Movie Maniac Me

So, I have this new kitten, right? And he likes me best among all my family. (This is not a brag. I am hardly ever proud of it and sometimes quite annoyed by it. It is what it is.)

Anyway, Chester is generally a friendly, engaging and endearing animal -- expect when an unsuspecting ankle passes his turf, or an unsuspecting business caller is on the line and would be damaged by my screams of profanity/ agony. These are the moments Chester strikes.

I can't figure out if the razor claws or the dagger teeth are worse -- but neither feels very nice on flesh. Nor do they allow any permanent healing of my scratch-surfaced, puncture-wounded, pock-marked hands. And -- I swear -- this cat is menaically drawn to me while I'm on the phone! Any movement of cord and it's all over. He's on the arm of the chair; he's reached the desk; he's in the air.

In response Chester's rapid attack mode, I have developed a plan I call Operation: Kill-him-with-Kindness. I've develope da cool, almost King-Fu move for when he takes flight, headed for my hands. I swivel my body, grab him and immobilize him against my midsection. Then, still holding firmly, I pet the cat and whisper nice things I don't currently feel. Being a fuzzy lump o' love at his core, Chester pretty much gives up immediately. As long as he gets attention, he will stay and purr.

So here I am all day -- a busy, busy woman of international business, attached to her headset, plotting counterattacks for kittens while playing it smooth in front of her flat screen. Then I recline in my large leather chair, stroking the purring pussy. I might as well be plotting world domination.

...Not seriosuly, but don't you see where I'm going with this? Yes, I have become the very picture of Auric Goldfinger.

No, really. James Bond villian extraordinaire -- that's me. Gimme a signet ring for the pinkie and the picture will be complete. "No, Mr. Bond. I expect you to die."

"Choose your next witticism carefully, Mr. Bond; it may be your last."

What? You don't see it?