Reporting Fail

So last week, for god knows what reason, I decided that I wanted to be a reporter. I had convinced myself that the local news is what people want and it was up to me to get all those random interesting facts about the neighborhood that the 13 other local blogs who existed 5 years prior to me had not gotten. Basically, I imagined myself like this:


Yes, it’s Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, so what? She was a journalist. Anyways. So I went into a boutique, asked the boutique owner (name will not be revealed) “oh this is an interesting new store, how long have you been open” as if I hadn’t been there a million times. She recognized me in 0.5 seconds and said happily, “oh you’ve come in here a lot, and, like I told you last time, we’ve been open 7 years.” (pause) “Why are you asking again?”


I just looked at her blankly. Like a deer. A deer with an owl notepad, a canon elph and a strategically picked-out outfit that I thought bloggers wore. I garbled that I had a blog, she asked what it was called, I said, “I don’t know yet” (lie) and she just smiled. The kind of smile Forrest Gump got after talking about ping-pong. Wanting to evacuate as quickly as possible, I asked to take a photo, quickly snapped this awesome merch shot, and then fled the scene.


It’s a bird necklace. Or sort of. Maybe the “aura of a bird necklace” or “bird necklace ascending to heaven.”  Definitely not bird-necklace-I-need-to-purchase. So readers, there you go.  My investigative journalism got you a blurry bird photo and no information. News 1, DCspy 0.

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