Behind Every Successful Spook

First thing I'm going to do as an international spy--after cleaning my gun, of course--is acquire me a Greek manservant.

He'll be like an Alfred. Though I don't exactly plan on being a superhero, because that's just too much responsibility.

But every girl spy needs a butler.

Like Gerard Butler.

Mmm...

Baby Spy in Training

Today I got me my own little leather-bound notepad, like the police detectives get. It's part of the IST (International Spy Training) at a facility we'll call Spangley. It's real, I swear.

The notepad makes me all official and stuff.

I also discovered my super secret power. Just by laughing, I gave myself the most godawful cramp in my left ovary. It was sharp and deep and hurt like a bitch, like my laugh bone was directly connected to it. Clearly, there is no good reason to inflict pain on myself so I have to learn to throw the hurt at someone else. Much like pernicious ventriloquism.

One of these days I'm going to be totally deadly. Not just to myself either.

And it's going to be rad.