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Cut to Senator McAllister's Los Angeles field office. Kitty is trying to arrange an interview for the Senator with Bruce Newman, a reporter from the San Jose Mercury News. McAllister isn't keen on the idea.

McAllister: Newman hates me. In his last editorial he said I wasn't as smart as Hillary Clinton, but I was prettier. Schedule it over the phone. Maybe he'll hear my ideas better if he's not getting lost in my blue eyes.

It seems like McAllister is only half joking there. Mighty full of himself if you ask me. But I digress.

McAllister and Kitty head into his office and behind closed doors he asks her to stop calling him “Senator” all the time. Maybe he'd prefer “Ole' Blue Eyes”? Kitty tells him she needs to maintain the formality to re-establish her professional credibility around the office. Uh, I think that ship may have sailed, Kitty.

McAllister: Kitty, look around. Nobody cares!

Kitty: Really? Well why is everybody looking at me like I'm the biggest slattern of the Pacific Rim?

Oh, Kitty. Where to begin? And slattern? Suddenly, I'm watching BBC miniseries with slatterns and bollocks.

McAllister: This is the field office of the junior senator from California. Not the lunch room at Malibu High.

Oh, would that it were. That would make for some interesting television.

McAllister: Around here we're legislating. Governing. We're “Making a Better America!”

Kitty: Oh God, you sound like a bumper sticker.

McAllister: Really? Because that's one of the slogans we're working on for the presidential campaign.

Interesting. Kitty is supposed to be the Senator's communications director and he doesn't even include her on his sloganeering committee? Is it just me, or does Kitty seem hopelessly out of the loop?

McAllister: “We're Making a Better America. What do you think?”

Kitty: I think it's sub-moronic.

McAllister: Really? Because Noreen ran a field poll on it and it scored in the low eighties.

Kitty: Well, America is sometimes wrong.

McAllister: I think the Democrats are already using that one.

Touché! Who says Republicans don't have a sense of humor? Kitty turns and heads for the door.

Kitty: I better leave. If we stay in here any longer people will think we're going at it like weasels.

Hmm. I wasn't aware that weasels were renowned for their lovemaking. Rabbits maybe. But weasels? I had a boyfriend once who had a pet weasel. The thing had a really musky smell that stunk up his whole apartment. At least, I think it was the weasel. Or wait, maybe the guy I knew had a ferret. I can't remember. Weasels, ferrets. Either way, they're sort of a turn off.

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