jennsylvania

I Was So Lucky Getting Mono. That Was, Like, The Best Diet Ever.

The big surprise - and it's not really even a surprise - is that the new book is a prequel to Bitter.  The bulk of it takes place in the 70's and 80's and it's super nostalgic, which is going to nicely tie into the theme of the tour events.  (Oh, wait.  I guess that's the surprise.  Shhh, you didn't hear it from me.)

While writing Pretty in Plaid, I spent a lot of time with my old yearbooks on display for inspiration.  As I listened to my favorite 80's tunes from Wham and Duran Duran and Culture Club, I pored over the faded pages, reliving every speech meet... every school play... every newspaper assignment... and all the other nerdy activities in which I was involved. 

In terms of my social standing, I turn to Milhouse in the Grade School Confidential episode of The Simpsons to best sum it up.  "Three and a half.  We get beat up, but we get an explanation." 

Granted, I was kind of a bitch back in the day, but mostly because I was A) terrified of garnering the attention/ire of the popular kids, and B) couldn't ever eat lunch, having derived the bulk of my self esteem from wedging myself into a pair of size five Jordache jeans. 

You guys?  A single grilled cheese sandwich could have been disastrous. 

So I'd say my low blood sugar was as much to blame as my aggressive-following personality. 

I may have been an ass in high school, but I was only an ass to those who posed a direct threat, e.g. in competition for boyfriends, a speech team rival, at the newspaper, etc.  I've never claimed to be a saint, but I was always empathetic.  I was absolutely, unapologetically mean to the play leads and the prom queens, yet I went out of my way to be kind to those people the popular kids shunned. 

You do not fuck with an underdog on my watch. 

If you wrote bad poetry on the knee of your jeans?  I was sweet to you. 

The boy-crazy boys?  We were BFF.

 Kids who received discounted lunch tickets?  Mock them and you had to answer to me.

Wore your saddle shoes and pleated cheerleading skirt on game days?  Bitch, you were going down.       

I guess that's why I was kind of floored to receive this note today, almost twenty-four years after high school graduation:

So my daughter calls me today and this was the conversation:

Daughter - Mom, I have a strange question
 
Mom - OK; what is it?
 
Daughter - Do you know a girl named Jennifer Lancaster?
 
Mom - Unfortunately yes, why do you ask?
 
Daughter - I had purchased a book and she made a reference to [our hometown] in 1985
 
Mom-  Unbelievable!
 
Daughter - Were you two friends?
 
Mom - Far from it.  I went to high school with her, church and spent two weeks at bible camp with her in the same cabin.  She made no hesitation in letting people know she did not like you.  She would giggle, point, comment on me whenever I went to church.  She was a person who I considered a snob and someone I would classify as being one of the girls on the movie "Mean Girls."  She was not a nice person.
 
Daughter - Oh sorry, I thought you two were friends.
 
Mom - Nope...What is her book about?
 
Daughter - About losing weight?
 
Mom - Hmmm.... (I'll keep the rest of my comments to myself)

How funny I thought that my daughter would end up purchasing a book written by someone who made a point to let me know she didn't like me.
 
Now my daughter is 19 and she has her own life and does what she wants.  But I will tell you this.. If I would have purchased the book and found out that you wrote it.. I would have asked for a refund.

Um, here's the thing... I HAVE NO IDEA WHO THIS PERSON IS.

I'm sitting here with my yearbook open and... yeah, I've got nothing.  We were enemies?  How could we be?  Her name rings no bells, nor does her face.  And I clearly remember who I didn't like in high school, having just written all those stories for this new book.  This girl is just, well, she's Ann Veal.  She's a blank slate.  She's got a low center of gravity.  You'd accidentally forget her in Mexico.  Under her picture it says "Not pictured."  (This will only be funny if you're an Arrested Development fan.) 

I mean, I feel bad that she's harbored a grudge against me all these years but, again, I HAVE NO CLUE WHO SHE IS.  If I recalled being a jerk, I'd apologize.  I don't want people mad at me.  And I love hearing from high school classmates.  If I were to get a Facebook request from my worst high school enemy now, I'd be all, "OHMIGHOD, HOW ARE YOU, WE MUST GET TOGETHER, SQUEEEE!!" 

Seriously, I embrace my past and I take responsibility for my actions.   

But this girl? 

With this reaction? 

Oh, sweetie, you've kind of got to let it got.  We went to camp together in 1981, which is just about the time I stopped having to go to church, so I'm pretty sure we've had zero interaction since then or else I would have known you. 

Does it not stand to reason I might be a different person at 41 years old than I was at 13??  I mean, I don't have a Dorothy Hamill haircut now and I no longer cut shots of Jimmy Baio (Scott's cousin from Soap) out of TigerBeat.  I'm pretty sure I didn't get Botox back then, so is it possible I could have changed a tiny bit for the better in the past twenty-eight years?  Matured, perhaps? 

Besides, did we learn nothing from Romy and Michele's High School Reunion?  Everyone gets picked on in high school, regardless of social stature.  To paraphrase my favorite scene, "The whole time you were making my life hell, the 'A' group was making your life hell?  I didn't know."  "I hurt your feelings?"  "Yeah, all the time."  "That's tremendous!  Go get your stupid yearbook.  I would be happy to sign it."

Anyway, I'm not claiming to not be a an asshole now because I kind of couldn't help myself after getting blind-sighted.  My response?  "I seriously don't know who you are." 

To which she replied, "It's usually the people who get made fun of who wear the scars and remember.  Good luck with your diet."

OK, not only did she call me out on shit of which I have no recollection, but she also just called me fat?  Granted, it's true.  But that's not karma, honey... it's carbs.  And choices.  And I've made peace with both.

When I tweeted a synopsis, my friend Badger summed it up best:  "I graduated high school in 1984. Anyone who's been pissed at me THAT long can bite me on their way to getting a life." 

Yeah.  What she said.

Yet there's a tiny part of me that agonizes over someone who I may have inadvertently impacted.

So there's that.

 

YET ANOTHER UPDATE: Twitter Is The New CB Radio

Fine. 

I'll admit it. 

I'm currently obsessed with Twitter. 

But how couldn't I be?  With only 140 characters, every post becomes a tiny creative writing exercise.  I'm utterly fascinated with how people tell their stories in such a limited space.  So do me a favor and help feed my obsession. 

(Hey, it's healthier than all this recent cupcake business.) 

Put your Twitter name in the comments section or add me (I'm @altgeldshrugged) so I can follow you back.  Or if there's someone good I should be following, tell me that, too.  

Cool?  Cool. 

P.S.  Ashton Kutcher is Twittering (@aplusk) and he's done the impossible; I now find him both charming and adorable.  Well played, Kelso.  Well played.

UPDATE:  OK, new plan - I just typed the first sixty of these manually into Twitter to add and it looks like it was easier for you guys just to add me.  So how about this?  If you follow me, I'll follow you.  And for you doubters, Ashton liberally uses the Twitter picture feature and gives kind of a fascinating look inside what it's like to be him.  It's all, "Here's Tyra!  We had a meeting today!" and "Here's Bruce - he stopped over to see the kids!" and "Here we are in our Oscar outfits!"  I'm telling you - ADORABLE.

UPDATE, THE SEQUEL:  Apparently I broke Twitter by trying to be polite and follwoing people who follow me.  The troubleshooting guide says I'm "agressively following."  If that phrase doesn't sum up my whole life, nothing does. 

In Case You're Tired Of Hearing (Or Writing) About Book Stuff

After I posted my tour info today, I thought, "Hey, a bath might be nice."  So I ran a tub, grabbed my book, and settled in for a soak.

Not even one full page in, Loki joined me in the bathroom, which is sort of disconcerting what with all the staring and the n-a-k-e-d.

I ignored him and read my book.

He stared a bit more.

I kept reading.

Staring.

Reading.

Awkward.

Staring.

Reading.

Awkward.

Staring.

Reading.

Awkward.

Staring.

Reading.

Climbing in.

Apparently I've been keeping the house so cold that Loki decided taking to the water was the only way to fend off hypothermia. 

Then he sat on my lap.

It was creepy.

I got out and took a shower.

He stayed.

And here he is twenty minutes later.

 

OK, dogs.  You win.  The heat goes back up to 68 degrees.

P.S.  I brought home a pineapple yesterday and all the cats have been fighting over who gets to sit next to it.  Is it any wonder I'm excited to get out of here for a month?

NOW UPDATED WITH 20% FEWER ERRORS - You Should Make That Drumroll Noise With Your Mouth As You Read This

Who's ready for Pretty in Plaid tour cities?  (The correct answer is, "I am, I am!")

So without further ado...

UPDATE May 5th - DETROIT ROCK CITY! (Borders Birmingham)  (yes, it's supposed to be the 5th, not sure what's going on with the Borders calendar)

May 6th - BOSTON (Boston Public Library because our last venue was too small, but no worries, B&N will sell books)

May 7th - NEW YORK CITY (B&N Union Square)

May 8th - WASHINGTON, DC (B&N 12th Street - see?  we totally listened and did a more urban store this year)  (this is a more urban store, right?)

May 11th - DALLAS (B&N Northwest Highway)

May 12th - HOUSTON (Borders Kirby Dr., and listen up, Texas - I fought for two stops here again, please represent, OK?)

UPDATE May 13th - CHARLOTTE  (B&N Huntersville) 

May 14th - NASHVILLE (B&N Brentwood) 

May 15th - ATLANTA (B&N Buckhead, and no pressure, but this was my favorite stop last year)  (and not just because of the magnificent Macy's plus-sized department across the street from my hotel)  (but it didn't hurt)

 May 18th - PORTLAND (Powell's W. Burnside)

May 19th - SEATTLE (Third Place Books)

May 20th - SAN FRANCISCO (Borders Stonestown)

May 21st - LOS ANGELES (B&N Glendale)

May 22nd - ORANGE COUNTY (B&N Huntington Beach)

UPDATE May 26th - MINNEAPOLIS  (Borders Roseville)

May 28th - CHICAGO (B&N Webster Place - yay!  this is where I shop and sometimes I work in their cafe)  (writing, not making coffee)  (in case I wasn't clear)  (and we'll probably have some sort of party afterward)

UPDATE May 30 - MILWAUKEE (Borders - still tenative)

Hopefully this list will satisfy as many of you as possible as those were our best intentions. 

To determine where I should go, first I took all 1500 of your city tour suggestions from the comments section, MySpace, and emails, organized them by top requests, then I gave them to my publicists, and then a whole group of us spent a couple of weeks tweaking the results. 

If your town isn't here, I'm really sorry.  Not to go Ryan Seacrest all over your asses, but the most weight was given to your top requests so if you didn't vote, I didn't know you wanted me there.  (Philly, what happened?  Are you mad at me?  You guys didn't even crack the top 20.)  And there are a few places I was supposed to go, e.g. Charleston, but I couldn't due to bookstore space constraints. 

Anyway, thanks to everyone who helped determine my stops, but particular thanks go to Penguin for sending me on tour in the first place.  This year's going to be extra fun because we're incorporating a totally awesome surprise theme, so I'll see you all there!

(Unless you're in a city who didn't vote.) 

(I'm sorry!)

UPDATE:  Keep in mind a handful of cities were added last year because the beginning of the tour went so well.  The best way to get me to come to your city is if people come to the already scheduled events.  And yes, I get a vote on where to go, but no, I don't have final say.

I Should Probably Mention This Today, Too

You know how sometimes I don't post for a few weeks and when I finally do come back online, it's either a grainy dog picture or some lame excuse about being busy and you'd bet the farm that not only was I NOT busy, but in fact had been been parked in front of the big TV in the basement watching the entire first season of Burn Notice again and again?

Usually you'd win that bet... but not today.

From the February 16th issue of Publishers Weekly:

Jen Lancaster has signed a major deal for two more books with Kara Cesareat NAL via Kate Garrickat DeFiore & Co. In the first book, tentatively titled My Fair Lazy, Lancaster gives herself the Pygmalion treatment, researching literature and studying etiquette; pub date will be May 2010. A year later, the tentatively titled Involuntary: My Year of Giving Dangerouslywill detail Lancaster's work with various charitable organizations. Since 2006, Lancaster has published one book a year with NAL, and the first three each have more than 100,000 copies in print. NAL will pub Lancaster's fourth memoir, Pretty in Plaid, in May.

I'll explain more details as the projects unfold and will probably seek some assistance for those who are experts in various disciplines.  But for the moment, if you like me and if you're given to squealing, now would be an excellent time to do so.

"Yes, yes, we're all terribly impressed.  Now serve me breakfast or something very bad is going to happen."

Happy Three Day Weekend

Last night, before bed but after the Ambien kicked in, I thought about what Presidents Day might be like for Barack Obama.  Is it like a birthday?  Will he get presents?  And I wonder if all his friends are blowing up his BlackBerry today being all, "Happy YOUR Day!"  (If I had his number I'd totally call.) 

I hope someone had the forethought to bake him something; this seems like the kind of day that would merit a lovely cake.

If I were him, I'd probably spend the day somewhere crowded like Times Square or the Las Vegas strip, and I'd drape myself in an American flag and a stovepipe hat and I'd swill a footlong margarita, demanding all passersby, "Kiss me!  It's MY day!"

Then again, that's probably why I'm not President.

 

Big Willie, Style

Last Friday I was in the Admirals Club at O'Hare, freaking out over giving a keynote address, eating breakfast, and glowering at these two:

 

Not pictured?  Acres of freckled cleavage and handbags that cost more than my first year of college. 

I tried to be all stealthy, holding my BlackBerry in one hand and my coffee in the other, so the shot's not terribly clear.  I'd hoped to capture the fact that it was 7:30 AM and these two Real Housewife-types were splitting a bottle of wine. 

And because it bears repeating, it was 7:30 AM and they were drinking a whole bottle of wine.

Appalling.

Delighted to have someone to judge so I could be distracted from my speech-giving panic, I happily took my flight down to Nashville for the BlissDom 09 conference.

By the way, how do you know you're in Nashville?  Because this is the art you'll find on your hotel room wall:

Willie almost looks like a religious icon here, doesn't he?  Which is why I started calling this picture, "Jesus, The Outlaw Years." (And yes, his eyes followed me, prompting me to change in the bathroom.)

As much as I laughed at the art initially, I figured with Willie on my wall, I couldn't NOT have fun at this thing.  He's like the patron saint of good times, you know?  I guarantee it's a party when Willie shows up.  I gazed into his soulful eyes and I could almost feel Him willing me to unclench. 

Basking in His heavenly presence - or perhaps in His residual contact buzz - I joined the other attendees, where I immediately met my evil twin.  While everyone else ate lunch, she, too, thought it was a grand idea to begin swilling vodka.  With our sippy cups full of Absolut Cape Cods, what would have been interesting and informative panels became THE BEST SESSIONS EVER.

Normally, this is the point in the day/story when I'd earn myself a stern lecture for ducking out to get more drinks.  But because the benevolent Saint Willie was smiling down upon me, I have to believe what happened next was nothing short of miraculous.

I'd just sneaked up to room 704 for another round when divine inspiration told me to turn on my phone.  I'd switched if off hours before when the sessions started.  (Drunk?  Perhaps.  Rude?  Never.)  As soon as I did, I received a number of increasingly panicked messages from my entire publishing team to call The New York Times.

Apparently a reporter was doing an article on the Shopaholic book and movie and wondered if I might have a moment to share an opinion.

Did I have an opinion?

To share with the Times? 

In an article about that which is my all time favorite book?

Which then Sophie Kinsella might read and thus know I exist?

Yeah, I was pretty sure I did. 

(Granted, having a drunken interview is more Bridget Jones and less Becky Bloomwood, but it still counts.)

The reporter asked me questions about books and shoes and he told me about shopping with Sophie herself, all while I sipped pink drinks. 

I had to keep reminding myself that this wasn't Heaven; it was Nashville. 

Anyway, the article came out today in the Styles section and you can read it here.  The Times even included my book title! 

* * *

As I staggered up to my room last Friday to pass out after an entire day spent woofing down drinks, I realized that the only thing that separated me from those women in the Admirals Club was an Egg McMuffin.

Well... that and Saint Willie.  Praise be!

(P.S.  I was sober Saturday and my speech went fine.)

FYI, This Is Why I Decided Against Posting Ads, Too

I'm a little bit buried with other stuff at the moment so I won't be posting for a few days. 

All is well (saving a possible instance of strep throat) and I'm doing the oh-so-annoying-I'm-not-going-to-post-post which I hate, but just didn't want anyone to assume I was in a cupcake coma.

Cool? 

Cool.

Behold!

If I weren't too lazy to go upstairs, get the digital camera, then find the stupid cord to download the photos, I wouldn't have to capture this with my BlackBerry.  Regardless, behold the peanut butter bomb cupcake:

 

Fletch said he'd bring cupcakes to work if I wanted to experiment with other recipes, so I made Martha's one-bowl chocolate cupcakes and the frosting from her peanut butter and jelly cupcakes. 

The cakes were gorgeous - dark and glossy and really moist.  However, the frosting wasn't nearly sweet enough.  Basically, it just tasted like peanut butter and I assume the big drop of jelly on top is what makes them tasty.  (Martha did warn us about mixing and matching her various cupcake components.)  

So, I cut the cake open, put the pb frosting as-is in the middle, reassembled and topped with buttercream and then used an equal mix of buttercream and peanut butter mixture to make a pb-buttercream swirl on top of that. 

Fletch assures me they are magnificent.  I can't personally vouch for them because I can't eat another goddamned cupcake, possibly ever.  Apparently you can get enough of a good thing. 

FYI, are you aware that baking cupcakes is an excellent way to procrastinate writing a keynote address?

Now you know.