Thursday, Feb 23rd: East Lansing, MI
# of books sold: 98
# of books signed: 114
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 15+
# of pictures taken with fans: 40+
# of girls I hooked up with: 1
Thanks: I want to send out a big thank you to everyone at the East Lansing Barnes & Noble, especially Cindy and Mike, you guys were awesome. For the most part over the last few months I have found that people who work at bookstores are pompous fucktards, but everyone I met at the East Lansing B&N was really nice and really helpful. I may have been the reason the people came out, but Cindy and Mike, et al are the ones who made it a great signing.

Highlights of the stop: I have a few things to go over in this write-up, but I want to address one issue quickly: Lying about the book tour numbers.

Apparently, the crowds I am drawing are bigger than some people want to believe. I've gotten a few emails from nay-sayers claiming that a friend of a friend was at some signing and says that I didn't have the crowd I claim or I'll get an email from some "published writer" [who always submits anonymously] claiming that my numbers have to be inflated because in his inifinite wisdom, he "knows" I couldn't draw the crowds I am claiming. I hate to quote a Nelly song, but if you want to call me out, "let's bring it to the light":

I have done two signings at Barnes and Nobles, one in Durham and one in East Lansing. I claim 165 books signed at the Durham signing and 114 at the East Lansing signing [note: I signed 104 at the bookstore itself, then 3 as I was heading out the door, then 7 more at the afterparty]. Don't believe me? CALL THE FUCKING STORES AND ASK THEM. Barnes and Noble isn't going to lie for me. Ask for the Community Relations Manager, that is the person who sets up the signing and deals with the authors. At both places they were very nice women and do a great job, I am sure they will be willing to verify my numbers:

Barnes & Noble
333 East Grand River Avenue
East Lansing, MI
517-324-3926
Community Relations Manager: Cindy

Barnes & Noble
The Streets at Southpoint
Durham, NC
919-806-1930
Community Relations Manager: Debbie

That is the best part about being honest; it's almost impossible to be called out, because by it's nature, honesty anticipates and preempts the attacks of your enemies. You can't call me out for lying, I tell the truth (and whenever possible, show you how to verify my claims). You can't call me out for being an asshole, I already admit it. You can't call me out for who I am or what I do, I put everything on the table for the world to see, good and bad. Most attacks focus on the hypocrisy or lies of the opponent; by just being honest you eliminate all those avenues of approach, and force your enemy to focus on your actual actions. This gives you the ultimate advantage; if they want to fight, they have to do it on your terms, and if you can't hold your own turf against an anticipated attack, you don't deserve to win.

Now, as to the signing itself. Overall, it went great, but there is one thing I want to mention:

There is some dude out there named John who is kinda dating a girl named Samantha. She had me sign her book thusly:

"John,
You should lock up Samantha before she starts sleeping with guys like me.
TMax
PS--Too late"

I signed it like this only after she said that we would hook-up after the signing, but she didn't come to the afterparty. I don't really care all that much, but John, don't let her make you jealous with that book, I never fucked her.

The afterparty was a fucking SHIT SHOW. I picked Harper's instead of Rick's because I am getting really tired of being in packed bars, surrounded by teenage girls pretending to be 21 and douchebag guys who won't leave me alone. The lesson I learned in East Lansing: It doesn't matter where I go, those two groups of people are going to follow me there, and if it isn't crowded then it is even harder to get away from them.

The night started with a guy who, though nowhere near as bad as TheDouche from Pittsburgh, was comparable to the DudeInTheYellowHat from FSU. This guy, TheDudeInTheGreenHat (he actually did wear a green MSU hat, no shit. Backwards, no less) would not stop talking to me. He must have come up and pressed his sweaty hand in mine about 30 times to tell me that he thought I was really funny. But I almost have to take some responsibility for this; he offered to buy me a drink pretty early in the night and I made a huge tactical error, and let him do it.

How is it a tactical error letting someone else buy you alcohol? Well, when you do that, you give that person implicit permission to hang out with you, and especially when that person doesn't understand something basic, like boundries and limits, then you are stuck with them until you get fed up and call them out.

But even though he was incredibly annoying all night, I will give the DudeInTheGreenHat credit; he told me one of the funniest stories I have ever heard. It started off like any other story, with boring details and a meandering storyline, but then out of nowhere came this gem:

"So there we were fucking on her bed, and I was drunk and so was she, so she stopped me for a second and puked off the edge of the bunk. I looked over the bunk and saw the vomit, and started throwing up too. We finished and got back to fucking, this time in the ass. She hadn't wiped I guess, so she got shit all over my cock. Whatever, I was fucking her so hard I blew out her o-ring, but I didn't know until we got to the hospital,"

It was this point I started laughing hysterically,

"No wait, it gets better. When I blew it out, she shit on me. I got kinda pissed, so I flipped her over and fucked her with her shit on my dick. Well, it was slippery and she was sliding around, and I kept hitting it hard and trying to knock the bottom out of her and she fell off the bunk and broke her arm. That's why we went to the hospital. That's how they found out about her blown out o-ring too, when she was complaining about anal pain."

These are my fans.

He wasn't the only annoying one. There was this Indian dude who just would not leave me alone. Every ten minutes he would come up and ask me something, either for advice or if I wanted a drink or whatever, and then decided, without telling me or me asking him, that he was going to be my Pussy Secretary at the event. This entailed him going up to every girl there, asking if she was here to see me, and then telling her that they had to "schedule" a time with him first.

Ladies who went to Harper's: Even though I did not authorize his actions and nearly punched him in the mouth when I found out what he was doing, I still apologize for his behavior. I assure you that even though I am an asshole, I am not a sketchy douchebag, and would never do something like that. If anyone at a bar ever tells you that they represent me in any manner--especially if they are a sweaty, dorky Indian guy who tells you that you have to schedule a meeting with me through him--they are lying. I can handle my women myself, thank you very much.

I did meet some ok people at the afterparty. My favorites were these two girls who came out all dressed up. Both had really nice tits and liked showing them to Mike and I, and damn if they couldn't drink. They were the ones who finally chased off the DudeInTheGreenHat and his henchman by challenging them to a chugging contest, and absolutely destroying them. The girl with the biiger tits finished her pint before the other dude was even half way done. Very impressive...until an hour later when she puked in the bathroom and had to take a cab home.

By the end of the night the Douche Quotient was too high for me to take, and I grabbed this one blonde girl who had been hanging out on the fringes and took her home with me. Mike was already back in the hotel room with another girl when I got there. BlondeGirl and I started fucking on the other bed with her on top, but she was all self-conscious about doing this only 5 feet from Mike and his girl (even though they'd pulled the covers up to not watch). She is the type that won't shut up when she is nervous, and started having a conversation through the covers with Mikes girl. This annoyed me to no end.

Tucker "Are you fucking me or her?"
BlondeGirl [sarcastically] "Her."

I have lost a lot of muscle by not working out on this trip, but I can still bench more than this girl weighs. I put my hands under her butt and shot putted her off me. She hit the floor with a thud so audible Mike looked up.

Mike "Are you OK?"
BlondeGirl "Yeah...I'm just going to stay down here for awhile."

She eventually got back on the bed and I finished, this time with some authority.This time she didn't talk to anyone but the pillow.

After we were done I went to piss. I didn't hear this, Mike told me the next day:

Mike "You missed it man, she told us that you were better in bed than her boyfriend...who apparently is black and plays for MSU. She just up and offered this info. You have all the luck with women."

EDIT#1: I forgot to mention this, but I promised I would. One of the assistant managers at Barnes and Noble, Mike Blake (he asked me to use his real name), came out with us to Harper's. He was a really nice guy, but kinda nerdy too. I had told him that the only way I was going to let him hang out with me was if he earned it, and to do this I said he had to be entertaining. Well, the dude looks like Napoleon Dynamite without a fro, so to entertain he decided to dance like him. I have to give the guy credit, he totally pulled it off. Motherfucker ripped the dance floor up. Now, if he could only parlay that skill into talking to some girls, he might get something out of it, but I guess one baby step is better than no steps at all. Keep it up Mike, you'll get there one day. Maybe.

EDIT#2: This is an email I just got from a girl who was at the bar:

"Thank you so much for calling that Indian douche bag out on your site. I hope he feels like shit about himself when he reads that. Here is what I wrote in my own little "blog" about my experience:

"...Later in the night, Keri got up to go to the bathroom so I was alone at a table, distanced from Tucker Max and a small crew of fans and douche bag guys. A guy came up to me and asked why I was sitting so far from Tucker Max and inquired about my desire to fuck Tucker Max and blablblabla he was REALLY annoying and wouldn't go away. I wondered whether Tucker knew him (he has a friend on the tour with him) or if he was just some tool trying to get drunk girls to hook up with an author who writes about getting drunk and fucking. I asked Tucker - he didn't know the douche.

Keri came back from the bathroom and the guy was still standing there talking to us, but he was so wasted that he kept leaning on our table and moving it a little - how annoying. We were kind of making fun of him subtly and he asked if we wanted him to leave, and so he eventually left. He actually left the bar, but then he came back and left a few more times. He. Was. Awful. At. Life. He kept harrassing me and asked why I didn't want to fuck Tucker Max, so I explained that while I enjoy Tucker's stories, I don't want to BE one of Tucker's stories, and odds have it that he's got an STD and blablabla. The douche then asked me who I would rather fuck: "Tucker Max or me?" Taking absolutely no time to think about it, I told him that I'd rather fuck Tucker. Like, duh, what the fuck kind of choice is that...Pretty cool dude with lots of talent vs. Some useless social tool? Anyway, the kid didn't like my answer..."

Thanks again, and I'm sorry that you felt the need to apologize for him."

EDIT#3: Another email I got:

"Hey Tucker,

I just read your story about visiting MSU and going to Harper's and I'm so happy you called out that ass with the backwards MSU hat. He was so fucking annoying. Before my friend and I even sat down at the bar and got our first drinks he and his friends were bothering us, asking us if we wanted to fuck you and how we could only get to you through him. I was like chill out I don't even have my first drink and I'm assuming you are not a friend of Tucker. But he insisted he was and also claimed that you stole 3 of HIS stories from him. I did not believe him and it became obvious as the night went on he was lying but his "stolen stories" grew from 3 to 4 to 5. Eww and his other friend was this short nasty thing who would not leave my friend alone, and he could not catch the hint from me. I pushed him away from her, brought up her fabulous boyfriend, and even told him to get the fuck away from us because his nasty face was grossing me out and ruining my night. He finally left.

I just want to say thank god that annoying ass was wrong in saying you two were friends, because that would have been such a shame for Tucker Max to have such a fucking loser for a friend. It was great talking with you at the signing and at the bar, I had a great time. Good luck with the rest of your tour!"

EDIT#4: An email from the DudeInTheGreenHat:

"hey
this is the dudeinthegreenhat first thanx for posting the story but don't include me in Shrek's drinking contest with that bitch that he lost to, i wasn't in the contest, if i was i would have finnished b/f that soro-whore."

SPECIAL EDIT: Protest me bitch!

My next stop is the University of Chicago, and I have some pretty reliable sources telling me that some students groups are planning to protest my speech at the U of C. I knew I could rely on my alma mater to finally get me some real controversy.

But remember: I am Tucker Max, I'm not about to just take this. There is nothing more fun than fucking with indignant bed-wetting protestors, and to do this I am going to steal a play from the Planned Parenthood playbook (and not ironically, I got the idea from Steven Leavitt, a U of C professor):

I hereby publicly announce that for every protestor who shows up and actively protests against me at the University of Chicago, I am going to donate $3 a piece to each of the three charities listed below (for a total of $9 per protestor):

Boobs for Bunny: Bunny is my ex-girlfriend, and has her own excellent site. She has wanted fake tits for a long time, and I figured this was as good a time as any to help her get them.

The Fallen Patriot Fund: This is a charity set up by Mark Cuban that donates money to the families of US military personnel who were injured or killed during Operation Iraqi Freedom.

The Pat Tillman Foundation: If you don't know who Pat Tillman is or why I would respect him and what he stands for, then go read up. I get emails from kids all the time saying that they want to be like me; well, I want to be like Pat Tillman.

This is going to be awesome. This means that every protestor that shows up will do so knowing that they are doing four things for sure:

1. Getting me more attention and press
2. Helping to get fake breasts for Bunny
3. Helping the men and women who, unlike them, bravely sacrifice serve our nation
4. Helping contribute to the legacy of a truly great American

Sounds like a plan to me.

Friday, Feb 24th: Chicago, IL
# of books sold: [we didn't keep two counts on this stop, just the # signed]
# of books signed: 116 (total between the two signings)
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 20+
# of pictures taken with fans: 40+
# of girls I hooked up with: 0
# of protestors: 10 (sort of--explained below)
Thanks: To Zach and everyone else at The Shady Dealer, you guys did an amazing job setting everything up, and I am appreciative.

Highlights of the stop: This was possibly the most tiring day of the tour so far. I finally fell asleep at 4am in East Lansing, and when the alarm went off at 7am, I nearly threw my phone up against the wall and quit the tour. We had to get up at 7am to leave East Lansing in time to get to the 11am-1pm signing in downtown Chicago, and of course I had to drive the whole 3.5 hours because Mike was "tired [grumble] [grumble], I need to sleep [grumble] [grumble]." Yeah, thanks asshole, I don't any sleep at all, apparently I am immune from normal bodily requirements.

The day signing was dragging along slowly until Jojo showed up and damn near killed us all; he is black, but the motherfucker showed up in white face with a blonde wig and started yelling "TUCKER MAX! DO SOMETHING FUNNY!" I about pissed myself laughing.

Then it got really weird. First this 19 year old girl showed up with her father, nearly hyper-ventiliating as she walked in. She handed Mike a piece of paper that had three pictures on it from his MySpace account with the words "KUNGFU MIKE!!" print above them. I laughed almost as hard as I did when Jojo came in the store. She was a really nice girl though, so I won't make fun of her...well, beyond simply describing what she did.

But the real piece de resistance of the day signing was the older man who came in. He told me that he knew my mom and that they worked together as Pan Am flight attendents in the 70's and 80's. OK, fine with me, but as if I needed proof, he presented these letters from passengers where they mentioned him and my mom as being nice or something...what the fuck? Like I need proof he knows my mom? What am I, The Smoking Gun? It's OK dude, I believe you.

But he wasn't done freaking me out:

OldGuy "Yeah, I knew your mom back when, she was a wild woman back then when we worked for PanAm."
Tucker "Great to know my mom was a slut. Thanks."
OldGuy "You don't remember me at all? I used to drive you to kindergarten when you lived in Alexandria."
Tucker "Dude...I was like 4. I don't really remember much then."
OldGuy "I remember your mom used to have to get live-in nannies when she would go on long trips, you had a Korean one named Yu An, and a Vietnamese one. I think one from England named Rachel."
Tucker "OK."
OldGuy "You used to have terrible nightmares when you were that age, and scream in your sleep. Do you remember that?"
Tucker [really starting to freak me out] "Uh...no."

I don't know if he meant to or not, but this dude spooked me. As far as I know I have never been a victim of any sort of sexual abuse (except for the sort I impose on myself), but if repressed memories of that sort ever come out, I'm coming for you OldMan.

The night event was at the University of Chicago. I did a Q&A and then signed books afterwards. The Q&A did pretty well; I think it drew about 200 people or so, but to be honest I didn't do a great job. At Cornell and Boston I was fresh and ready to go, but at Chicago I was physically and mentally exhausted. Whereas I snapped off great one-liners and comebacks at the other Q&A's, at this one I was average at best, which kinda sucks, I wanted to be at the top of my game for my alma mater, but whatever, I am not real happy with my school right now.

Now I understand why they never get young alumni to fucking donate and that they can't change their nerd image in the public mind: Here I am, easily the most famous alumni under 40 and a hero to throngs of the types of kids they want to recruit from high school, and what does the school do for an alumni with a NY Times Best Seller that draws hundreds of students to virtually unpublicized events? Nothing. Not a fucking thing. A student group had to set the event up for me, I had to pay for the room, and they wouldn't even give me the good speech room. It's going to be funny when I get really big and they come to me asking for money or press or whatever. They are going to learn an expensive lesson in loyalty.

After dinner (at Carson's for ribs, the best in the midwest), we went to my favorite bar on earth, and arguably the best dive bar on earth: Carol's on Clark. I used to never talk about this place because I was afraid the hipster doofuses would discover it and ruin it, but its too late, they found it about two years ago. It's still awesome though, Jimmy and Patty are still there and a bunch of my real life friends came out. It was cool to not have to be "Tucker Max" for a night, and just hang with friends.

The funniest thing was that I was in a town where I have at least 10 solid booty calls, and I didn't call any of them, I just went home and went to sleep. I never thought it was possible to be tired of pussy.

EDIT#1: Holy shit I totally forgot: There were 10 protestors, but not really. The student group that organized the event, a humor magazine called The Shady Dealer, were the only protestors, and they did it as a joke, so there were no actual protestors. The signs they made were fucking hilarious though, things like:

"Tucker Max should be more polite"
"Douchebags are people too!"
"I don't want my child growing up in a world with Tucker Max."

But in honor of their efforts, I will donate $100 a piece to the three charities I listed, Boobs for Bunny, The Fallen Patriot Fund, and The Pat Tillman Foundation.

Saturday, Feb 25th: Madison, WI
# of books sold: 64
# of books signed: 103
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 6+
# of pictures taken with fans: 30+
# of girls I hooked up with: 1
Thanks: To Damon and everyone else who helped set up the signing, thanks a lot, I appreciate it.

Highlights of the stop: This place we had this signing was kinda weird; it was in an somewhat obscure room in the back of the student center. I don't know if that affected the turnout, but it still went fairly well. The people that came out were cool, everything was chill and even though I was still tired from the day before, I enjoyed myself.

The afterparty was at State Street Brats. Everything was going fine, and no one was bothering me at all, until Mike and Sharts came over to me laughing their asses off. Apparently, Landon from The Real World was there, and they had been fucking with him.

Tucker "Who? Landon? Who is that?"
Dave "He was in The Real World. You don't watch that show do you?"
Tucker "What do you think?"
Dave "It was fucking hilarious dude; he walks in the bar and goes 'Shots for all the women!' and makes the circle motion over his head with his hand."
Mike "Then I went up and grabbed his arm, [and in Mike's intentionally retarded voice] 'Yeah Landon let's do shots, thats a great idea!'. You should have seen the look on his face. What a choad that kid is."

Dave and Mike begged me to fuck with him, or at least get a picture with him, but I didn't. I honestly don't know who the motherfucker is, I can't effectively fuck with a "celebrity" that I have never heard of.

I checked out early from the bar and took home this really cute girl with huge tits (who, incidentally, I fucked three days straight, because I stayed here on my break). She woke me up at like 5am, because Sharts laying on the floor making this horrible dying cat noise:

HugeTits "I think something is wrong with your friend."

On the bathroom mirror, he'd written this in sprawling, drunken English with a Sharpie:

"You have no idea the process
Fucking cunt
asswhore mouth
right here 414 653 ****
Kaitlin is a fucking cunt
Die cunt and
I hate them all
lying whores
CUNT"

Tucker "No, that's pretty typical when he gets drunk."

Sunday Feb 26th -- Monday Feb 27th: OFF DAYS

Tuesday, Feb 28th: Champaign, IL
# of books sold: 68
# of books signed: 117
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 20+
# of pictures taken with fans: 30+
# of girls I hooked up with: 0
Thanks: To Tom who from this point forward will forever be known as TheLittlestRanger, and to everyone at The Booze News who helped me set this up and promote it, I appreciate it. And of course, thanks to Kams, I've honestly never had bottle service at a dive bar before. That was awesome.

Highlights of the stop: Overall, this stop went pretty smoothly. A nice turnout, the people were for the most part cool, and the bar staff was great.

The fun actually started after the signing was finished. This one girl came up and brought me a package, covered in SpiderMan stickers, with the name "SlingBlade" written on it. Mike and I damn near choked. I told the girl I won't open it, and that I'll deliver it to him, so that's what I'll do. I cannot wait to see whats in there.

Then these two Asian girls introduced themselves. They had me sign all sorts of stupid trinkets of theirs, bracelets and assorted other useless crap. I got tired of that quick, and so I signed the last few with things like "Whore." For some reason, this freaked her out, and she started blabbering on and on. I couldn't stop laughing at her, she reminded me of the villains in every kung-fu movie.

Tucker "I will defeat your WorthlessWhore style with my BeerBottle kung-fu!"

She didn't get it. Thankfully, the guys at the table behind us, who referred to themselves as the "Second Place Table" occupied them.

The night was one of those where the drunk sneaks up on you. I started around 5 just drinking cheap beer, but around 9pm the owner of the bar brought out a bottle of Grey Goose, five cans of Red Bull, a carafe of cranberry juice, and a pitcher of ice. Bottle service? At a dive bar? Yep. I decided to drink a little too much of the vodka and got a bit drunk...and I'll let TheLittlestRanger tell the story (note: He was an actual Army Ranger, but is out now and going to UI). From an email he sent me this morning:

"Tucker,
Good morning sweetheart. While I'm sure you have something of a memory about last night here's how the sober one saw it:

12:07: [This is the only hard time I have (I checked my watch as we were leaving) the rest are me guessing] You've decided that you want to leave. On the way out the door I ask you and Mike if either of you is ok to drive, Mike says no.

12:09: I take the keys from you. You are not happy about this fact and announce it by pissing all over the drivers side door of your SUV, including the side mirror that you then hit with your hand. I'm already in the car and get a chuckle out of it. Mike is laughing his drunken ass off in the back.

12:10: You finally climb in and I put it in reverse only to have to stop because of the police car that just made a turn and is right behind me. It now seems like a good idea that I made you give me the keys.

12:11: I realize you left the brights on right as I turn in behind the cop. I don't know if you would have noticed but I know cops hate SUV brights at midnight on Fat Tuesday, it appears me driving is a good idea again.

12:16: Mike tires to get Laura and the rest of the Booze News girls to meet us at your hotel room, it doesn't work.

12:18: We arrive at the Hotel. Apparently I didn't park the SUV right. According to you it must hit the curb with authority, "That's how a man parks." You get in the truck and make the on the spot correction.

12:20: KungFu Mike decides that he has not practiced his kick forms in a while and starts kicking the side of the SUV to dent it, he does not suceed. You call him weak and start to kick it yourself, you do not suceed either. Not to be out done by KungFu Mike you jump on the hood and roof of the SUV in hopes you'll dent the SUV. Nothing. KungFu Mike tells you to get down and instead you jump on the roof, prompting him to say for the third time that night "28 Days man, I've had to put up with this shit for 28 days!"

12:25: I turn my back to you and start BSing with KungFu Mike and all of a sudden I hear screaching tires and turn to see the SUV curb hop the first curb cross the street and then other curb, spin around and pull into another parking space. Apparently you didn't like my choice of parking space and elected to chose a new one. Mike shakes his head as you get out of the SUV arms raised in triumph.

12:27: The rent a cops saw you and they are not happy and start yelling at you. I grab the keys out of your hands and go over to talk to them. At first I thought it was a guy but it turned out to be the nastiest butch bull dyke I've ever seen.

"IS THIS YOUR TRUCK!?!?!?" The Dyke asks "I'm gonna call the cops, what the fuck where you thinking, you broke..." I tune her out as it flashes into my head to choke her out. I decide against this, she has a radio and she knows what the truck looks like, how many SUV's with NY plates are there. Fortunatly I'm sober and I wasn't driving.

Ranger: "Ma'am (oh so far you are in when you are calling a bull dyke maam) I'm sorry I don't know what happen. I didn't know he had the keys, I turned and all of a sudden the truck's moving."
BD: "Is he on drugs, is he drunk!?" Her anger is not subsiding and I'm starting to get annoyed with you for making have to put up with this shit.
Ranger: (taking a page out of your Duke defense lawyer theory told to me earlier last night)- "Maam I don't know. I was talking to a friend I turned around and it just happened. I'll move the truck, we don't want any trouble and I'll make sure he stays in the Hotel for the rest of the night..."
BD: "You goddamn better! I should have your ass right now. Fucking pulling that sort of shit..."
Ranger: "Maam YOUR TRUCK!" I cut her off because the BD had gotten out of her truck so fast she didn't put it all the way into park but put it in neutral and her rent a cop vehicle was starting to roll away. She quickly runs as fast as her fat dyky legs will carry her (about two miles an hour) and puts the truck in park. I try not out right laugh as all of this happens and some how suceed.
BD: "You see how mad I am." Like I really give a shit, this comment is not helping me not laugh at her "You better move this goddamn truck or I'm gonna..."
Ranger: "I'll move it right now." I cut her off as I get in the truck, hoping you didn't piss on the door handle as I do it. The BD is muttering something under her breath the whole time.

I get the truck back to it's original parking spot. I first check for you in the restaurant right by the hotel and then see you walking back towards the truck. I give you the short sketch of what happens, this would now be the third time I saved your ass that night.

I get you back up to your room and give Mike the keys "Don't give these to him until tomorrow moring." I get a North and South from Mike. He's on the phone and I ask him if it's the calming goddess Bunny. He says no but this prompts you to ask if I'd like to speak to her and then call Bunny. She sounds dead to the world."

EDIT#1: I forgot to mention this: About halfway through the signing, something didn't seem right. At my signings it is usually about 30-40% female, but this one was way less, like 20% at most, maybe less. Then Atish told me what was up: Since the signing was in a bar, they could only let in people 19 and over.

Yes, I started laughing too.

EDIT#2: SlingBlade got the package, and told me what was in it. Apparently, it was a bottle of Axe Body Wash, and this note:

"Hey,

I'm honestly not sure if using this will make you more or less inclined to dress in tight pants. On one hand, you'll have giurls crawling all over you (at least according to the commercials). On the other hand...you'll be using Axe showergel.

I think you should try it (all in the name of science, of course) and if anyone mocks you, it's probably because they're jealous of your "stimulating guarana."

-[signed]"

Wednesday, March 1st: Bloomington, IN
# of books sold: 26
# of books signed: 47
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 25+
# of pictures taken with fans: 10+
# of girls I hooked up with: 0
Thanks: No one. Fuck everyone in Bloomington.
Highlights of the stop: This stop was a clusterfuck from start to finish.

First off, we had to re-schedule the location at the last minute because Sigma Chi's national or whatever told them, the day of the signing, that they couldn't have it at the house. Great. Then we moved it to a bar...that wouldn't let underage people in to get books. Super. Then we found out, at the end of the night, that the pledges who stayed at Sigma Chi to tell people the new location, told people the wrong place. Fucking sweet.

At this point, I can only laugh. I can't help but be reminded of that really offensive Bobby Knight quote, the one where he says something like if you can't avoid being raped, you might as well sit back and try to enjoy it. That was me at IU. KungFu Mike did a recap of the funny parts of the night. Here it is:

"Motherfucking Bloomington, Indiana. I really don't think I'll ever be able to think about that city without putting a "motherfucking" in front of it after this book signing tour stop gone wrong. But there are two incidents that are worthly of extended mention:

One of the Sigma Chi boys that came with us to the bar, Jacob "ShirtFag" Phillips, decided that he was going to wear the gayest shirt he could possibly find; a vertically striped button up dress shirt - with a floral print covering the entire thing. This thing was a gay designers abortion. Tucker, Soylent and I could not help but dog this motherfucker about it for hours.

Tucker: "Seriously, do you realize that you look like a faggot? Actually, that's not true, gay guys are great dressers. You look like a retarded faggot."
KungFu Mike: "I didn't realize that the Christoper Lowell estate sale was held in Bloomington. Did you get any other nice things?"
Soylent: "Hey, Brokeback Mountain...I JUST CAAAAN'T QUIT YOUUUU!!"

As we ripped on him, Tucker came up with a brilliant idea to make the shirt acceptable:

Tucker: "Dude, cut the sleeves off and you will look like the fucking MAN. No bullshitting; you'll go from a poorly styled metrosexual to the guy cool enough to cut his shirt up at the bar. YOU'LL BE A STAR!"
ShirtFag: "No man. I like this shirt, I think it looks OK."
Tucker: "YOU ARE WEARING A STRIPEY SHIRT WITH A FLORAL PRINT! YOU LOOK LIKE A FUCKING IDIOT! I CANNOT EMPHASIZE THIS FACT ENOUGH!"
KungFu Mike: "Hey, Clay Aiken called...he wants his stage wardrobe back."
Soylent: "You've got a pretty mouth."
Tucker: "I'm going to get a pair of scissors right now. You are either going to cut your fucking sleeves off or you are not sitting at our table. You're going to at least PRETEND to be a man."

This went on for hours. We even went as far as to order him a blowjob shot with a cosmopolitan back. When they were placed in front of him, he got all huffy-puffy and told us that there was no way he was going to drink that "foo-foo shit"...but we dooged him until he picked up the blowjob shot and began to take it down in an aggregiously homo-erotic fashion; he inserted the glass halfway into his mouth, effectively smearing whipped cream all over his lips and chin, held the other half of the shotglass by making a ring with his thumb and forefinger and proceeded to lovingly fellate it, moaning like he was being paid per money shot. He even pushed his tounge on to the back of his teeth to make the gurgling and sucking sounds. This wasn't amateur hour, folks; this was the work of a seasoned veteran of the cock sucking community. After he finished his shot and began to sip his cosmo, the berating continued.

Tucker: "So would you say that you're more of a Carrie or a Samantha? I think I'm a Charlotte."
KungFu Mike: "You ever just stay home, slap in a Spartacus DVD, and drizzle baby oil on your chest as you finger fuck yourself to sleep? I miss those days..."
Soylent: "I've fucked teenage girls more masculine than you."

By this point, not only were ShirtFag's frat brothers shitting all over him, but random strangers that were listening from adjacent tables were chiming in with gay jokes. Even our waitress was fucking with him; it was marvelous. He just sat there, clutched the scissors in his hand, stared into his fancy pink drink and took it, refusing to cut his shirt. It got so bad that ShirtFag actually ran out of the bar without saying goodbye. The dude just bolted.

Jacob "ShirtFag" Phillips left an event that his own fraternity set up to save what is quite possibly the gayest shirt ever fabricated. Everyone who knows him: keep ripping on that kid. NEVER LET HIM FORGET. I want the words "ShirtFag" printed on his tombstone.

After that was over, I figured Tucker would just grumble about being too old for this and go to sleep, but he wasn't finished yet. Tucker, Soylent, two of the waitresses and myself were hanging out at our table, steadily drinking. There were a few people standing around the table looking on, one of them being a brunette living the unfortunate combination of having both a great rack and a face that looked like she fell out of the ugly tree and hit every branch on the way down. Tucker caught a glimpse of the sea hag that lay before us.

Tucker: "Why is God so cruel?"
Waitress: "What do you mean?"
Tucker: "(Pointing at SeaHag) Why would He make a girl with such great tits on top of an ugly face like that?! It's just not right. Oh well, at least she's fat."

Little did Tucker know, Sea Hags actually posess a very keen sense of hearing.

SeaHag: "...Oh. My. God. Who said that?"
KungFu Mike: (Getting up to go to the bathroom) "That's the guy right there. His name is Tucker Max. There was no mistake made, he said that on purpose. He hates you, you should kick his ass. Seriously, he's a bad man."
SeaHag: "Are you talking about me?! What did you say?!?"
Tucker: "You heard me, bitch. Your stomach isn't hanging over your ears like it is your belt."
SeaHag: "You are a fucking asshole. I can't fucking believe you said that."

When I returned from pissing, our table consisted of only Tucker and Soylent (and a few frat boy hangers on). As it turned out, the waitresses that we were drinking with thought that Tucker was so awful that they got up and moved to another part of the bar. I was dissapointed because I was having a blast groping the tits of our brunette waitress and other than those two, there was no other noteworthy chick in that entire place. Once again, Tucker had taken my chance to spray demon seed all over a well tanned bosom and defecated all over it. Thanks asshole.

As we sat at the table and drank, SeaHag was storming all over the bar, going up to every guy she could find and trying to convince them to beat Tucker up. Every guy she went up to either just shook their heads "no" or began laughing in her face. It was glorious. Eventually, she sauntered back to our table for the final battle.

SeaHag: "You got a fucking problem or what?!"
Tucker: "You're the one that keeps coming back here, not the other way around."
SeaHag: "You got a problem, motherfucker?!"
Tucker: "Uhhh...do you have a hearing problem or are you just stupid?"

The SeaHag, exasperated and battle weary, spit right at Tucker, but missed his face entirely, instead hitting his left shoulder. She waddled off, steaming still coming from her ears, the table erupting in laughter.

Tucker: "The sad part, I really didn't mean for her to hear what I said, but if she wants to give me attitude, fuck her. Oh well...there's another girl who will never recover from an ill-fated attempt to cross me."

Thursday, March 2nd: West Lafayette, IN
# of books sold: 61
# of books signed: 90
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 10+
# of pictures taken with fans: 25+
# of girls I hooked up with: 1
Thanks: To everyone at Phi Psi, you guys did great.
Highlights of the stop: I don't really have much to write on this one. The signing went smoothly, pretty much everyone I met was normal, and I was in bed asleep by 11pm because I am so exhausted. Overall, my impression of Purdue is fairly positive, even though I was basically dead to the world yesterday. Seriously, if you meet a person who met me at Purdue and they say something like, "He just kinda sat there in a stupor and then left early," they weren't lying, that was me. Forget not having my A game, at this point, I am just trying to make it through alive.

The one thing I did notice about Purdue kids is that they have a serious inferiority complex about IU. At least half of them asked me about how I liked Purdue as compared to IU, and how the turnout was here in comparison to there or things like that...I had some point to make here, but I can't remember what it is. My brain has stopped functioning normally, thank god the end of this tour is within sight.

EDIT#1: I just got this email and I actually want to address it:

"I have been a fan for a long time. I have written anonymously before as I learned about you from the NYT when you had your first amendment issues w/ Miss Vermont.

Your homophobic name calling, while I understand to be completely in jest, has become more consistent in your writing (especially during your tour and the IU visit). You seem to have made such an effort to be fan friendly, yet you continue to ostracize a segment of the male market. I realize that you may not view this as a target market, but I don't anticipate this will help your chances with the mainstream media. Your whoreishness has more in common with the "fags" you disparage than you might like to admit."

I totally get his point, and I want to clear something up:

Just as the word "queer" was once considered derogatory, but was co-opted by the homosexual community and became a word with positive connotations, I think that "fag" when used as an insult no longer necessarily derives it's negative implication from implied homosexuality, but rather from a more general notion of suckiness. I know that when I use the word "fag," that is how I use it; as a generally disparaging term, meaning something akin to "someone that sucks at life," and not as a term that is intended to disparage homosexuals as a group.

It should go without saying that I am not homophobic, I hope that no one thinks that about me, and if you do, then you have mistaken my message. I have no problem at all being offensive, but I don't want to offend by accident, only on purpose. If I had some issue with gay men, I would come out and say it straight up, I wouldn't use the back door [this tour has fried my brain to the point where that's the best gay joke I can come up with right now. I know...I'm a fag].

Friday, March 3rd: Columbus, OH
# of books sold: 41
# of books signed: 76
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 0
# of pictures taken with fans: 20+
# of girls I hooked up with: 0
Thanks: To Eric and his buddies for setting everything up.
Highlights of the stop: One more day left. That is basically the only way I made through the signing today. I puked up my teriyaki chicken lunch a half hour before the signing, and then trudged through, drinking water and pretending that I was asleep.

Everyone who showed was really cool, there were no problems in that regard, I am just sick. Seriously physically ill. I am writing this from my hotel room, curled up in blankets, drinking water to get the vomit taste out of my mouth, my lymph nodes swollen to the size of baseballs, coughing like a TB victim.

I am going to show up tomorrow in Athens, sign books from 3pm-5pm, and then go find a nice place to die.

EDIT#1: Just got this email. I think it sums up my current physical condition fairly well:

"Hope you're feeling better Tucker, you looked like you were going to die at the OSU signing. Anyway, you signed my book and all that stuff, which, I will say, was cool of you considering how you were feeling. I wouldn't have blamed you for canceling.

One thing though, you signed my book by the wrong name. After asking my name and then asking it again to make sure it was right. I'm not angry at all. Actually I think it is kind of funny, but just thought you might want to know.

You signed a book for my friend correctly though, which he is very happy to be getting.

Enjoy your vacation.
-David, or as you like to call me "Dan""

Saturday, March 4th: Athens, OH
# of books sold: 85
# of books signed: 85
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 0
# of pictures taken with fans: 25+
# of girls I hooked up with: 0
Thanks: To Chris and everyone at Follett's, you guys were fucking awesome, and had a great set up. I really appreciated everything, esecially the food spread, even if I was too sick to eat anything.
Highlights of the stop: DONE!

I am so happy right now. I will write more later, but I do want to say this first: As soon as the signing was over, Mike and I drove to Pittsburgh, where I'm spending the night, but please don't take this a reflection on Athens. I really wanted to stay and drink, it seems like a really fun town and the people were super nice, I was just too sick. I promise I'll be back at some point and I'll make up for my early departure.

EDIT #1: Mike is making me post this pic. Yes, those are 8 year olds at my book signing. Anything else you want to read about this incredibly uncomfortable incident, he's going to have to post himself.

POST TRIP RE-CAP:

Total # of books sold: ~1600
Total # of books signed: ~2220
Total # of alcoholic drinks consumed: ~300+
Total # of pictures taken with fans: ~500+
Total # of girls I hooked up with: 19 counted (31 total--in the daily totals I didn't count girls that I hooked up on days off or girls unrelated to a signing)

At the end of the tour (3/6):
Height: 6'0"
Weight: 198.2
# push-ups in two minutes: [an embarassingly low number]
# sit-ups in two minutes: [see above]

Look at those numbers and compare them to the ones at the start. It's unreal. I gained ten pounds of fat--more actually if you count the muscle I lost from not working out--I hooked up with nearly a girl a day, and averaged basically 10 drinks a day for a month. That is fucking insane. Most people think that three or four day benders are legendary, some of the real champs go on week long benders--I did it for a month. And the hardest part was not even the drinking. Just like that kid Danny said at UVa--EVERY morning I had to get up early and drive at least 3 hours to the next stop, some times even longer.

Here, look at a pictoral history.

Me out drinking with friends, about a month or so before staring the tour. See how happy I am?

Me at the very first stop in Philly. I still look like a normal person.

Me three days into the tour. I look like Morgan Spurlock at the end of "SuperSize Me"

Trapped by fat girls. I can't remember where this is.

At the end. You can just look at my body and my face and see the toll.

I am pretty sure this tour took years off my life. As of this writing I am now back to my normal weight of 190, I am in good shape again and no longer look like a cancer victim. A few more notes about the tour:

-I know I kinda bitched a lot during my write-ups, but I don't want that to give the impression that I didn't like doing this. 99% of the people I met were really cool and I was pleased to meet them. No question that some of my fans were complete retards, but I already knew that. What this tour showed me that I didn't know was how diverse and normal the majority of my fanbase is. Every age from 14-60 come out to meet me, about 30% of my fans were female, and almost everyone was a pleasure to talk to. I genuinely appreciated the support from everyone who came out, thank you.

-One thing I want to note: I did my legitimate best to give each person something to take home besides a signed book. I personalized each signature, posed for every pic that was requested, and if time allowed I usually tried to engage people in some sort of brief conversation. I did this because I wanted to treat my fans the way that I would want someone I respected to treat me: Like a person, and not just another customer.

But what you have to understand is that there is only one of me, and there were literally thousands of people who came out to meet me, so at least a few people are going to go home disappointed. I'm not talking about the fucking random toolbags; I'm talking about the normal people. This is an example of someone who didn't get what they wanted:

http://drunklaw.blogspot.com/2006/02/never-meet-your-heroes.html [reprinted below]:

"I met Tucker Max this weekend, and I have to admit, I was kind of dissapointed. When I first found out he was going to be doing a book signing in Madison, I was fucking ecstatic. In all seriousness, I was looking forward to seeing him in person just as much as I was Scalia - I mean, if there was a Drinking Hall of Fame, he'd be the first one inducted. And unlike Scalia's opinion in Crawford v. Washington, I still laugh out loud at repeated readings of The Absinthe Donuts Story or Tucker Tries Buttsex.

Thing is, he just seemed tired and hungover. And, while I can sympathize, having been in that position a few times myself, I had expected someone larger than life. I expected belligerent drunkedness and general obnoxiousness. Instead, there was just this guy sitting there, looking like he was bored out of his mind.

Of course, you can't fault the guy for not living up to my inflated expectations - after all, he's the biggest propenent of the "this above all: to thine own self be true /tho' thine own self be an alcoholic a-raging" philsophy. And you can't force the kind of things he has in his stories: getting drunk and doing stupid things have to happen of its own accord. If he was just "performing" to portray the "Tucker Max image" for his adoring fans, he would have been as much of a poser as the douches he mocks.

Even so, I still wish I could've seen the man at his A-game."

I don't remember this dude at all, and I'm not sure what he wanted me to do at 5pm in the afternoon in the University of Wisconsin Student Center. Some of you people need to remember: I am a writer, not a performance artist. Yes, my stories are true, but no, I am not drunk 24/7, and no, I am not "on" all the time, especially when dozens of people are standing around me waiting for me to do something. No one is.

Look, I am smart and I am a great drinker and I very good with women, but people--at the end of the day, I am still just a normal dude. That really is the one of the main things you should take from my stories: You can do what I do. Not necessarily my specific actions, but my take on life. If I can live my life the way I want to and get everything out of it that I want, why can't you? I may have done a lot, but I am not that different from most of you, and I started at the same place you did.

-One of the weirder things about the tour was that it was my first real experience with celebrity, and it freaked me out at first. I make jokes all the time about being famous, but they are just that: jokes. I don't really consider myself a star in the real sense of the word, but at these signings lots of the people who posed for pictures with me would put their hands on my back, and I could feel their hand shaking. Or even weirder, the person taking the picture would have the camera shaking. People, please listen to me: NO ONE ON EARTH is so cool that you should shake when you meet them. Look, I have my heroes too and there are plenty of people I respect that I would love to get pictures with, but at the end of the day, we're all humans and was all sit down to shit. Relax, it's not a big deal.

-The other weird part was the change it caused in me. I was in that frame of mind were people are excited to meet me for an entire month, and then I come back home to the real world and subconsciously, I expect everyone to act that way. I can totally understand why most celebs turn into self-absorbed fuckheads.

-I think I'll end with this email I got from PissGirl a fews days after the end of the tour:

From: PissGirl
To: Tucker Max
Date: Mar 9, 2006 6:25 PM
Subject: Congrats

Tucker,
I hope your having a wonderful vacation and I just wanted to tell you some good news. I had to get tested for std's this week and im clean, which means your clean. i dont know how u did it. You actually managed to do a book tour and hook up with a lot of girls and come back clean. Your pretty much amazing...