Lola Jones new book: Confessions of a Cowgirl Guru
Lola Jones new 100% humor book!
Riotous, irreverent humor and fun about the spiritual and metaphysical life, enlightenment, and personal growth. It is hilarious, but Lola can't help expanding you, even when she's making you laugh. It's just who she is.
Confessions of a Cowgirl Guru runs amok with the foibles of relationships, family, technology, aging, the media, stereotypes, and spiritual over-seriousness. Nothing is sacred–even the sacred itself–and Lola Jones pokes fun at herself most of all.
Our unconditional guarantee: you’ll laugh out loud at least three times, or we’ll give you back the crappy attitude you had when you started reading.
Lola Jones couldn’t be confined only to her serious role as an internationally known spiritual teacher. Her alter ego the Cowgirl Guru comes out to play in this book, and her halo slips down jauntily over one ear as she turns her boundless creativity loose.
The result is a collection of only slightly exaggerated–okay wildly exaggerated–observations and tales from her eccentric and unique life. Lola was having such a good time writing this book it was hard to let it go to the printer, and it kept getting bigger and bigger... and bigger.
Laugh yourself lighter!
Order Yours--Start Laughing NOW!
Fun Cowgirl Guru Bonuses
On the Cowgirl Guru Bonus page Lola shares humorous and creative extras with you from time to time. See a video of Lola performing live as the Cowgirl Guru in the UK, get funny webcards to post to social media.
“Cowgirl Guru rules! There were so many favorite parts. I love the Magic Chicken Bone, and I adore the funny conversations with God! (move over Neale Donald Walsch.) It’s rollicking good fun and, yes, I laughed out loud.”
“A fun and original journey. Loved her conversations with God, and rolled on the floor at her mangled Sanskrit chants.”
"Ah thank you so much. I really do appreciate it. My friend has let me borrow Lola's Confessions of a cowgirl book and I just wanted to say how fantastic it is. I have had a rough few months, I lost my old dog who I still miss like crazy, my dad has heart failure and my cat was run over in January which devastated me and the book has really lifted my spirits it had me laughing on every page. I just wanted to let you know"
“Confessions of a Cowgirl Guru is delightful, charming, eye-opening. I laughed out loud. Enjoyed every bit of it, especially the conversations between Lola and God. So edgy. Lola Jones just can’t help expanding people, even when she’s not even trying to.”
Sample excerpts from the book for you
You know, we hear a lot about co-dependency, unhealthy relationships, and he’s-just-not-that-into-you.
So when is it time for a single sock in the drawer to just get it—that her long lost mate is just never going to come back? When is it time for her to just move on and find another sock?
And in this enlightened era why can’t more single white socks just pair up with perfectly compatible single black socks without raising eyebrows?
And, what I’m most concerned about: why doesn’t someone start a SockMatch.com for all those poor single socks?
Just Shoot Me Now
I’ve told my friends: If you ever see me wearing any kind of Indian garb and speaking in hushed reverent tones, acting all spiritual and shit, get a gun (if you happen to be in Texas where I’m from, anybody will happily loan you one, and may even have one in their purse), shoot me on the spot, and throw my body to the coyotes.
I was serious. Just that once, but don’t expect much of that from here on out.
Ah, yes, guns.
That reminds me of my mom.
My mother is funny: Patsy Ernestine Wacky Jones. Her whole family moved to Texas from Tennessee in the early fifties, and they were all hilarious, but my mom has the bonus gift of being funny when she doesn’t know she’s being funny—until you start laughing—then she gets it and starts laughing.
One November some years ago she inquired in her sweet drawl, “Lola you have everything—I just don’t know what to get you for Christmas, and with you living alone out there on those ten acres—would you like a gun?”
She was perfectly serious.
I tried to keep a straight face.
I like to milk it for all it’s worth.
“Mom, that is so sweet, so thoughtful—so much in the spirit of Christmas! I’d think of you every time I got to shoot somebody.”
Then she laughed. She didn’t give up, though. Another Christmas she asked, “OK, if you don’t want a gun—how about a stun gun?”
People used to call me at odd hours from across the world until I got so well known that I had to take my phone number off the website. Two young guys called me at 11 p.m. one night—they were flirting and having fun, and did not seem to be sincerely interested in my work or my books at all. I answered their questions and they giggled until the call ended, leaving me mystified as to why they had called.
Later, on a hunch, I checked out the page they had mentioned on my website—the dating book page. The link should have said, “To find out more, or to order, click on the book cover above.” My picture is on the book cover.
But someone had apparently accidentally deleted one letter in the link by accident one day while tweaking the copy, so it said in huge letters right on the cover over my face:
“To find out more, or to order, lick here.”
I laughed till my stomach hurt and called up three friends to share.
In some pathetic, aging way, I’m actually grateful young guys would still bother to call me in the middle of the night. Just a few years ago, guys twenty years younger than me, who used to flirt with me and try to pick me up, started calling me Ma’am.
Ma’am? This was horrifying. “Pardon me, young man,” I’d say, “Don’t call me Ma’am!” They’d be embarrassed and say, “My mom taught me to always say that. Sorry Ma’am, oh, I mean sorry.”
It was the end of an era. Now if a young guy is staring at me, I probably have spinach in my teeth or he’s lusting after my MacBook Pro laptop.
They’re too young to remember Marilyn Monroe, so being the Marilyn Monroe of spiritual teachers doesn’t get me a darn thing.
One of 67 illustrations in the book.
A Midsummer Night’s Dream?
Aftermath of a big party the night before?
My horse Tava snuggling up to me during a photo shoot?
Just not my most photogenic side?
(HAND TO EAR) . . . Beep, beep, bee, bee, bee, beep . . ..
A MESSAGE IS COMING IN: It’s my deceased grandma Esther with an important message for me.
She’s saying, “If a psychic is any good they’ll call you when you have a question. 'Hello Lola, yes, buy that house. No, do not loan your mother money, she’ll spend it on her boyfriend Marcello.' ”
“Oh, and get your hormones checked—your ovaries look like Raisinets.”
Lola, Are You In a Cult?
Some background: My relatives on my mom’s side were Church of Christ, and on my dad’s side, Assembly of God.
After my relatives read my serious spiritual book, Things Are Going Great In My Absence: How to Let Go and Let The Divine Do the Heavy Lifting, which didn’t sound anything like the Bible, they earnestly discussed the fate of my soul, concerned that God was going to smite me.
Surely I had gone over to the devil’s side, because in the book I talk about how all religions have a core of truth, and call myself spiritual, not religious.
Neither Abraham nor Jesus ever mentioned that. Yep, that sneaky ole devil mighta tricked Lola into writing it.
Maybe it didn’t help that I told them my Easter joke. The scene: a church, Easter Sunday, the day of the Resurrection.
Jesus strolls in the back door of the church while everyone is singing; he walks to the front, and watches the shocked, then ecstatic expressions on everyone’s faces. Then he points to the giant crucifix over the pulpit and groans, shaking his head, “Jesus, people, that is the last thing I want to see right now. Everybody has a bad day but is that the main thing you remember about me?”
Now, really, why would any one be offended at that? Do they think Jesus is oh-so-serious that he can’t laugh at himself? Jesus has a great sense of humor. When I told him that joke, he laughed his ass off and told it to everybody.
Maybe it’s because not one religious text anywhere contains even one shred of humor—and no one in the Bible ever laughed?
What is it with that?
What has happened to create our image of God as a grumpy, irritable, vindictive old geezer who sits on a cloud with binoculars and looks for transgressions?
Why do so many people walk on eggshells, worried about pissing Big Daddy off? Was it because in the Bible there was so much fighting, stoning, and smiting? (Have you ever wanted to smite someone? I have—only briefly, of course. Big deep breath.)
I am absolutely positive God is hilarious. Look at the humor in creation. Take Texans, of which I am one. Take politicians. Take fundamentalists, please!
Anyway, my mom, with great concern and deeply furrowed brow eventually was the one who approached me, completely failing in her feeble attempt not to sound accusatory despite the sweet accent:
“Lola, are you in a CULT?”
It was one of those moments when angels sang “Aaaahhhh,” as I channeled the great masters of humor.
The drummer leaned in, ready to do his “Pa dum PAH,” as the perfect reply did thus prepare to spring from my full, quivering, Jezebel lips.
Struggling to maintain a straight face (I have to do that a lot, don’t I?) I veritably basked in the glee of what I was about to say, extending the moment while Mom leaned forward with a knitted brow.
You know that kind of moment, I was savoring the timing, drawing out the punch line—relishing the fact that I would NOT think of the perfect answer after the fact and spend days wishing I’d thought of it then.
No, I would not lament later—I had the perfect answer.
“MOOOOOOOOOMMM,” I whined exaggeratedly enough that even Woody Allen would ask me if I wanted some cheese with that whine.
“I can’t believe you would even ask me a question like that!
“Am I in a cult???
“Do you think I’m a sheep? A brainless, gullible follower?
“Don’t you KNOW ME ANY BETTER THAN THAT?
Drum roll . . .
Building the suspense . . .
Drawing out the timing . . . . . . . . . . . .
“I am NOT in a cult! . . .
“I’m LEADING a cult!”
Mom almost fell over laughing, and she never mentioned it again. She read that groundbreaking spiritual book (yes, it’s serious, and it works) and now talks with me about it, telling me how proud she is of her smart, successful daw-uh-tuh (that’s daughter in English.)
“You should see my “daaaw ah tuuuh” on her “hawuuus.” And she lives in that fine hay-uuus on that heee-ullll in Califaw-nee-uh.
Translation: You should see my daughter on her horse. And she lives in that fine house on that hill in California.
It gets better. At my dad’s funeral, my uncle Bill, who sings in a Christian band and preaches for a relatively fundamentalist church, came up to me beaming, and told me he liked my spiritual website, and visits it often.
I must have looked like I’d had a stroke, but I recovered, smiled, and said a heartfelt thank you.
I was honored, no joke. My family is all great people.
Me and Mom. Note the furrowed brow.
This could go either way with the genders.
One partner: “Let’s make sand angels!”
Other partner: “You get sand in your shorts. I’ll take the picture.”
My good friend Bob and I had immense fun together, taking photos and being silly. Once at the ranch in Texas we did a gender-reversed American Gothic self portrait:
The chicken got impatient:
Couldn’t Find It with Both Hands
I’ve been blessed with friends who love humor and fun, and I seek them out. It’s a big factor in who I hang out with. This is another one of those stories that’s 100 percent true.
We were all proud of our friend Bob when he started experimenting with natural health alternatives.
Self-described as gravitationally challenged, he was always trying to speed up his metabolism and lose weight. He heard about this herb called “ma huang” that was supposed to make you burn fat like a teenager.
He went to the health food store, approached a young, pretty clerk in the medicinal herb section, and asked, “I’m looking for ma huang, and I can’t find it. Can you show me where it is?” In his Texas accent it clearly sounded like “my wang.”
The girl turned three shades of scarlet and stifled a huge giggle, upon which Bob, a perfect gentleman, also turned red and started spluttering, “I’m not being impertinent, really, it’s an herb I read about, and I can’t find it. Can you show me where ma huang would be please?”
At which point she had to suck in a big breath, turn, and run into the stock room to avoid laughing in this fine customer’s face.
She came back out, but the minute she tried to talk, she burst into uncontrollable giggles. He busted loose with a big snort and laughed too. They finally located his elusive ma huang on the next aisle.
There's so much more in the book!
Browse the Table of Contents
Appreciation ~ 1
Let the Halo Slip ~ 2
Why Write a Humor Book When I’m Known Worldwide for Serious Spiritual Books? ~ 3
Just Shoot Me Now ~ 6
Guns ~ 6
When You Care Enough to Worry Yourself Sick ~ 8
Lola, Are You In a Cult? ~ 10
Are You Saved? ~ 14
Lick Here ~ 15
Bliss, Thy Name Is John Deere, Or: What Cowgirls Do Between Cowboys ~ 17
My Inner Voice ~ 20
Helping Your Family Spiritually ~ 22
The Hamster Wheel ~ 23
Life After the Hamster Wheel ~ 31
You Might Be a Modality Junkie If . . . ~ 32
Diversify Your Business ~ 33
More Disclaimers ~ 36
Just Add Sex ~ 37
Dieting ~ 38
Other Medical Emergencies ~ 38
What IS Writer’s Block, Anyway? ~ 39
Vor, Texas ~ 41
It’s My Rodeo ~ 45
Patsy’s Pearls ~ 46
Let Me Share My Truth with You ~ 47
The Squirrel in the Tailpipe ~ 49
I Did Write Some Serious Books—Really, I Did ~ 49
They’re Everywhere ~ 51
Earthquakes ~ 51
This Ain’t My First Rodeo ~ 52
Cereal Monogamy ~ 52
Must Be From Same Galaxy ~ 53
Online Dating Glossary, With Translations ~ 55
Lonely Socks ~ 58
Man/Woman ~ 59
Co-creating with Your Partner ~ 61
Your Opinion of Me Is None of My Business ~ 63
She Manifests Her Perfect Relationship ~ 64
Letting Go of Resentments ~66
A Man and His Beard ~ 69
Baptism—the End Of Humor? ~ 70
Lovers Disclaimer ~ 72
Two T-Shirts I Own and Proudly Wear ~ 72
Cowgirl Guru AND Domestic Goddess? ~ 73
Honey, What the...? ~ 74
Putting Testosterone Back into the New Age ~ 75
Sticky Stories ~ 76
Adolescent Fantasies ~ 77
Making a Budget with You ~ 80
Advice from the Locals ~ 86
Children ~ 88
Virtual Baby Shower ~ 88
My Boy in Uniform ~ 89
The Entanglements of Each Age ~ 90
God Told Me to Divorce You ~ 90
Full Circle ~ 91
My Weak [sic] at the Gym ~ 92
This Humor Channel Is Not a TV Network ~ 95
Conversations with Dave ~ 103
The Cowgirl Guru ~ 104
Rapid Evolution or Else ~ 107
How to Still Your Thoughts ~ 108
Kamut, Quinoa, and Amaranth ~ 110
Hi, I’m a Shark—I Mean a Friendly Little Dolphin. ~ 112
He LOVES My Seminars ~ 113
Couldn’t Find It with Both Hands ~ 114
Advanced Communication Techniques Or: How to Listen if You Absolutely Have To ~ 117
Expansive Food ~ 118
Crafty Creativity ~ 120
Yuri, the Artist ~ 121
The Magic Chicken Bone ~122
I Oughta Be in Pictures—I Oughta Be a Star ~ 124
Fan Mail ~ 139
Oh God, Who Art Thou? ~141
Toward a Cleaner Earth ~ 148
It’s a Small World, Richard Branson ~ 149
Guarantee ~ 153
Epilogue ~ 154
Bonus Video ~ 156
Bibliography ~ 156
Contact ~ 156
Much, Much More from Lola Jones ~ 156