urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:seanan_mcguire The Journal of Seanan McGuire Seanan McGuire 2009-11-05T03:38:58Z urn:lj:livejournal.com:atom1:seanan_mcguire:167617 2009-11-05T03:38:58Z 2009-11-05T03:38:58Z Glee, "Bust A Move." I am a professional. I am aware of what is and is not appropriate conversation for polite company (although I sometimes forget when the topics of "pandemic disease" or "zombies" come up; sadly, I can be goaded into gleeful explanations of latency and droplet-based transmission just about anywhere, including the dinner table). I wear real grown-up shoes when I have to take business meetings, and I have a calm, measured telephone voice.<br /><br />All this being said, there's a reason I don't usually take phone calls in my house.<br /><br />The Agent called to discuss my upcoming trip to New York, during which we're going to be doing several dinner-type things, some meeting-type things, and a lot of hanging out. During our forty-minute or so discussion, she was treated to...<br /><br />"Ow! Ow ow OW! Goddammit, Alice, get your claws out of my fucking leg!"<br />"No. No, you can't have that. No, that isn't yours. No."<br />"Get off of there! Jesus, cat, I swear, I will skin you."<br />"I can get new cats, you know. Better cats. Smaller cats. Cats that don't <i>do</i> that."<br />"Alice, give back my bra."<br />"I'm serious, Alice. Give me back my damn bra."<br />"THAT'S MY FUCKING BRA, CAT!"<br />"Okay, I give up. Just do whatever the fuck you want."<br /><br />...all while we were having a serious business discussion. I swear, the fact that she hasn't drowned me and put me out of her misery is something of a miracle.