jennsylvania

Flabby

It figures that the minute I finally have time to sit down and write a post, I can't remember what I wanted to say.  Perhaps that's a by-product of spending the past four weeks speaking of nothing but myself? 

Seriously, as much fun as I had going to interviews and doing events this past month, if no one asks me a personal question for a while, that'll be just fine.  Also, given my recent schedule, I'm finally starting to believe that singers/starlets might not be faking it when they're treated for exhaustion.  Granted, I wasn't doing rail after rail of blow while on tour, unless by "doing coke" you mean "inhaling room service french fries," but the fatigue is similar. 

Anyway, I hate when I get out of the habit of writing because it takes such effort to get back into the swing of things.  I always tell budding authors that the best way to be a writer is to write; the ability to write is a muscle and it's got to be worked daily.  Presently my writing muscles are flabby and weak, chugging along at two point five miles an hour on a treadmill with no incline.

So what I have to offer you until I get the hang of blogging again is a photo with a little bit of back-story.

Two weeks ago I had the opportunity to appear on the Joy Behar Showas part of a pop culture panel.  Other panelists included Carson Kressley and Daisy Fuentes.  As this was my first national television appearance, pretty much my only goal was to not drop any f-bombs. 

(Yes, I was on that one huge show once but since neither my last name nor the title of my book was mentioned, it doesn't really count.  Also, I signed a very scary legal document agreeing to never write about said appearance, so if you're scratching your head right now... sorry for being cryptic.  Maisy was on with me and signed no such nondisclosure agreement, but unfortunately she has terrible handwriting - no thumbs - and thus cannot share her recollections.  If she could, she'd tell you how her mumma made the Queen of All Media laugh both hard and often, but she can't so we'll just have to move on.)

Anyway, the segment went as well as I could hope.  Joy read the entire book title and they showed a big cover graphic.  I was able to deliver a couple of profanity-free zingers and overall I was happy.  I didn't do as well as Daisy or Carson, but they're both actual celebrities with years of media training whereas I'm someone who spends most of her day with dirty hair, talking to her dogs. 

I can't describe how much I loved meeting Carson.  You know how quippy and adorable he came across on Queer Eye?  That's exactly what he was like in real life.  He was sweet and genuine and fabulous.  More importantly, he was nice to everyone in the room and now I'm a fan for life.

As for Daisy, she was friendly and pleasant, but that's not what I'll take away from having met her.  Up close, she's completely stunning.  Her skin's impeccable, her hair's a riot of chocolate and honey, and she's built like a 90s supermodel, back when they were allowed to digest.  She looks like God used an airbrush on her, buffing away any imperfections, leaving everything flawless.

We did our bit on the panel and Daisy and I made our way back to the green room.  (Carson stayed on set for another segment.)  We had a nice chat about our respective books while I craned my neck up at her, shuffling along, taking two steps to her every one.  Seriously, her legs ended approximately where my bra hits.

We got back to the green room and ran smack into Miss USA.  I guess she and Daisy have met somehow through the Miss USA organization, as Daisy's previously hosted the competition.  They laughed and hugged and immediately started taking pictures together.  Now don't get me wrong, I'm never one for self-loathing.  Aside from grousing about the occasional bout of frizzy hair or forehead crease, I'm happy with my appearance.  I'm pleased with most of what I've got going on and I never shy away from a mirror.  However, when I'm standing a foot away from Miss USA as well as the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, it's easy to forget that I rather like me.

Which is why I looked at those two and announced, "Hey!  Let's all take a picture together so I can feel really good about myself!"

And they fucking thought I was serious, so they yanked me into the shot with them.

 

"One of these things is not like the other, one of these things does not belong..."

I guess the good news is that superior physical genetics don't include the gene that detects sarcasm.

And yet somehow that doesn't make me feel better.

Anyway, I'm rusty, but I'm back, so thanks for being here!

Business Then Pleasure

First, a quick reminder of where I'll be on tour starting in less than three weeks:

May 4 - Atlanta, B&N Buckhead

May 5 - Birmingham, B&N Summit Blvd

May 6 - Houston, Borders Kirby St.

May 7 - Dallas - B&N Northwest Highway

May 11 - Detroit, Borders Birmingham

May 12 - Dayton, Books & Co.

May 13 - St. Louis, Mad Art Gallery (a Left Bank Books event)

May 14 - Chicago, Borders Michigan Ave

May 18 - Philadelphia, B&N Walnut St.

May 19 - NYC, B&N Union Square

May 20 - DC, B&N 12th St. NW

May 21 - Charlotte, B&N Huntersville

May 26 - Milwaukee, Borders Fox Point

May 27 - Chicago, Borders Oakbrook

Specifics as to whens-and-wheres are posted in the Appearances section of the website.  Please note that I'd love to see you there!  I'll be in these cities talking about My Fair Lazy, but what's nice is that Pretty in Plaid will finally be out in paperback then, too, if you're just not a hardcover kind of person.  BTW, I've got TV appearances in most cities and I'll post those once we get closer to the dates. 

As everyone always has questions about signing protocol, so let me just say this - if I wrote it, I'll sign it.  Also, if you're coming to an event - and I hope you will because they're fun - wear comfortable shoes.  Some of the events will have line tickets so check with your bookstore to see if you can pick one up earlier in the day.  A lot of times gals who end up towards the back of the line will duck out for drinks instead of waiting the entire time.  I wholeheartedly support this.  Please know if we meet and I smell wine fumes, I will be jealous.  And I'll probably still be sweaty, even if I'm not drinking Chardonnay.  I'll also make sure pre-signed books are available so you don't have to wait if you don't want to. 

Some of you had questions on My Fair Lazy's Kindle availability.  Currently there are a few publishing houses renegotiating their relationship with the e-book portion (but not traditional book portion) of Amazon, which means new titles aren't yet available for pre-order.  This has everything to do with business and nothing to do with individual authors.  The expectation is that this will be resolved soon, so I'm hoping that by the time MFL comes out, you'll be able to download it.  I'll keep you posted, okay?

With that business out of the way, I have to tell you something that I've discovered.  To backtrack,  a lot of MFL has to do with getting me outside of my comfort zone.  One of my big takeaways from writing this book has been to have more of a spirit of adventure.  I tried tons of new stuff during the course of my research and I'm pleased to say that even though I'm no longer obligated to do so, I'm still trying.

A couple of months ago, Fletch and I began the process of buying a house.  The first hurdle was getting approved for a mortgage.  The mortgage broker was a huge sushi fan, so we met him at his favorite place.  Now don't get me wrong, I like sushi but I'm generally more of a California Roll kind of girl.  However, I'm even more of an I'd-like-to-finally-stop-paying-rent kind of girl, so when the broker ordered from the scary side of the menu, I didn't balk.  And I tried every single thing set in front of me, including a big wad of raw quail egg covered umami... which is sea urchin.

As it turns out, I do not love umami, but in eating it I a) proved to myself that I could handle any food challenge that I might face were I ever to make it onto the show Survivor and b) secured a mortgage.  Although we've yet to find a house to go along with the mortgage, I'm still pleased with myself for not being an enormous culinary wuss.

Then, several weeks ago, Fletch and I went out for a really great dinner.  After seeing how I looked in the new book video, I realized it was time to get my diet back in check... yet me being me, I wanted to go out with a bang so we had dinner at Charlie Trotter's.  I figured if we were going to have a food orgy anyway, we were going to do it up right.  When the waiter asked if we had any dietary allergies or concerns, we confidently told him that we were up to try anything.

Note: never tell a waiter you're up to try anything.

Our dinner was fascinating and intricately prepared and plated.  The first few courses boasted flavors and product I'd only heard about, like salsify and tile fish and umeboshi.  For you fellow reality TV addicts, you know that umeboshi is a pickled Japanese plum.  More importantly, it was almost Yaya's undoing during the commercial shoot in America's Next Top Model, Cycle Three.  And since I hated Yaya, I was extra-pleased to enjoy the very taste that almost got her eliminated.

Dinner consisted of a variety of two-bite courses.  We woofed each of them down and couldn't wait to see what was next.  We laughed and toasted and practically licked our plates.  We were content and self-congratulatory until we got to the diver sea scallop served on a bed of sauteed veal heart. 

Veal heart. 

Veal heart? 

Wait, we wondered - is eating heart even legal?  Fletch quickly ushered his scallop to the safety of the far end of his plate.  However, I felt like I couldn't leave the restaurant without at least tasting everything, so I did.

Let me just say this about veal heart - if one of the best chefs in the world can't make something palatable to me, then it probably shouldn't be eaten.  The heart wasn't as horrible as I expected, but it certainly wasn't anything I'd ever crave.  Taste-wise, it was oddly tangy and reminded me of sauerbraten and in terms of texture, kind of like a portobello mushroom. 

I took my bite and I chewed it and I swallowed it and I immediately put veal heart at the top of my Permanent Do Not Fly list.

The thing about eating veal heart is it stays with you, not so much as indigestion, at least not physical.  It was more like philosophical indigestion.  For the whole next day I was overwhelmed with feelings of guilt.  I mean, dude... I ate something's HEART.  That's just wrong.  I already have such misgivings about veal, delicious though it may be, so dining on that which pumped its very lifeblood made me feel like Cruella Deville.  I could not stop thinking about what I'd done.  So, when I started my whole new system of healthy eating the following Monday I made a leap I thought I'd never take. 

I've grounded myself from beef.

I haven't consumed one bite of red meat since March 29.  And can I be honest here?  As someone who ate beef for a good five dinners out of seven?  I don't miss it. 

To be clear, I don't believe eating beef is wrong and I wholeheartedly support the notion of the food chain.  However, I initially took my beef break because I felt guilty. But as the days passed, I realized how much healthier I was eating because I'd eliminated it from my diet.  Turns out beef is really my gateway drug.  I mean, I can't have a burger without fries.  I won't eat a filet without piling on melted bleu or goat cheese.  And every beef dish is better with a side of something au gratined. 

I'd only planned on my beef hiatus while I was getting ready for tour but the longer I'm off it, the more I realize something... there's a certain sense of smug self-satisfaction that comes from eschewing something most other people eat.  I never knew this.  I have to tell you, it feels kind of good.  Suddenly the notion of, say, being vegan or following a complicated macrobiotic diet makes sense.  I no longer want to bash into these folks with my shopping cart at Whole Foods. 

Of course, until baby back ribs cease to exist, I'll never go completely completely militant in my diet.  But at least I finally get it when other people do it.

I guess that lesson is really kind of what My Fair Lazy's all about... only it comes across with more stories about accidentally buying black tar heroin in Chinatown and less prosthelytizing.

Anyway, that's it for today and I can't wait to meet you guys in person!

Sex, Lies, Videotape... And Apparently, Cheetos

So, my new book video for My Fair Lazy is up.

I'm going to embed it in this post but I feel like I need to offer a few caveats first.

Upon watching this thing for the first time, I sent my publicist an email stating, "I need to call a trainer, an aesthetician, and whomever's working the counter at Bobbi Brown right-freaking-now."

I can't tell you what I thought the second time because I can't bear to look at it again.  The video itself is very well done and I'm far less stammer-y and sweaty than usual and we had a blast filming it.  The idea behind the book comes across nicely plus it features Gina and Stacey, two of my most favorite people in the world.  They were instrumental in my writing this book.  I love that when you read it, you'll be able to better imagine who's speaking.  Plus there's all kinds of background Maisy in it, always a bonus.

This video was filmed a good two months - and 9,000 Mallomars - into our feckless new home search.  Apparently I decided to compensate for the ravages of anxiety, stress-eating, and the general aging process with blush. 

A lot of blush.

Oh, so much blush. 

A what-ever-happened-to-Baby-Jane-amount of blush.

Fortunately, I saw this thing in time to do something about it before tour.  I'm back in the gym, back on Weight Watcher's online points system, and back in age-appropriate style thanks to my friend Poppy's new beauty blog.

With all that being said... enjoy?

 And if this video inspired you to surreptitiously swab your cheeks with a damp Kleenex? 

You're welcome.

Cover Story

You know how I was pretty much MIA here on this site for the past six months? 

And I kept telling you I was working on a new book? 

Yet you had no tangible proof that was true? 

And you started to suspect I was just hiding out in my basement, eating candy, and watching The Real Housewives?

(Okay, that part might have happened a little bit.)

Well, today I have some proof by way of new cover and a release date. 

And yet me being me, I must first take a circuitous route prior to the big reveal.

So, we know book covers are important, yes?  And that whole can't-judge-a-book business is horseshit because if the cover doesn't appeal to you, why would you even pick it up?  (Sidenote: I'm aware there are people who don't abide by this rule.  I occasionally get unhappy emails where these readers are angry because my books are filled with curse words.  Yet I maintain when there's profanity IN THE FUCKING TITLE, one should probably expect more blue language to follow.)

Anyway, before I show the new cover, I thought it might be fun to share a couple of covers that didn't make the cut for previous books.  First up, Bitter...

Honestly, I thought this cover was pretty cool and it would totally catch my interest on the front table at Borders or B&N.  And yet my argument against it was that a book about a defiant fat girl was not best represented by a defeated six-foot model with an ass small enough to fit on a Hello Kitty suitcase.  So the art department went back to the drawing board and came up with the concept of the iconic dress which to this day I love so fiercely it makes my heart hurt.

For Bright Lights, there were no prototypes - the image on the cover now was the first and only one I saw.  In my opinion, it could not have been more perfect.  What's funny is the designer got cover inspiration by looking at a line of Marc Jacobs handbags.  Then, a year after the book's release, Marc Jacobs came out with this purse, called the Jen.

Coincidence?

Although, really, if I was somehow Marc Jacob's muse, the polite thing for him to do would have been to send me one of these bags.

Such a Pretty Fat took some tweaking...

... before we nailed the concept.  And then it was just a matter of adjusting colors.

 
 
 
For Pretty in Plaid, I was desperate for the loafers to be featured on the front cover, but they just looked weird, so the art department made sure I got a little jpeg of them on the back cover.  (Which kicks ass because technically authors have no control over covers.)

Point?  Penguin's art department has been making me happy for five years and I need to say thank you for creating the kind of books that can absolutely be judged by their covers.  You guys are the best!

Anyway, I hope you all dig their latest effort as much as I do...

In bookstores May 4, 2010 and available for preorder now! 

(P.S.  I swear in this book, too.)