You'll Never Blue Ball in This Town Again: One Woman's Painfully Funny Quest to Give It Up

You'll Never Blue Ball in This Town Again: One Woman's Painfully Funny Quest to Give It Up

Heather McDonald

Language: English

Pages: 272

ISBN: 1439176280

Format: PDF / Kindle (mobi) / ePub


New York Times bestselling author, comedian, and Chelsea Lately writer Heather McDonald’s hilarious true story of finding herself in the predicament of being an unwilling virgin at the age of twenty-seven.

Can’t a girl dress like a hooker, dance like a stripper, and kiss like a porn star and still be a nineteen-year-old virgin?

You’ll Never Blue Ball in This Town Again is the laugh-out-loud story of an attractive Los Angeles woman who found herself in the predicament of being an unwilling virgin. As an actress, writer, and stand-up comedienne, Heather McDonald passed up ample opportunities to have her V-card revoked by handsome, rich, and sometimes even fabulously famous men, but she could not bring herself to do “it” until well after her friends had been deflowered.

As Chelsea Handler so lovingly puts it, “Thank God Heather waited twenty-seven years to lose her virginity or she wouldn’t have any material for this book.” Whether in a backseat, a community pool, or a sports stadium, with a frat boy, a doctor, or an A-list celebrity, Heather McDonald knew how to turn those boys blue. Unlike “putting out,” blue balling might not have paid her rent or landed her free trips to Hawaii, but it did provide her with hilarious stories and adventures in her search for true love—and, ultimately, her very own happy ending. Now, Heather McDonald will never blue ball in this town again.

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be bleeding hearts, we would say things like, “Do you want to brush your teeth next to her for the next three years?” Or, “Would you set her up with your boyfriend’s best friend?” If the answer is no, then you are not doing her a favor by asking her to be in this house. The fraternities could only invite a few sororities each semester to party, so having an attractive pledge class was important. We didn’t care about their grades. Yes, I know it’s awful, and I’m convinced if I go to hell, God will

spirituality. I’d taken a few yoga classes and said “Namaste,” which did make me feel like I was breaking the Third Commandment—“Thou shall not worship other gods”—until a friend explained to me what it actually meant. I’m not the closed-minded Catholic I once was. Sometimes I even toyed with the idea of checking out Scientology. The lead in the hit sitcom Dharma and Greg, Jenna Elfman, is a Scientologist. That must have had something to do with her getting the part. How else could you explain a

burgeoning comedy career, dropping subtle hints about how much money he could make off of me when I have my own sitcom cleverly titled It’s Heather. Suddenly, Alan put his hand on my knee and looked me in the eyes, which he could do since we were both sitting down, and said, “You know, I noticed you right away when I saw you by the lion statue at the party.” “Which one?” I laughed. The home was owned by a prominent LA Persian businessman. Persians are known for their love and overuse of feline

hot and could crack backs. Quite a combo! I am addicted, much like someone addicted to crack, to cracking my back. I first learned to self-crack back in eighth grade listening to Duran Duran’s “Save a Prayer.” I would come home from school, turn it on, and then stretch and twist until I got as many audible cracks and pops as possible. Recently, I was watching A&E’s Intervention, a documentary-style TV show where they show real addicts sniffing cocaine or shooting up heroin and then their family

in Ireland who is somehow related to my father, Bob McDonald. To the best mother-in-law in the world, Virginia Dobias, thank you for taking care of my children and raising my husband. To my husband, Peter, and my children, Mackenzie, Drake, and Brandon, thank you for making my dream of being a wife and mother a reality. To my two best friends—Elizabeth Killmond Roman, whom I met in first grade when her desk was moved next to mine at St. Mel Catholic School, and Tara Klein, whom I met at my

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