All this Petraeus business reminded me of the time I applied to be in the CIA. Blame it on one too many episodes of Alias, but I decided being a spy (and getting to wear all those wigs!) would be about the coolest thing ever. (Of course, I totally would have ended up with a desk job, but a girl can dream...)
So I applied. And received the application packet in the mail - which of course arrived in a non-descript plain brown envelope and no return address. So secretive!! I was hooked. Somehow I made it to the (phone) interview round, but that's where my CIA dream ended. Probably for the best, since there's no way in HELL I could keep it a secret that I worked there. And they probably knew that.
IHGB #342: The Tortured Poets Department
3 days ago
No comments:
Post a Comment