What's News To Me

So, Adeline writes:

"Can't wait for your next book!! MORE MORE... I want more books from you..."

First off, thank you Adeline! You have impeccable taste. Seriously. I mean it. Flattery will get you everywhere.

As to the next book, "I Did (But I Wouldn't Now)" is out at the end of April, and you might want to start lining up at your neighborhood book store right now, because I know there will be more people in line to buy it than the last Harry Potter book. Okay, maybe not quite as many. You know, maybe like about 99.9 percent less people, but who's counting? I mean, you know, aside from me.

In the meantime, February 11 I'll be in Los Angeles at the Japanese American Museum signing copies of Dixieland Sushi. I've never done a museum signing before, and I wonder if this means that I'll need to watch a lot of PBS before I go, you know, just so I don't seem like a moron.

There's an interview with me on their web site, just in case you just can't get enough of Cara-Time. I know. I'm like crack. One whiff and you're addicted.

http://store.yahoo.com/janm/dixielandsushi.html

Hope everybody has a great weekend! I'll be back next week after I've overdosed on my weekly intravenous feeding of Vh-1 and E! (I just don't feel like myself unless I watch at least three hours of the each station on the weekend).

Spawn of Brangelina

So, I'm sure everybody's heard about the Spawn of Brangelina by this point. Everything I've read has people betting that this will be the best looking baby on planet earth. But, frankly, who wants that kind of pressure? I mean, what if he/she isn't the perfect human being? What if - gasp - he or she is... ugly? It's possible, people. It's what's called God having a sense of humor. The joke is always on us.

At any rate, I don't think the media's been more interested in a baby since, well, since Federline's #3 (Spears #1).

Now, here's the thing. I am not going to take sides or join Team Jolie or Team Aniston. Let's face it. Brad has paid dearly for his defection. Would you really want to jet off to Haiti or Zaire every weekend? To do volunteer work? I mean, look, I realize the humanitarian aid is commendable, I do. But, frankly, I am way too lazy for that. So call me uncaring, but I don't want the jetlag or the Dysentery.

And trust me, after awhile, the whole humanitarian thing will wear thin. It's like when you first start dating a guy and he SWEARS he loves your friends and/or Lifetime and/or dumb romantic comedies. This is called The Honeymoon Period. It's the same time that we pretend that we don't care that he leaves the toilet seat up or his dirty socks on the floor. After six months, though, all bets are off. We stop being nice.

One of these weekends in the not too distance future, I foresee a Brangelina fight that goes something like this:

Angelina: Come on, Brad. Time to go.

Brad: Dammit, Angelina! The game is on! And we just went to Zaire LAST weekend!

Angelina: You're so selfish! Think about the children.

Brad: I am thinking about the children. Speaking of, just WHEN are we going to stop adopting? I thought you were just kidding when you said one from every country. I never thought you were serious!

Red Carpet, How I Love Thee

So, after watching hours and hours of playoff football with my husband over the weekend, my time for revenge was at hand. Monday night, I had control of the TV to watch the Golden Globes, or as I like to call it, the AFC Championship of Drunk Celebrities.

This year, however, the Big Show wasn't the Golden Globes at all, but the pre-show on E! where Isaac Mizrahi, stylist guru, proved that no question was too personal. After asking all the actresses about their underwear (and whether or not they were wearing any), he asked Eva Longoria if she had a Brazilian and fondled Scarlett Johansson's boobs in the name of investigating Valentino's built-in shelf support system. All I can say is that for a gay man, Mizrahi shows an unusual interest in actresses' nether regions.

I'm not sure if he was on drugs, or looking for them, since he rifled through so many purses, as if hoping to find a dime bag or two. I'm not sure who's worse. Mizrahi or Joan Rivers (who was notorious for forgetting nominees' names or putting them in the wrong movie). But still, you have to give Mizrahi credit for mixing things up a bit. I suppose I might want to rifle through Terri Hatcher's clutch, too, if I had to hear the catch phrase "It takes a village" 1,000 times by different actresses in reference to getting ready for the Globes.

The Red Carpet antics were so good, I couldn't help but be disappointed by the actual show. This, of course, happens every year. Kudos to Harrison Ford, though, for bringing his drink on stage. It was the best reminder that these are the drunk version of the Oscars, where it's perfectly acceptible to tell all the viewers at home you were in the bathroom when your name was announced for an award.

At any rate, the Golden Globes is just a warm-up to the Big Night: the Oscars. My husband likes to say that he "trains" himself for football playoffs by marathon TV watching/snacking. It's not easy to sit still for 8 hours. I'm taking a similar approach with the Oscars. After two hours of Globes pre-show and three hours of award ceremony, I'm in good shape for the Oscars. Then again, it's sad when I have to "get in shape" for sitting on the couch. But that's what happens when you don't see the inside of a gym for months.

That's How I Roll

Okay, so I've posted TWICE IN ONE WEEK! I'm back, baby. Well, okay, so I'm just procrastinating because I don't want to work, but you know what that means. It means we can procrastinate together. Oh, yes, sweet procrastination!

I felt I ought to give a shout out to my friend, Bethie. We had our Bad Movie Night last night, which is seriously the best concept ever. We get together for pizza and wine and watch one of the best bad movies of all time (the last showing was "Showgirls," which if you've ever happened to catch the Vh-1, edited for TV version, you have to agree the drawn-in cartoon bras are hysterical).

Last night's showing was "Glitter," starring Mariah Carey as a young singer who falls in love with a white DJ named "Dice" who can't quite settle on his accent (Is he from Brooklyn or Australia? He just doesn't know - it adds to his mystique). He also asks Mariah if she "blows" (which according to DJ slang, isn't a sexual innuendo at all, but a sincere question about her singing ability). Yeah, okay, I'm not that hip to street lingo, but I'm pretty sure that if a guy asks you if you "blow" he's not talking about whether you can hit the high notes.

Like all truly bad movies, "Glitter" can be turned into a drinking game. Every time Dice says "aw'rite" in false New York/Australian accent - drink! Every time Mariah wears inappropriate silver body paint (a not-so-subtle tie-in to the title "Glitter") - drink! Every time Mariah wears her hair in a disturbing side-pony tail - drink! Every time Mariah shows only the right side of her face - drink! By the way, I think Bethie and I have solved the mystery of the no-left profile rule for Mariah. We're pretty sure she's got a snaggle tooth on that side. And yes, this IS the point of Bad Movie Night - to find profound truths through the zoom/pause buttons on the DVD remote.

By the way, for those of you who haven't seen "Glitter," it's worth the entire movie just to see the end (Mariah wobbling on the grass in stilettos to go see her long-lost mother). It's fantabulous - which according to my make-believe version of Webster's dictionary, means "awesomely bad." I should warn you, though. Do not watch the movie alone, or without the presence of alcohol. Both are needed to make it the best worst movie ever.

New Year's Resolution #5: Watch More Vh-1

So, I'm sorry I've been incommunicado this last week. I'm sure you all thought - "wow - that was SOME hangover" considering that I've been mute for a week. And yes, it WAS a serious hangover, but not one-week-in-bed serious. I've actually been working. I know - somebody call the Guinness Book of World Records, because this is the longest period of time I've gone without watching E! or Vh-1.

I'm finishing up final edits on "I Did (But I Wouldn't Now)" which is due out at the end of April. You can already buy advanced copies on Amazon. And, I'm also finishing "Wuthering High" a Bard Academy Book.

In the meantime, here's a sneak peak of the Bard Cover. It'll be a great book (I hope!) for teens, and also for adults looking for a little escape back to their younger years. If you like Buffy the Vampire Slayer (and come on, who doesn't?) you might like this, too. Miranda, the main character, is shipped off to a reform boarding school, but the school is haunted. You'll just have to wait to find out more!

In the meantime, if you're dying for more Cara-time, and I realize that my personality is like an addictive drug, then you can check out this interview on Conversations With Famous Writers. I'm not sure if I technically qualify for "famous," but I'll do my best to try. This morning I'll have to wear giant oversized sunglasses and a designer hobo bag that cost $5,000. Next, I'll run my car straight into a paparazzi van (which will be difficult because I'll have to go find one). Then, I'll complain to everyone who'll listen how fame is so draining, and how no one understands me. Okay, I think I've got the hang of this "fame" thing. I guess I qualify.

Holy Hangover, Batman

I don't know about you, but I feel like a bus ran me over last night, somewhere in between downing glasses of champagne (never a good idea on top of wine and/or cocktails) and the illegal fireworks set off by my husband's friends (across the street from a police station, which goes to show there was lots of alcohol ingested by that point). I am very hung over today, so my apologies for any misspellings, fragments and jokes that are, well, lame. At this point, it's a miracle I am typing at all.

But I should pause a moment and get you guys up to speed. Last night, my husband and I went party-hopping. Okay, so, I do not mean to brag and/or sound like I am ridiculously popular but then again if you ever read this blog, you know that I am pretty shameless when it comes to self-promotion, so it's clear that modesty is not my strong suit. So, yes, that's right, we have friends. Awesome friends who throw parties with fabulous food and lots and lots and lots of booze. The good stuff. Not the watered down drinks of non-name vodka you get at the all-inclusive resorts in Cancun. We took the train into the city, and without the worry of driving, we took full advantage.

The short of it is that the pair of us looked the worse for wear this morning. My husband, in fact, summed it up by saying, "Today is a reminder that it is not good to be stupid." There's nothing like ringing in 2006 with a throbbing headache, a sour stomach and the spins. But let's face it, it's not New Year's unless you spend it on the couch watching E! or Vh-1. Thank God for bad reality TV.

Happy 2006 everybody!