So I'm hovering over the chili dip at the Kegs & Eggs Casey Coleman Countdown party yesterday, and I just feel that someting is up. This ain't right. Everyone's looking at me.
Then Joel Rose comes over with this shit-eating grin on his face, which is barely visible behind the crotch line of Marilyn Sheppard's panties which are draped over his head. "What the hell do you want?" I ask.
"Looks like you got scooped, you old hag!" Joel Rose laughs through a mouthful of western omelet, bits of egg flying out between his teeth. Hands me a printout from some shameless hack's website.
Ah...now I get it. "That's what you get for listening to that old fool Barnaby...'go stalk the priest's blog! go stake out her booth at iNGENUiTY!' Big fat nothing, that was." Sometimes talking to Joel Rose can make you feel like not such a loser after all.
Then it starts. Tom Brazaitis overhears and saunters over with a 22 ounce plastic cup of Genny Cream Ale. "Boston or Great Britain, eh?" Brazaitis says. "How'd you miss that one, Dot? Looks like the Queen of Cleveland Journalism ain't so royal after all, eh?"
Bob Hope chimes in while he's pumping the keg, "Hey, did ya hear the one about the Episcopal Priest, the mayor, and the nappy-headed old maid who got scooped...?" Joel Rose starts giggling. The Van Sweringen brothers start doing a jig in the corner. Ghoulardi yells, "BOOYAH!"
Just as I start to scream, "YOU'RE ALL A BUNCH O' TWO-BIT..." a plate full of scrambled eggs hits me in the side of the head.
Game on. Place explodes in a blur of eggs and suds. I got the best o' those old coots...but they were right.
I still got scooped. I'm gonna have to work a little harder now.