Tuesday, February 15, 2011

Eureka!

Well done, mein minions!  Ken is now feeling so much bloggy love, he's considering starting "Sister Wives: The Internet Edition."  I think that's a stupid plan, myself.  But you just can't tell this guy anything.

Just remember to head his way today because he has a Valentine's Day story up that will have you both chortling into your Diet Coke and marveling over that magical, mystical place known as Utah County.  When you can eat a sandwich called the 'Parley P. Pratt,' well, you know you ain't in Kansas any more.

Besides, it's time to move on to bigger, fatter news:  I think I've figured out who the murderer is in my novel!  Yes!  Your fasting and prayers have paid off! 

The thing is, I am terribly disappointed in this individual.  I honestly didn't see them as having the pelotas to actually kill someone.  Even though the victim is really quite despicable, and wears satin scarves while visiting rustic Nevada towns.  So clearly, she has it coming.

Now it's time to decide on the murder weapon.  So far, the narrative has given us the following options:
  • A discarded realty sign advertising a "Brothel for Sale: Inquire Within; Hourly 'Inquiries' Available Upon Request."
  • A disembodied buffalo head, which is roaming the streets in a definitely menacing way, as though it has some kind of murderous agenda.
  • The original 'Parley P. Pratt' sandwich, now petrified into a historically significant lethal lump.  I looked into using the original 'Parley P. Pratt,' who is also petrified into a historically significant lethal lump and has the advantage of being much lower in carbs, but his agent wouldn't comp the exhumation.  Jerk.
So, as you can see, I've got a lot of writing to do today.  Fortunately, all of my students from last week arrived looking like glazed doughnuts, leading me to send a firmly worded "please do not send snot be-crusted children to piano lessons" e-mail to their parents.  It was delivered too late - alas - and I myself am now a mighty mucus making machine.

So no lessons today.  Just type, type, type, eat Brett's last cookie cuz there is no such thing as 'saving it for later' around here, type, type -- all day long!

Fingers crossed!  If the murderer manages to off that scarf wearing nincompoop with a buffalo head, you can bet I'll have my Pulitzer signed, sealed, and delivered.

And I'm thinking, with the prize money, I could totally buy that brothel.

17 comments:

AS Amber said...

BAAAAAAAA!!!!! Am I first??? Eureka, indeed!!

I vote for the sandwich.

My baby looks like a glazed donut, too. And since none of us can keep our hands or our mouths off him, we'll all be glazy soon.

Hope you feel better! And remember: A writer, writes. Always. (Name that movie!)

T said...

perhaps the murderer just passed on his glazed donut germs and offed the scarf-wearing lady with a bad case of mucus?

but if that doesn't work for the storyline I say go with the buffalo head.

Rebecca said...

Sandwich! And DeNae, I HAVE to read this book! Please! I just may die from DeNae-book-withdrawal. It's a real disease--ask Google. But first, take my word for it.

Your blog posts are so funny that I NEED a book by you! Humor is my medicine, and you may save me from the grave. How's that for groveling?

Kristina P. said...

You had me at brothel.

The Crash Test Dummy said...

Ha ha ha I feel like I'm playing Clue. Love that you got your murderer. I love it when you don't get your epiphany until you're halfway through the story.

I'm off to read about the Parley P. Pratt and get acquainted with Ken.

Garden of Egan said...

A brothel would be a super good investment I think.

I'm so glad you are able to figure out the murderer. I hate when I am reading a story and I'm in suspense. I never figure it out until the end. Sheesh, you are way smart to figure it out before that.

OK off to go check out the applications for sister-wife.

Becca said...

Eww. Glazed donuts. Not pretty. But the brothel realty appointment, hourly? Love. Love-love.

Ness said...

I would go with the petrified sandwich personally... Pffft! Petrified sandwich... good one mom :P

Qait said...

Well, if everyone's voting, I'd say the disembodied buffalo head-- we cracked up at this post! My husband laughed so hard, I couldn't wait to read it when I got the chance. You're hilarious! :)

Elizabeth said...

Hey, thanks so much for reading my teensy blog--it means a lot. And since I live in a place with bison/buffalo I'd have to lean toward the sandwich. The ranchers hate them but I think they look like undershaved, oversized Beanie babies--I just wanna hug 'em! Well, from my car. May the force be with you:).

wendy said...

Well..if you DO buy that brothel, can I come work with you....not as THE WORKER (get my drift)...as things at my age have indeed drifted a little.
But I know my Whores.

parley p. pratt sandwich, obviously I am missing a KEY Utah experience.

JoeinVegas said...

I vote for the sandwich, but all three sound rather interesting

Cheeseboy said...

Glad he is not feeling like Timberlake (Where is the love?)

The intrigue continues. The Parley P. Pratt sandwich makes perfect sense.

Lisa Loo said...

looking like glazed donunts


bwahahahahahh....

I have never heard that before and for some reason it makes me spew my Crystal Light and just when I think I'm over it I start giggling all over again.......

What can I say--I live a very sheltered life...

Kazzy said...

Does the fact that I like being called your minion make me codependent? Because I can totally live with that. I just need to know.

annie valentine said...

BTW, I discovered this weekend that your stuff is even funnier when read out loud. I read some to my family and we were in stitches.

L.T. Elliot said...

Sweet bas and jory that's an excellent post! The brothel sign had me humiliating myself on several levels. My cat won't stay in the same room now, thankyouverymuch. =]