Let me tell you something, kiddies. When you're trying to confirm the biggest story in Cleveland since Sam Shepherd walked in on his wife cheating on him with a lesbian Episcop...oops! Wrong reference! Let's start that again. When you're trying to confirm some big story I'm not gonna give you any hints about, you need advice.
So I go and buy Joel Rose a cosmopolitan, ask for some advice. If there's one guy in the Cleveland Dead Bloggers Society who fits the bill for advice on this story, it's him. Sex, lies, and Cleveland celebrity...got Joel Rose written all over it.
Anyway, I ask him for advice. You know what Joel Rose tells me? He says he's always wanted to get in my pants. So I smack him. Hard. He says do it again. I tell him, Rose, you're pushing your luck, fella. He begs me to smack him harder. I throw my cosmo in his face and get the hell outta there.
Hard enough trying to get this story right than to have to put up with some balding flunky Morning Exchange reject trying to steal my honor. Back to pounding that pavement.
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