Life Laughs: The Naked Truth about Motherhood, Marriage, and Moving On Read online

  A PLUME BOOK

  LIFE LAUGHS

  JENNY MCCARTHY is the New York Times bestselling author of Belly Laughs: The Naked Truth About Pregnancy and Childbirth and Baby Laughs: The Naked Truth About the First Year of Mommyhood. She lives in California with her son, Evan.

  Select Praise for Life Laughs

  “Divorce, single parenting, and post-baby stretch marks may not sound like funny subjects, but Jenny McCarthy manages to put a hilarious spin on these topics in…Life Laughs.”

  —In Touch

  “In Life Laughs, after you guiltily giggle through it, you’ll feel like you’ve…shared heart-wrenching confidences with a very dear friend.”

  —Vegas Magazine

  “Wickedly funny…It’s a kick.”

  —Minneapolis Star Tribune

  Select Praise for Baby Laughs

  “In this hilarious follow-up, [McCarthy] takes a no-holds-barred look at the joys, challenges, and humiliations of the first year of motherhood.”

  —Time Out New York

  “Baby Laughs is the book that can keep an aching morass of maternal hormones company in those long hours of just watching her infant sleep, slowly letting herself be OK with every unexplained hiccup or tiny grimace, and help her laugh at the way her emotions and body also slowly retreat from the Defcon One alert level that is pregnancy.”

  —Washington Examiner

  “[McCarthy’s] honesty is disarming, funny, and so boundless that you’ll feel as if you’re at her side every step of the way, like it or not.”

  —Arizona Republic

  Select Praise for Belly Laughs

  “What’s noble about this book (yes, noble) is that women who find these topics too embarrassing to bring up now have a place to read about them in a frank and open discussion…. Like a gossipy girlfriend, McCarthy brings you in and makes you laugh; there’s a certain comfort in knowing that even a sex symbol gets stretch marks and balloons to two hundred pounds during pregnancy. A must-have for any childbirth collection.”

  —Booklist

  “You don’t even have to be knocked up to enjoy it.”

  —Playboy

  “McCarthy is undeniably crass but funny, and her candor and self-deprecation are refreshing.”

  —Publishers Weekly

  “Frank and humorous.”

  —The Miami Herald

  “Brutally honest and funny in a way the other pregnancy books wouldn’t dare.”

  —Carolina Parent

  “McCarthy’s comic tell-all will have fellow moms nodding…. It’s everything about new motherhood your polite girlfriends won’t tell you.”

  —Philadelphia Inquirer

  Also by Jenny McCarthy

  Belly Laughs: The Naked Truth About

  Pregnancy and Childbirth

  Baby Laughs: The Naked Truth About

  the First Year of Mommyhood

  Life Laughs

  The Naked Truth About

  Motherhood, Marriage, and

  Moving On

  Jenny McCarthy

  A PLUME BOOK

  PLUME

  Published by Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) Inc., 375 Hudson Street, New York, New York 10014, U.S.A. • Penguin Group (Canada), 90 Eglinton Avenue East, Suite 700, Toronto, Ontario, Canada M4P 2Y3 (a division of Pearson Penguin Canada Inc.) • Penguin Books Ltd., 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England •

  Penguin Ireland, 25 St. Stephen’s Green, Dublin 2, Ireland (a division of Penguin Books Ltd.) • Penguin Group (Australia), 250 Camberwell Road, Camberwell, Victoria 3124, Australia (a division of Pearson Australia Group Pty. Ltd.) • Penguin Books India Pvt. Ltd., 11 Community Centre, Panchsheel Park, New Delhi–110 017, India • Penguin Group (NZ), 67 Apollo Drive, Mairangi Bay, Auckland 1311, New Zealand (a division of Pearson New Zealand Ltd.) • Penguin Books (South Africa) (Pty.) Ltd., 24 Sturdee Avenue, Rosebank, Johannesburg 2196, South Africa

  Penguin Books Ltd., Registered Offices: 80 Strand, London WC2R 0RL, England

  Published by Plume, a member of Penguin Group (USA) Inc. Previously published in a Dutton edition.

  Copyright © Jenny McCarthy, 2006

  Illustrations by Grant Pominville (www.artbygrant.com)

  All rights reserved

  REGISTERED TRADEMARK—MARCA REGISTRADA

  CIP data is available.

  ISBN: 1-4295-3151-7

  Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.

  PUBLISHER’S NOTE

  The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

  Evan

  The stars are whispering again…

  Love, Mommy

  Contents

  Acknowledgments

  Life…Sometimes You Just Gotta…Laugh

  PORK…It’s What’s for Dinner…NOT!!

  The Mr. Potato Head Syndrome

  The First Poo

  The One-Uppers!

  The Goldfinger

  Honey, Your Friend’s a Bitch!

  If We BOTH Bring Home the Bacon, We Should BOTH Fry It Up in a Pan!!!!

  Bribing for Blow Jobs

  Happy Anniversary!

  Until Death Do Us Part

  Thou Shalt Not Covet Thy Neighbor’s Lawn

  No, Couches Don’t Belong in the Kitchen!

  You Don’t Bring Me Flowers…Anymore

  Honey, Where’s the Visa Bill?

  I’m Fat and Saggy and I Have a Huge Zit on My Butt!

  The One Who Holds the TV Remote Is the One Who Is in Control

  I’m Not PMS-ing…You Asshole!!

  Um…Because…Um…My Vagina Is Sleepy?

  Potty Training

  Get Naked and Naughty!

  The Horoscope Addict

  Is That a Lobster in Your Pants or Are You Just Happy to See Me?

  Stop Checking Out My Man, Bitch!

  Are We Our Parents?

  Honey, Would You Mind Picking Up My Breasts? They Fell Off the Bed Again

  The Seven-Year Itch

  Bleaching Your Asshole??

  To Shave His Balls or Not to Shave His Balls

  Don’t You Know Me by Now?

  The Back Door Is Closed

  Please Don’t Make Us Go to YOUR Mother’s House for Christmas Again!!

  What Happened, Jenny?

  The Juggling Mom

  Jennyology

  Faking It

  The Mommy Hangover

  Life’s Embarrassing Moments

  Going at It Alone

  The Power of the Pussy

  Life’s Pet Peeves

  His New Girlfriend

  Death Becomes You

  Singled Out

  Life’s Little Sayings

  Acknowledgments

  I would like to give thanks to the women out there who have supported me through the years and who have now become loyal readers. I’ve done so many things in this business and writing books has brought me the most joy. When you approach me in malls and tell me how much I made you laugh while reading my books I g
et the chills and smile so much that people think I just got done smoking a big joint. Thank you from the bottom of my heart and I hope I can continue to make you laugh as we both grow old in this world together.

  Love, Jenny

  Life Laughs

  Life…Sometimes You Just Gotta…Laugh

  Hey, welcome back! This book is dedicated to those days when we wake up late for work, feeling fat, gossiped about, screamed at by our children, and not fully adored and nurtured by our horny men. If you are a first-time reader of mine, I need to give you the usual warning when it comes to my point of view on things. I always tell the truth, and that means the whole truth. This book will knock some of you off your chairs. It’s crude, raw, and sometimes dirty but always honest.

  I give you a glimpse into my own battle with Life, my marriage and divorce, sex, motherhood, aging, and even PMS. And I hope that you can relate to the funny, gross, bad, and ugly that always comes with life. So please kick off your shoes and tell your man to shut up for a bit and enjoy a few Life Laughs!

  PORK…It’s What’s for Dinner…NOT!!

  Sometimes I wish it was still caveman days when the men hunted for food and we stayed by the fire combing out our legs and armpits waiting for a dead carcass to arrive. Most girls grow up and easily slide into the domestic duties of the home. I never slid in. I kicked and screamed and was eventually thrown in by my hair.

  I remember staring at the stove after I became married wondering what the hell I was going to do. The only thing I had ever used it for was to light my cigarettes. Now I was supposed to actually mix things together and create a meal. That was funny.

  Walking into grocery stores I would always head for the frozen food section. This is when I was only responsible for myself. I would grab fifteen Lean Cuisines and call it a week’s supply. After I got married, the grocery store looked like Harvard University. I couldn’t understand anything. I would stand in the produce section not knowing what half the names were for the vegetables in the bins, let alone how to cook them. I continued to push my cart and stopped at the meat counter. Packages of raw meat would stare at me, and I would pick some up looking for how to cook them and there never were any directions. My mom finally gave me a few recipes for stews and such, but half the time I was too tired from work and up with the baby to try to prepare a feast when I didn’t even know how to open the package.

  Once you start to cook at home, figuring out what to make for dinner that night can be just as hard as figuring out which candidate to vote for. I go crazy every night!! I’ll call my mom and ask her what she made or call my sisters to see what they made. Even if cooking is totally your thing, I guarantee that wondering what to make is a daily dilemma in your life. If you have kids who are picky eaters, then God help you. In my house I would feed my son really healthy steamed foods, and when he went to sleep, I would gorge on pizza or cheeseburgers.

  One time I tried to make John a really beautiful meal, but it didn’t go too well. I saw a big pork thingy at the store. I think it was a pig’s shoulder or something, and I decided to take it home and make BBQ pork sandwiches with it. My mom had gotten me a slow cooker for Christmas thinking it would be easy cooking for me. So I decided to let this pig shoulder thingy be my first try. I threw it in there, put a little salt, a little pepper, and even an onion in it. Wow, now that’s some fancy cookin’! I put the lid on and saw that the button had two choices: slow and fast. I remember thinking, Why would anyone want to cook something slow? So I put it on fast and went on my way.

  A couple of hours later I came to check on it and it looked awesome. Juice dripping, onions browned—I never thought a pig’s shoulder would look so attractive as it did in my pot. So I looked at the clock and saw that it had been at least two hours and figured since I had it on FAST it was probably done. Besides, overcooked pork is not a fun chewing experience, so I threw some barbecue sauce on it, ripped off some chunks, and put it in a hamburger bun with a side of potato salad. I walked over to John and showed him my proud creation of a real meal. His eyes bugged out in delight and he happily devoured the sandwich, saying it was the best sandwich he had ever had. I couldn’t even take a bite because I was doing some stupid cleanse at the time, so I had to live vicariously through his bites.

  After he was done I threw his plate in the dishwasher and smiled in delight at my domestic victory. About an hour later I heard this awful noise coming out of the bathroom. It sounded like an elephant was being eaten by coyotes. These horrid screams and echoes of cries coming out of a porcelain bowl made me quiver. I honestly thought Godzilla had taken over my bathroom. After about fifteen minutes of screams and moans the door finally opened, and standing there was a pale sweaty skeleton of a man. I said, “Oh no, honey, you’ve got the flu.” He replied with a whisper, “It’s not the flu, it’s your f*cking pig shoulder.”

  All I could think of was that he was delirious, because my pork sandwich had looked award-winning. Before I could even respond, he turned around and became friends again with the two-foot porcelain bowl.

  I ran into the other room and called my mom. I told her of my proud cooking but that John had gotten sick. She began to ask me what I had set the timer on. I told her on fast for two hours. She started screaming in horror, telling me that fast still means at least eight to nine hours for a big pig shoulder and slow would be about twelve to fourteen. I thought that was ridiculous. Who the hell would cook for twelve hours?

  Anyway, it turns out John had severe food poisoning because pork needs to be cooked thoroughly. Who knew? They don’t teach you that in school! So the next time you get perplexed about what to make for dinner, call some friends and see what they’re making. If you’re too lazy, go have your husband run out and grab some takeout. If he bitches and moans, just smile and tell him you have a delicious recipe for barbecue pork sandwiches!

  The Mr. Potato Head Syndrome

  I used to love playing with Mr. Potato Head when I was a little girl. There was just something so cute about him and empowering about having the ability to control what I wanted him to be that day. “Sorry, Mr. Potato Head, I’m not allowing you to have your mustache today. You have to EARN it!” Yes, even at nine years old I wanted to control my man. It wasn’t until years later when I married my own Mr. Potato Head that I realized they don’t come with all the parts.

  When you first meet your potato he can do no wrong. You see past any flaws or sprouts that stick out. You’re even able to get him to believe that you’re better than all the other Ms. Potatoes he’s known in the past. I remember when I took my potato out for the first time to meet all my friends. Everybody loved him. People saw what I saw in him. Together we made mashed potatoes and people ate us up.

  As years passed, when we would go out with friends, I noticed that my potato’s jokes weren’t as funny as they used to be. Sometimes I was kind of embarrassed by them. Everybody else in the crowd still thought he was hilarious, but I kind of rolled my eyes because I was so used to them. This is pretty normal. Just pay attention to other wives’ faces when their own husband cracks a joke or does something stupid. I’ll bet you they’re not laughing or they’re doing that fake laugh to cover up how stupid that thing was that their husband just did.

  Another change you might experience is how your potato can seem like the most incredible multitasker in the world…OUTSIDE the house! If you’ve ever had the chance to see your man at work, you might stand back and say to yourself, “Wow, this really kind of turns me on. The way he takes control, how everybody listens to him, and how he gets the job done.” The reason this might turn you on is because you never get to see this at home. He turns into Mr. Potato Head the moment he walks in the door. He saves all of his good stuff for everybody else. Men, for some reason, CANNOT multitask at home. Go ahead and try it if you’re a newlywed. Start with something simple like asking him to open a jar that’s sealed shut while he’s on the phone or, better yet, while he’s watching the game. The look of confusion that comes over his face is
priceless. Almost as if you are speaking in a different language. Doing two things at once was never meant to be a normal trait in men. Except, of course, if it’s during sex and he’s squeezing a boob while having sex with you. Multitasking in bed doesn’t count.