“Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer had a very shiny nose. And if you ever saw it, you would even say it glows. All of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names. They never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games. Then one foggy Christmas Eve, Santa came to say, ‘Rudolph, with your nose so bright, won’t you guide my sleigh tonight?’”
“Oh, girls, thank you for that song. You are such sweet carolers. Merry Christmas!” And she closed the door.
“She totally stiffed us!” said JoJo.
Ding-dong.
“You know Dancer and Prancer … um …”
Amy tried to cover the confusion. “Donner and Blitzen, Comet and Cupid and … um …”
SLAM.
“Shit,” I whispered.
We hit about thirty more homes and counted five bucks. Amy and JoJo were losing steam and bitching like brats.
“I can’t do this anymore,” Amy said.
JoJo joined in. “My toes are frozen. It’s like thirty below outside.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I said. “It’s, like, five degrees outside.”
I went to the next house and walked up the stairs. My shivering finger hit the doorbell and a man answered.
“O holy night …”
I was waiting for my sisters to chime in with me, but I heard nothing. I turned around and saw that they had completely ditched me. I turned back around, realizing I was doing a solo performance.
“… the stars are brightly shining …”
SLAM.
“Damn it!” I whispered. I couldn’t believe my sisters ditched me.
My voice is pretty awful by myself, but I was determined to make quick tax-free cash without doing anything illegal anymore. So off I went to the next house.
Ding-dong.
“Joy to the world, the Lord is come! Let Earth receive her King …”
“Darling, how old are you?” asked this adorably sweet lady. I was afraid to answer her, because how many twenty-year-olds hustle the neighborhood singing songs for cash by themselves?
I was sure as shit the answer was none.
“Um, I’m twenty,” I said in the softest voice possible.
“It’s thirty below zero outside. Why don’t you get a job indoors?” she asked.
“I need to make some quick cash to buy my parents Christmas presents,” I said with the utmost honesty. “I don’t really have time to job hunt, fill out applications, et cetera.”
“That is so sweet of you, dear. So this isn’t for a boyfriend?”
I laughed. “The only man worth me freezing my butt off for is my dad. I love him. He’s the hardest-working guy I know.”
“Hold on a sec.” She left and came back with a twenty. “Hope you get them something wonderful!”
“Oh my God. Thank you so much. You have no idea how grateful I am! Do you want me to sing you another song?”
“No!” She giggled.
I laughed, thanked her 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 went alone somewhere was your honeymoon. Here is one night free at the Love Shack Inn to get your freak on, but don’t make any more babies. We can’t afford them. Merry Christmas. I love you. Jenny.’”
“Wow, Jenny, that is so thoughtful. How did you pay for this?” my mom asked.
Amy said, “The idiot Christmas caroled for eight days.”
My mom and dad started laughing. Then my mom said to me, “Jenny, you have always amazed me with your clever ways to make money. You kill me.” They both got up and hugged me.
They had no idea just how clever I was about to get.
18
Can Someone Kill Our Dog, Please?
Our family dog was named Pickles. She was a mutt with scraggly black hair. If Pickles were a person, she would totally be Janeane Garofalo.
Living in a house with four little girls, Pickles had to endure getting dressed up in gowns and wigs for years. We loved her and treated her like a fifth sister.
When I was about ten years old, I was getting ready for school one morning when I noticed Pickles pushing like she was trying to poop. I stood there in shock because Pickles never pooped in the house.
“Mom, Mom, something is wrong with Pickles. It looks like she is trying to poop, but nothing is coming out.”
My mom ran over and started yelling for my dad. “Dan, come here. I think something is wrong with Pickles.”
My dad and all my sisters joined in to watch Pickles bear down.
Suddenly a black blob came out of her and hit the floor. The blob had legs! Pickles was giving birth! I was amazed and disgusted at the same time.
We all stood there not really knowing what to do. Within fifteen minutes, there were three blobs on the floor that came to life. Pickles continued to bear down and push, and we were all waiting for the fourth blob, but it never came.
After giving birth, Pickles started looking weak, and my mom and dad took her to the hospital. She had a dead, deformed puppy inside her that she couldn’t deliver. They removed the pup and brought Pickles back home to care for her litter.
It’s a beautiful thing to watch animals care for their pups. Without words, their energy and attention radiate love.
In the months that followed, we watched people come over and adopt all of Pickles’s babies. I wondered how Pickles didn’t get upset that people were stealing her babies. Another amazing thing about animals, I guess.
Our family had no idea how old Pickles actually was because my dad had found her on the side of the road with rubber bands around her snout and rescued her. But while I was in high school, Pickles started to slow down. She wouldn’t chase down birds anymore, her hair started to get wiry, and, by my senior year, she started to stink.
My whole family ignored the fact that Pickles was getting older. There was no way we would ever think about putting her down. But after a couple more years, Pickles had tumors all over her body. When I pet her, my hand would go up and down because of all the bumps. It was obvious she had cancer and there was nothing we could do about it. Pickles started to live behind our couch. She wouldn’t move from there. All we would see was her little tail sticking out. Then she no longer had the ability to control her bowels.
People would come over, sit down in our living room, and say, “You know it reeks of pee in here.” We all kind of knew it but ignored it because solving the problem would mean putting down our beloved dog. And that wasn’t going to happen.
When I came back from college, I was amazed to find Pickles still alive. Well, she wasn’t really alive. She couldn’t walk, she was loaded with even more tumors, and she would pee and poo on herself.
I sat down next to her and petted her while singing the song I used to sing to her when I was little. My heart was breaking. I was mature enough now to see that Pickles was in pain and that we were all being really selfish.
I confronted my mom. “Mom, I think it’s time.”
“Time for what?”
“To put Pickles down.”
“Oh, Jenny, I don’t want to talk about that.”
“She’s in a lot of pain. I don’t want her to die either, but she can’t live like a blob on the floor and suffer. We have to let her go.” I could tell I was getting through to my mom.
Her eyes started to tear up and she said to me, “Okay then, you take her in.”
“What? Why me?”
“Because you think it’s time.”
“I can’t do it. I love that dog.”
“Well, no one will do it, Jenny, so either you take her or she stays.”
I felt sick to
my stomach, but I wanted to help Pickles get out of pain and agreed to be the brave one in the family. “Fine. I’ll do it tomorrow. Let’s make sure everyone says their good-byes.”
The next day my entire family surrounded Pickles. We petted her and thanked her for never biting us even though we tortured her with costume changes. We thanked her for always being happy to see us when we got home and for being such a wonderful member of our family.
We all began crying, including my dad, as I scooped Pickles up in my arms and carried her to the car. My whole family was standing at the front door crying and holding each other.
I couldn’t believe I was the only one willing to do this. It was awful. When I drove away, I looked down at Pickles on the seat and scream-cried the whole way to the vet.
“I’m so sorry, Pickles. I’m so sorry. But you are going to a better place, where you won’t be in pain.”
I pulled up next to cars at red lights and didn’t realize how loud I was scream-crying. People were honking their horns to make sure I was okay.
I pulled up to the vet, scooped up Pickles, and walked in.
Through tears and borderline hyperventilation, I mumbled, “I need to put my dog down.”
The vets had me sign some paperwork and told me I could go into the room and say good-bye.
I put my head on top of Pickles. I told her to look out for me in Heaven and to be the guardian angel of our family. I kissed her good-bye and walked out the door.
When my car pulled up in front of my house, I saw my mom come to the front door. I immediately got out and started crying.
“Oh, Jenny, you did the right thing,” my mom said.
“No, I didn’t,” I cried. I opened the back door to my car.
There was Pickles in the backseat.
“I couldn’t do it, Mom. I just couldn’t do it.”
I scooped Pickles up and took her back into the house. Everyone jumped on her crying, happy that we still had Pickles.
We were all so weak it was pathetic.
Poor Pickles.
I prayed that she would die in her sleep, but after three months she was still alive and still peeing and pooing on herself.
Around this time, I started dating a new guy named Donny. He was up to date with what was going on with Pickles because our home stank. One Sunday, he and I were all alone in the house while everyone else was at church and an idea popped into my head.
“Donny, I need you to do me a favor.”
“What?”
“Go bring my dog in to be put down.”
He looked over at Pickles and back at me. “Are you sure? Don’t you want to wait for your family?”
“No. Go now before I change my mind.” Once again I burst into tears. I kissed Pickles good-bye and watched Donny carry her to his car.
I felt bad that none of us was going with them, but I had to do something to get her out of the pain she was in and I knew this was the only way.
I ran upstairs to my room and scream-cried into my pillow.
Losing a pet is without a doubt losing a family member, and Pickles will always be remembered as the fifth McCarthy sister.
19
Leap of Faith
I had been home from college for a year and felt really lost. Not having a purpose in life made me feel like a waste. I needed to do something besides work at the Polish grocery store. I was $20,000 in debt and I knew I had to “go big or go home.”
I asked myself one simple question: “What do I want to do?”
And then the answer came. I wanted to be Wonder Woman. Not literally, of course (okay, maybe a little) … but I wanted to go to Hollywood and host, act, and do something big to help the world like Wonder Woman does.
I picked up the phone book and opened to “commercial agents.” (I still can’t believe Google didn’t exist then.) I landed on an ad for Faces International. It had a picture of a girl who looked like me and the caption said something like, “We take your face to Hollywood.” Since I had no idea where else to start, this sounded like a great idea.
I took the bus downtown and headed over to the agency. When I walked in, there were many hopeful Chicagoans sitting in the waiting room primping themselves with the hopes of being plucked out of their suburban lives and asked to move to Hollywood because of their cool face and specialness.
I watched a movie in the waiting room. It was a piece produced by Faces International. It went on to say that one of the last Chicagoans who came from Faces International went on to do a commercial. Then the movie showed a little boy saying, “Yummy!” in front of a bowl of cereal.
I felt like I was in good hands with Faces International. The office looked really professional, so I didn’t feel like I was going to be told I needed to sleep with the owner.
“Jenny McCarthy, you’re next,” said this very sleekly dressed woman.
I sat down next to the woman and she asked about my financial situation. I told her I was $20,000 in debt from college and needed direction on how to go to Hollywood and fulfill my dream.
She said that Faces International charged a fee to put your pictures in the magazine. If I couldn’t cover the fee, I wouldn’t be able to make it into the magazine’s next edition that was going to the top Hollywood casting offices.
“How much is it?” I asked.
“Well, we have to select you for a full page. But you can purchase a half page for $2,500.”
“What? I don’t have $2,500!”
“Well, I’ll put it this way. Think of how much it would cost you to go to Hollywood, plus the cost of getting your headshots done. Faces International will shoot your pictures for you and send them there, and in the meantime you can stay in Chicago.”
“But how am I supposed to come up with $2,500?”
“Do you have room on your credit card?”
“I don’t have a credit card.”
“Well, maybe it’s time to get one.”
Sadly, I left that bitch’s office in search of a credit card. She got to me.
She sold me on the dream and how commercial I looked.
I went to the grocery store and looked for a brochure from a credit card company. I filled one out and prayed to God they would have compassion on my $20,000 college tuition loan.
A few weeks later, my very first credit card came in the mail. It had a $5,000 limit. Credit card companies’ favorite people are the ones who are in debt because we can’t pay shit off quickly.
My parents had no idea they had just cosigned their credit to me, but I figured I would pay it off right away with my first job.
Click, click.
I was at my first photo shoot with Faces International. Modeling wasn’t something I had ever tried to do, so needless to say, I stood there like I was having my mug shot taken. The photographer tried to get me to relax, but I was having a really hard time.
And then I remembered Ed McMahon. Around this time Star Search was on and there was a modeling competition in every show. I could picture the future sluts posing for their modeling round, so I began to imitate them.
“That’s it, Jenny,” said the photographer. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”
I finished the day with a feeling of accomplishment. I felt like I was going to be doing this again.
When I showed the sleekly dressed woman from Faces International my pictures, she oohed and aahed. I thought my dream of helping my parents someday was about to become a reality.
The sleekly dressed woman said to me, “The owner of Faces International is here. Let’s go show him these photos. He’s going to be blown away.”
We walked down the hallway and entered an even fancier office with an Italian guy who looked like The Situation.
He took a look at my pics and said, “You really got it. We want to choose you for the full page.”
I jumped up and down screaming as if Ed McMahon had just told me that I got five stars.
Then he explained that for that full page I had to pay $5,000.
/> “Five thousand dollars will max out my credit card. I can’t.”
“You’ll get noticed faster with a full page. Trust me. You’ll be working in Hollywood in no time.”
I was at a crossroads.
I really had no other options at this point and needed to take a leap of faith. I held my breath and handed them my credit card. I prayed to God this was going to work.
When I got home, I watched my mom make dinner for everyone. I watched her cook four things on the stove at the same time. Her hair was disheveled. When I looked down at her feet, I realized that she had been wearing the same gym shoes for at least ten years. She always made sure the needs of her four girls were taken care of before her own. In this moment, watching my mom, I was filled with the most gratitude I had experienced in my life thus far. My heart filled with love and appreciation for this woman who busted her ass to take care of all of us.
As a teenager, I was embarrassed of those gym shoes that she wore; but looking at them in that moment made me want to put them in a shrine.
My mom deserved to be spoiled someday. She deserved really great shoes, and I hoped to God I would help her get them.
Two months later, I was checking the mailbox daily to see if the Faces International casting magazine had arrived. I couldn’t wait to see myself in print. I was even more excited to show my parents something good I did. Day after day I waited. Then one day my mom shouted, “Jen, something in the mail came from Faces International.”
I ran downstairs from my bedroom, skipping every third step to get there as fast as I could. I turned the corner like the Road Runner and my mom held out an envelope. I grabbed it and walked into the next room.
Once I was alone, I looked down at the envelope and was concerned. This was a normal, letter-size envelope—not a catalog.
I opened the envelope and pulled out a letter. “We are sorry to inform you that Faces International has gone bankrupt and there will be no catalog and no refunds. We apologize.”
I fell on the floor.
This couldn’t be happening. This was my one shot. I put everything into this. It was my leap of faith. I couldn’t believe I had been totally scammed. I felt so stupid. I had charged $5,000 on to my first credit card and had no way of paying it off. I also forged my parents as cosigners, so they would be held accountable if I couldn’t pay it. I felt like a lowlife piece of shit. I ran to my room and did my usual scream-cry into the pillow.
Bad Habits Page 9
