C.J. is walking down a corridor, punching buttons on her Blackberry, when Annabeth walks up to her and says, "It's getting bigger." Her sudden appearance scares the crap out of C.J., who gasps and nearly tosses the Blackberry into the air. The height difference between these two is enormous. The top of Annabeth's head is several inches below C.J.'s shoulder. It's very funny. Annabeth has an update for C.J. on the rumors apparently, the Post has submitted an inquiry, for a piece they are doing on "strategic bloggery." Because just saying something makes the something news, even if the something is completely unsupported and made up out of whole cloth. That's the premise on which both Matt Drudge and Ann Coulter have based their careers. So fuck you, fictional Post, for feeding into this cycle. C.J. ruins the visual joke by asking Annabeth how tall she is. When she hears that Annabeth is 4'11", C.J. says, "I can't believe we're the same species." You lose definite points for that one, Brad. C.J. proceeds to run both sides of the conversation at high speed: "I know we shouldn't be saying anything, but are you sure we shouldn't be saying anything? I mean, it'd be great to get it off the 'net, but it'd seem like a comment on the Sanctity of Marriage Act. Plus, any statement on the White House letterhead brings this from the blogosphere to every news outlet in the country. So, not a peep? Thanks for your advice on this." Throughout this onslaught, Annabeth tries unsuccessfully to get a word in edgewise, and she's just left to look after C.J. with bewilderment as she walks away. Now she knows what I feel like. C.J. runs into Margaret, and asks her if Tommy called. Margaret: "Crickets. Guy's starting to tick me off." C.J. just looks at her, and says, "Crickets?"