My Week As a Terrorist Suspect

OH MY G O D!
Well, first off, let me say to all those whose letters I recieved - letters or support, loving letters, letters with tiny photos of little men on them - let me just say that those letters kept me alive while I was being interrogated as a TERRORIST SUSPECT.

It happened on Monday, right after my last post. Apparently Molly Biggershill from my Home Economics class had reported me to the CIA because "I was looking a bit shifty" when we were singing the national anthem on Monday morning. She is a total stupid BITCH! The only reason I was looking shifty was because she smelt of shit and I didn't want to be anywhere near her.

Before you could say 'Greece Olympics 2004' these guys were round my house, three of them with suits on and personal organisers that were probably tiny spy-cameras. Anyway, needless to say that before I could even put on this cool new camouflage sweatband I have, they'd transported me, blindfolded, to this airstip somewhere. God knows where because all I could see was flat desert for miles around. Anyway, they showed me this orange jumpsuit and I was like, 'Yesh! What?' and they were like, totally suggesting I put it on. But I know my human rights and I know that under article thirteen of the Geneva Convention everyone:

'regardless of age, gender, race or height, shall have the right to wear at least two cool outfits every day of the week'

and I looked at them and asked if I could personalize it. They were great. They gave me a pair of scissors and some coloured thread and I did this amazing like Agnes B-ish thing that totally put the 'jump' back into jumpsuit.


My jumpsuit (so cool now) and my bed.

Anyway, once I'd done this the guards were like, oh, could you do that for me too. It was amazing. I got them all to strip down for me and let me tell you, some of those army guys are BUFF! It was like swimming in a sea of tustled hair and toned muscles. Nice. Those few days were the best I've ever spent. By then end I had my first collection. It's really made me realise that if I can't do fashion when I graduate I'll probably just die. Like, seriously! I'd just wither up because fashion is my life-blood, you know. And seeing all those guys going from a loose, saggy mess to tight, fitted desert-chic was so awesome.


Some of the guys before I got to work.

They were so pleased with their new look they totally let me off with hardly any torture. Sure I had to stand for ten hours, but that's what I had to do last summer when I worked for Mickey-D. And, yeah, they stripped me naked and threatened me with dogs, but I'd seen that done on 'The Fireman's Hose' and the guy there seemed to enjoy it. I didn't enjoy being pissed on, but at least I know that now, before Mardi-Gras.


The guys after I'd waved my fashion wand


Dave! (my best work)

So, by the time they flew me home I'd made so many friends it was cool.

Back to school today though and I'm gonna' get that bitch Molly. I might sabotage her souffle with some baking powder, but that little dwarf deserves it.

See ya
M xxxxx