Covert Operations or How failure is ever present.

I suppose tonight is as good as any night to let everybody know what I've been up to here in the Ohrobot manor. It's been a pretty quiet October. I celebrated my birthday on the seventh. Thirty Three years old... kids call me Sir and I couldn't be happier.

The trappings of childhood are as abundantly horrible as they truly are wonderful. It really evens the playing field when you can say that your first kiss is as oppositely akin to the way it felt the first time you were taking a "standing up" piss and all of a sudden a book bag was thrown over your head and you were beaten mercilessly and left to die on a cold, hard high school bathroom floor.

It's been a wild week. I'll start backwards.

Just yesterday I set my alarm for six a.m. When it went off I knew that if I didn't make an attempt to get off the couch, I'd greatly increase my chances of being late, which in turn, would disappoint my boss. I had already done it once this week. Truth be told, it might be among the worst possible feelings I could experience.

I just completed a three day training course with about twenty five Detectives. The class was being facilitated by a former detective, high ranking Navy official, and all around nice guy.

It was a multi departmental live training exercise where I, along with the twenty five detectives, were ordered to hit the busy Los Angeles streets in search of an opposing group of "bad guys" that were positioned to spot us, the hunters. Ask me what's funny? I'll tell you...

Out of the twenty five detectives, only a handful of them were detected by the enemy and photographed. The photographs were then blown up and shown to the class upon return.

Guess what?

Out of all those guys, yours truly was pegged as an undercover cop the most times. Meanwhile, the seasoned detectives only got "burned" a little when compared to the amount of men they had operating in the field.

Even the cops started telling me that I looked like a cop. The funniest part about that is that when I was about fifteen years younger and living in New York, I went to Harlem in search of a bit of weed and had a similar experience.

Once exiting the train, I found my target rather quickly. He was a young, black kid... probably about seventeen years old. Do you know what this little prick had the nerve to do when I approached him?

As a greeting, I said "Hey man, you got some pot?"

It was as earnest a question as possible and I was dressed in a way that would allow people who aren't straight arrows to hang around me if applicable.

He turned to look at me and said "Nah... I ain't got that for you."

Intrigued by his obvious butchery of the English language, I pressed on.

I then said "C'mon...I just want to get some pot."

His response however, greatly differentiated from the white flag waving tone of my question to him. He looked at me with sizzling eyes and said "You a cop! Leave me alone!"

Being that I'm not a sworn officer of the law, I tried to convince him otherwise, but he wasn't having any of that nonsense. I then did what came naturally... I began to follow him.

As he walked away, I could pick up that he sincerely thought he was going to end up in some bracelets if he had stopped to chat. He was tense, but I pressed on further...

How do you convince a stranger that you aren't going to tie him up and hand him to some guys in a black and white?

My opinion... you can't.

Anyway, My team didn't catch one guy today. I'm a little sad from that, but the most important part here is that we all had fun.

So yeah... there were like, three pictures of me in a row. Ouch. A few guys in the class said I looked exactly like a French criminal. Another guy said the same, only he chose Italy as my criminal birthplace.

I'll post the surveillance pictures as soon as I get then from the instructor.