Austen: Flora! Get away from that window unless you want your naked behind all over Google maps or Facebook.
Flora: What? Did you see the Google spy car?
A: No–but I bet there’s a satellite somewhere pointing straight at your butt.
F: Jesus, can’t a girl have some privacy in her own house?
A: There is no such thing as privacy anymore.

(Note to self: Remember they hear everything you say. There is no privacy in the house.)