Finch: You have anything to drink?
Stifler's Mom: I believe the kegs are upstairs.
Finch: That is what the cretins drink. I'm talking about alcohol, liquor...the good stuff.
Stifler's Mom: I've got some scotch.
Finch: Single malt?
Stifler's Mom: Aged eighteen years. The way I like it.
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