Okay, we're going to do a little informal poll here... I want everyone to tell me what they think the title is a reference to and (if they're comfortable with it) what decade they were born in. I think the data is going to have a distinct skew to it.
Also, the other day I got this link sent to me to someone's blog, I couldn't read the name because it was in Japanese, but it had some real positive things to say about my Office stories... so nice, in fact, the only thing I could think to do was write a new one. So, thanks much... I hope you dig this one.
Jim, thoughtful: "My biggest fear..."
Jim: My biggest fear is actually that... I meet Winona Ryder, and we just immediately hit it off, and... she invites me back to her place... and then, all of the sudden...
Jim: ...She finds out I never read Catcher in the Rye.
He shakes his head in utter shame.
Jim: I faked my way through the entire unit by flirting with the girl next to me.
Jim: And that's my biggest fear.
Jim: Of course, spending a whole week in a city where the only two people I know are Dwight and Andy...
Jim: Well, that's got it's own problems.
Don't Forget To Bring A Towel
Michael stared at the telephone on Pam's desk, willing it to ring. She had to come through for him on this one, he had sacrificed a whole week of talking shop in beautiful Newark for this, if the plan fell apart now, it would all backfire on him and he'd be stuck with those two idiots the whole time.
Pam watched Michael, knowing that he was trying to seem nonchalant, but since that simply was not a word he understood, or could even spell accurately, he was falling short as usual.
Directly across from her, Dwight was on speakerphone with a customer while he used his free hands to hastily finish packing.
"What price is the regular paper?" the customer's voice asked.
"There's no such thing as 'regular' paper, sir," Dwight explained. "We have thousands of different varieties, each of different weights and finishes, each designed for a different function. What would the primary use for this paper be?"
There was a lengthy pause on the other end before the customer answered weakly "it goes in a printer."
Dwight curled up his lips in utter disgust. When he noticed Andy was moving towards Michael, he quickly severed the connection and leapt to intercept.
"Hey, Big Boss," Andy smiled, "you always ready to hit the old dusty road?"
Michael looked at the phone, then at his watch, then back at the phone.
"Um, yeah, yeah," he improvised to his usual capabilities. "Oh!" he theatrically slapped himself on the head. "I just realized I left all my bags back at my condo."
"No problem, Michael," Dwight butted in. "I can drive you there along the way."
"Good, good," Michael nodded. "I should really stop there anyway, just in case there's some kind of emergency with Jan... or something."
Just then, the phone rang.
"Dunder-Mifflin, this is Pam..." Pam covered the mouthpiece with her palm and handed the phone to Michael. "It's for you, it's Jan," she explained.
Michael tried his best to look puzzled, which ended up falling closer to William Shatner trying to look interested. "Jan? Why would she be calling?" he asked the room before launching into his fake phone conversation. "Hello, Jan? Really? No, no understand. I'll be right there." He said all this without thinking to give her time for any real response, but Andy and Dwight didn't seem to notice. "That was Jan," he told anyone who'd missed it. "It looks like I'm going to be missing this trip, I have to drive her to the hospital."
Dwight was aghast. The unthinkable had happened.
"Oh, my God," Phyllis gasped. "She is okay?"
"She's twisted her... uterus," Michael answered gravely.
"That sounds pretty serious," Angela winced.
"Well, she'll be okay," Michael assured them, "she just needs me to to take care of her for a week or so."
"Michael," Pam (reasonably) pointed out, "that's sounds like she needs to go into surgery right away."
"No, it will be fine," Michael casually brushed her off.
"Are you going to take off work to supervise her?" Kelly asked.
"God, no," Michael scoffed. "The important thing is that I won't be able to go to this convention, and in my place I will be sending Toby."
Toby took a moment to look nonplussed. "It's a sales convention, Michael. I'm Human Resources."
"Which means that it's about time you started pulling your weight around here," Michael demanded.
"I'm sorry, Michael," Toby replied drily, "I can't fly. My grandfather died in the Hindenberg crash."
There was a smattering of polite chuckles, but Michael was infuriated. "Toby, in this office we do not make jokes about real tragedies," he muttered angrily, "only made-up ones like the Spanish Inquisition." Everyone shared a glance, but no one spoke up. "This convention is important and I will not let you shirk your responsibilities to this company."
"Michael..." Toby protested weakly.
Suddenly, Jim leapt to his feet. "You know what, Michael, I'll go."
Looking in Michael's puzzled face, Jim could see his boss struggle to string together a reasonable reason to stop him, so Jim decided to answer proactively. "I'll be able set up sales deals, I'll be negotiate with suppliers, and you'll be able to stay here with Jan... it will work out great."
Even with all of Michael's mental prowess pushed to the limit, the only person more qualified than Jim that Michael could think to send was himself, and given Jan's promises of what this week may hold, he wasn't about to let that happen. "Well..."
Dwight didn't seem too thrilled by this solution, but no one else raised a reasonable, and, besides, Jim's bags were already packed.
Jim: So, why did I agree to go?