Tag: Nancy Drew

Mystery Solved: Nothing Depends on a Red Wheelbarrow

Editor’s note: As part of Coma News’ community outreach, the following blog excerpt is one of a selection of local online postings we will re-publish by residents and business owners.

Mystery Solved: Nothing Depends on a Red Wheelbarrow
By Marybell Davis, 25 years old, Amazing life lived, Awesome blogger of Awesome things

Daddy Warbucks: “Marybell have you made any money yet?”
Me: “No way Daddy but I solved another Internet mystery and this one is not about an ex-boyfriend. It’s about poetry”
Daddy Warbucks: “College degree! $200,000! Marybell! Blah blah!”

So I went to this poetry reading. BOR-ing. but then I was surprised because some of the poetry was actually short and they had a lot of wine. Good!

One guy I like a lot was William Carlos Williams because his stuff is shorter than tweeting. Sort of like the first tweeter in history.

So much depends...LOL. LOL.

So much depends…LOL. LOL.

Sadie Cracker made me go to the poetry thing because she said I need to get out and meet real people and not just “stalk people” on the Internet. So I went and was not surprised to find most of the poetry was horrible.

Stan Bargemeyer read something about his knee socks and then my ex-boyfriend Jax got up and said we should all stop reading poetry and get out to the forest. Everyone cheered when he left.

Then Sadie got up and read about a red wheelbarrow. And she read it like she meant it and it was shorter than something I tweeted about my eyeshadow earlier in the day. “So much depends on a red wheelbarrow” she said.
I started laughing so hard I spilled the wine all over my white dress. “No it doesn’t.” I said so loud and everyone stared at me and started clapping.

When we left right after that I explained to her that “nothing depends on a red wheelbarrow anymore because we have cars and ride on lawnmowers and tractors.”

I don’t think she got it.

An LOL Mystery Solved: Tinder is For Groceries

Rejected-Nancy-Drew-Stain
Daddy Warbucks: Have you found a job yet, Marybell?
Me: Listen Daddy, being a private dick is so hard (and so gross). Do you know how many men are private Dicks? More than we can even count. And here I am as a woman and trying to be a detective- it takes work.
Daddy Warbucks: Have you gotten paid for all this detective work, Marybell?
Me: It”s not that kind of work, Daddy. But I think I have solved another mystery: How to use my Tinder to get groceries.
Relationships are hard. They take things like talking, compromise, forgiveness, intimacy, and most of all they take time.
In the olden days of the 1990s single men would have to go to a bar, find a woman, hope the woman was single and not totally insane, sit with her for hours talking, and then hope that maybe she’d go on a date. Then after four or five dates maybe they would get intimate but that was only if a guy was lucky.
Thank goodness for the Internet revolution where a bunch of nerds from Silicone Valley, who were too introverted to even make it to a bar, figured out a fix. The solution was super simple:  Make women feel so value-less (or swipeable) that they were willing to get an app with the “opportunity” to go have meaningless sex without a guy even needing to feign interest, talk to you again, or pay for food! That’s called a “sexual revolution”.
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So I was wondering, could I get Tinder guys to bring me groceries so I might actually get something substantial from our meaningless encounter?
I met Max on Tinder. We are both in the same field because all he can talk about is his private Dick work. He’s divorced, in his late-40s, and he’s looking to “party” and he freebases Viagra. Max has so much in common with my 25-year-old-self because we both like food.
Me: Will you bring some milk when you stop by?
Max: Oh yeah baby. Is that what you like? You like milk?
Me: Yes. Low fat please.
Max: Oh yeah. You like it low? Is that how you like it?
Me: And cheese–mozzarella.
Max: Oh yeah hot stuff. We can melt it with our hot bodies.
Me: And lunch meat. Not ham. Turkey.
Max: Oh yeah you like meat? I’ll bring you meat. How do you like it?
Me: Sliced thin.
Max: Okay babe I got your meat, cheese, and milk. I’ll see you at 7 and we can make a sandwich.
This is the second time I’ve gotten a guy to deliver me food on Tinder ladies and you should give it a try. Last week, John brought me tacos.
Daddy Warbucks: What do you want for dinner, Marybell?
Me: Don’t worry about me, Daddy. I’m getting a sandwich.

What is Solitude?: An LOL Mystery

The following is blog by a Coma resident excerpted as a community service by Coma New Daily.

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By Marybell Davis, 27 years old, Amazing life lived, Awesome blogger of Awesome Things and Coma’s own Private Dick (gross)

Daddy Warbucks: Marybell why don’t you turn off your phone, go out and at least think about what kind of job you could get?
Marybell: Not now Daddy I need to tweet out my new hairstyle and ask all my social media friends, who I’ve never met, what they think about it.

Seriously? Think about something? Alone?
Solitude is a mystery. Mainly because why would anyone want it. Just like in the olden days before microwaves (gross) where people had to cook things for hours, there’s no longer any need to ever be by yourself. Technology has given us access to constant unknown friends at our fingertips to tell us whether that feeling we have makes sense, or even better, what feeling or opinion we should have.

I recently took a survey on Facebook on the best name for me. It turns out that based on my friends and my love of clothes I should be Erica and not Marybell. If I had solitude and no access to a survey that I could take and share with my friends on Facebook (all of them agreed I should be Erica) then how would I know that I have the wrong name?

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There are people who like solitude. Some people may have heard of Bob Dylan or Thomas Jefferson and apparently they did some big things without access to Twitter and Vine’s of a cute dog or a Snapchat that make fun of a politician’s hair. It’s true that they’re so old that they’re from the time before microwaves.

I remember when I saw the old women who hang out with their screaming children at the Blair Witch Walking Park here in town, which should be renamed the Blair Witch Screaming Park, and they remember what it was like before microwaves and the internet. I remember hearing one asking the other “Do you remember just silence?” While her kids ran screaming around her.
And the one was like “yeah,” like it was a wish.
But they are fat and gross.
So if that’s what solitude looks like then this girls’ gonna keep on sending out hot selfies on the internet to strangers.

The mystery is that people don’t need solitude to create or think about things for themselves. All they need is a collective of people they don’t know telling them exactly what is good and what isn’t.

And that’s the mystery of solitude. From now on you can call me Erica Davis.

How To Take Selfless-ies : An LOL Mystery

by Marybell Davis, columnist, Snapchatter, Private Dick (which is so gross)

Daddy Warbucks: Marybell how’s your job search coming?
Marybell: Not now, Daddy. I need to tweet about how everyone needs to join Habitat for Humanity.
Daddy Warbucks: I thought you quit after you realized you didn’t know how to use a hammer.
Marybell: Shhh, Daddy. I need to concentrate. Tweeting is hard work.

Being selfless is so weird. Like, why would you want to? The invention of Snapchat, Pinterest and Twitter–and a hundred years ago, YouTube and Facebook–showed us all how important each of our opinions are and how we feel at every, single minute is super-important. What’s a lot less shareable is what we do, so why would anyone do something selfless? I mean, it sounds nice, but if you can’t share it, did it even happen?

You know what’s also weird? Homelessness.

NancyFuckingClock

Recently my friend, Hope, said that maybe since I have so much time– because I can’t find a job that will pay me what I’m worth–maybe I should volunteer.
“What does that even mean,” I said.
“Well, some people are homeless,” Hope said. “And they need us to volunteer and help them.”
“How do you that?” I asked.
“No, not me,” she said. “I’m totally wiped taking graduate school classes in Library Science but maybe you should,” Hope said.

So, I decided to volunteer because maybe people will hire me as a private dick if they know I care about things like hammers and houses. At least it’s not spending time with people with cancer, which is so gross. It’s just building a house. Plus when I tweeted about it people were really proud of me.

So I went. And I tried to hammer a nail three times and it just didn’t work. I asked the manager if I could volunteer for something else because the hammer was really difficult and probably broken.

“Maybe I could volunteer with social media, you know, something that would let me look attractive and sound compassionate?” I said.

“No, we just build houses,” mean manager-guy said. “Maybe you can do drywall?”

I finally got it.

Mystery solved: Some people are just A LOT better talking about doing stuff on social media than actually doing something. Know who you are and don’t be selfish about sharing it.

Mystery Solved: No Breakfast at the Breakfast Club

The following is one in a series of intermittent excerpts from Coma residents’ blogs published by Coma News as a community service

 

By Marybell Davis, 27 years old, awesome blogger of awesome things and Coma private detective

Daddy Warbucks: Summer’s here, Marybell. What about getting a summer job? Since you are certified in lifesaving you could lifeguard, right?

Me: Daddy, have you heard of skin cancer? It’s everywhere where people are under the Sun. Why don’t you fax yourself back to the future where the sun was safe? I’ve got a mystery to solve.

Then I went to the local coffee shop in town. It’s a Starbucks right next to the Blair Witch Walking Park where all the old women go to hang out with their small children (gross) and talk about times in the olden days when they were young and hot and men liked them. Not sure I really believe that but whatever.

secretoftthebiologicalclock

So, one woman had this screaming kid because apparently that’s what kids do when they are out anywhere in public and she says to another one “Remember the Breakfast Club? Where did that go? We were so relevant.”

Finally, another mystery for me to solve. Where is the Breakfast Club? It sounds delicious. So I went inside and googled it. A picture of Denny’s filled with white-haired old people popped up, followed by a movie called the ‘Breakfast Club.’ People were wearing shoulder pads and looked really horrible because it was the ‘80s, so I guess that’s what these women were talking about. I decided to watch the movie on my phone to get some clues about where this club went.

First, it’s not a club at all. Secondly, it’s detention and no one does detention anymore because that wouldn’t be fair to all the kids who aren’t in detention. Third—and this is the most important part—how in the heck could these kids be confined to a small space filled with books (gross) without any cell phone, Twitter, Facebook (boring), or Snapchat to update people. Not to mention text. NO ONE WAS TEXTING. They were passing pieces of paper? Don’t you know you’re killing a tree?

So I went back outside the coffee shop where the women were still sitting. The kid was still screaming and there was another small kid banging his head against a wall and saying “milk, milk, milk.” And there was a mom breastfeeding so I don’t understand why there wasn’t enough “milk.”

“I miss the old days when we were hot and cool,” said the mom with a baby attached (gross).

“I know. Those days were so great. Like we really talked to each other,” the other one while she texted on her iphone.

“You guys.” I said. “I solved the mystery of your breakfast club. It’s over because everyone realized there was never any breakfast there. So! Dumb!”

And I turned and walked away.

An LOL Mystery: Why Are People Better on The Internet?

Editors’ note: The following is a blog excerpt of a local resident presented as a community service of Coma News.
By Marybell Davis, 26 years old, amazing life lived, awesome blogger of awesome things
Daddy Warbucks: Did you solve the mystery of your unemployment?
Me: I didn’t, Daddy but I did sole the mystery of why people are better on the Internet.People usually look great on the Internet, sound funny and say amazing things–like a friend of mine. Jay makes lots of jokes and sounds happy all the time online. In real life he dresses in all black and talks about eating kittens for breakfast.So what happens between when John tweets a funny joke and when I see him later burning bugs with a lighter while smoking (so. gross.)?This detective used some intense surveillance to find out what happens.

You’d be surprised how many people leave their curtains open at night (just because you can’t see out in the darkness doesn’t mean people outside can’t see in).

First, his room is disgusting. Second, Jay spends a lot of time hanging out in his boxers (would get zero likes on Facebook).

When he first gets up he walks to the mirror, flexes, combs his hair, looks at his smartphone, and starts typing. He posts something funny about being a sex god (90 favorites on twitter).Then he slaps himself back and forth on the face multiple times and puts on his dumb all black outfit.
Posts a close up selfie posed in a way you can’t tell he’s only in his underwear along with this, “Tickets must be cheap for the struggle bus today because a lot of people are riding it” (850 favorites on Twitter).
He then posts a pic of a puppy (4k favorites on Twitter and 10k Likes on Facebook).
puppy
He smokes a joint, plays a video game, opens an account on Grindr, and then posts an inspirational quote from a Tibetan spiritual leader (1k likes on Facebook and 25 re-tweets on Twitter).
tibetan
Finally, he leaves his room and I crawl out from his bushes (gross) to go home and shower.

Mystery Solved: How Ryan Gosling Got Pregnant

The following is a blog excerpt of a local resident and business owner provided as a community service by Coma News.

Marybell Davis, 25 years old, Amazing life lived, Awesome blogger of Awesome things

Daddy Warbucks: Marybell, stop surfing the internet and get a job.

Me: Hold on, Daddy, I am solving an important mystery: How Ryan Gosling became pregnant.

 

 

There are lots of ways people can get pregnant these days like under a tree or in the Home Depot shower head section. It’s super hard to know when and where pregnancy might happen.
There are lots of stories going around about Ryan Gosling’s pregnancy and we may never be able to pin down how and where he and Eva Mendes got pregnant. It’s also super confusing because no biology class I took ever even mentioned male pregnancy (I think).

heygirlmemes

But what every important news magazine has made clear is a fact: Ryan Gosling is now pregnant, along with Eva Mendes.
So what happens now that he is pregnant? I decided to use my detective skills and flesh out what happens after men get pregnant along with women.

I went to the labor and delivery wing at the Coma Medical Center. they have A Lot of rules about who can visit the new baby area so I slipped on some nurse pajamas covered in stuffed bears.

It was there that I met Dan. He was standing outside of one of the rooms looking like he’d been drinking. Inside the room there was a lot of moaning and screaming that sounded like me at the last Justin Timberlake concert.

“What’s going on in there?” I asked him.
He gave me a strange look. “My wife is in labor.”
“Oooooh,” I said. “But wait, don’t you mean you’re in labor since you’re both pregnant?”
“It’s weird, we’ve gone through months of mood swings, weight gain, sleeplessness, and an inability to get out of bed without a chair lift,” he said. “But despite going through all of that together, the baby never seemed real to me until now.”
At that point a real nurse (whose pajamas were covered in baby giraffes?) found me and escorted me from the hospital. And that is how I solved the mystery of how Ryan Gosling got pregnant and what will happen to him by the end of his pregnancy.
Daddy Warbucks: Get a job, Marybell.
Me: Maybe I will become a doctor, Daddy! After I am done as a private dick (gross).

Where in the World Cup: an LOL Detective Mystery

The following is one in a series of intermittent excerpts from Coma residents’ blogs published by Coma News as a community service.

 

Marybell Davis, 25 years old, Amazing life lived, Awesome blogger of Awesome things

 

My dad doesn’t understand how hard it is to start a business. It takes time. You have to build a reputation. That’s why I just solved my biggest mystery yet: the history of World Cup geography.

People have been asking “Where is Ghana?” “Where is the Netherlands?” “What is a North Korea?”

worldcupofeverything

Imagine we’re at a bar and my beautiful Kate Spade clutch is flanked by a ketchup bottle, vinegar (gross), a knife and a fork. Basically, my amazing embroidered clutch (America) is surrounded on all sides by sticky bar condiments (the world).

Where is North Korea? It’s west of America. Where is Ghana? It’s south of America. Where is England? Its east of America and the vinegar bottle (which they actually put on food).

Is South America south of America? Yes, but Africa also is south of America. Where is North Korea? Trick question: They don’t play soccer!

Now you understand the geography of the World Cup.

Daddy: Get a job, Marybell.
Me: No worries, Daddy. I’m a private dick (still gross). And I am a geography master.