Since 2005, NBC has been doing a documentary of what the everyday office environment is like, in Scranton, PA. While the program is currently on hiatus until new episodes debut in the fall, life for everyone at The Office still carries on. Here is a transcript of a recent outing to a Twins game.

Michael:  Wow, a baseball game.  Y'know, I haven't been to a baseball game in years.

Dwight:  Really?  I go all the time.  How long has it been?

Michael:  Ten...five...ten...twelve years.

Jim:  Thirty-seven years, that IS a long time.

Dwight:  I went yesterday.

Michael:  NO, it's been twelve years.  It was 1992.  I wasn't phrasing it in the form of an addition...question.

Jim:  That's fifteen years.

Michael:  Well, whatever.  It just nice to be out...with MAH BOYS, ya know?  Hey!  Who wants a beer?!

Dwight:  Angela says drinking is a sin.  She says that alcohol is the juice of the devil.

Michael:  Loosen up Dwight, okay?  Angela isn't here, it's just us guys, mi amigos, mein...meine...mein freundin...hey, wow, look at her.

Dwight:  She's okay.  She's not my type.

Jim:  What is your type, Dwight?  Blond?  Severe?  Works in accounting?

Dwight:  I don't know what you're talking about.

Michael:  No, seriously, Dwight, how is she not your type?  I think girls in baseball caps are HOT.  But hey, y'know, guys in baseball caps can be hot too.  I know plenty of guys who look hot in baseball caps.  You just don't usually see too many girls...women in baseball caps.  Not that gi..women...can't wear baseball caps.  Baseball caps are uni-gender...yeah.

Dwight:  How is she not my type?  Fine.  I'll tell you, if you must know.  One, I can see the tattoo on her lower back.  Two, she's too thin which is a sign of brittle bones, bad genetics.  Three...

Jim:  She doesn't work in accounting?

Dwight:  NO, and I still have no idea what you're talking about and neither do you.  Three, her t-shirt reads "Mike Redmond is my boyfriend", which I don't understand, meaning she's probably part of some 20-something sub-culture bent on parading its own obscurity in public, thereby alienating anyone not part of said sub-culture.

Michael:  Maybe it just means she's Mike Redmond's girlfriend.

Dwight:  Doubtful.  I happen to know that Mike Redmond is happily married.  Besides, she's much more Jim's type.  What do you think, Jim?  She's obviously much more attractive than Pam.

Jim:  What?

Michael:  HEY, the BEER MAN!  Here, sir?  Sir!  Here!  Yes, three please.  Gimmee the DIESEL.

Beer Man:  Bud, Bud Light, MGD, what would you two gentlemen like?

Michael:  Those two gentlemen?  No no, all three are for me!

Beer Man:  .....

Michael:  HAHA!!!  Just kiddin' man, just playin'.  Hey, what you guys want?

Dwight:  Nothing, I'm fine.

Jim:  I'm okay too.

Michael:  Wow, kill-joys over here.  Alright then, I'll just have one Bud.

Beer Man:  I already opened three.

Michael:  But I only want...

Beer Man:  No, listen, you told me you wanted three 'Diesel', so I opened three 'Diesel'.  You owe me $19.50.

Michael: ....FINE.  I think this is bad salesmanship, which is something I know a little bit about, salesmanship that is, not BAD salesmanship...and I think you're ripping me off, BUT, I don't want to leave you hanging, so...here you go...

Beer Man:  Thanks.

Jim:  Gosh, Michael, twenty bucks for three beers?  Thank God you didn't order three Heineken.

Michael:  Yeah...well, maybe next time when I try to do something nice, you shouldn't be such a...such a jerk.

Jim:  O-kay...

Dwight:  I hope I see a triple play this afternoon.

Jim:  I don't think those are too common, Dwight.

Michael:  What about a QUADRUPLE PLAY.  I love those.

Jim:  Those don't exist.

Michael:  Yeah, I knew that, I was just kidding...

Jim:  Say, Dwight, what's more common?  A double play, or being eaten by a wolf in the jungle?

Dwight:  A double play, obviously.  You're more likely to get hit by a meteorite than get eaten by a wolf in the jungle.  You'd know that, Jim, if you paid any attention to those public service announcements we did for NBC.

Jim:  Dwight...those were fake.

Michael:  Wait, what?  You guys did PSA's for NBC?  Why didn't they ask me?

Dwight:  What do you mean they were fake?

Jim:  How could you NOT know?  Didn't they tell you?  Besides, did you ever see one on TV?  Ever?

Dwight:  DAMMIT.  I've been tivo-ing NBC since August!  No WONDER I never saw one!

Michael:  Maybe they asked me and I was just too busy.  Upper-level management, y'know, maybe Jan told them it wasn't a good idea for the regional manager of a big-time paper distribution company to...

Jim:  Mid-sized paper distribution company?

Michael:  Whatever.  They probably just wanted to give you guys the recognition, y'know, since everyone knows who I am and everything.  Gosh, I'm just so popular now these days, I can't go anywhere without getting asked for autographs...

Jim:  Wow, Santana just struck another guy out.  He struck out the side.

Dwight:  Who cares?  I could have been a baseball player.  I could be as good as Santana.

Michael:  No you couldn't, Dwight.  Could you just leave it at the office for one effing day?  Just..just shut up.

Dwight:  Fact-when I helped my grandfather on the beet farm, he taught me how to throw an unhittable pitch.  It was called the Schruteball.

Jim:  Just the one Schruteball?  The Schrutes didn't have two balls?

Dwight:  One was enough.  Schrutes don't need two balls.

Jim:  So basically, you, as a Schrute, have one ball with which you could tempt the batter...a big, burly guy who likes to hold a long...

Michael:  Okay, stop, that's enough.  Let's...just watch the game.

Dwight:  YEAH!!!  GET RID OF IT!!!  RUN TO THE PILLOW!!!

Jim:  Wait...was that cheering?  Do you even know what you're saying?  You said you knew this game, you went to one yesterday.

Dwight:  It doesn't matter.  It's a scientific fact that people who attend sporting events have significantly lower IQ's than the average individual, meaning they probably don't even understand what I'm saying.  Plus, I'm not drunk, so my perfect diction is probably incomprehensable.

Michael:  Dwight, we're not watching a game with a bunch of cavemen, okay?  Here...

Dwight:  GET IT OUT OF THERE!!

Michael:  Dammit, DWIGHT.  Just shut up and watch the game!  Jeez...

Dwight:  Baseball is very similar to a game played by schoolgirls in England called Rounders.  These are a bunch of men, playing the same game that 13-year old girls play.  This is disgusting.  Almost as disgusting as playing American football instead of rugby.  American football players are a bunch of sissies.

Jim:  So your grandpa helped you develop a pitch to dominate a game played by schoolgirls?

Michael:  Stop.  Stop stop stop stop LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA-LA....are you two done?  I can't even enjoy my beer. Beers.  Say, Stanley, how's that crossword puzzle coming?

Stanley:  Fine.  I'm surprised you remembered I was even here.

Michael:  Of COURSE I remember you're here, Stanley!  You're like my brother, man, my bro, my bruh.

Stanley:  Mm-hmm.

Michael:  And that's not just because you're...y'know...

Stanley:  Black?

Jim:  .......

Michael:  NO.

Stanley:  When's half time? I need to call my wife.

Michael:  There is no half time, but there will be a seventh inning stretch.  Wow, Stanley, don't you watch baseball?

Stanley:  No.  Why?  Should I be knowledgeable of all things sports?

Michael:  Well, uh, NO, it's just that, y'know, I grew up in a pretty rough neighborhood, ran with a tough crowd like you did, y'know, like you told me about in your review, some might call it 'the ghetto'...

Jim:  Anoka isn't the ghetto.

Michael:  ...thirty...twenty years ago, Jim, it wasn't...it wasn't the same, okay?  You'd know that, if you grew up there, like I did.  But we all played a street version of the game.

Jim:  Called 'stick-ball'?

Michael:  How did you know?

Jim:  Everyone played that game.

Dwight:  I played it with beets.  Or potatoes.

Jim:  You didn't have many friends growing up, did you, Dwight?

Dwight:  No.  I still don't.  Friends get to know you.  Once they know you, they know your weakness.  A weakness is a vulnerability someone could use to destroy you.  I have no friends, therefore I have no weaknesses, no vulnerabilities.  Thus, I cannot be destroyed.

Jim:  .......

Michael:  Wow.  Let's just watch the game.

Dwight: Fact-the 'Homerun Porch', isn't a porch at all. They're just seats like everywhere else.