My Latest Undercover Assignment

Infiltrating a Somali pirate training facility. I suspect my greatest challenge on this one will be “blending.”

I just hope my new Silhouette Shape-Shifting Suit (SSSS) is done in time. The 2010 Model comes complete with a DNA scrambler!

I just hope my new Silhouette Shape-Shifting Suit (SSSS) is done in time. The 2010 Model comes complete with a DNA scrambler!

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“Viva Hearts Tiger!”

Yes darling, “Viva Hearts Tiger!” That is the text message I received.



My stupid sister Viva meant to send it to her new boyfriend. The one she met recently while she’s in treatment (again) for sex addiction. Instead, she sent it to her entire contact list. Probably on purpose. Anything for attention, that’s our Viva!

Fortunately the tabloids contacted me first, and now I’m off to break the news to Elin. I am not looking forward to this — that woman has a temper, boy! The jet’s been fueled up, and I plan on taking her and the children to someplace remote (with lots of open space) for the weekend. I suppose we gals will be getting quite fueled up ourselves. I’ve even invited Lara “Empress of the Universe” Croft — word is she’s got the itch again. This may turn out to be a very interesting weekend, just we ladies…

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Return Of The Gypsy!

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.

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,

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...

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.

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.

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Debriefing On Spy Spa Retreat; or Why I Stopped Socializing With Colleagues

Plotting my escape strategy from Margarita Night with Laura "Empress of the Universe" Croft.

Once that DJ started playing Hall & Oat's "Private Eyes", I knew it was time to make my escape.

I really need to make friends outside of my Elite Special Agent / International Spy Circles. It’s far too small a world, and It’s becoming quite a bore, as a recent annual conclave at the Spy Spa Retreat proved. Why did I even go? What was I thinking?

Laura “Empress of the Universe” Croft and I are back on speaking terms (since she finally returned my Kunikane). And… let’s just say Laura’s issues have issues. Our first night there she had too much to drink and got carried away, going on and on how “… I’d leave it all behind in a heartbeat if I could just find a good man who loves me for who I am and settle down,  I’m not getting any younger Vulva and I’d like to have a baby —  I don’t know, maybe six, I could adopt…” Christ, she’s seriously lost her edge.

The Good news: my ex, James “Quantum of Lame” Bond was a no-show. I swear if I have to watch him talk with his mouth full one more time I’m gonna flick a cyanide capsule in his trap myself. But I digress… The Bad news: They reason for his absence, according to Iterpol, is because he was tied up getting my Stupid Sister Viva past customs. Those two really do deserve each other. If they ever moved in together, it would literally be a house of mirrors. The two vainest people I know.

Ethan “Runt” Hunt managed to tear himself away from his latest project “Operation: Glory Hole” (which he is taking FOREVER to “research” in San Francisco) and grace us with his presence. He’s absolutely unbearable these days, always trying so hard to be the strongest/fastest/best-liked in that overcompensating way that short, closeted Scientologists often do. But I digress.

The “Bourne” Boob was there and all mopey, sitting alone posing at the end of the bar. He was never terribly interesting in the first place. But lately, he seems to be taking himself (and his image) a little too seriously, like he’s trying to be George Clooney or Brad Pitt. I’ll give him credit though, he’s dressing much more nicely these days.

The Cessna awaits and I’m slipping away for a real holiday at an undisclosed location with an unnamed travel companion. This is one Secret Agent who likes to keep her secrets secret… Ciao, darling!

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Mole alert! Abort joint mission between ARDOR and MRS!

Reward offered for anyone with any knowledge of who might have taken this photo!

Substantial reward offered for anyone with knowledge of who might have taken this photo of yours truly and the head of the MRS.

What started with good vibrations has ended in pure frustration.

A clandestine meeting between yours truly the head of the MRS has raised alarms, since apparently news of our collaboration was leaked. Details of the mission (and subsequent breach) cannot be detailed at this time. Both ARDOR and the MRS are on high alert. Please notify Twilite Fontanelle if you have any news about this alarming development. Security status: Code Red.

Perhaps it’s a coincidence, but Interpol reports that my Stupid Sister Viva is back in the states. Apparently my ex, James “Quantum of Lame” Bond got her past customs. If she had anything to do with this, then they’re both walking targets in my book.

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Operation: Litcrawl (a/k/a “Litquake”) or let’s get “Dirty In The Alley”, darling!

I'm just waitin' on the man. Or woman.

I'm just waiting on the man. Or woman.

Location: Clarion Alley, to be exact (October 17, 2009, 18:00 PST) for Operation: Litcrawl, as part of Litquake. Members of the Mrs Robinson’s Society will be on hand to provide impossibly stylish security detail (and secure the perimeter so there are no surprises courtesy of my Stupid Sister Viva). It will be an evening you and yours truly won’t soon forget. You can learn more by clicking HERE (not a secure channel, darling).

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Bolivian Oblivion

Recon with living legend Twilite Fontanelle.

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.

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.

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!

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 Idian Wrestle into the wee hours...

Twilite Fotanelle, Queen Maria, and Yours Truly celebrate our victory. I could hear those 2 old friends Indian Wrestle into the wee hours...

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The Final Session of Sibling Psychotherapy

Viva, making another memorable exit.

Viva, making another memorable exit.

Here’s one chapter I’m more than happy to see come to a close: my stupid sister Viva and I had our final session of sibling psychotherapy. Not because we have “Healed Our Shared Wound” or “Built a Bridge of Love” nor any other of the lamebrained goals Tak Ishii set for us.

It’s because he’s sueing us (and ARDOR) if Viva ever comes within 100 yards of him. My two new favorite words: Restraining Order.

Really  Tak, what is the point?

Really Tak, what is the point?

Tak wanted us to do the impossible: a Trust Exercise. You’ve seen it before, where one person falls backward, the other catches them in their arms. I tried telling him it was a huge mistake, but Dr. 100%-Success-Rate wouldn’t believe me.

The first half was fine. I caught Viva. All 98 pounds of her. But darling you don’t think I was going to trust her to do that same, do you? I mean, the girl has the attention span of a fruitfly. And I cannot afford injury right now, as we’re about to go into our busy season at ARDOR. Many terrorists get restless at summer’s end for some reason. It’s the oddest thing. Some liken it to that back-to-school melancholy of youth, though it’s been my experience that most terrorists are not highly educated (formally, that is). But I digress…

Tak thought I was greatly underestimating Viva. So to show me a thing or two, he stepped in, awaiting her to catch him. And of course, at the exact moment he was falling backward, Little Miss Popular got a text message. Priorities, priorities!

He crashed into his $12,000 mother of pearl inlaid glass sculpture. He got a concussion and was hospitalized overnight. Oh, and the blood from that gash!

The good news is my time is now my own again, so that I may focus on what is important. World Peace. As for Viva, I’ve no idea. She was ordered by the state of California to stay away until after Fleet Week is over, as a result of that “performance” she put on for the Blue Angels last year (the one that shut down the Golden Gate Bridge for seven hours). I pray this time she’s learned. But I sense otherwise.

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Not-so Brave New World.

Have some dignity, RANCOR!

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.

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A new category of torture for the CIA: psychotherapy with my stupid sister Viva.

Must we really do this?

Must we really do this?

All of Tak’s efforts at bringing closer together  Viva “call me VFer” (don’t ask) and yours truly are beginning to feel like a lesson in futility (from this point known as an “LFu” — much easier for VFer to pronounce).

This week started with another little exercise, this one: Role Reversal. We had to pretend we were each other and say what we like — and then, dislike — about one another. Then (still as the other person), what we like/disliked about ourselves. As you can imagine, it took hours just to explain this to VFer in terms she could actually grasp. Poor darling was tired after partying with the cast of “Gossip Girl” (?) the night before.

We breezed right through the “like” portion in no time. The dislike: let’s just say Tak was more than happy to share with us that stash of “happy pills” he seems to keep at-the-ready whenever we have an appointment.

Next was what Tak felt was a vital task: That we form a bond of touch. Yes, seriously. We assured him a hug was out of the question, so for now we played “hands”. just palm-to-palm. Like you see in films when family visits family in prison — only they’re fortunate enough to have a panel of glass between them (which is what I suggested).

We got through it. But for the first time in my life, I can honestly say I’m afraid. Afraid of what our next session holds in store…

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