Roz : You should have seen him, Frasier. He was raring to go, he kept bragging about how good he was and how much fun it was going to be, and he dies on me!
Bulldog : Hey, it happens to all guys, okay?
Frasier : Bulldog...
Bulldog : No, no. This is a pet peeve of mine, doc. Why is it always the guy's fault? You know, if you chicks needed a little less booze to get from "maybe" to "yes," we'd be a lot more alert when the moment of truth arrives.
Frasier : Bulldog, Roz was playing checkers with an elderly gentleman and he died.
Bulldog : Oh, well... when I said "We" I didn't mean me, because I don't have that...
[Frasier and Roz just wait]
Bulldog : Hey, you're a doctor, that was confidential!
Frasier : Listen, have you seen Roz? She's late. My show goes on in thirty seconds.
Bulldog : You know what? I'd dump her.
Frasier : That's a little extreme, don't you think?
Bulldog : No. I fire everybody once a year. Housekeepers, personal trainers, phutt. You know, cut them off before they start copping an attitude. Oh, oh, doctors are the worst of all. You pick up the same disease three or four times, they start lecturing you like it's your fault.
[holds up chocolate bar]
Bulldog : Want a bite?
Frasier : Not if you skipped it to me over a pool of disinfectant.