Jamie: “Hey, you wanna go see The Pirates Of The Caribbean?”

Beaker: “Sure. Hey, what’s that rated?”

Jamie: “ARRR!”

He chuckled. I laughed for a good 10 minutes at my own razor-sharp wit, then forgot about it.

Until last night, when Beaker approached me and announced very indignantly, “Jamie, the pirate movie is rated PG-13!”

Jeepers.

Small, boring announcement: Anyone who has sent me an email in the past week and is wondering why I haven’t responded should probably resend it. I’d rather stab myself in the leg with a squeegee than pay for my hotmail account, but I have lots of messages saved, so I teeter sexily on the brink of full capacity.

A week away from a computer combined with asshatloads of spam proved to be too much for my micro(soft)managed account, and they went and done deleted my whole inbox.

The conference was fine. I didn’t win the big national title, but my speech kicked ass. Highlights to come.