I Spy

I don't know why CSIS isn't pounding on my door begging me to work for them.

Who is better equipped to be a spy than a middle-aged woman in a non-descript car? I tell you, I could drive right into Stephen Harper's bedroom and have my way with him and the Mounties would never find me.

I know the visual on that one isn't pretty but I'm trying to make the point that If CSIS is hiring, then I'm their woman.

The spy car is so non-descript that even I can't find it.

I managed to prove that yesterday, (again), when I went to the gym. My gym is on the second floor of the Superstore. The Superstore, in case you haven't been to it, is the huge grocery/department store that has shopping carts the size of hospital beds.

Anyway, after my class had finished and I had managed to find the door, I made my way into the Manitoba sized parking lot.

As I started walking down a row of cars I began to notice that the parking lot was full of cars identical to mine. And horrors! Most of the people in the vast parking lot searching for their vehicles were middle aged women who looked just like me! We all had our car finder beepers going and the place sounded like a Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote impersonator convention.

All I could think about were those penguins in Antarctica. All the birds are identical, but parents and offspring still manage to find each other in the middle of a snowstorm at a bizzillion degrees below zero.

Unfortunately GM hasn't made that skill a component of their vehicles and until they do I think somebody should invent a device that, when pressed, causes a personal flag to be raised over your car.

Or better yet, every car should be sold with a chauffeur and free valet parking.

Better make your offer quick, CSIS, with all these great ideas GM is gonna want me bad.

Here I am in my clever cat disguise,
demonstrating a get-away-quick spy manoeuvre.