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My girlfriend has the greatest story as to why she isn't religious anymore. when she was a kid, like 12 years old, her parents nailed a 25 pound crucifix to the wall right above her bed. about two weeks later, in the middle of the night, the crucifix falls off the wall and leaves a two inch gash in the back of her dad's head.

-Anthony Jeselnik

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My Girlfriend Has The Greatest Story As

Anthony Jeselnik

My girlfriend has the greatest story as to why she isn't religious anymore. when she was a kid, like 12 years old, her parents nailed a 25 pound crucifix to the wall right above her bed. about two weeks later, in the middle of the night, the crucifix falls off the wall and leaves a two inch gash in the back of her dad's head.

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<blockquote style="font-family: Arial, sans-serif; border-left: 4px solid #8b5cf6; padding-left: 15px; margin: 20px 0; background: #f9f9f9; padding: 15px; border-radius: 4px; color: #333;">
    <p style="font-size: 1.2rem; font-style: italic; margin-bottom: 10px;">"my girlfriend has the greatest story as to why she isn&amp;#039;t religious anymore. when she was a kid, like 12 years old, her parents nailed a 25 pound crucifix to the wall right above her bed. about two weeks later, in the middle of the night, the crucifix falls off the wall and leaves a two inch gash in the back of her dad&amp;#039;s head."</p>
    <footer style="font-size: 1rem; font-weight: bold;">— Anthony Jeselnik</footer>
    <p style="margin-top: 15px; font-size: 0.85rem;"><a href="https://pjdigitalmarketing.com/quote/my-girlfriend-has-the-greatest-story-as-to-why-she-isn-t-ty8kf" style="color: #8b5cf6; text-decoration: none;">View this quote on Pjdigitalmarketing.com</a></p>
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Topic

Religious Girlfriend Wall

More From Anthony Jeselnik

Usually the beginning of a story that people hear a lot. for example, "my girlfriend is upset about her new haircut" or "my dad keeps losing his car keys." and then i just think of different ways the story could end. "my girlfriend is upset about her new haircut. i don't understand why she's crying. i'm the one who has to get a new girlfriend." then i try it out on stage. i don't do a lot of re-writing. my jokes either work or they don't. the trick is just to write a ton of jokes.

My girlfriend is named lynn. she spells her name "lynn". my old girlfriend's name is lyn, too, but she spells it "lyn". every now and then i screw up, i call my new girlfriend by my old girlfriend's name, and she can tell because i don't say "n" as long.

Um, bella? you've got a huge cut on your forehead, and it's gushing blood," he informed me. i clapped my hand over my head. sure enough, it was wet and sticky. i could smell nothing but the damp moss on my face, and that held off the nausea. oh, i'm so sorry, jacob." i pushed hard against the gash, as if i could force the blood back inside my head. why are you apologizing for bleeding?" he wondered as he wrapped a long arm around my waist and and pulled me to my feet.

He who goes to bed, and goes to bed sober, falls as the leaves do, and dies in october; but he who goes to bed, and goes to bed mellow, lives as he ought to do, and dies an honest fellow.

I locked the door, for what good it would do me, and went to bed. the browning hi-power was in its second home, a modified holster strapped to the headboard of my bed. the crucifix was cool metal around my neck. i was as safe as i was going to be and almost too tired to care. i took one more thing to bed with me, a stuffed toy penguin named sigmund. i don't sleep with him often, just every once in a while after someone tries to kill me. everyone has their weaknesses. some people smoke. i collect stuffed penguins. if you won't tell, i won't.

The kitten was six weeks old. it was enchanting, a delicate fairy-tale cat, whose siamese genes showed in the shape of the face, ears, tail, and the subtle lines of its body. [...] she sat, a tiny thing, in the middle of a yellow carpet, surrounded by five worshipppers, not at all afraid of us. then she stalked around that floor of the house, inspecting every inch of it, climbed up on to my bed, crept under the fold of a sheet, and was at home.

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Just take me home where the mood is mellow and the roses are grown m&m's are yellow and the light bulbs around my mirror don't flicker everybody gets a nice autograph picture one for you and one for your sister who had to work tonight but is an avid listener every song's a favorite song and mics don't feed back.

Where the really sincere white people have got to do their 'proving' of themselves is not among the black victims, but out on the battle lines of where america's racism really is - and that's in their own home communities.

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