The Office: No Work Is Good Work

Oh, reruns - how I hate you so. In a perfect world, there would never be reruns. (Or war. Or famine. Or Ann Coulter. Or blue cheese dressing. Seriously, people? It looks like baby puke.)

Sadly, Baby Shower is my least favorite episode of the year - seconded only by the episode in which Meredith turned into Elisabeth Moss from Girl, Interrupted, and Michael proved to the world that clearly, he has never watched a single episode of Intervention.)

The premise: Michael plans a baby shower for Jan's Mail Order Sperm Baby, justifying to the office underlings that because he and Jan once lived together, the baby must be his. (Hint, Michael: That only works on the Tyra Banks Show.) He even goes so far as to plan out birthing scenarios with Dwight (who, let's face it, is a much more likely candidate to mother Michael's children) in a cold-open that I may never forget, if only for the sight of Rain Wilson pretending to push a giant watermelon out of an invisible vagina. If only I'd had that visual back in high school.

Moving on.

More Plottage: New HR-Rep Holly Flax (AKA: The M.C. Hammer to Michael's Vanilla Ice) tries to put out friendly feelers for Jan, who prefers to chomp up friendliness with her Eye Teeth. Meanwhile, Jim is frustrated that Pam's still in NY and Pam is frustrated that Jim can't talk louder than a bunch of crotchety washing machines. Consequently, Pam calls Jim to gush about some tampons and this one friend she has at art school that...whatever. I went to get a Ring Ding. Anyway, nobody cares, including Jim. (Although it is indeed better than listening to Jan sing about whores and preachers banging like monkeys outside the church. As an aside, I sure hope little AssTurd enjoys getting the milk for free when everyone else has to pay 120 freakin dollars - or $12.50 on TDF if you're smart and go for the discount because HEL-LO, nobody goes to see Chicago on Broadway anymore. Like at all. Ever. Sorry Melora Hardin.)

So. I'm not sure what's up with this weird, uneven mix of slapstick and subtlety this year - if last night's episode were a person, it'd be that confused chick on What Not To Wear who pairs leggings with Converse and weeps because she doesn't understand why velvet and plaid don't live together in harmony; obviously, there's a pretty girl inside her somewhere, but how far beneath the camel-toe and the over-the-top Hypercolor and the desperation to be as irreverent as 30 Rock?

But maybe this is just the unavoidable side-effect of popularity: when you start getting requests to air episodes immediately following the Superbowl, its only a matter of time before you've got to hit someone in the crotch with a football or set Meredith on fire. And that's fine. But can we perhaps come to some sort of happy middle ground? Maybe limiting the number of vandalized copy machines Michael throws down the stairs? Or the number of cars he drives into a lake? And if Dwight is really going to do battle with a $1500 Indestructi-Stroller for the duration of the episode, can we at least pretend that someplace in the Dunder Mifflin Universe, these douchebag actions have equal but opposite douchebag consequences? Granted, I spend about 90% of my day either looking up cute baby animals on the internet or shooting at cute baby animals on the internet, and let's face it, anything's better than work - no really, ANYTHING - like there's a list I've actually made up that includes jail, hanging out in a bomb shelter with the cast of High School Musical, and getting punched in the face by a fifth-grader - but my guess is the line would be drawn when I started throwing strollers off of buildings (which I only ever do when money is involved.)

But where was I?

In the end, to quoth Kevin: "It sounds like jail is better than Dunder Mifflin."

Yes, it occasionally is - but only if you're Ryan.