Dwight bursts into the party planning committee's meeting to instruct them to get trick candles and give them a list of surprises Michael wants. Which as it turns out, includes a stripper-gram. Angela kicks Dwight out of the meeting. Pam looks amazed that that actually worked. Oh, do keep up, Pam.

For some reason, Michael has Ryan in his office as he calls up Jan to finagle a birthday greeting out of her. After dutifully sighing happy birthday over the speaker phone, Jan asks if she's on camera. Michael assures her that she isn't, and thus can say whatever's in her heart. Which turns out to be [beat][click]. Well said, Jan. "You can take a five," Michael tells Ryan.

Michael opens a big box of donuts in the break room, and stands there next to it with his hand on the coffee carafe, just waiting to pick it up when someone walks in. Stanley comes in and takes one, mumbling "happy birthday" at Michael, who claims not to know who brought them. Stanley leaves Michael to man his donuts.

Kevin has just broken some news to Jim, who asks when Kevin will have the final word. Kevin says this afternoon. Second opinion, apparently. Kelly comes over and asks what's up, and Kevin tells her, "I might have skin cancer." Kelly starts babbling about a lifeguard on Grey's Anatomy. "Kelly, you know what?" Jim says, shaking his head at her. Wow, Jim didn't lift a hand, and I felt that smackdown all the way over here. Free-associating on the death theme this subject has introduced, Kelly THs about how Diana's funeral was the saddest ever. "That and my sister's."

Toby spots the donuts, but Michael shuts him out, ostensibly for forgetting his birthday but actually for being Toby.

Over in Accounting, Oscar is trying to buck up Kevin, which Angela calls giving false hope. "It's probably nothing, though," she adds, off Kevin's fearful look.

A delivery woman comes in with a big flat box for Michael. He comes out of his office, acting all giddy, thinking she's his stripper gram. He sits in a chair, awaiting a lap dance, and when Pam offers to sign for it, he looks like someone just dumped a bucket of water on him. In a peeved TH, he tells a story about his seventh birthday when he got a rash from the pony his mom hired for his birthday party, and missed the whole thing while he had to have cream rubbed on him. "So that was probably my worst birthday," he concludes. Day ain't over yet.