Hi everyone,

Guess what's finally in bookstores today? My first novel--Driving Sideways! What people are saying about it:

"Driving Sideways is a gorgeous novel -- I LOVED it!!"
-- Marian Keyes, author of Anybody Out There?

"A hopeful and hilarious debut...Jess Riley may well be my new favorite author."

--Jen Lancaster, author of Bitter is the New Black

"Smart and funny without being forced, sentimental without being maudlin."

--Booklist magazine

"It made me blush several times."

--my Mother-in-law Patti

Target also picked the book as a Break-Out title this summer! But it won't be on their shelves until June 19, so don't go there today unless you need toothpaste and paper towels or something.

If do you buy it today at another retail outlet or online, it comes with the following:

--A spine (inspiration for those of us born in the self-deprecating wing of the hospital)

--No jacket, because who needs one?  It's finally spring in Wisconsin!

--111,840 pre-screened, carefully-selected words placed in a pleasant order

So you could take your OWN expensive road trip this summer, or you could buy Driving Sideways (for less than the cost of four gallons of gas!) and live vicariously through some people I made up. If you would like to buy the book for yourself or many other people in your life (and I hope you do because I would like to make you laugh and/or blush), you can get it on amazon: 

http://www.amazon.com/Driving-Sideways-Novel-Jess-Riley/dp/0345501101/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1210785190&sr=8-1

Or you can pick it up at your local bookstore. If they don't have it, kick the manager in the shin or throw a tantrum. I'm totally joking. Please don't do either of those things. Unless you're a toddler. Then you might have an excuse.

Thanks!

Jess

DRIVING SIDEWAYS, out now from Ballantine Books (a division of Random House)

--picked as a Target Break-Out Book nationwide, June 19 - August 9, 2008!
http://jessriley.blogspot.com
www.thedebutanteball.com

1. All references to "ayhole" and "aynus" (spelled semi-phonetically so as to not trigger the censors) will now be the more laborious but still accurate "Food Exit Portal." Brown star is also acceptable. On occasion, I will employ rhyming techniques. Look for "nut roll" in these instances.
2. The primary male reproductive organ will from now on be referred to as "tootyacker," "man stem," or "aarrrrghh, matey." One-eyed snake is more disgusting than talking vomit, so it's out. "Sack" and "bag" are also out because they are better served as paper or cloth totebags. That said, I might sneak a "taint" in from time to time as the case may be, if my subject matter requires it.
3. Female "ahoy-hoys" will from now on be referred to as "delicate tulip" or "tough old clam," depending on if I'm talking about me or Latoya Jackson. My darling husband campaigned for "trout flavored hatchet wound," and although that would likely pass muster with the censors, it would leave him dangerously close to a lifetime of celibacy, so it's out. I don't think I even need to tell you that the words rhyming with "latch" and "punt" are barely in my vocabulary as it is, so they will not appear in pixilated form on this website. I feel that "box" would be acceptable, though I'm not fond of it, as box means "to punch" or "durable receptacle for goods."
4. Poo will be just that. I feel that dropping the second "p" at the end softens the word better than a jug of Dulcolax. If the mood strikes, I may employ "compacted crackers," "corn car," or "Deuce Bigalow movie."
5. All references to taking a dump will remain as such, or will be the more eloquent "dropping the kids off at the pool." Past tenses of "sh*t" are acceptable, as in "shat." Also acceptable are "Releasing the hostages," "Painting the Throne," and "Making a Deuce Bigalow movie." ("Martin Lawrence" is an acceptable substitute for Deuce Bigalow.)
6. F-bombs in adverb form will be variants of "effing."
7. Sadly, I can probably no longer say "phart." And substituting "ph" for the "f" in words pisses me off, so I don't even think I can bring myself to say "phart." Thus, I may say "squeak," "trumpet," or "that'll itch when it dries."
8. Most all references to "doing it" are out. For the time being, we'll have to go with "to couple or engage in congress," "to eat peaches," and "to interview candidates for a rewarding position." Soliciting this type of experience may be reduced to "Deal? Or no deal?" Deal-oriented directives may become, "Big money, no whammies!"
9. A woman's chest has more nicknames than anything in this galaxy, but I would rather eat a handful of thumbtacks and wax my head than use most of them. So I will use "yes, ma'ams," as applicable.

Let's take this new system for a test run, shall we? Great!

"That was so effed-up when we couldn't find our car in the Disney World parking lot. Goofy parking area my food exit portal! That's so effing lame. And it's the last time we'll be staying at a Ramada, those effwad aarrrrghh, mateys. Cheap-brown stars and their desiccated excuse for a continental breakfast. Little Timmy painted the throne all morning from that strip-your-lower-intestines-of-cilia buffet. He was so dehydrated we had to give him Gatorade Xtremo, which tastes like a liquid that will definitely itch when it dries. To make matters worse, you could totally hear the tourists in the next hotel room interviewing candidates for a rewarding position. We saw them later, and her yes ma'ams were obviously fake. What a coupla whammies. I don't know. This whole vacation has been nothing but one giant Deuce Bigalow movie from start to finish. I can't wait to get home."

(Confession: I actually wrote this entry when the site-blocking event occurred a few weeks ago, but I didn't like it, so I saved it for a day when my brain was the consistency of ripe compost and the best I could come up with would be supremely compacted crackers. See, I'm really a squirrel, storing away blog posts for days when my work schedule prohibits any thinking that doesn't involve the words "positive outlets for high-risk energy." But you know, this post is still a Martin Lawrence movie from start to finish. Sorry. Maybe Wednesday I'll tell you about how I gleeked on someone by accident at a meeting today.)

Friday after work I swung by our local Valvoline to have my oil changed. Not mine, my car's. Going for any auto maintenance or repair always stresses me out, so I usually put it off until I can actually hear the grinding and knocking over the Pantera blasting from my speakers. It only took 13 postcards from GM for me to finally take care of the recall issue on my old car, and even then only the specter of being chastised for my laziness when I traded in the car made me bring it in for service. Not the threat of my steering column blowing up and setting my face on fire, which was what caused the recall in the first place.

Do I even need to tell you I was overdue for this oil change?

First, both bays were busy servicing cars, so I rolled up my mental sleeves and got to work worrying about which lane I should enter. If I got into the wrong lane, somebody else could pull up and be serviced faster in the other lane. This could make me miss the next Mother Angelica on the Eternal Word Television Network! If I sat in the middle, hogging both lanes, someone could pull up behind me and honk or curse at me, both of which are the kind of interactions I try to avoid as much as crazy people who shout at me, "Hey lady! Do you have a thousand children? Hey lady! Do you live in a shoe?" Which really happened on the street recently. But I digress.

Luckily, one of the attendants soon waved me in. Next the part of my brain that obsesses over finances kicked in. What if they used the wrong oil and voided my warranty? I shouldn't have been so cheap. I should have gone to the Honda dealership. Now my transmission would explode during my next commute to work; a technician would examine the damage, shake his head, and drawl, "Too bad you used 5w30 oil and voided your warranty. This'll be pricey. But don't worry. Selling yourself into human bondage at a Turkish brothel should cover it."

Then I had to steel myself to deal with the various products, upgrades, and services they try to pitch. (I ended up with a new wiper blade and air filter, but I held the line at the synthetic oil upgrade and "Just Married" commemorative cans.) And THEN, while you're sitting there in your car as they build Lego forts in your engine, you have to worry about how to keep busy yet available to answer questions. Where do you aim your eyes? You can't just STARE at them while they work. That seems weird and intrusive. And if you stare straight ahead into space you look like you're having a flashback to the day you watched your beloved grandmother be torn apart limb-from-limb while trying to buy the last "Hump Me Elmo" at Wal-Mart the day after Thanksgiving.

I failed to bring a book or magazine, so I pretended to balance my checkbook. I also rummaged around my purse cataloguing items I was surprised to be carrying: hairspray, face blotter papers, a gingerbread house, a jumbo can of sauerkraut. I organized my coupons, making a tiny pile on the passenger seat of those that had expired. Sure $25 off hip replacement surgery is an attractive deal, but I found the idea of having my hips replaced by a doctor who prints coupons a bit unsettling. So into the bad pile it went.

And finally you get to the part where they show you your new oil level on the dipstick. This is funny to me because let's face it. It could just be a long stick of incense…it could be as dry as a Steven Wright routine … they could have simply dipped the stick into a vat of Soul Glow or dredged it through the toilet oilslick from an ingested bag of WOW! Chips and I'd nod, smile, and say, "Yep. Looks good, thanks."

I'm sure the Valvoline guys find this part hilarious. Anyway, I'm good for another three months. Unless the "Maint. Req'd" light doesn't stop flashing on my dashboard.