Bad Habits: A Book of Confessions about Confession

Bad Habits: A Book of Confessions about Confession

Jenny McCarthy

Language: English

Pages: 240

ISBN: 1401312624

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub

Jenny McCarthy--actress, comedian, activist, and New York Times bestselling author--candidly recounts her humorous Catholic upbringing, from her childhood dream of becoming a nun to her Playmate of the Year centerfold, and all of the Hail Mary's in between.

In keeping with the theme of her comedic New York Times bestsellers, from Belly Laughs to Love, Lust & Faking It, McCarthy brings her trademark honesty, humility, and humor to bear as she chronicles her often embarrassing, occasionally outlandish, and always entertaining life as a born-and-raised Catholic girl.

Jenny attended one of the most prestigious all-girl Catholic schools in Chicago. While most young girls in Jenny's neighborhood were playing with Cabbage Patch dolls for fun, Jenny was playing with Jesus, Mary, and Joseph dolls. She had every intention of growing up and becoming a nun, but a few hilarious speed bumps and blinking red lights along the way changed her mind. Jenny never did accept Sister Mary's reasoning that she could avoid purgatory if she just bought a string necklace for $10. The fact that two of her aunts are simultaneously nuns and cops-yes, they carry guns and shoot people while wearing a habit-never made complete sense to her. And neither does her mother's insistence that Jenny bury certain religious statues in the front lawns of her houses before she sells them. But then again, Jenny does have four of them buried across Southern California.

This book tells the story of what went wrong during Jenny's Catholic upbringing, or, as Jenny puts it now, what went right. Chapters include: "I Knew I Should Have Worn Underwear to Church", "Jesus' Baby Mama", "Can Someone Kill Our Dog, Please?", and "Oh No, My Mom is Going to Hell."

BAD HABITS is a brutally honest, hilarious memoir that will delight the legions of Jenny McCarthy fans.




















and stopped in her tracks when she caught a glimpse of Madonna “for the very first time.” “There’s that sinner!” she said. “Madonna?” I replied. “Yes, who would ever wear a rosary as a necklace?” “Um … nuns do,” I said as quietly as possible. My mother did not enjoy my quick point of view on the matter. “That’s different,” she said. “How so?” I asked. “Because Madonna is using them to be sexy. Nuns wear them because they are respecting God. Madonna is evil. There is no way any mother would

in the off chance Cyndi’s head fell off the wall. Once the blanket covered us, my boyfriend started to unzip my jeans. His hand slowly reached between my legs as he slid his finger inside me. I was so incredibly aroused. I was so grateful that finger blasting didn’t count as premarital sex. I felt my body about to reach orgasm again. Then I heard: “Jennifer! What the hell is going on?” I whipped the blankets off and standing in the doorway was my mom. I died in that moment. A part of me is

again, and followed it with a “Merry Christmas!” I Christmas caroled by myself every day for eight days. I made $250. I had at least fifty doors slammed in my face, one person threatened to call the police, and one offered me an extra ten bucks if I sang and shook my ass back and forth. Of course I obliged. On Christmas night, we all sat around the tree, and I felt so good handing my parents a gift I know they deserved. My mom opened the envelope and read it out loud. “‘The last time you both

was such a great cockblock? As the months went on, I broke two men’s noses with my right hook and got one guy fired from his job. It was clearly time for me to go through my own metamorphosis and trade in my bunny ears for wings. So I closed my eyes and made a wish. (After years of reading spiritual books, I have come to realize those wishing moments were actually me putting out an intention. Oprah would have been proud.) I made an intention to find a job that would allow me to show all of my

the teepee one more time in order to push through. Ahhhhhhh, relief. My index finger felt like it had won the lotto. I don’t think any of my other nine fingers have forgiven me to this day. Then, just when I thought I had gotten away with murder, I felt my finger getting crushed outside the teepee by a three-hundred-pound man in steel boots. I knew the fire keeper patrolling the teepee had just busted me. I couldn’t scream because then everyone would know that I was the opener of the evil

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