scatterbrain Jane?
Cheryl: I know. She's just a mess.
Pam: Because this is obviously zucchini.
Malory: Oh, like you'd recognize a vegetable that wasn't wrapped in a Monte Cristo sandwich.
Pam: What's that supposed to mean?
Malory: That is Pam, isn't it?

Pam: That idea would suck a dick just to cut in line to suck a bigger dick.

Pam: [holding microphone] So why are these damn peer reviews so hard? Only like ten people work in this whole goddamn chickenshit outfit.
[extends hand, drops mic]
Pam: Sorry.
Cheryl: Oh, don't be. It is a chickenshit outfit.

Pam: [after setting fire to the dead bodies] Yeah, I'm kinda hungry... is that weird?
Malory: It would be weirder if you weren't.

Cyril: Why the hell are you two still here?
Cheryl: Because I knew you'd be here because you don't trust Lana with Mr. Archer.
Cyril: No! No, now that is...
Cheryl: ...so ironic, Cyril, especially in light of recent rug-burny events.
Cyril: No!
Pam: Oh, my god, you two BANGED?
Cyril: I, uh, see, here's the thing... uh fruit basket!
[Dumps basket on floor]
Pam: Wow. You are just a dog in a manger.
Cheryl: I don't know what that means, Pam. I didn't grow up on a cheese farm.
Pam: Oh for the... It's called a dairy.

Pam: Because when your co-workers put food in the refrigerator, that's a bond of trust. Okay? And if you violate that trust, or the food.
Sterling: There's my favorite section head!
Pam: I am dealing with the break room problem!
Sterling: Oh, good, you caught the, um... oh wait, I had something for this. Pita predator!
Pam: You know what?
Sterling: Sorry, let's just call it what it is. Food rapist.
Pam: Not a pretty name, is it?

Sterling: Who hunts dogs?
Pam: [off camera] Orientals, duh!

Cheryl: But it mutated and now we're on the verge of World War II.
Pam: Three.
Cheryl: It's not a competition, Pam!

Pam: [to Archer] Nice one, Father Guido Sardouchebag!

Cheryl: George says you stiffed him.
Malory: What? No, I didn't. I gave him a tip.
George: A stick of gum?
Malory: Well?
Pam: Really?
Ray: Did you not have a button?

Cheryl: Please, if you really cared, you'd resign, but there's no way you ever will, because you're just counting the days until, her face bloated and yellow from liver failure, she calls you to her death bed and, in a croaky whisper, explains that Mr. Archer is totally incompetent and that you, the long-suffering Lana Kane, are the only one qualified to run ISIS and you weep shameful tears because you know this terrible place is the only true love you will ever know.
Lana: [Upset] Excuse me.
Pam: Daaaaaamn!
Cheryl: What?... Oh my god, was I talking?

Pam: That's 150 gallons... of Pam's hot, dirty, ball-slappiney...
Sterling: Ohhhh, god!
Pam: Come at me, bro!

[repeated line]
Pam: Holy shitsnacks!

Cyril: Oh, hey, Archer. Come to think of it, where were you last night?
Sterling: Ask your wife.
Pam: Aww, you know his wife left him... for you, Archer. You screwed her tits off at the precinct cookout. So then she thought the two of you would get married and live happily ever after, but then, you were like whaaaat?
[Archer looking dumbfounded]
Pam: Exactly, that face right there.
Sterling: I...
[turns and walks away]
Sterling: ... Oh.
Cyril: How did that help?
Pam: Mmmm... humanizes you?

Pam: Whatcha doin', Krieger?
Dr. Krieger: Well, I feel bad for Archer, so I'm making him some Portuguese flashcards.
Cyril: Portuguese? But isn't... I thought Krieger was a German name.
Dr. Krieger: Über-German. It means "warrior".
Cheryl: How come you know Portuguese?
Dr. Krieger: [evasively] Because I grew up in Braz - istol... County... Rhode Island. Lotta... Portuguese in Rhode Island.
Cyril: [skeptically] Where you're from.
Dr. Krieger: Born and raised!
Cyril: Uh-huh. What's the state capital?
Dr. Krieger: Of...
Cyril: Rhode Island.
[Krieger thinks for a moment]
Dr. Krieger: Dallas?
Cyril: A-ha!
Pam: A-ha what?
Cheryl: It's Austin! Duh!
Cyril: It's Providence! But I bet he knows the capital of Brazil, don't you?
Dr. Krieger: I don't have to answer that! Who do you...
Cyril: [interrupting] Warum hast du Umzug nach Brasilien?
["Why did you move to Brazil?"]
Dr. Krieger: Weiter den Kampf der mein Führer!
["To continue my Führer's fight!"]
Dr. Krieger: [Realizing what he just said] Schieße!
[He runs away]