The Adventures of Vulva Fervor

They said it couldn’t be done: Peace in the Middle East!

Ephraim & Kirimeh: friends at last!

Of course it couldn’t be done — until yours truly took a swing at it and brokered peace as only I can. I normally do not bring work home with me, but this was so important, I had to take a very personal, hands-on approach. I invited Israel’s ambassador Ephraim Hirsch and Palestine’s ambassador Kirimeh ha-Kalir both into my home for a light Sunday Brunch.

There were no weapons drawn.

There were no voices raised — only glasses, to toast a new friendship.

Surprise for Ephraim: about to play his nephew's (an Israeli hip hop star) CD!

In fact, by the end of the evening both Palestine and Israel were so cordial, each refused to take the last acre of the gaza strip! It reminded me of my mentors at finishing school at the graduation ceremony: no one would take the last slice of cake. “You take it.” “No you take it.” “No I insist.” “I’ll be insulted if you don’t take it.” By the time we finally found a coin to toss, the cake had melted (ice cream cake). But I digress…

Guess who's coming to dinner?

At first Ephraim was furious. “Vulva, how dare you pull this on me!” He can be so dramatic. But once he met Kirimeh face-to-face (and she impressed him with her gin rummy skills); well, who wouldn’t be charmed? She’s lovely. And she really flipped for his sense of humor!

So they ended up arm wrestling for it and Ephraim won — I’m still not sure Kirimeh didn’t let him. But it doesn’t matter. They both left smiling, and even shared a cab!

Sometimes the rewards of my job exceed the glamour, the money, the fashion, the danger, the adventure, the intrigue, and the weaponry. Which, by the way, I’m cutting back on. I find I sleep better and just feel better all around when I find creative alternatives to traditional weapons. Like today! I look forward to the next impossibly challenging assignment…

I’ve been kidnapped. And I am so embarrassed.

One position I thought I'd never be in: hostage.

And I have no one to blame but myself. I’m a highly-trained elite agent. It’s my job to have nerves of steel and not be distracted and let my guard down enough to get KIDNAPPED. Even if the cause is my stupid sister Viva incessantly screeching “I lost my wallet!” (what else is new?) when we’re supposed to be on holiday in Flekkefjord. No, that’s no excuse on my part. But it’s starting to interfere with my work, which is extremely problematic. And that’s why we’re in family counseling. But I digress…

Back “on topic”, as our counselor is fond of saying: I’m making the most of the situation. I’m certain that my kidnapping is somehow tied in with the recent disappearance of several other agents, mostly from RANCOR and some from ARDOR… So my antennae is up and I’m taking notes. My Finnish is a little rusty, but so far I think my captor (Matti) is — or until recently was — with RANCOR. Which is odd… But fear not. He’s taking very good care of me. The food of course is hit-and-miss, but the vodka is  pure and chilled. And it goes without saying Finns are obsessively clean. So no rush breaking me out of here, ARDOR. I’m quite comfortable. Let me do a little more recon. I’ll use the infrared signaling device when my “mission” is accomplished.

What's a hostage shot without a NYT frontpage dateline?

On the bright side: the Jimmy Choo boots that our gadgets team (Ivan, you are a genius!!!) rigged with an emergency overnight kit works marvelously. All our fears of its functionality proved to be for naught: I was actually “typing” out the text of this entire message with my right heel’s microkeyboard while Matti was taking pictures as souvenirs. As you can see, the detail enhancement device works even better than expected. (The newspaper headline was my idea.)

Trying to find some decent Finnsheep lomein...

In fact, Matti didn’t even realize I took a picture of the picture he took (what you see at the top of this message) with the nano-camo built into the boot’s buckle. The picture I took of him ordering take-out was a test run. He has no idea of this transmission, for that matter. Boy, is he ever in for a surprise! (By the way: brilliant work on Ivan’s part to think to include an international long-distance wi-fi locator and to build one that actually works. On such short notice yet!)

There is a slight problem with the dispenser for the vitamin C Serum I requested, so I’ve gone days without product. I can feel my complexion dulling as we speak, so THAT needs to be addressed ASAP. Oh, also — still haven’t been able to open the infrared location signaler. I’m keeping it warm so its lid should loosen enough hopefully by the time I need it.

We’re enjoying an awful lot of Finnsheep (that’s a smell you never forget), so we’re definitely near Hyvinkaa. Point your own antennae in the general direction until next contact…

An almost perfect spring day in Paris

It's a tradition when Yves and I are together, the red berets.

I spent the weekend in Paris, sort-of a working holiday. A chance to catch up with my dear darling friend Yves (he is so much fun to shop with!), as well as test a new gadget from our weapons department: a machine that samples DNA of everyone within 50 yards. And it has a species setting, so you can choose the DNA sampling size that’s right for your needs. We thought we’d try it out at the Centre Pompidou (a modern art museum). It blended nicely with their current exhibit. And.. it worked beautifully!

The only downside of the whole weekend: Jimmy “Quantum of Needy” Bond won’t stop texting me. And I refuse to change my number again. Even if I did, He’d always be able to get it again. If only he could get a life as easily.

Stuck in Stockholm

At a time when so many people are unemployed, I should not be complaining about my workload. I’m fortunate to have a lucrative, exciting career that allows me to travel the world and meet the most intriguing people  and attend the most spectacular international events where I am required to wear stunning designer couture; and to have an “employer” that pays all my expenses, since I need homes throughout the world in order to function efficiently.

But I’m tired. I was hoping 2009 would be a calm year so I could focus on my hobbies. I’ve registered for a class in Cessna restoration and am scheduled to get my underwater demolition instructor license (I try to give back to the community where I can). But all that will have to wait.

Sweden has begged our help in decoding some strange cyber activity. So yours truly was sent to their aid, as I blend very well among the Scandinavians. Now it’s covert training time 24/7, under night’s endless cover. They call it the land of the midnight sun. I call it the land of the midday moon. No wonder they’re so humorless. But the Swedes do know how to unwind after a full day. They live for their outdoor hot tubs, massage, and vodka. So I remain focused; eye on the prize, eye on the prize.

My Latest Wedding

Prepared to strike.

Another weekend, another wedding. Mine, again. This time the target was my betrothed, Rhys. One of the most menacing and clever arms dealers ever. Also the most paranoid. No weapons allowed in the reception hall by anyone other than his thugs. So I had to do the job with merely a butter knife.

And there’s no one more handy with a knife than yours truly. Even a butter knife. Fait Accompli. Word to HQ: We’ll definitely need a new dress for the next one.

The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year

I love the holiday season. All the worlds’ most dazzling cities are all aglitter and aglow. And when I’m lucky enough to have a mission amidst all of the winter magic, I feel like a child again. A child in an enormous, bewitching, dazzling shooting gallery. A snow globe of danger.

Last night the target was a rogue Santa Claus (ex-KGB; those guys are so bitter) in San Francisco’s Union Square during the Christmas Tree lighting ceremony. This year there’s an ice rink, so that was especially challenging, to not hit the skaters. But I did it. No collateral damage, no need for crowd control. My record remains intact.

Joyeaux Noel!

Parakalo, Greece!

To thank the Agency for it’s part in helping eliminate one of Greece’s most deadly terrorist sleeper cells, their ambassador gave us the 14 goats that were vital for making this mission a success. So now we have 14 goats. That only respond to orders in Greek.

Any Excuse To Hit The Slopes.

Just before the famous “downhill snap-chord” hit in St. Moritz. That one was better than sex.

Sister Vulva.

Undercover at the Vatican.

Our Best-Kept Secret Weapon.

This hit was a doozie: had to whip out the highy specialized (and surprisingly accurate) motion-detecting dachsunds.