Happy Friday! What a week, eh? But can you believe how fast February has gone? It’s crazy. But I’m so ready for spring now. Buh-ring it.

So when I was in Nashville, my friends and I stopped in a boot store. These boots are for rich cowgirls.

“Sell a kidney and take me home!”

They were like $2,200 dollars. And they were sitting on the shelf with the cheapo $300.00 ones. Who pays that for boots?  I’d have to hawk my car and my Chris Tomlin CD collection to afford those things. And are cowboy boots really comfortable? I know people say they are, but really I’ve always thought this was just a conspiracy by western wear folk. Nike’s are comfortable. But pointy-toed stiff leathery things? “Inconceivable!” (Name that movie)

When we were on our home tour of Nashville, we drove by this huge building below. It’s the AT&T building.

When we went by it, my friend Leslie said, “That’s looks like it’s from Batman.” Later on the tour guide says, “We call that our Batman Building.” Can you believe that?! Leslie’s like architecturally prophetic!

Everywhere we went there seemed to be Elvis statues. And they were all terrible. It’s like they were really statues of Elvis impersonators.

This one is Jerry Lewis as Elvis.

Andrew Dice Clay as Elvis.

Even the hot dog stands are Elvis related.

Then there was this fountain of naked people.

I don’t know what they’re supposed to be doing, but it looks a little more than Rated PG frolicking to me.

We stepped into Tootsie’s Orchid lounge and saw the back of this guy as he played.

He had a tip jar, but I didn’t think it would be too polite if I stuffed a box of Miss Clairol in there.

You know, it always gets interesting when you travel with people, whether they are family or friends. First of all, our hotel was apparently pet friendly. Dogs all over the place. Which made me wonder about my bed. I’m not a hotel fan anyway, though I’ve gotten a lot better about it. My friends always check the bed for UHN (unidentified hotel nastiness), but I just don’t even want to know. I’ve seen enough Dateline to know the truth. So we get to the hotel, and in the elevator the next morning some woman says, “Are you here a choral kids’ mom?” Um…no. I have a mentally challenged cat that seems to be bulimic. But singing children? No. I don’t have any of those. Then we sit down to breakfast and notice all these people who looked like they stepped out of a Cabella’s catalog. Some guy next to us asks another, “Are you here for the turkey convention?” I don’t know what that is, but it explained all the camo, waterproof boots, and sideburns we saw. A turkey convention. That made me laugh out loud.

Another time I was in the elevator this man was in there with his little rat of a dog. The thing was seriously like three inches by three inches. And I said, “Oh, cute dog. What’s his name?”  He says, “Moose.”  And of course I said, “Wow, that’s a big name for such a little dog.”  And he sniffs and says, “That’s mousse as in the dessert.”  Oh. Right. But you have to admire a man for honoring such a fine confection.

Girls traveling together can sometimes be a little iffy. We ladies are so moody, aren’t we? And it was like at least in the car (nine hours one way), we never could get in sync. When two of us would be hyped up and giggley, the other would be passed out in the back, eyes rolled to the back of her head. And then the last few hours on the way home, I hit a wall of fatigue and wanted to play the quiet game, but my friends were getting their second wind. Here’s a snippet of road trip conversation showing how mature we can be, and also maybe that it was time to go home.

Me: My hands are swollen
Friend 1: From driving? You got issues.
Me: I know. I need a taco.

And then Leslie came up with this STUPID “find the hawk” game as we drove. Whoever found the most won. Well, I rarely saw them, and it just ticked me off. Plus I was supposed to be watching the road and NOT for stinkin’ birds who don’t have any more sense than to hang out on fence posts near the highway. I mean, if I was a bird would I be hanging out by the road? No. I’d be flying somewhere cool.

Me: I’m so bored. Driving bores the crap out of me!
Leslie: Play the hawk game.
Me: The hawk game stinks.
Leslie: Your butt stinks.
Me: Your great aunt Betty stinks.

Me: I like Taco Bell, but it gives me a bad taste in my mouth. Hand me the M&M’s. I’m gonna take care of that.
Leslie: That’s the only reason you want them?
Me: Uh-huh.
Leslie: Keep telling yourself that.

Okay, and I have to admit that all my life I’ve slept with two pillows, one being a very small pillow. My sister in law calls it my woobie. My friend Leslie calls it my baby. I call it “extra lumbar support and please shut up.”

Leslie: I couldn’t sleep last night for your baby hogging the bed.
Me: It’s not my baby.
Leslie: Your baby smells.
Me: Your butt smells.

One night I had to sleep in the same bed as my friend Kim. I was flopped over and ready to go to sleep.

Me: “Hey!”
Kim: “Where’s the remote?”
Me: “That wasn’t it.”

So now the trip is over and it’s back to school and back to writing. Have a lovely weekend. I will be seeing Madea Goes to Jail and writing like a fiend. A lazy fiend, but still, a fiend.

JEN

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I’m back from my little trip to Nashville. It was a great time. It was fun, exhausting, and at times a little scary. But enough about my driving.

Kitty Yaks-A-Lot was glad to see me. Actually he has rubbed up against my leg so many times, he just finally passed out. I like him that way.

I don’t have a lot of trip details right now. Because I’m so pooped. As I write this, I’ve been home about two hours, and the couch is calling my name. My suitcase is not. It will sit there in my room for at least a week. Ignored. Abandoned. Unloved. Now just a container of unclean underwear and spilled shampoo (it never fails). And it weighs like a million pounds. I just can’t pack light. Honestly, I don’t even try anymore. Used to I’d arrive at the destination with all these excuses to my traveling buddies. “Um, I have this one pair of ten pound shoes…” “It’s not my clothes. It’s all the books.”  “I, uh, brought extra in case we ran into some homeless people…in Paris.”  But now I’m older and crabbier and just like, “Yes, I overpacked and my bag is three times the size of yours. Deal with it. Oh, and if you could just hold up one end of my Samsonite, that would be good too.”

Here’s my friend Kim and me on the country music star tour of homes. Yes, we’re those kind of tourists. The only thing missing was a fanny pack. It was actually a good time. It’s like legalized stalking. That’s my new sweater that I’ve worn like twice. On this trip I discovered it had a hole in the arm pit, and the whole time I’m thinking, “What if we run into someone famous? What if we see Tim McGraw, and he’s like, “Dude, you totally blew out your armpit.”  But no one noticed, and we did not run into any stars. I didn’t even see any lookalikes. Which is unusual. I see famous people’s twins all the time!

I am happy to report I did get to see Tim and Faith’s mailbox. I didn’t touch it though. I had a feeling if I did, a swat team would spring down out of the trees and take me out. Kinda wasn’t worth it. But you have to wonder what’s in there. Surely they use a P.O. Box. I know all the other people I’ve stalked do.

This is their house. It’s a little blah. Apparently they are building a gigantic compound on the property behind it though. I should hope so. Because this little abode is just not acceptable. You can’t tell in the pic, but it’s really dreary looking. (Hey, Tim and Faith, I painted my house a few years ago. It was a little pricey, but I think if you guys work real hard, you can swing it.)

Here we are (above) at the Bluebird Cafe. I have wanted to go there forever. It was songwriter’s night (isn’t it always, though?), and things were crazy. I mean it was sooo bad. There were a bunch of unpublished, amateur songwriters there testing out their stuff, and we stayed for quite a few songs before we had to go. Or before we got kicked out. See, you can’t talk in the Bluebird during performances. At all. They even have t-shirts with “Shhhh” on it. It’s just their thing. My friend Kim (right) bet that Leslie (left) and I couldn’t handle the no talking policy. We were like, “Oh, I’m so sure. Of course we can be quiet. What do you think we’re like six?” Well, five seconds into this one guy’s song, we were both laughing at ridiculous decibel levels. He sang in this really deep monotone voice that made him sound like Mr. T. The first sentence of his song about “real life” was, “My trailer smells like cat pee.” Except it was worded a little differently. And then he went on to sing about standing in line at the health department waiting for a VD test. And there were some other humorously WRONG words I can’t even share, but they had me nearly on the floor. I’m talking SNOT LAUGHING. My nose was dripping, and my eyes were watering, and I got dangerously close to peeing my pants. We three sang it the rest of the weekend. I can’t do the impression justice because it hurts my throat, but my friend Leslie can knock it out of the ballpark.

So to fast forward a bit, I went to see the totally awesomely cool people at Thomas Nelson, the publishers of So Not Happening. And we’re meeting for lunch, and I’m nervous, of course. So I’m asked about my weekend and we talk about the visit to the Bluebird. And I say something like, “Yeah, it was good. I had a lot of fun, but for bad reasons.” And then I laugh. And then five minutes later we’re talking about something else, and I’m all listening…until what I’d said earlier replays in my head, and I’m like, “Omigosh. OMIGOSH. That freakin’ sounded like I was dancing on the table tops at the Bluebird. I had fun in a bad sort of way? Who SAYS that?” So for the record, that came out COMPLETELY wrong. And whether it was true or not is irrelevant to the story.

I was also too stressed to get any pictures of the amazing folks at Thomas Nelson, which I totally intended to do. Well, I don’t know if you can blame that on stress. Because I had on the heels from Hades and that also consumed my brain. So then the whole time I’m like, “Who says these things? Who wears these heels? Why do I talk? Remember when Dirty Dancing came out and Keds were cool? Those were good days.” But other than that, it was a GREAT visit! I’m so excited about So Not Happening. In fact, as a few of you have already spotted, you can read the first chapter already on the website. It will be out this spring, and fun things are already in the pipe for this book.

Well, more on my trip later. Tomorrow is my semi-annual yoga speech at school (the speech I do so I can wear yoga clothes to work, which is proof that sometimes my brain DOES work), and I must go lay out my Nike sweats and practice some downward facing dogs.

JEN

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Happy Monday!

I am so ready for spring to get here, aren’t you? I miss the sun. And warmth. And being able to run (okay, walk) without looking like the abominable snowman on the trail. And when spring arrives the Bark Park at the walking trail opens back up, and the dogs will all come back. I LOVE looking at all the puppies. Animals are the best. Except mine. Who yaks, meows, sheds, and yaks. But whatever.

Did you have a good weekend? Did anyone see Madea Goes to Jail? If you did, don’t tell me how it ends. But I bet she pulled out the glock, didn’t she? Aw, I love that. If I ever met some bad people in a dark alley, I would totally want Madea on my side.

Did you know Jerry Springer is going to be starring in Chicago in London? I hear you can get free baby-daddy testing during intermission. But you have to pay extra if you want to throw a few chairs afterward.

Also, do you know what showed up on fashion runways recently? It’s bad…you might want to take a seat for this…SHOULDER PADS. UGH. For those of us who survived the eighties, I do NOT want to relive shoulder pads. I always just ripped ‘em out and stuffed them in my bra anyway. Unless you were on Dynasty or Dallas, shoulder pads did not flatter you. So just say no. Of course I said I was going to say no to skinny jeans, and I ended up caving on those. But I don’t wear them. They tend to fall off. But that’s another story. For probably another audience.

A few weeks ago Steve Martin was on Saturday Night Live. I didn’t like the sketches, which was tragic. Because I really like and respect Steve Martin. He just seems like a decent chap. He has to be! He plays bluegrass for crying out loud. Did you know he’s an expert banjo player? This isn’t his best work, but it’s still kinda cute.

Women are so misunderstood, aren’t they? According to The News Star, a Louisiana woman shot her boyfriend because according to the police report,  “he was bothering her wouldn’t let her sleep.” And they charged her! I mean, he lived. Come on! He just took a little bullet to the hip. A lady needs her sleep! You do NOT want to mess with that. I am an absolute force of evil when I’m sleep deprived. Isn’t there someone we can contact about this? Let’s all write our senators. It’s not like they’re busy balancing a budget or anything.

So I took a road trip this weekend. A long one. As in the kind where you have twenty hours to think of two million reasons why you didn’t fly. I could come up with like two. And they weren’t good ones. I’m just not a good road tripper. I used to be. I don’t know what happened. I guess now I’m old enough I’m expected to drive, and I don’t know if there’s anything I dislike more than driving. It ranks right up there with eating green peas and paper cuts. I was not one of those teenagers who had driving fever. I didn’t get a license until I was a senior. I kept waiting around for someone to invent a car that drives itself. And finally I had to give in and realize the idea was still a few years (decades) away. But somewhere…some place…there must be someone with  me in mind, creating the invention that will change my life and make me love the open road a little more. Driving is JUST so boring.

On my very first car, I had a foot rest, and so driving was a little bit better. (Don’t ask…it was just…there.) But I’ve never been lucky enough to have a foot rest again. Driving puts my butt to sleep and makes me cranky because I get so bored. And you have to like pay attention. Things that require paying attention are so lame! I don’t want to pay attention. So if everyone else is paying attention, then that should be good enough. Maybe traveling would be more fun for me if I had a hover craft.

Don’t forget I’m still looking for cute slogans for our Race for the Cure team. Keep ‘em coming!

Have a great week-
JEN

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I am so ready for the weekend. Actually I’m taking a little vay-kay to see all the cool people at Thomas Nelson, and I am road tripping it. And today when I walked into Walgreens, guess what I found? Valentine’s Day M&Ms (big bags!) for seventy-five cents!!!! I stopped myself after three bags because I knew if I got them all, I would one of those people on TV they do an intervention for, and they have the camera in the house as they use a crane to lift the person out of her bedroom as Richard Simmons cheers her on in his sparkly tank top and scary shorts. But still…road snacks!!!

You can tell I’m a total fan of my publisher because if I worked for anyone else, I wouldn’t travel this weekend. I mean Tyler Perry’s Madea Goes to Jail comes out this Friday. “I’ll go to church when there’s a smoking section!”  “I shot Tupac!”  Is it scary to relate to an extra large man in drag with comfy shoes and stuffed gazoongas?

Speaking of boobs, my friend and fellow snow zealot Holly and I are getting a team together for the Race for the Cure. We’re trying to come up with a really cute t-shirt because last year mine was really tame (I didn’t pick it), and we saw alll these cool ones. So we’re looking for slogans. So far I’ve come up with:

Boob Warrior
(PG-13 version) Boob Warrior: Don’t Make Me Pull Out My Weapons.
Got Boobs?
Healthy Boobs: It’s the New Black
It Takes a Village to Save a Boob
Raising a Stink for Pink
TaTa Taliban

Then Holly’s come up with :
Save Second Base
Touch Your TaTa’s
Save the Girls

We’re struggling. And obviously we are not looking for eloquence or class. But it’s par for the course at the Komen, and that’s why I LOVE it!!! Please leave me an idea if you have one. Boob t-shirts are the BEST!!!

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Here’s the final version of the So Not Happening cover! Isn’t it cool? I like how it’s clear that it’s not a “I’m so serious” novel. You can’t have a pig THAT cute on the cover and think there’s heavy material inside, right? I’m not sure what the A&M stands for on the purse logo, but I think maybe you can pick up that bag at a certain Texas university’s book store perhaps? I love the green. Green happens to be my favorite color. I’m pretty sure the pig approves.

This is the best kind of Monday ever. I hate to rub it in, but I have the day off!!! But before you throw something at me, I do not have the day off from writing. What I need though, is a day off from the cookies. Oh, my gosh. Must work off the pudge. Exercise and clean eating are so BORING though. Last night I was praying and talking to God about my declining eating habits, and I was like, “God, make me love broccoli like chocolate. Can you do that?”  I’m sad to report to you that I have yet to see any difference in my broccoli feelings. But God’s a pretty busy guy. I can wait.

Did anyone see Dollhouse, the new Joss Whedon show? Maybe it’s because I missed the first minute or so, but I didn’t get it. Why was the main character at this personality-stealing place anyway? And why did all the personality-less people take communal showers without even flinching or having to borrow someone’s soap on a rope? I didn’t get it. It was okay…but it was no Buffy.

Did everyone have a good Valentine’s Day? I did! This weekend I saw Confessions of a Shopaholic. This is based on a series by author Sophie Kinsella. I LOVE Sophie’s books, but I personally never got into Shopaholic, but I’m gonna try again one day. But as for the movie…I didn’t really love it. It was very choppy and odd and silly. And I don’t mean silly in a good way, but as in store window mannequins come to life and speak to the main character, and that just creeped me out. If something doesn’t have a face, you should not talk to it. That’s a rule I really try to live by and so far it’s served me well. The movie did have Hugh Dancy in it though (and someone had to tell me who that was. I’m so out of the Hollywood man-candy loop). He was a nice addition.

My friend Rhonda sent me this funny YouTube.

I emailed her back and told her it was a little disturbing. She thought the one I sent her in return (below) was even more disturbing.

I didn’t find it upsetting though. I found it highly relatable. I mean, that’s me on a typical Monday morning.

Here’s one for the family scrap book. “Things not to do while mom has the video camera out…”

That’s an excellent face plant though. Perfect 10–especially with the vertebrae stress involved. I like it.

Okay, well, hate to be short and sweet, but I must get back to the writing. I have a new fun project that has an insane deadline and will probably kill me. The fun things usually do. In my next life I think I want to be a rock star so I’ll have a little down time. ; )  And people to do my hair.

Have a great week!!!

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