I met the FBI today. Like, seriously. They came to Park Slope, flashed some badges, and then pestered me with questions about the trustworthiness and illegal proclivities of an old friend while I attempted to drink a latte. (This particular old friend happens to work at the White House, hence the need for character references and a security clearance.) My FBI agents were, as you'd expect, dressed in cheap suits and sporting buzz cuts. They had never been to Brooklyn before, and I must say, they did not blend in with the natives. Undercover agents, they were not.
Anyway, when the whole interview was over, I was really relieved that the FBI dudes hadn't asked any questions about my life. Had they asked what I'd been doing for the past 3 months, they may have taken me in for further questioning. I haven't even filed my tax return yet! Damn government bureaucracy. It's, like, such a pain.
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