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Rule Number One: No Photographs!
I was so close to finally capturing that one creature that has managed to evade my clutches, The Silver Fox.
I picked up on his hypnotic scent at Latitude: 37°46′42.211″N Longitude: 122°23′22.052″ (quelle surprise!), and followed him to the very place where we’d met. Old habits die hard, darling.
It would be generous on my part to say he was “spying”. Either he wasn’t even trying or he’s seriously lost his touch — and I personally hope that is not the case. There he was, shamelessly circling the Mrs. Robinson’s Society. At least he still has exquisite taste, I’ll give him that. Frankly he’s lucky I spotted him before they did — those ladies suffer neither fools nor foxes!
And so I whisked him off, somewhere more private where I could give him a refresher course in the Art of Discretion. I look forward to monitoring his progress.
Until we meet again, nimrod local law enforcement!!!
Thanks to idiotic local law enforcement (SFPD AMATEURS!) blowing my cover (and that of my partner, Matti) on a recent top-secret international mission, we’ve been forced deep underground until further notice.
Matti (you may recall he was my adorable captor during that kidnapping incident last spring) finds the whole thing rather amusing. But he’s from Finland, so he’s used to months of darkness on end. But yours truly was just starting to build a decent base tan! And now this crap.
Fortunately, I’ve also built a decent base wine collection, so I imagine the time spent in my custom-designed bunker/wine cellar shouldn’t be too miserable. And even my stupid sister Viva won’t be able to find me here.
I just hope my new Silhouette Shape-Shifting Suit (SSSS) is done in time. The 2010 Model comes complete with a DNA scrambler!
I picked up The Gypsy's scent just outside of Uummannaq.
Darling please forgive my extended absence. I was on a top, top, top secret mission, as we got word that my fellow ARDOR agent (and former Solid Gold Dancer) “The Gypsy” might still be alive!
It was believed that she’d perished during the Greenland export revolt. But you’re probably sick to death of hearing about that. Long story short, I got a tip that she was now laundering money in connection with a black market ice ring. Let the games begin!
The question begged: what does one wear to a remote Greenland casino? The answer: bold ethnic prints and accessories. I chose bottled beer as my beverage, to better blend with the locals.
My informant told me to visit the Lucky Kapakka Casino, and ask for Maqi — he would tell me where to find my gal. Of course I recognized Maqi immediately, he might as well have been wearing “Tipster” cologne.
At least make it challenging so I can have a little fun,Maqi!
No words were spoken — his hand said it all. Christ, even my Stupid Sister Viva could have decoded the message in his cards, which gave me The Gypsy’s exact location: the local laundromat. Credit where credit’s due: nobody does irony like the Greenlanders!
Once a Solid Gold Dancer...
And there she was, as beautiful as the day I last saw her, playing the part of Money Laundress so magnificently. Of course old habits die hard, and so The Gypsy was running her own side business: Greenland’s first pole dancing school! She’d made her translator, the gamine Eqarina, her business partner.
Needless to say, the women of Greenland are very bored. And the uber-stoic men of Greenland; put it this way: no need for sleep aids there. Just try to have a conversation (or engage any other activity, for that matter) with one of them. You won’t be able to keep your eyes open. The Gyspy saw an opportunity and capitalized on it.
If only we could bring Eqarina with us. One problem: Interpol.
Still, I convinced her it was time to come home, once Eqarina assured her she’d keep the business thriving. And with that, we counted the krone, and celebrated over much wine and a traditional Greenland dish made of marine mammals.
Recon with living legend Twilite Fontanelle.
When ARDOR informed me they’d intercepted “intelligence” (the occasional irony of that word never ceases to amuse me) that RANCOR had a factory in Bolivia that was manufacturing a knock-off H1N1 vaccination that was about to hit the international black market, I begged for the opportunity to break the case.
First, It would mean the chance to take down (if you will) Eduardo, with whom it’s safe to say I’ve a bit of “unfinished business”. Today he is South America’s #1 underground toxic chemical manufacturer. But when I first met him, he was the rising star of photojournalism, and I the rising star of International Peacekeeping Enforcement. I let him buy me a drink despite his cliche opening, “I’d love to photograph you.” If you could hear his charming accent you too would be inclined to be forgiving. I’m not sure when or why Eduardo went rogue, but it doesn’t matter. Business is business.
Reunited with the dangerously sexy Eduardo. It was a pleasure taking him down.
Second, I’m long overdue for a trip to South America. This time of year always reminds me of Sorata. I don’t know, maybe it’s the Eduardo thing again. It was the morning after that fateful “I’d love to photograph you”meeting on September 16. Deciding to go for a picnic, we got in his jeep and started driving. We soon realized we’d forgotten to buy any food, or bring water, or get gas, and ended up stranded out in the middle of nowhere and if it weren’t for this kind old shepherd who stumbled upon us (literally — it was getting so hot in the jeep) who noticed Eduardo’s camera equipment and luckily the shepherd actually did want his picture taken so Eduardo complied and the shepherd fed us and got us drunk and it truly was the most marvelous day! But I digress…
Ground Zero: Donkey Flu Vaccine. So much is lost in translation.
I knew this mission would be extra special when Twilite Fontanelle greeted me at the hangar! Twi rarely works in the field these days. But apparently she too has some “unfinished business” in Bolivia. Let the games begin!
We were personally led to the suspected scene of the crime by Sorata’s unofficial mayor, “Queen Maria” (Twilite’s above-mention “unfinished business; for more details you’ll have to contact Twi yourself via secure channel). Maria’s family has sort-of ruled this village for centuries, and they are well-loved by the locals. So when they heard of RANCOR corrupt business venture, Maria knew to contact yours truly to get the job done effectively.
Swine Flu, Donkey Flu; 2 words: Details, Darling!
On our initial recon of the area, we established that this job was going to be much easier than we’d ever dreamed. It turns out that the translator Eduardo hired wasn’t so fluent in English after all (sadly, Eduardo never was terribly detail-oriented). And thus the knockoff “Swine Flu” vaccine they’d manufactured to sell on the black market was actually a “Donkey Flu” vaccine. Not much demand for that one anywhere. When we informed the destitute day-laborers that this was in fact the case (and we were offering cash for any information), they couldn’t talk fast enough! Eduardo made a signature quick exit before we could bring him up on any charges. But our paths will cross again…
Twilite Fotanelle, Queen Maria, and Yours Truly celebrate our victory. I could hear those 2 old friends Indian Wrestle into the wee hours...
Have some dignity, RANCOR!
This time, RANCOR has gone too far.
Personally, I think my time is much better spent fighting real crime and threats to world peace. But it’s hard to find time for that when one walks out one’s door, only to find a rookie from ARDOR rival RANCOR rummaging through the rubbish bin of yours truly!
I don’t know if the wayward agent was doing so on official business, or was snooping for something a more personal effect, shall we say. Now that my life story is being made into a blockbuster feature film, every day I find my privacy more and more falling by the wayside.
And now that ARDOR has instilled a “no arms” policy in hopes of setting a peaceful example for the rest of the world, I couldn’t eliminate the pest the good old-fashioned way. “Gathering Evidence” is the method of choice now. The new formula goes like this:
1. Gather Evidence: videotape, audio recording, etc.
2. Use said evidence as a tool of persuasion, if you will. For example “We will broadcast this, unless you agree to … ” I think you get the idea. This is actually the fun part. Watching them squirm.
3. The end result being prevention. The perp will never, ever, want to be in that hotseat ever again.
But I must confess, I do wax nostalgic for the good old days, when problems were deleted at the source, no one complained about not having enough (evidence) storage space, and one could blows off a little steam throughout the day — all while making the world a safer place. But these are different times in which we live. Times that call for extreme measures.
Bjorn, darling: why so much security? You couldn't even give half this stuff away.
I don’t normally take “souvenir shots” after successfully accomplishing a mission — where would I keep such an enormous collection even if I did? But I couldn’t resist this time. Because the very arrogant target swore that his walls were impenetrable.
Of course he didn’t forsee yours truly being assigned the case. And “The King of Porn” Bjorn Bjornsund isn’t quite as clever as he thought. His crime is creating / distributing / pirating porn. Now darling, of course I have no problems with the porn industry. I think that it keeps so many people healthy and happy and — so long as no one is hurt or underpaid or underage or coerced to do something they’re not comfortable doing — really what’s the crime?
But the reason why I wanted to bring Bjorn down is he was peddling American porn. The worst! Why, American porn make carnal pleasure look downright painful (judging by the expressions on the women’s faces) and oftentime silly (and don’t even get me started on the art direction or lack thereof). Honestly, watch some Swedish porn and compare, you’ll see what I mean. The Swedes actually enjoy sex, one would assume, after watching their product. And Bjorn is Swedish / Norwegian. He’s got the greatest porn on the planet right there in his own backfjord… why peddle the worst on the market? I find his lack of taste and good judgment to be his greatest crime.
And now I must painstakingly sort through mountains and hours of evidence. Oh what fresh hell is this? I just pray that My stupid sister Viva doesn’t turn up on one of these tapes. You never know with her.
Celebrating another successful joint mission. (L to R: Mrs. L. Robinson, Mrs. D. Robinson, Mrs. M. Robinson, Mrs. R. Robinson, and yours truly)
The past few months have been spent training Empress Of The Universe Angeline Jolie for her latest part as a world-class spy in the film Salt. Much to my chagrin. I’m over it. But apparently they could find no one else willing to work in her rarefied world, plus she begged me. And ultimately they offered me such an obscene sum to take the assignment, I acquiesced. Honestly I do not know why she went into acting, if all she wants to do is act like a spy — not to say she’s up for the job. Far from it. For starters, she would need to stop expanding her Colony Of Adorable Offspring. But I digress…
With a week off during production so that she may fly off to the middle east to adopt yet another camp of refugees, I found myself with a little down time. But that didn’t last long. I got a call from my favorite ladies in San Francisco, The Mrs. Robinson Society (MRS). You know them as a movable social club, a think-tank for sophisticated ladies of a certain ilk. But I know them as so much more. Whenever I need a team that can mount any hurdle (no matter how large), dominate any adversary, render useless any weapon — you get the idea — I call The MRS. These ladies can penetrate any wall you might erect, conquer any obstacle you might thrust at them… oops, there I go again.
When it was discovered that one of their “Benjamins” had gone rogue (being indiscreet was the least of his crimes), they needed an outside source to handle the matter, shall we say. And no one enjoys disciplining a wayward lad more than yours truly.
Checking with Mrs. Robinson: "How severe a lesson would you like me to teach young Benjamin?"
The AK-47 was just a scare tactic, darling! You know I don’t need arms to get the job done. My impressive weapon collection is exclusively for recreational activities these days. Knives being my favorite. That’s one thing Goddess Jolie and I have in common. Credit where credit’s due: she’s pretty good with a MAK7-WB.
Back on the set tomorrow. One bit of good news — I hope: I’ve found something to occupy my stupid sister Viva for a while: she’s going to be nanny to Brangelina’s brood. Of course not top nanny, darling! You don’t think I’m crazy, do you! She will be supervised by the other five (one for every moppet). But it’ll be something new for her. And honestly: I’ve met the other five nannies. Viva will suffer dearly if she tries to get away with anything at all. I mean it, those women make me nervous. I just wish I could be a fly on the wall her first day…
But… I’ve warmed to the idea. Especially, I’ve warmed to the process of finding a bodyguard who meets all the demands of the job.
My first choice was naturally my protogee, “Drill Bit” Kit. But he’s deep undercover (where he does his best work); this time penetrating a rogue Arizona border-patrol militia. He sent me this snap, taken in their “secret headquarters” meeting basement. Which also doubles as a storehouse for bad ’80’s porn as well, Agent Kit reports.
Next I wanted Matti. You recall Matti from that silly “kidnapping” incident. Fortunately, we managed to put that whole thing behind us, and have grown rather close in recent months. The best thing about Matti is I wouldn’t have to train him at all. In fact, he’s taught me a few new “covert moves”, shall we say. Sadly, Matti is being deported as we speak. It seems they found out where he’s been staying. I knew I shouldn’t have mentioned it to my stupid sister Viva — who knows who she’s been talking (in her sleep) to lately. Idiot.
So, the search continues. Please send resume (along with headshot, references, and salary requirements) to vulva@vulvafervor.com
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