If my life were a movie right now it would titled Weird. Let me share one example (as I type with a cat sprawled across the keyboard).

So last weekend I went to the monthly Wal-Mart meeting for managers. Don’t ask how I got in. It involves Ginsu knives, a low cut blouse, and one jumbo pack of sparklers. Anyway, Sandra Bullock was there. And a surprise guest–Jesse James. News of his alleged infidelity had not leaked out yet.

So Sandra is there to promote the DVD release of Blindside. She and her husband are on stage a short amount of time. She is skinnier in person than on camera. She’s enviably funny and well-spoken and humble. He is quiet and not into the lime-light.  The head dude of Wal-Mart/Sam’s interviewed them, asking her about her Oscar, about their work together in New Orleans, and made them do the Wal-Mart cheer.

“This is my knee cap. The knee cap she will soon want to take a baseball bat to.”

So fast-forward to Thursday. I get home from school whistling a happy tune.  (This is my blog. I can spin this however I want.)  And there’s an email in my Inbox from a supposed reporter from E! News telling me to call her asap. I ignore it. (But call everyone else I know.) I decide I’m not gonna say a word about the Wal-Mart meeting because over the last few days it’s occurred to me that those of us there saw the couple in their last moment together before Mt. Infidelity erupted. And we have the last pictures as well. (Though all I’ve seen are like mine and hideous due to the awful lighting that is ALWAYS a problem at these meetings.)  Anyway, I’m gonna ignore the email.

Then I sit down with my laptop on the couch and pull up Twitter. And there’s a message from the same reporter to contact her. At this point, I check her out and make sure she’s legit. She is. So I DM the woman and tell her that I hate to disappoint her, but I really didn’t have any good info to share. She assures me that she just wants some basic facts. On the phone at this time is a friend telling me to at least hear the questions so we’d have something to talk about on our afternoon 3 mile walk. So in the name of friendship and fitness, I answered a few questions Twitter-style.

Me to reporter: Sorry to be a killjoy, but I don’t really have anything to share. They joked onstage with each other and it appeared normal.

Reporter: No, that’s great. I’m not looking for anything negative. What was the speech for? Were they happy? How long were they there? What were they joking about? U can be anonymous if you want.

Me: (Yes, anonymous. Because next time I see Sandra at the local McDonald’s, I don’t want her to snub me.) They were joking about these great books they’d been reading called I’m So Sure and Just Between You and Me. (I’m pretty sure I only said this in my mind. Really I typed…) They were there about 10-15 minutes. Promoting Blindside.

Reporter: Why? Who got to attend?

Me: Only really brilliant authors who are on the short list for the Pulitzer or Newbery…I was so sad my friend Nora Roberts couldn’t make it. (Real answer…) It’s their monthly sales meeting. Management associates are req’d to attend. Often stars r brought in to promo a product/release.

And that was it. And somehow that turned into this reference. And we’re thinking possibly this one as well. I’m “a source!” I’ve never been a source before. It was slightly thrilling. Can I now say: Jenny Jones, Christian fiction author, previously featured in E! and TMZ? Honestly, I was really glad I hadn’t posted a blog about it this past Monday because I would’ve had more to say about the meeting than this. Sandra and Jesse were really cool and funny, but there were a few things I noticed that my friends and I talked about later. And I’m glad I kept it to myself so that it’s now not on E! like it came from some reliable source. Because me and my fiction-seeking brain (deprived and on a deadline no less)…not reliable.

As the reporter was asking questions I kept thinking to myself, “When I get married and my motorcycle making husband cheats on me with some tattoo model skank, would I want someone to say I was perky and funny upon last sighting? Yes, I would.” So that’s what I said. Because she was. Mostly. It was some interesting people watching that day, I will say that. And if anyone wants to know more, they will have to woo me with Ben and Jerry’s and the return of Gilmore Girls to prime time television.

When we wrapped it up, I told her to tell Joel McHale that two girls from Arkansas loved him. She promised me tickets to his show Soup next time I was in L.A.

Just had to come out of my self-imposed blog vacation and share. A big thanks to my friend Sheila for scouring the ‘net for my heart-hitting anonymous quotes. And for her final comment: “You know who is loving this news? Tiger Woods.”

See you next week. Unless the Enquirer calls next. Maybe now they’ll believe me that Elvis is my neighbor.

JEN

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I just wanted to pop in to let you know I’m taking a blogging vay-kay this week. I will return March 22nd, the first day of Spring Break for most Arkansas schools. It has been a crazy few weeks with my teacher hat on, and I am more than ready for a week off. And possibly some hallucinogenic drugs. Just kidding. But I wouldn’t turn down a bowl of Fruity Pebbles if someone forced it on me.

I’ll be finishing up my next-next book to release, Save the Date, a book I’m super excited about. Okay, excited might not be the right word. You know how when you babysit (or used to), and it would be fun at first, but during those last twenty minutes, you just prayed for the parents to come home early or time to magically fast-forward or aliens to suck up the children? That’s where I’m at. It’s not that I don’t love the book. I’ll just love it more when we’ve had some time apart. Or it gets sucked up by aliens.

While I’m at it, many Christian stores have So Not Happening for a steal, so now is a great time to buy it! You might need to refresh your brain before So Over My Head arrives in May. I know I do…Bella who?

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Congrats to blogger friend Suzanne Schaffer, winner of the yet-to-be-released So Over My Head. Not only did she win in the “drawing,” but she had the best idea for a tshirt slogan. I didn’t share my own ideas because I wanted all fresh ideas, but Suzanne actually picked one of them–These Boobs Are Made for Walking. It’s in my top three for sure. It would be a total  thumbs up, but I’ve yet to think what we would do for the t-shirt. Sadly, my number one suggested idea, sent via text, can’t be repeated here. But it was goooood. And thought up by a man. Need I say more? Nope.

Stole this “Dork Anthem” off of someone’s facebook:

I love that. The book I’m finishing up now, Save the Date, is about a woman who pretends to be engaged to one hot former NFL player-turned politician. And she is…slightly nerdy. So everything in that song was so her. (Well, except for the line about blogging and watching wrestling. I happen to know PLENTY of cool people who blog and watch wrestling. Why I can think of at least…one.)  Anyway, this girl is in to trekkie stuff and hangs out with men who own light sabers. So that is pretty much her theme song.

I’m pooped. As I write this, I just got in from another night of conferences. It went well. The only griping this time were the teachers. They have to feed us, and they ran out of food and lots of teachers didn’t get to eat. One of them might’ve snuck out and made a McDonald’s run. I’m not gonna name names or anything. But she’s the bloated one.

I hope you have a fabulous weekend. I’m off to write and work some of these French fries off my butt.

JEN

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Just got the news Corey Haim has died. How sad. What a waste.  My favorite movie of his was probably Lost Boys. Eighties kids everywhere are sad, so buy one some ice cream today.

Don’t forget this week’s drawing. To enter you simply have to help us out with our annual Susan G. Komen/Race for the Cure shirts. It’s easy! You just have to come up with something perfectly hilariously creatively and uniquely brilliant. Rhyming with boob is optional. Details HERE.

First of all, behold my favorite E*Trade commercial.

It was announced Tuesday that The Lohan is suing E*Trade for a ridiculous sum of money because CLEARLY that commercial is a slam on her character. She is asking for 100 million in damages. Someone needs to 1. Get new advisors 2. Get a real job so she can pay her cell phone bill without suing people for awesomely amazing commercials. The suit alleges that the name Lindsay is like “Madonna” or “Cher” in that she is the only famous Lindsay and clearly it was about her. Omigosh, get a life. My friend Oh-So-Pregnant Sheila had this to say:“Wow. I mean, it MIGHT be different if it was a redheaded baby at her GIRLfriend’s house…  and they said “that coke fiend Lindsay.” Because THEN I could totally see E*Trade forking over 100 mill.

Right now I am loving Awakening by the Passion band. (Passion 2010). You can preview the whole thing HERE. Crowder Band’s “Oh How He Loves Us” live is perfectly amazing. If that song doesn’t speak to you, then you’re dead inside. Because today I thought I was going to choke someone, and then I heard that song and totally calmed down and only put a small hurt on them instead. That’s the Lord moving right there.

Apparently Miley Cyrus has fallen for her Aussie co-star from the movie The Last Song. It was “like” at first sight, and in an interview Cyrus says, “I think he and I are both deeper than  normal people.”  Um, THIS deep?  And here’s a hint, people who ARE deeper than normal people, do not say they are deeper than normal people.  In fact, that’s the ONLY reason those same words haven’t come out of my mouth. . .

For those of you who wrote me and brought it to my attention that in the blurb for So Over My Head, it says Bella is newly single, but in the chapter one preview she CLEARLY has a boyfriend, well…she’s a teen. And things change. Quickly. You’ll just  have to read it to find out whether she’s single-single. Or kinda-single. Or semi-dating-single.

I’ve read some books lately. I read Jillian Michaels’ Master Your Metabolism. I can’t recommend this book enough. It’s an easy read, though it can get a little scientific. It’s all about the bad hormones in our foods.  And if you’re interested in that sort of thing,  clean eating guru Michael Pollan will be on Oprah this Thursday. He was on about a month ago to discuss his documentary Food, Inc, and it was seriously one of the best Oprah’s I’ve ever seen. And I’ve seen 25 year’s worth, give or take a couch-jumping episode.  God bless Mr. and Mrs. Obama for caring about our  health and health care, but ten minutes of watching this guy, and you’ll know HE needs to be the one in charge of that gig.

I also read Libba Bray’s Going Bovine (author of the great series A Great and Terrible Beauty) and Margaret Peterson Haddix’s Just Ella. Next up is Oh. My. Gods., which is supposed to be like the female version of The Lightning Thief, a book I kinda struggled with.

This has been a crazy week and it’s barely started. Monday morning I griped out my third hour class because the previous week I had oatmeal on my butt and nobody even thought to tell me. And the sad thing is it took me a full week to remember to chew them out. They were like, “We don’t look at your butt.” And I was like, “It wasn’t anything you’d have to go looking for. It was RIGHT THERE. And you let me walk around with oatmeal on my butt all day.” And they were like, “How did it get there?” And I was like, “…I don’t want to talk about it.”

And to continue the craziness of the week, I am finishing up a book and writing like crazy. And I do mean crazy. Monday night I fell asleep at 7:3o pm for probably the first time in my life since I was two. And that was good. Because I needed to catch up on some missed sleep. But the problem with going to sleep at 7:30 is that seven hours later you wake up. At 2:30.  I was a real joy to my students that next morning. So yeah, writing like crazy. Working ’til 8-ish at school some this week for conferences. (I’m on the front lines as a greeter and procedure-explainer. My mom said it would look good on my resume when I was ready to transition to full time greeter at Wal-Mart.)  And somehow front-line-procedure-explainer became “please tell me your every gripe with our conference organization.”   If you think I’m a gifted listener who can gracefully handle a wad of complaints about my school, you’re wrong. Another teacher and I started out being all kind and patient, but by the end of the evening, we were beating the parents to the punch. “You’ll take this folder and go down that hall. They will want to show you a PowerPoint presentation, but if you see it, you’ll just come back later and tell us it was a waste of your time, so when they try to grab you to watch it, just start running. And at the end of the obstacle course, you’ll be shown into the library where you will stand with 1000 other parents. You will feel like you are in one of Dante’s layers of hell. And you’ll be right. You might want to bring snacks.”It was insane. And I sat by a volunteer who hadn’t eaten since Saturday. And I was like, “Ma’am, I’m pretty sure you and I can’t be friends.”

And my house is in “Deadline Destruction” mode.  So if Ellen drops by my house for a surprise money or car giveaway, she can just keep it, because I’m not letting ANYONE in during Deadline Destruction mode. So if you wanted to offer up a few prayers for me, I wouldn’t sue you for 100 million or anything.

Have a great rest of the week.

My butt loves oatmeal  more than yours does-

Jen

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Omigosh, are the Oscar’s over yet? Longest, most boring awards show in history. I couldn’t even stick it out and just gave up. I think no matter who hosts, there should always be a Billy Crystal-like montage. And there should always be live performances of the Oscar nominated songs peppered throughout. And they should make more of it “awards given earlier include…”  I mean, do we care about the award for Best Digital Short Starring Monkeys, One Cast Member From 90210 and Your Russian Grandmother?  No. We don’t.

Also I was really sad that Meryl Streep didn’t win best actress. I LOVED, loved, loved Blindside. One of my favorite movies of 2009. And Sandra Bullock is one of my most favorite actresses, if not the favorite actress. How could I not love the queen of rom-coms? But Meryl Streep in Juile and Julia was acting on a level I’d never seen. I mean the woman is brilliant, and I didn’t even love the movie. She became Julia Child. So I think she got robbed. But I was super excited for Mo’Nique. I couldn’t watch Precious because I had a feeling it would be like reading The Lovely Bones–powerful but giving me everlasting ickiness. But that woman is a great success story. And she’s not typical Hollywood. Yet.

Anyway, I had a weekend full of sunshine, and it was fabulous! I am officially over winter. Bring on spring.

Let us do a contest, shall we? It’s almost time for the Race for the Cure again, which is of course a benefit for the Susan G. Komen “let’s nuke breast cancer” foundation. We are all about us some Race for the Cure in my family and circle of friends, so it’s a big deal. Last year we brought home the invisible gold for best t-shirts with our Boob Warriors shirts, created by me and my friend Snow Loving  Holly.

The shirts say Boob Warriors: Big or Small, We Save Them All.

And the shirts were the hit of the race. Seriously, I haven’t been that popular since I gave everyone at my high school ten bucks to vote for me for prom queen. So we really need to maintain our high level of t-shirt awesomeness. This is where you come in. To be entered to win a copy of So Over My Head (when it comes out May 4th), just leave a comment in which you give me ideas for our t-shirts. For each idea, you get your name in the hat one time. I have a few ideas I’m working on, but I don’t feel that peace about them yet. That peace of the Lord that says, “This is boobtastic.” So dig deep into your WonderBras and throw us some clever ideas. You have until Thursday night before the first kiss in a lab room on Grey’s Anatomy. Winner will be announced Friday. In fact, let’s do two winners. I’ll pick the one I like the best. And then I’ll do a random drawing as well. Then it’s all fair and square.

As mentioned, So Over My Head will be out May 4th, give or take a day (or week).  That’s a question I’ve gotten a lot via email. So soon–the book will be out soon. I thought I would share some chapters this week. Here’s a brief rundown of the story.

Newly single, stalked by a killer, and in desperate need of some chic clown shoes, Bella is one mocha frapp away from a total meltdown.

When the Fritz Family Carnival makes its annual appearance in Truman, Bella’s keen reporter instincts tell her the bright lights hide more than they reveal. Her suspicions are confirmed when one of the stars is murdered. Though the police make an immediate arrest, Bella doubts this case is quite that simple.

She needs her crime-solving boyfriend Luke more than ever, but his ex has moved back to town, giving Bella some murderous thoughts of her own. Then again, there’s no time for a relationship crisis when Bella’s doing her best to derail her father’s wedding  while staying one step ahead of a killer.

Is God sending her a message in all of this madness? With a murderer on the loose and her boyfriend’s ex on the prowl, this undercover clown has never had more to juggle–or more at risk.

And now…chapter uno.

Chapter One

 

If my love life was the knife toss at a circus, I’d have Luke Sullivan speared to the wall with an apple in his mouth.

“Ladies and gentlemen! The Fritz Family welcomes you to the greatest show on earth!” A man in a top hat stands in the center of a giant tent, his curlicue mustache as delicate as his voice is strong. “Prepare to be amazed. Prepare to be wowed. Allow us to entertain you with sights you’ve never seen, horses whose feats will astound you, and death-defying acrobatics!”

On this first night open to the public, the crowd stands in a swarm of shouts and applause.

I stay seated and jot down some quick notes for the Truman High Tribune. Or at least that’s what I’m pretending to do. In actuality, it’s taking all my energy just to be civil.

“I just don’t see why you had to invite her.”

From his standing position, Luke glances down. “Are we back to that again?”

“You and I are working on the carnival story. Not Ashley.” Ashley Timmons, a new girl who joined the newspaper staff last week, has become my least favorite person on the planet. She’s not quite as awful as those on the top of that list—namely the handful of people who’ve tried to do me bodily harm over the last year. But icky nonetheless. Fresh from Kansas City with her brother, Ashley thinks she’s God’s gift to prose. She’s disgustingly cute, and worst of all, she’s Luke’s ex-girlfriend. She only moved away for two years, but I can tell she’s ready to rekindle anything they used to have. It doesn’t take a keen reporter’s intuition to see that. Just anyone with at least one working eyeball.

“We’ve hung out with them all week, Luke.”

“I haven’t seen Kyle in a long time, and he’ll be leaving soon for college.” Luke searches my face. “I’ve included you in everything. Have you felt left out?”

“No.” I just want her left out. I don’t mind the return of his friend Kyle at all. But where Kyle is . . . there you’ll find his sister. “Tonight isn’t about hanging out with your friend though. He’s not even here. You invited Ashley for the paper.”

“You’ve been ticked at me ever since your last article. But it was weak on verbs and lacked your usual creativity.” He sits down and trains those intense eyes on mine.

“Yeah, and then you proceeded to show me some piece of writing wonderment your new recruit produced.” Ashley came with glowing recommendations from her old journalism teachers. Everyone on our staff thinks she is, like, the greatest thing to writing since the delete key. Everyone but me.

“You know what your problem is, Bella? Number one, you’re jealous and insecure—”

“Of her?” I toss my hair and laugh. “Maybe I just don’t like the way she’s thrown herself at you from the second she stepped into the classroom. I’m not insecure, but I’m also not stupid.”

Luke’s mouth twitches. “I meant insecure of your writing abilities. But now that you mention it, you probably are jealous of my talking to her. That would fit.”

“Fit what?” A band of clowns ride unicycles in the ring, but I don’t even bother to watch.

“It would fit with the Bella Kirkwood pattern.” He lifts a dark brow. “You are completely distrusting of the entire male species. I guess one couldn’t blame you, given your dad’s history and your experience with your ex, but I have no desire to get back with an old girlfriend.”

“This is outrageous. I do not have trust issues with guys! And you know what else?”

“I’m dying to hear more.”

“I think you’re enjoying all the attention from Ashley.” All Luke and I have done is fight lately. While digging into other people’s business might be my spiritual gift, I’m beginning to think arguing comes second.

“Ever since we’ve been together, you’ve balked at my every comment in journalism. You can’t stand to be criticized—even when it’s for your own good. And”—his blue eyes flash—“you’re just waiting for me to cheat on you like Hunter. You think I don’t see that?”

Hunter would be my ex-boyfriend from Manhattan. This past fall I caught him doing the tongue tango with my former best friend Mia. And then not too long ago I considered getting back with him. He swept me up with this new version of Hunter Penbrook, told me he had started going to church, said all the right things, bought me coffee. It’s a little hard to resist a cute guy bearing a mocha latte with extra whip, you know? Luckily, at prom two weeks ago I saw the light and let that rotten fish off my hook.

“I’m not worried about you cheating on me, Luke. I’m tired of you bossing me around and acting all ‘I’m in charge.’”

“I am in charge. I’m the editor.”

“Not of our relationship.”

“I’m back!” Ashley chooses that very moment to flounce back to her seat. “I got you a cotton candy.” She hands the pink confection to Luke. “Bella, I figured you’re like most girls and need to watch your weight, so I didn’t get you anything. What’d I miss?”

Luke holds me down with his arm. “Don’t even think about it,” he whispers.

The crowd oohs and ahhhs as the Amazing Alfredo begins juggling two long silver swords. I applaud politely when he pulls a third one out of his hat and tosses it into the air with the rest. I’d hate to think where that sword was really hiding.

Like a distant relative, the Fritz Family Carnival comes to Truman, Oklahoma, every April and sets up camp on land that, I’m told, goes way back in the Fritz genealogy. They stay at least a month—working on additional routines, training new employees, giving the local elementary teachers a nice afternoon field trip—and don’t leave until they can ride out bigger and better than the year before. And while that might be odd, it’s nothing compared to the fact that I’m sitting on the bleachers between my boyfriend and a girl who has been openly flirting with him. This is a chick who needs to learn some boundaries.

“Bella, Luke said you might need some help with your article.”

He holds up a hand. “I just thought it would be interesting to get our three perspectives. Bella will still handle the interviews.”

“It’s been so great to work with you again, Luke.” Ashley’s smile could charm the shirt off Robert Pattinson. “Just like old times, huh?” Her eyes gaze into his. Like I’m not even there. “Kyle’s really enjoyed hanging out. Too bad he had a study session tonight.”

Luke leans close, his mouth poised near my ear. “Just because we’re dating doesn’t mean I’m going to slack off on your writing. You’re still a staff member. And you know I do not boss you around any other time. I have been nothing but respectful to you.” He returns his attention to the ring. “Did you write down the fat lady’s stats?”

“Of course I did.” I scribble something illegible on my paper. No, I didn’t get her stats. I’m too busy fighting.

“She’s seven hundred and twenty-nine pounds, in case you missed it,” Ashley chirps.

“Thanks.” Lord, help me be kind to this girl.

“You always act like I can’t handle the writing assignments,” I whisper for Luke’s ears only. “I think I have more than proven I can. Not only can I write, but I can crank out some award-winning writing while crime solving.”

After I moved to Truman, I accidentally became the Nancy Drew of Oklahoma. Now that I’m known for my mystery solving skills, friends and strangers want me to help them out. Just last week I tracked down a stolen iPhone and did a little spying for a suspicious girlfriend who thought her boyfriend Buster was cheating. It’s true he hadn’t been going to football practice like he said; I found him at Margie Peacock’s School of Ballet, lined up on the bar doing pirouettes and high kicks. I hear he makes a heck of a swan in Margie’s recital.

“I’m not doubting your writing skills.” Luke claps as the magician leaves, and Betty the Bearded Lady bows before starting her performance.

I’m transfixed by the hair on her face, and it suddenly makes me feel a whole lot less self-conscious about the fact that I didn’t shave my legs last night. The audience claps in time to the spirited music as the woman’s collie jumps through her hula hoop then dances to the beat on its hind legs.

I shoot a pointed look at his old flame. “Let’s talk about this later.”

Ashley reaches around me and puts her hand on Luke’s knee. “I forgot—I have my latest assignment on my laptop in the car. You told me to spice up my verbs, and I revised it. I wanted you to look at it.” She returns to clapping for the Bearded Lady.

“Yes, Luke. She wants you to check out her spicy verbs.”

“At least she takes constructive criticism well.” His voice is just low enough for me to hear.

“That girl wants you back. Period.”

“I’m not Hunter. And I’m not your dad.”

“I have to go interview Betty the Bearded Lady.” And I stomp down the bleachers to find her trailer outside. When I glance back, Ashley has scooted down.

And taken my place.

*******

That’s all for now! Stay tuned for more. And don’t forget to leave me your Race for the Cure t-shirt slogan ideas! Winners announced Friday.

Have a great week-

JEN

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