jennsylvania

Opening Day!

The most frequent question I got while out on tour was what I thought about the new Sex and the City movie.  I guess when you start your second book with the opening line, "Carrie Bradshaw is a fucking liar," people tend to think you have a problem with the SATC franchise. 

Untrue.

I worship Candace Bushnell.  I loved the book first and then the show, and I've adored Sarah Jessica Parker since her Square Pegs days. 

(However, I'm slightly less enamored with SJP now because I heard a true story about her being rude to someone I know and it makes me mad.) 

(Also, here's some advice if you ever plan on being rich/famous/in the tabloids - BE NICE TO THE GUY DRIVING YOU.  I learned over the past few weeks of getting rides to book events that limo drivers are the new Page Six and all it takes for them to spill the dirt is sliding into their backseat wearing a conservative sundress and pearls and asking, "So, which famous people are assholes?")

(And I swear I'm not making this up, but want to guess who's universally hated?  Yep, that's night.  Rachael Ray.  Like we didn't see that coming.  And Sean Penn is super nice - I actually didn't see that coming - but apparently you can't ask him not to smoke in the car.  It's like asking him not to breathe.)

Asides aside, my one regret is that I have an event tonight and I can't get together with girlfriends, swill a bunch of cocktails, and see the movie on opening day.  Here's the thing - I can love the writing and appreciate the acting and enjoy the styling even though the reality depicted in SATC is nothing like most of our own real lives in the city.  The movie is a fantasy.  But that's just fine.  I don't really want to see a movie about fighting with neighbors and shopping at Target.  Escapism suits me nicely.

However, since the show came out and whenever groups of girls gather together, the discussion inevitably becomes, "Which character are you?"  Everyone's all, "Oh!  I'm a Charlotte because I'm a good girl!" or "I'm an attorney so I am all about Miranda!" or "I'm a Carrie because I write!"  (No one ever says, "I'm a whore so I'm a Samantha," BTW.) 

This is the part that bothers me.  I hate seeing women trying to pigeonhole themselves into one of those roles. 

Because you know what? 

There are plenty of gals out there who have healthy self-esteem and solid relationships and they don't spend all their money on $400 Manolos and waste all their energy fixating on whether or not he's going to call.  Rather, they're of the mindset that, "Of course he'll call.  Why?  Because he knows he'll be fucking lucky to have me."

These women don't trawl the town every night.  Rather, they enjoy sitting at home alone or with their partner, watching reality TV in their pajamas and good jewelry, and drinking wine.

Not every woman who appreciates the show/movie is a Carrie, Miranda, Charlotte, or Samantha.

Sometimes they're a Jen.

Did I Miss Something?

Normally I don't care about stuff like "number of hits" on this site because I don't host ads and traffic doesn't matter one way or the other.

However, my curiosity is piqued when I get an extra 25,000 visitors within an hour, especially when they're all referred here by a Google search.

Is everyone suddenly interested in sock monkey pajamas and stilted conversation with the FedEx guy?

Or did I miss some kind of media mention, in which case can someone clue me in? 

(Seriously, if I knew you guys were coming, I'd have wiped up the cat barf.) 

(And possibly showered.)

Fiction/Fact

What I wrote:

Dear FedEx,

Can you please leave the package between the screen and front door?  I'm home but on a conference call and might not be able to make it to the front of the house to sign.

Thanks,

Jen Lancaster

What I really meant:

Dear FedEx,

I am napping. 

Again. 

I know. 

But frankly, I'm as tired as you are of seeing me in my pajamas, so please just leave my stuff here between the doors and we'll both be spared our routine ten seconds of awkward conversation.

Thanks,

Jen Lancaster

Deets for Upcoming Events

EDITED TO ADD:  The B&N address for the Carmel event doesn't come up on Google maps, although it's fine on Mapquest.  The shopping center is called Greyhound Pass and it's at US 31 and 146th Street, which should make sense to anyone local.  If you're not local, the store's number is 317-844-2501 if you need help finding it.

(Also, they're giving out tickets starting at 5:00 PM for a place in line for the signing after the reading.  I might be there early if for no reason other than to spy on what happens when an unsuspecting store clerk attempts to give my father a ticket to have me sign his book.)

* * *

Following are the specifics for the rest of my scheduled events. 

No word yet if a Round Three of cites will be added to the list later in the summer, but I did hear yesterday that I made the New York Times list for the third week running (#14!) so anything's possible.

* * *

Friday, May 30 - Indianapolis/Carmel

Barnes & Noble

14709 US Highway 31 North

Carmel, IN

7:00 PM

* * *

Saturday, June 7 - Printer's Row Panel Discussion with Stephanie Klein and Stacey Ballis

University Center Park/Fountain Room

525 South State Street

Chicago, IL 

1:30 PM

* * *

Tuesday, June 17 - Phoenix

Barnes & Noble

21001 N. Tatum Blvd.

Phoenix, AZ

7:00 PM

* * *

Wednesday, June 18 - Denver/Highlands Ranch

Tattered Cover

9315 Dorchester Street

Highlands Ranch, CO 

7:30 PM

* * *

Thursday, June 19 - Minneapolis/Roseville

Borders Books & Music

Rosedale Center

Roseville, MN

7:00 PM

* * *

Wednesday, June 25 - Boston

Borders Books & Music

511 Boylston Street

Boston, MA

6:00 PM

* * *

However, I really need to finish my fourth book which is due at the end of the summer, so this is most likely it for tour cities this year. 

Hope you can make it!

Yet Another Cupcake Emergency

I'm seeing my friend Stacey tonight to watch Top Chef, as is our Wednesday tradition.  Her birthday was on Sunday, which I totally forgot until yesterday even though I had prominently written it in my calendar because I am the Best Friend Ever. 

To make up a little bit for being a jackass, I bought cupcakes to bring to her house yesterday.  BTW, Chicagoans, I totally gave Sweet Mandy B's another chance.  I think I just got a bad batch the first time.  Anyway, now I really appreciate their product because their cakes stay fresh, meaning I could buy cupcakes yesterday and serve them today without issue.

That is, except that sometime between when I left for the gym earlier today and now, a cat barfed all over the cupcake container which I'd left on the table.  Even though the cupcakes inside are fine, I can't in good conscience serve dessert with vomit a la mode.  What would I say to Stacey as I handed her a sullied container?  "Happy birthday!  I cared enough to hose off the chunks!"

Now I have to go out and buy more cupcakes and I'm embarrassed to go back to Sweet Mandy B's because I was just there 24 hours ago.  Normally I don't care about anyone's opinion, and I'd be all "Cupcake up, bitches," but I get the feeling if I went in there, I couldn't stop myself from trying to convince the cashier, "A cat barfed on my cupcakes so I came back for more and I totally didn't eat them all in one sitting like the last time."  I imagine I would seem as credible as when I told the pharmacist I accidentally dumped all my Xanax down the drain - totally true, FYI - and no I did not use them recreationally even though they pack a super good buzz, particularly when chased with a glass of Savignon blanc and now I need some more, yes, right now, please, and WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT ME WITH THAT MIX OF PITY AND FEAR? 

You know what?  I've probably said too much.  

You Are Seriously Trying My Patience, Illinois

I had to go back to bed today because I kept shaking and I couldn't warm up.  I figured I had the flu.

Turns out I'm fine.  Apparently I felt cold because it's forty freaking degrees here today after being eighty-something yesterday.

Illinois, you are officially on notice.

Technically, the Category Should Be Ants But Whatever

THE PART ABOUT THE COOKIES

Did I mention I was back from tour yet? 

I can't remember if I said so or not because I'm still so freaking tired.  Mind you, I'm not looking for sympathy here as it's not merited.  Seriously, what could you say?  "Oh, I'm so sorry you're tired from flying all over the country and staying at nice hotels and ordering room service French fries cooked in white truffle oil.  It must have been SO HARD for you to meet all kinds of lovely people who gave you gifts in addition to buying your books."

However, this next story should illustrate my level of exhaustion last week.  I'd had about three hours of sleep the night before the Seattle event because I had to fly out of Portland at the asscrack of dawn to make an early call time for a TV show.  By the time the Seattle event was over, I was a complete zombie.  But because I received so many cool presents that night, I couldn't go right to bed as I had to totally re-pack my bag to make room for all the treats.  (I know, I know.  I told you I didn't deserve any pity.)

As I was unwrapping and stowing, I came across a twee little box wrapped with a ribbon.  I tore it open and found a stack of beautifully decorated sugar cookies and without a second thought, I began to stuff them in my mouth.

By the way?  I inhaled these despite the fact that they:

A) WERE CLEARLY MARKED AS HAVING COME FROM THE DOGGIE BAKERY

and

B) THAT I WAS INFORMED THESE WERE FOR MAISY AND LOKI WHEN GIVEN TO ME.

While eating them, I was vaguely aware that they weren't as sweet as I'd have liked, but they were so pretty that it took me two whole cookies to fully realize what I'd done.

Shameful.

What's even worse is if I weren't basically sleepwalking, I'd have still been tempted to try them.

Double shameful.

THE BIT ABOUT THE ANTS

I'm blaming the exhaustion for my utter and complete hysterical breakdown in Menards on Sunday. 

We needed to buy poison because there are such huge ants in my office that my throat keeps hurting from all the screaming.  (They're the size of wasps without wings.  UGH.)  While Fletch busied himself looking at garden tools, I perused the insect-killing aisle.  I didn't know what to get, so I just picked up various packages and began to read.  Here's the description from the box of Terro that not only prompted me to purchase it, but also caused me to double over and cry all my eye makeup off from laughing so hard:

Attracts and kills all common household ants including Argentine ants, Ghost ants, Cornfield ants, Pavement ants, Acrobat ants, White footed ants, Little black ants, Odorous house ants, Crazy ants, Big headed ants, and other sweet eating ants.

Acrobat ants?

Big-headed ants?

CRAZY ants?

My guess here is that someone who works for the Terro corporation is an extraordinarily frustrated copywriter, e.g. "I have a Master's in English and I'm writing about fucking ants," or there are brands/varieties/species of ants that do some wacky shit. 

Either way, I'm still tired enough to find this very, very funny.

Now it's time for some ant genocide... and possibly a nap.

The Never-Ending Tour

Here are the cities and dates for the final leg of the SAPF tour:

June 17 - Phoenix

June 18 - Denver

June 19 - Minneapolis

June 25 - Boston

I'll post the what-time-and-where specifics when I get them. 

If your city is on the list, see how hard I fought for you?  (Seriously, Boston and Minneapolis, you'd better represent or I will be in beeeg trouble.) 

And if not, well, I'm told this is the end of the tour for SAPF, but if the book stays on the lists, then who knows?  (BTW, the Carolinas, Nashville, Milwaukee, St. Louis, southern California, and central Florida?  You're all at the top of my list.)

See you soon!

Such A Pretty Who?

This morning, I imagine thousands of intellectuals are opening The Paper of Record to peruse the book review section, as they do every Sunday.  I can picture them sipping gourmet coffee in their well-appointed living rooms, scanning the best seller pages and nodding in tacit agreement as they recall why they loved each of the listed books so much.

"Gilbert's Eat, Pray, Love is a spiritual awakening!" 

"Grogan's Marley and Me is just heartbreakingly uplifting!"

"The Audacity of Hope by the future President Obama - what an inspiration!"

"The God Delusion - that Dawkins is so thought-provoking!"

"McCullough's John Adams proves what a visionary he was, while still being human and accessible!"

"Walls is very brave to share her story in The Glass Castle!"

Then they get to the book making its debut at number twenty on the list.

"Such A Pretty... um, wait a second... who the hell is Jen Lancaster?"

For those who've never heard of me, I'm a fat chick with high self esteem who wrote a book about being a fat chick with high self-esteem.  The book ends with me being slightly less fat and slightly more healthy (with the same amount of self-esteem.)

And no, I don't build schools in rural Afghanistan or leave behind the shackles of man to live in the wilderness, nor do I offer an intricate study of social epidemics or describe the experience of dying and crossing over to the other side.

But I do write about accidentally getting high on Ambien and ordering a Barbie head on the internet. 

So there's that.

"Frankly, we're as surprised about all of this as you are."

SFO Deux

I am sitting in the lobby of my hotel waiting for my Tarot card reading. (I heart you, Hotel Monaco.)

If the card reader predicts my hair will look bad at my event tonight because I wasted valuable getting-ready time waiting for a reading, SHE WILL BE RIGHT.

SFO

Just arrived in San Francisco and saw a palm tree and it made my heart smile. Have been overwhelmed with the beauty of the west coast.

Illinois? You suck.

In the Car...

... On the way to the Seattle event. I just passed some porno theater and they're showing a double feature - Indiana Moans and also The Temple of Poon.

I find this extraordinarily funny.

OK, Now I Can Tell You

I'm on my BlackBerry so I don't have the time to be coy. Here's the news straight up:

Such a Pretty Fat just hit the USA Today bestseller list

AND

SAPF debuts at number 20 on the New York Times bestseller list in next Sunday's paper

AND

Fletch just gave himself food poisoning, this time by eating old lamb tips.

(Two of these events are a shock. Try to guess which one isn't.)

I Got Yer Updates Right Here

THANKS

First, thanks to everyone who's come out to see me on the road. I feel honored to have met each one of you! I have so little patience when it comes to waiting, I wouldn't have stood in line to meet a reincarnated Ronald Reagan.  So, the fact anyone waited for me just blows me away, especially since every one of you charmed me.  (And some of you touched my heart with your thoughtfulness and your stories.  Y'all know who you are, so give yourselves a hug.)  Anyway, thank you again!

THIS WEEK

I'm sorry for not posting more on the road.  I'd planned to but my BlackBerry deiced to stop recognizing Typepad for some reason at the beginning of last week.  I'm going to have Fletch take a look at it before I head back out today.  By the way, I will be in the following places this week:

Portland
Monday/May 19
7:30pm
Powell’s
1005 W. Burnside
Portland, OR 97209

Seattle (Lake Forest Park)
Tuesday/May 20
7:00pm
Third Place Books
17171 Bothell Way NE
Lake Forest Park, WA  98155

San Francisco
Wednesday/May 21
7:30 pm
Books Inc. in the Marina
2251 Chestnut Street
San Francisco, CA  94123

Oakland
Thursday/May 22
7:00pm
Good Great Place for Books
6120 LaSalle Avenue
Oakland, CA 94611

Hope to see you there!  (No need to warn me about potential bad weather for I have brought it with me to very goddamned city.  I'm not just talking rain - I'm saying tornadoes and flooding and sinkholes.  Aargh.)  (And yes, I'm sorry about your biblical weather and all, but what really pisses me off is my hair has yet to look good at an event.)

OR A DICKEY MIGHT WORK IF IT'S TOO HOT OUT

Speaking of events, I'm learning a little something with every one I do.  For example, did you know that when you wear a dress that didn't look NEARLY so low-cut on the internet and you sit down to, oh, say sign books or something, that every single photograph you will see of yourself later that night will show a big chunk of your black bra?  And did you know even if you buy the double-stick boob tape to hold your dress closed, if you peel it back even once to re-adjust, it will come undone, not only showing a generous swath of underwear but also large, mangled sticky bits of tape and this will happen when you're shaking the hand of all the important people at your publisher's office?  And then if you buy stronger tape, it will be too strong, and when you peel it off, you'll take an entire layer of skin with it, leaving you with enormous tape hickeys?  I have one word for you people:  TURTLENECKS.

Can't wait to show you all my scabs when the book tour re-convenes in mid-June!  (New cities to be announced soon-ish.)

MY LACK OF SELF CONTROL, LET ME SHOW IT TO YOU 

Here's another a quick road story. A while back I wrote a post on cupcakes and I got more feedback from it THAN ANYTHING ELSE I HAVE EVER WRITTEN IN THE FIVE YEARS I'VE HAD A WEBSITE.  Seriously, our nation is never going to be on the same page for issues like gun control, welfare, the economy, the environment, etc.  We're never going to come to terms on tastes great or less filling and hybrids vs. Hummers and there will always be Yankees fans and Red Sox fans, never the 'tween shall meet.  Fortunately, all it takes for us to be of one mind is some sugar, butter, and flour.

Because of this, a number of you in cities with great bakeries, e.g. New York and Dallas, wrote and offered to bring treats to my events and I was all, "Hells yeah, cupcakes!"  But after my enthusiastic response, I began to think about it.  I mean, for God's sake, I'm neurotic to the point of mentally ill when it comes to issues like "safety" and "cleanliness."  Were I not temporarily made insane by the idea of a box of treats with my name on it, I'd have never agreed.  I asked myself, "Really?  You're going to eat food from a stranger?  Really?  No."

I received my first box of cupcakes and cookies in New York. 

Um... guess what?

Apparently I totally WILL eat food from a stranger.

In Dallas I received more treats and I took them back to my room, quickly woofing them all down. 

Then I threw up in the sink. 

The items were fine (delicious actually!) and there was no foul play.  I'm pretty sure barfing was just God's way of saying, "You're on the road to promote a book about getting healthy - next time, have a dinner consisting of a salad and lean protein instead of three cupcakes and two glasses of wine, you dumbass."

WANTED:  ONE NEMESIS.  INQUIRE WITHIN.

What else happened while I was gone?  Oh, yeah, I lost my damn nemesis.  For some background - competition is what always spurs me on to achievement.  Because I'm a jerk who can't motivate herself without bringing hate into the equation, I always pick a person who's achieved what I want and then I watch and emulate her every move, all the while despising her with the fire of 10,000 angry (immature) suns. 

Unfortunately, it turns out the object of my wrath is actually really fucking nice and now I need a new arch rival. 

I know, I know, I'm disappointed in myself, too.  What can I say?  A sincere hug is totally my Kryptonite.

While I figure out who to hate next, you should buy my ex-nemesis new book because it's one of the reasons Such a Pretty Fat exists.  Go pre-order it now.  I will wait.

APRES TOUR, LE DELUGE

Finally, it's nice to know that no matter what happens with this new book, nothing in my life is going to change.  Case in point, I was in the middle of getting some big news on Wednesday (will tell you as soon as I get the official OK) and while I was leaping and cheering and fielding three calls, I got the following urgent text from Fletch:

"One of the cats threw up on the cleaning lady's shoe.  How much tip should I give her?  I cleaned it up, but that's just rude (and gross.)"

Yes. 

Welcome to my world. 

You can come on in... but I'd suggest you leave your shoes on.

Broadcast News

Tom Grunnick:  "What do you do when your real life exceeds your dreams?"

Aaron Altman:  "Keep it to yourself."

"Or maybe put it on your blog." 

(Also, our faces were not blurry in person.) 

(And one of is batshit, bugfuck, ham-sandwich crazy and it isn't me.) 

(And yes, I mean that in the best possible sense, and no, Carrie Bradshaw cannot even attempt to hold a candle to the giant, magnetic personality of her alter ego Candace Bushnell.  If you don't have Sirius satellite service, you should get it because she is ridiculously entertaining.) 

(And did I mention she has a new book coming out this fall?  Woo!)

* * *

Anyway, Week One is over and it was great!  (I don't need no stinking sleep!)  Big, big thanks to all of you who came out!  I have many stories and I would tell them now except I'm about to pass out at the computer so they'll have to wait a bit.  (Am sorry.  Am EXHAUSTED.) 

Don't forget, this week is all about DC, Atlanta, Dallas, Austin, and Cincinnati!  Specifics of when and where are in the Appearances link.

Now, I'm not promising anything - and it's not up to me - but there's been chatter about extending the tour.  Keeping in mind Minneapolis and Boston are first on my personal priority list, where else should they send me?  I mean, other than straight to hell?

Or straight to bed. 

Which is where I'm going now.