jennsylvania

Great Job Again, Chicago PD!

Time we called 911 to report an act of prostitution happening in the backyard next door: 12:10 AM

Time the customer, um, finished his transaction and drove away: 12:21 AM

Time the police actually showed up: NEVER O'CLOCK

Time I visit my Alderman's office tomorrow morning, demanding some goddamned answers on why the police refuse to respond in this neighborhood: The second they open

First Ward, YOU SUCK.

Go ahead and grab yourself an iced tea, Alderman Manny Flores, because we're going to have ourselves a nice long chat.

We're Totally Famous

Famous for having naughty dogs, that is.

Outsource THIS

PART ONE

Brrrring!  Brrrring!

"Good morning!"

(What?  I can be pleasant in the AM, particularly now since I've got a French press coffee maker, a burr grinder, and Peet's finest.)

-

"No, he's not.  May I take a message?"

-

"I'm sorry he won't be home until tonight.  He's at work."

-

"Specifically?  Specifically after work, my guess is after 6:00 PM.  May I ask who's calling?"

-

"Well, I'm married to him so it absolutely is my business."

-

"OK, don't tell me."

-

"Listen, any 'serious legal matter' he's involved is probably something I should know about."

(Here's the thing; I am unfailingly polite.  That is, until you begin to waste my time.  Then all bets are off.)

-

"Suit yourself, Matlock.  You can discuss your 'serious legal matter' with him when he gets home after 6:00."

-

"Uh huh.  And my point is he won't be home until after 6:00 PM, so if you keep calling him before that, you will succeed only in pissing me off."

-

"Excuse me, but how is telling you that I will be angry because you're blatantly disregarding what I'm telling you a threat?"

-

"Yeah, then apparently your call center dwells in the land where logic does not live."

-

"Nope, also not a threat."

-

"You know what?  My coffee's getting cold and I have a book to write.  Bye!"

PART TWO

I use Google to look up the caller's phone number.  My search reveals it's a credit card company's collections arm. 

What? 

Collections?  We're (finally) well past the collection stage.  And I just paid all the bills on Saturday.  What on earth could this be about?  This will require some research.  Unfortunately, I can't do it until later because I've got a training session.

PART THREE

Brrrring!  Brrrring!

"Good morning!"

-

"No, he's not.  May I take a message?"

-

"I'm sorry he won't be home until tonight.  He's at work."

-

"No, don't call back.  I'm authorized to speak for my husband and I can help you."

-

"Yes, I absolutely can authorize myself."

-

"According to God and the State of Nevada Gaming Commission."

-

"You know what?  I'm not having a transcontinental argument about marriage vows.  We're going to resolve this right you.  You called ten times yesterday while I was out running errands.  I finally did some research and I found out that you're calling about a credit card bill for THIRTEEN DOLLARS.  That was due on MAY 30.  Which is not even a week past its due date."

-

"Wrong, thirteen dollars is NOT a serious legal matter.  It's THIRTEEN DOLLARS.  Plus, I sent out bills on Saturday, so you'll receive full payment of the THIRTEEN DOLLARS, most likely today."

-

"No, 'Bob,' I do not want to pay the thirteen dollars over the phone for a number of reasons.  First, I don't give out secure banking information to international strangers, second, I'm not paying by phone if it's going to incur a seven dollar convenience fee, and finally, the bill has already been paid."

-

"'Bob,' you are working my last nerve."

-

"Well, I'm certainly sorry you feel that way.  But I'm willing to roll the dice and bet that the American legal system has more pressing matters than a four-day-overdue debt of thirteen dollars.  Gotta go, 'Bob.'"

-

"Oh, really?  Well, here's the thing.  I'm going to be home all day.  I'm trying to write and a ringing phone doesn't aid the creative process.  So, when you call back like you've promised, I'm going to answer the phone.  And I promise you I'm going to find the most pornographic thing I can on the internet and I'm going to read it to you.  Sure, it will make me uncomfortable, but I know it will make you even more so because you're not allowed to hang up.  And I'm going to skew your call statistics, too, which is likely even more offensive to you.  And then when my husband gets home, you're going to get a crash course in Army-grade yelling.  Talk to you soon!"

-

He never called back. 

And I am deeply disappointed.

Pimp Up, Bitches

For months I've been struggling with a central theme to wrap around the fourth book.  I've known the stories I've wanted to tell, but I've had such a hard time coming up with proper context.  Whereas I should be well into the manuscript at this point, I've pissed away a lot of precious time second-guessing myself rather than putting words on a page.

Plus, because Such A Pretty Fat has already enjoyed more success than I'd ever even hoped for (ZOMG, THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH!) the bar has been raised and I've been putting a ton of pressure on myself, meaning, um... I've been freaking the fuck out.

Fortunately, my editor helped me have my "A-ha!" moment today (THANK GOD) and I finally have the right context.  Suddenly everything for Pretty In Plaid has gelled and now all I want to do is work.  So, posting's going to be pretty light around here, and thus I propose that you all entertain each other.  Use the comments section to tell readers about your blog.  If you don't have one, then suggest a favorite.

Now go pimp yourself.

P.S.  Don't forget about Printer's Row here in Chicago!  On Saturday, Stacey Ballis is moderating a panel between Stephanie Klein (author of Moose, which is fabulous) and me and our topic is, "Through Thick and Thin."  The panel takes place at 1:30 and is located in University Center Park/Fountain Room at 525 South State Street.  See you there! 

Do Sour Grapes Make Good Whine?

For the third year running, a certain chick-blog organization has ABSOLUTELY no interest in my participation.  From the schedule of events:

What We Do: Blog to Book Redux  This session rocked the house last year, so we're bringing in more bloggers, publishers and agents to dish about your opportunities to turn your blogging talent into a book publishing dream come true. Ellen Gerstein from Wiley & Sons has published many a blogger's book. Jennette Fulda and Rita Arens represent two different blog to book approaches, one a memoir and the other a blogging anthology. Walk away with some insider info and effective tactics you can employ to get yourself on the published author path.

Was I even invited?   

 

No, don't be silly.   

 

After all, what do I know about turning blogs into (New York Times and USA Today and Boston Globe and Follet's college list and Atlanta Journal-Constitution and something-in-Dallas-but-I'm-too-lazy-to-look-up-the-specifics bestselling) books?   

Seriously.

On Report

Fletch and I have been catching up on our TiVo cache this week so last night we watched an episode of Last Comic Standing.  Even though our beloved Jay Mohr no longer hosts, we still dig the show because it's one of the few programs we can agree on - Fletch isn't subjected to a lot of amateur singing and youthful delusion, and I don't have to see in-depth analysis of the merits of the Panzer tank vs. the Sherman tank. 

Anyway, mid-way through the show, a comic did a bit about having previously been a teacher's aid.  He talked about the effort it took to find something positive to say about children who were positively horrible, e.g. telling parents their kids had "a lot of energy," which really meant, "Put Junior on Ritalin, stat!"  The bit was funny and we laughed in all the right places, particularly since we find other people's poor parenting a great source of amusement.  (FYI, this is also why we keep shopping at our local Target.)  (I've mentioned we're jerks, yes?) 

We quietly high-fived ourselves on not being responsible for having brought any demon spawn into this world.  I sat there ensconced in my smug sense of superiority until I remembered something.  Specifically, I recalled how a look of relief washed over the vet tech's face when we announced we were there to claim Maisy and Loki on Saturday after returning from a night in Indianapolis.  Now that I think of it, the tech wasn't smiling so much as she was gritting her teeth as she practically water-skied behind the tugging, leashed dogs. 

When I asked the tech how the dogs had behaved, she hesitated before she said, "They... they felt right at home." 

It just now occurs to me when the dogs are home, they ignore any attempts at discipline, they jump on our guests, they sleep on all the beds and couches, they steal the cats' food, and they pee on the rug in the front hallway.

Oh. 

Oh noes!

I then rooted around in my purse to find the paperwork the tech handed me as we were leaving.  They'd prepared a report card of our pets' behavior.  At the time, I was proud of the dogs for sailing through their stay, receiving high praise.  But upon re-reading, I see that the kennel employs the same practices as the hopeful comedian's old school district.

"Maisy and Loki LOVE to play.  They are very excitable and very active."

(You need doggie Ritalin.  Or possibly an exorcism.)

"Both dogs are always on the move.  Maisy loves the ball and Loki loves chasing Maisy around."

(Seriously, they wore our asses out.  WTF is wrong with them?  Do you feed them coffee or something?)

"They did not engage in group playtime with any other dogs."

(Your dogs share exactly the same kind of sociopathic behavior you and your husband exhibit and we kept them far the fuck away from normal people's pets.)

"They both ate well while they were here."

(Your dogs are little piggies.)

"There were no problems with elimination."

(Maisy peed on our rug.  And in our lobby.  And on our porch.  But not outside.)

So in case you were wondering?

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."