Sun, Feb 5th: Atlanta, GA
# of books sold: 35 (aprox, we lost the paper with the count on it)
# of books signed: 50 (same)
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 20+
# of pictures taken with fans: 20+
# of girls I hooked up with: 2 (apart)
Thanks: To the Atlanta Old White rugby club for throwing a great party and for being cool guys to hang out with, and to Fado's, I had a great time.
Highlights of the stop: This stop was fucking nuts. First off, I cancelled the early signing b/c it would have been a huge pain for me to get to it. Just like Athens, I fucked up the planning for this stop badly. [It's funny, when it's done right, I get a big crowd, when it's done wrong, I only get the hardcore 50 or so to come out.]
I got to the afterparty spot, Fado's, at around 5pm. The rugby guys were already there with a keg tapped and ready to go. Right afterwards, people started showing up for me. One of the first was this one cute girl who bitched at me for cancelling my first Atlanta signing and how she had to drive like 2 hours back to Tennessee or somewhere. So I wrote in her book, "If you had stayed I would have fucked you." She read it and got this look on her face that I only describe as excited shock,
Girl "Are you serious? I so wanted to fuck you."
Tucker "Absolutely. If you want, we can go right out to the RV now. It's outside."
Girl "Let's go."
We fucked and almost as soon as she had her clothes she got on the phone:
Girl "Would you do me a favor? Would you say hi to my ex-boyfriend? He is obsessed with you, and when he finds out that we fucked he'll flip out."
Tucker "What did he do to get this?"
Girl "He cheated on me. WITH A FAT GIRL!"
The phone went to voicemail and she told him she had just had sex with me, and I confirmed it. So if you are the guy who got the voicemail yesterday, it is true. I fucked your ex. And she was pretty good in bed too.
The rest of the party was actually kinda fun. The place wasn't packed at all, and almost all the dudes who were there were rugby players. I don't know what it is about rugby players; it seems like every one that I meet is at least an OK guy, if not cool. Maybe its the drinking culture that surrounds rugby, maybe because the sport is so tough it gets a self-selecting type of guy into it, but as a rule, rugby players are always fun and the Atlanta Old White were no exception. If you ever get the chance to hang out with them, I highly recommend it. But you had better be prepared to drink. Those motherfuckers must have forced like four Irish Car Bombs into my face, not to mention the 15+ beers we drank.
And holy christ, this one guy SweetTits, told me what have to be some of the funniest fucking stories I've ever heard. If this guy could write he could easily match some of my best stories. For instance, he told me about one story where he was fucking a girl so hard in the ass he hit her vegus nerve(?) and made her go into a seizure. Or another one where he fucked this girl on the rag and there was blood everywhere and the neighbor called the cops because the girl was a screamer, and the cops got there after the girl went home and held him on suspicion of murder until they could get ahold of the girl and see that she wasn't dead. I can't do the stories proper justice; if he ever writes them up I will post them or something. Fucking hilarious.
EDIT#1: OK, I had to cut this update short because I was sick as I was writing it, but there is a lot more to write. Let's see:
-When I first got to the signing, there was a hot blond girl there with HUGE tits, some of the largest ones I've ever seen on a normal sized girl. She had that sort of 'I am hot and know it' vibe going on, so I just signed her book and ignored her. The best way to deal with those girls is to take away what they feed on most: attention. So I just talked to other girls and ignored her. Of course, this fired her up, so she kept coming over to talk to me. And everytime, she made a point to tell me that she wasn't going to hook-up with me. Everytime she would tell me she wasn't going to fuck me, I would tell her that was fine because I didn't really want to hook-up with her anyway or some variation thereof, and then go talk to someone else. Which leads to the second best way to deal with them: set yourself up as unattainable.
If you've ever dealt with women, you know what is coming next: By about 10pm, she was telling me to fuck her. She even went over to her roommate, who she had told to not let me take her home, to tell her that she was leaving with me. We get back to the RV and this girl starts acting weird. Doesn't want to kiss, then does. Doesn't want me to touch her breasts, then does. Doesn't want to fuck, then does. Over and over and over this girl keeps playing cat and mouse with me. I quickly get tired of it. I have been drinking and traveling and drinking more; I probably could have finessed it and played this girls game, but honestly, I just didn't care anymore and wanted to get some sleep. So I lay it out for her:
Tucker "Look, you have three options: 1. Have sex with me, then go to sleep, 2. Leave, or 3. Decide not to fuck, which is totally fine, let's just go to sleep. I'll even cuddle with you, I don't care, I just NEED SLEEP."
Girl "I'm done. I'm leaving."
Tucker "OK, bye."
I turn over and go to sleep. Predictably, this freaks her out and she keeps annoying me until I agree to kiss her again. Which I do, and then she pulls back. Rinse and repeat one more time, and I am done with this shit:
Tucker "I told you: Fuck, Leave or Sleep. Those are your options. I am not going to tell you again. I need sleep, I can't play this game all night."
Girl [Blah, blah, blah, crazy talk, weird advancing and backpedaling, more crazy talk, etc, etc]
Tucker "OK, get out. Seriously, I need to sleep and you are obviously too coked out to do anything except act like a lunatic."
She didn't believe I was throwing her out until I opened the door and threw her jacket out. This flustered her so much she left without purse, which I didn't even notice until later.
I called another girl and decided to take the RV over to her place and fuck her. As I was driving down the street, I saw the guy who is coming with me on the trip, KungFu Mike, standing on the side of the road next to this hideous fat girl. I rolled the window down and screamed at him, "Mike, run! Get in hurry, you can beat her here!" He took off running and hopped into the RV without me having to even stop it.
EDIT#2: The girl who I fucked to make her ex jealous read this update and called her, telling her that he loved the fat girl and was going to prove it by proposing to her. Wow. That's not an arms race I would want to get into.
Mon, Feb 6th: Gainesville, FL
# of books sold: 84
# of books signed: 131
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 10+
# of pictures taken with fans: 45+
# of girls I hooked up with: 1
Thanks: To everyone who works at Gator City, you guys could not have been more helpful, and of course to Leah and Ryan for everything, this signing would not have gone nearly as well without you two, I loved the painted wall. And to everyone who put up fliers, thanks again.
Highlights of the stop: I wish all the stops were like this one. It was so smooth and uneventful; no serious crazies, no weird shit, no abusive drinking, we just chilled at a bar, drank beer, signed books and talked with fans. Being a UK fan, it is part of my breeding to hate UF people, but damn, yesterday was so enjoyable I can't help but praise them. I really do wish all the signings went like that one.
EDIT#1: I forgot about this: One guy came in and told me that he loved my stories, but he had one that could top them. He showed me his phone, and it had a picture of a fat girl giving a guy a blowjob. His explanation, "I paid a 300 pound retarded woman $50 to suck my friends dick in the alley."
Maybe not all UF people are OK.
EDIT#2: Many people don't realize it, but North Florida has some of the most racist people you will ever meet. This one girl was sitting next to me talking about how she'd never hook up with a black guy, tossing around N-bombs all over the place. When she went to the bathroom, I took her cell phone and text-messaged her Dad, "Daddy, I am pregnant...by a black guy...or guys."
EDIT#3: This is a piece written by a reporter who hung out at the signing the whole time:
"Tucker Max is exhausted.
The Internet cult phenomenon swung through Gainesville Monday afternoon for a book signing at Gator City as part of a tour to promote his book entitled "I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell."
The book is a collection of some of his raunchiest stories of drinking and sexual encounters, and a big part of what seems to make Max so famous is his careless treatment of his health and his body. His stories involve drinking to excess while recounting some of his sexual encounters with very, very graphic descriptions.
"Even though a lot of people do what I do, I'm the only one who writes about it," Max said.
Wearing khaki shorts, a plain white Hanes T-shirt and sneakers (along with a day or two's worth of stubble), Max could have passed for any other bar patron relaxing after a long day if not for the line of fans waiting near his table to buy books and get signatures starting at 5 p.m.
Here is a sample conversation between Max and a fan:
Tucker Max: "What's your name?"
Tucker Max Fan: "Sable."
Tucker Max: "Sable, is that your stripper name?"
(He signed her book but asked a minute later, a bit more seriously, "So, was your mom a dancer or something?")
He sat at a table with his friend Mike (or "Kung Fu Mike," as he prefers to be called), who is traveling with him, as well as University of Florida students Leah Bryan and Ryan Renuart, who helped advertise the signing in Gainesville and painted the 34th Street Wall announcing his arrival.
While the line ebbed and flowed throughout the night, the enthusiasm of his fans never seemed to waiver. People seemed thrilled to meet the author, whose book has appeared on the New York Times Bestseller List.
Max is famous because of the stories he posts on his Web site, an ever-expanding collection of alcohol and arrogance, conquests and very few consequences. And that's just the way his fans like it.
"I wanted to see if the Tucker Max in person is anything like the Tucker Max on the computer," said Jariel Bortnick, 22, a first-year law student at UF. "His personality seemed what I expected, but physically he's no different than the average guy."
Max began the book signing at 5 p.m. While signing 131 books and selling more than 80 of them, he was deluged with requests for vulgar inscriptions, pictures, and for him to chime in on fans' phone calls to fellow fans. Within minutes, he had his first request to take a shot with an admirer (followed quickly by a request to down a Jagerbomb).
"I might just do that, then throw up everywhere," Max said, chuckling. "At a book signing."
Monday represented the sixth stop in as many days for the tour, which moves through the east coast and part of the Midwest. Six days of signing, partying and driving an RV (with a rotating collection of friends) to the next stop can take their toll, even on someone who made their name as a partier.
"This is day six, and I've pretty much been wasted the entire time," Max said, who sipped beer steadily throughout the signing -- a nice perk of having a signing in a bar, as opposed to a bookstore.
Max rose to prominence after launching his Web site, www.TuckerMax.com, on Sept. 9, 2002. What initially started as a bet between Tucker and a friend during his second year of law school at Duke University spawned "The Tucker Max Date Application Page," a Web site which is exactly what it sounds like (a chance for women to apply for a date with him), before Max launched the current site in 2002.
The site became a collection of his raunchy stories and tales of drinking, debauchery and generally tasteless stuff so it was, of course, a huge hit. It gets thousands of hits a day and propelled Max to the "cult" fame he currently enjoys.
"The Web site didn't make me; Tucker Max made the Web site," said Max, who attended the University of Chicago before attending Duke on a scholarship. "I was getting girls before the site."
Max seems to have a decent-sized female audience, which may be surprising considering his stories. But it looked as though the women who come to see him were willing to cut him some slack.
One fan brought a pocket-sized breath alcohol tester to show Max, since he showcased in one of his stories. He showed another Max fan, Amy, how to use it.
Guy: "You have to blow slow and steady."
Tucker: "I feel like no one has to tell you how to blow."
Instead of, say, punching him or pouring beer on his head (as has already happened to him at one stop on his tour), Amy just laughed. This is what his fans seem to expect and want.
Max doesn't come across as the brash and tasteless man he writes about; he seems much more calm and sociable. He's perfectly affable and friendly to people, asking his fans about their backgrounds and lives.
His Gainesville stop seemed particularly calm, as Max later noted on his Web site (where he keeps a tally of the important numbers from the trip, including sales, alcoholic drinks consumed and "girls hooked up with"). It was just a relaxing night of drinking beer and hanging out with fans.
Max continued to enjoy his low-key night at the bar before heading to Tallahassee Tuesday morning. He has no misconceptions about his current level of fame - despite parading himself as the picture of arrogance, he notes that he's "not even famous - I'm cult famous" and that "if Eminem were here, you couldn't even move." But he won't deny he does enjoy his fame.
"It totally alters the way you look at reality," said Max. "It becomes almost like a drug - you feed off of it in some way. There's no question, you've gotta want this to do this."
While he had no problem getting girls before the site made him famous, it is different to have girls throw themselves at him the way they do now, he said.
"My life got weird so long ago, I forgot what normal is like," Max said.
By 7 p.m., the slated end of his appearance, the crowd had dwindled. Remaining fans hung out at the table and nearby, enjoying some drinks and chatting. A woman named Jen sat down at Max's table, asking how drunk he'd have to be to hook up with her.
Basically, it was nothing like an average book signing.
Kung Fu Mike put it appropriately. "This is the Mötley Crüe tour of the literary world."
Tues, Feb 7th: Tallahassee, FL
# of books sold: 74
# of books signed: 95
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 15+
# of pictures taken with fans: 35+
# of girls I hooked up with: 0
Thanks: To the FSU bookstore for setting things up for me, and to Erin and Lindsey for giving us a place to crash and shower and BIG thanks to Erin for doing my laundry. God bless you woman.
Highlights of the stop: I am going to drop numerous different rants in this update, and none of them are funny, so if you are looking for something hilarious skip past this.
I am getting so fucking tired of this. Before I start bitching, let me say this: 99% of the people who have come out to see me have been great. Totally normal, very cool, they just want to shake my hand or get a picture or talk for a second or whatever, and I do my best to accomodate all the normal people who approach me. Those people are the reason why I am doing this, and seriously, thanks to all of you for the support, it has meant a lot.
It's the other 1% that really make this annoying. These are the guys (or sometimes girls, but mostly guys) who demand to buy me shots, or just stand around me staring, or pester me all night long with questions like "Are you Tucker Max Drunk yet?"
I am about as small time as someone can be and still be considered a celeb, but after this trip, I can't imagine what a real celebrity's life must be like. No wonder people like Brad Pitt, George Clooney, etc are so hyper about security and privacy. These fucking weirdos are unbelievably persistant and think they have some claim to you just because they know who you are, and they will not leave you alone. It's unreal.
Take last night for instance. Almost everyone who came out to meet me was totally fine; they said hi, got their picture or whatever, and then left me alone, which is the whole point of these things. Not the DudeInTheYellowHat. This motherfucker showed up to AJ's before I did, and pestered me for at least the entire time I was there, and I am pretty sure he was annoying me in my dreams as I slept. It got so bad that other fans and people at other tables, who had no idea who I was, thought that he was some stalker and were telling him to leave. This guy was a complete disaster in every way; he bought at least five rounds of shots for my table after I had asked him to stop, he was sloppy and slurring his words, he was annoying everyone; he was That Guy, except that normally That Guy doesn't have a man crush on another guy.
Until you see this, it is is almost unbelievable. What guy sweats another guy to the point where it becomes uncomfortable? Why do guys do this? If I am some guys hero, that's cool, I have heroes also, but if I saw my hero in a bar I would not annoy him to the point where he would have to get up and move to get away from me.
Whatever, writing about this is pointless. The normal people already know not to act like this, and the fucked up people are going to act like this no matter what I write. I just had to vent for a second, because this behavior just does not register to me. I don't understand it at all.
Since I am ranting, I want to address another email I got:
"I made my girlfriend stuff your book into her bag, and out we went. Once we where inside AJs I spotted you in the back corner of the bar. I was unsure if it was you, and my drunk girlfriend (who enjoyed your book) immediately approached you to have it signed.
Upon approaching you, apparently you immediately began boasting about your number of sexual partners, then propositioned her for sex. She just asked for a signature, so you told her to retrieve a sharpie so you could sign her breast. She mentioned something about having a boyfriend, so you asked if it was an open relationship. She said it was not, so you told her to get lost.
Nothing that you said to her upset me at the time. I am just pissed off that I did not get my book signed. After all, I used my Barnes and Noble gift card from two Christmas's ago on it."
That was not me. I would never in a million fucking years act like that. If someone who was cool enough to buy my book approaches me to get it signed, I am always going to sign it, and I will at least attempt to be civil to them. Yeah, I may hit on the girl also, but I will ALWAYS sign the book, no matter what.
I may be a huge fucking asshole, but generally speaking it is only to people who deserve it; a random fan approaching me in a normal way does not fall under that heading. Seriously, ask anyone who has been to any of these signings; I have been nothing but cool to my fans, because I honestly do appreciate their support. It means a lot to me that people like my stuff and read it, and I want to show that appreciation by being cool to the people who approach me (until they start acting like the DudeInTheYellowHat, of course).
Another way this tour is frustrating me: Every stop I see clearer and clearer the planning mistakes I made, and it drives me nuts. For all intents and purposes, this tour is a huge success, but I am such a perfectionist I hate it when things that could go great only go good. Take this email for example:
"Tucker,
My name is [redacted] and I work in PR at [a major publishing house that turned my book down]. I am emailing you to give you some words of encouragement (as much as your ego may not need them).
I don't know if you realize what you are doing, but I wanted to let you know how astounding it is. For an author to organize and administer his own book tour with only help from his fans is unheard of, and to then pull it off is nothing short of amazing. I have seen little to no media coverage of you or your tour (aside from pieces in college papers), and still you are drawing crowds that our "big" authors would be ecstatic to draw at well-publicized events.
Even though I work as a faithful cog in this awful machine that is publishing, please keep doing what you are doing. As much as you like to talk about yourself, I don't think even you know the impact you are having, and will continue to have (if you could hear the conversations around the water cooler about you...but I digress, your self-esteem does not need inflation, and even the bad things people say would make you smile). If you manage to pull off the grand plans you sometimes talk about on the message board--and after seeing you run this book tour and turn it into a success I am inclined to think you might just have what it takes--you will make publishing, and possibly the entertainment field as a whole, a much better place for authors.
I am rooting for you,
[name redacted]
(If you reprint this email, please do NOT publish my email address or my name, as you and your book are "persona non-grata" with many of my co-workers and especially my bosses, for obvious reasons.)"
The funny thing is, I don't see it the way she sees it. I mean, yes, the book tour is going fairly well, but for the most part I only see all the mistakes and missed opportunities. Every single stop should have drawn at least a 50% larger crowd than it did, some should have drawn a 200% larger crowd, and pretty much the only person I can blame is myself. I could write for three pages about all the mistakes I made on this thing. It drives me nuts.
One last thing, and then I promise I'll get off my soap box: I know I have to talk about this or I am going to get a ton of email about it, but last night I put up my first zero of the tour: No girls hooked up with. It's not because I didn't have opportunity, but honestly, I just needed a full nights sleep, by myself and without anything or anyone else around. It was fucking blissful. I feel rested and rejuvenated and ready to go. Three days ago I was ready to die, now I feel almost normal. A day off today, then Charlottesville tomorrow.
Thursday, Feb 9th: Charlottesville, VA
# of books sold: 104
# of books signed: 136
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 25+
# of pictures taken with fans: 50+
# of girls I hooked up with: 3
Thanks: I want to thank Danny and the rest of the Phi Kappa Psi brothers, you guys did a great job, and I honestly appreciate everything you guys did, the signing went great.
Highlights of the stop: Oh boy, where to start with this one? I think we will begin with the The Day The RV Fought Back.
As we were driving to Charlottesville--huge gashes down the side of the RV, the drivers side mirror smashed, random pieces of the RV broken and skidding around the inside, Mike and I laughing about how we had completely destroyed this thing in less than a week--the RV decided that it had had enough. Mike was behind the wheel, I was making an attempt to get some sleep, and Paul Wall was on the stereo regaling us with tales about the precious stones and rare metals in his dental accesstories, when all of the sudden:
Mike "Dude...something is wrong."
I didn't notice it at first, but we were speeding up. Quickly...and Mike's feet were both firmly planted on the floor.
Mike "What is going on!"
Tucker "HOLY SHIT! THE RV IS FIGHTING BACK!"
Mike freaked out and slammed on the breaks. The RV slowed down, but when he took his foot off the accelerator, the RV started speeding back up.
Mike "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!"
Tucker "TURN IT OFF! HIT THE BRAKES!! AAAHHHHHHH!"
You think the week plus of no sleep was affecting us?
It turns out that the cruise control had shorted out and stuck. Once we turned the RV off and back on, it was fine. Why had the cruise shorted out? Because we left the windows open one day and it rained all over the inside. We eventually make it safely to Charlottesville, despite the RV of Death doing its best to kill us.
If you have read the book then you know I have a special relationship with UVA; I wrote a story called "The Foxfield Story" about a weekend there, I've had three cousins and numerous friends go to school there and I got in for undergrad and grad school and almost went there both times. Everytime I go back to Charlottesville I get mad at myself for not going there; something with the vibe of that school just seems to fit with my personality.
This trip was no different. The brothers of Phi Psi did an amazing job getting shit set up; we roll the RV up and find a huge banner out front of the house with the words "Tucker Max Book Signing Today" printed on it. There are fliers all over the house, they have a table set up on a pedestal, and behind it have a huge cooler filled with ice and beer. I use the word "beer" loosely; in point of fact, it is Beast Ice. If I had gone to a fun undergrad I would wistfully remember years of drinking this when I was too poor to afford anything else, but I don't. Not because I couldn't afford beer, but because no one drinks much at the U of C.
Anyway, I did the signing at UVA from 2pm-7pm, and started drinking at about 1:57pm. This signing may have been my favorite; it was like a party. They had music on, people were playing beer pong and pool, and everyone was having a pretty good time. The people who came by for books were for the most part really cool too. One girl baked me cookies, which were awesome. One girl made me this Raplh Wiggum "I Choo-Choo Choose You" card that was hilarious, and another girl gave me a quick massage because she said I looked tired (I looked more like death than tired, she was being nice). No wonder people love southern girls. They know how to treat you right.
For me, there was one major highlight of the signing: These two obviously young kids came in, very shy and hestitant and flanked by an older woman. I wasn't really paying much attention until I looked up at the kids and saw that they are obviously teenagers, so I looked at the woman with them...it was their mom. And she was HOT.
Tucker "How old are you two?"
Kid1 "14."
Kid2 "16."
Tucker "Are you their mom?"
MILF "Yeah."
Tucker "And you brought them here? Have you read my book?"
MILF "Oh yeah, I have seen the site too. I love it."
Tucker "You are the coolest mom ever. I am smitten. You want a beer?"
MILF "I'd love one."
I signed their books and we talked for awile, but I had to move to the people behind them b/c at this point there was a line. The mom and the kids stuck around for awhile talking to some of the brothers, and like five minutes I waved the mom back over:
Tucker "Are you married?"
MILF [shows me her huge rock] "Of course."
Tucker "Is your husband going to read the inscription on your book?"
MILF "No."
I took her book from her and wrote this:
"PS: I really want to fuck you. Hard. 323-***-****"
Sadly, she never called. Oh well, HotMom, you have my number, you know how to reach me. NYC is only a short plane ride away.
The signing went great and we wrapped it up right at 7. At this point there were two girls hanging out who had expressed interest in fucking me. One was kinda plump but had big tits, and another was decent looking with no tits. I started to debate in my mind which one I would fuck, then I realized, "Why not both?"
I go with the plump girl first, she looked like she'd be better in bed. I kinda snag her and tell her to follow me out to the RV. The frat is full of people at this point, and I am like 20 beers in the bag, so I think I am being really slick and subtle. We go out to the RV and fuck and I was right; she was good in bed.
I casually walk back into the frat...Danny and like 10 people are standing there staring at me, laughing. One of the girls says,
Girl "So on your number scale, was she a 1 or a 2?"
Everyone busts out laughing.
Tucker "She had big tits!"
Danny "So that was her redeeming feature?"
More laughter all around.
Tucker "FUCK ALL OF YOU, I'M A CELEBRITY!"
I have to admit, it was pretty funny. I thought I was being so slick, and they totally, undeniably busted me. Phi Psi 1, Tucker 0. Well played, fellas.
Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me. I did not make the same mistake with the second girl. I had her go out and wait in the RV for me and then I went out there like ten minutes later, pretending that I was on the phone, and fucked her. I'm not sure why I went to these lengths with this girl, she was much better looking than the first. I guess it was that I was drunk and I hate losing, so I had to prove I could ninja fuck and get it past some drunk 21 year olds. Mission accomplished.
After that we went to the place called Orbit. It was fine at first, but quickly turned into a fucking zoo. It's not that it was overcrowded, even though it was packed; the level of attention in that place was oppressive. I know that part of my experience is colored by drunk exaggeration, but in my mind every single person in that place was sweating me. It was so fucking annoying; as cool as the signing and the frat had been, this place sucked that much. It was the unholy triumverate of annoying attention:
-A few guys hanging around like groupies ("You are my god man, I just love you! Let's do shots and get Tucker Max Drunk! Then I can cut you up and eat you and I'll be as cool as you are!"),
-A few guys trying to flex on me ("Why are all these people here for you? Who do you think you are? I mean, I know who you are, but I am only here by coincidence, I didn't come out to meet you or anything, nope, not at all."),
-And a few girls trying to give me attitude ("I don't care if you're Tucker Max, I am not going to fuck you...and I felt the need to tell you this, even though you have never once initiated any contact with me...uhh, I'm just idly curious...where is your RV?")
I'd had enough of this shit. I love going out and drinking and meeting fans and whatnot, but this was just too much. I was tired and worn and just wanted to sleep in a nice warm bed. I was looking for a way to get out of there when my savior made her appearance; the fat girl who baked me cookies for the signing came in. I immediately grab her,
Tucker "Do you have a bed? Of your own, like in an apartment and not a dorm?"
CookieGirl "Yeah, of course. I baked you brownies too!"
It took a lot of self-discipline, but I resisted making a "maybe fat girls shouldn't do so much baking" joke. Besides, this girl was really nice, and I usually only mock annoying fat girls.
Tucker "You want to get out of here? This place is driving me nuts."
CookieGirl "Yeah, I'd love to!"
She and I and her roommate and Mike headed out. I think it was only midnight, but I didn't care, I just wanted to get out of that crush of humanity and get some real sleep in a real bed. I only had to fuck a fat girl to do it...there are almost too many jokes to make here.
EDIT#1: I just want to note that the CookieGirl was actually really a nice girl. I almost feel bad calling her fat, but she is, so what I am supposed to call her? Healthy? That would be like if someone described my personality as "gregarious" instead of "asshole."
EDIT #2: I had a great nights sleep, but Mike did not. His story is hilarious. Reprinted here:
"I am going to preface this blog entry by saying this; I am a happy drunk. When I go out drinking, 199 out of 200 times I am a giggly, joke-cracking burlap sack full o' sunshine. Really. What happened to me late night after the Charlottesville book signing was truly an anomaly that can only be understood when you examine all of the factors involved, which when combined brought out my savagely bitter drunken alter ego...Bjorn the Village Killer.
Tucker and I got the book signing started around 2:00 p.m. at the Phi Kappa Psi house on the UVA campus. They did a great fucking job setting everything up for us; they had a big ass banner out of spray paint and what looked like some pledge's bed sheets that said "Tucker Max Book Signing Today" and had it hanging up for all to see, a covered table set up on a platform and what looked like a 100 gallon Tupperware container filled with ice and Milwaukee's Beast Ice sitting directly behind us. It was glorious.
3:00 p.m. Tucker and I started cracking beers and pounding them with reckless abandon. After both of us had tossed three empties into the trash can, he turned to me with a look on his face that could only be described as a cross between fear and curiosity and said, "Mike, we are going to get extremely shitfaced here. Nothing good can come from this." After having spent a little under two weeks on the death march/book signing tour I completely understood how he felt.
3:01 p.m. I cracked another beer. I ain't never scurred.
4:00 p.m. I had abandoned my job as the JewFace Killah (working the cashbox) to play Beirut with the brothers. Tucker started having a hard time choosing between yelling at me to get back to the signing table and flirting with groupies. After three merciless beatings and me strutting around talking shit like Neon Deon Sanders, I returned to my station and helped take money for books only to find that giving people correct change while buzzed was quickly becoming a challenge. Doing two things at once is hard. I have a newfound respect for Bodie Miller now.
5:00 p.m. Tucker fucked his first chick of the night. I am left to sit by the cash box and entertain the sea of people in front of me who were all asking me "why Tucker was fucking the fat Asian looking midget" in the RV. I told them that he needs a girl with some meat on her bones to keep tension on the belt around his neck while he jerks off. All of the guys laugh. The girls just kind of looked on with wide eyes their jaws dropped, hoping and praying that I was kidding. Awesome.
5:19 p.m. At this point I was chain smoking while double fisting Milwaukee's Beast Ice and some kind of energy drink. Tucker strolls back in and everybody laughs at him for deep-dicking the oompa loompa. His response; "DID YOU SEE THE CARD SHE GAVE ME? THE 'I CHOO-CHOO-CHOOSE YOU' CARD?! I HAD TO FUCK HER!!" The laughter increased. Tucker was so drunk and exhausted that he could only shake is head and stare at the floor as he walked back to the book signing table.
7:00 p.m. Tucker and I looked at eachother and decided that we were far too drunk to continue selling and signing books. This is where I did the bulk of my drinking, trying to suck down the last remaining Beast Lights before we were forced to drink Beast Ice for the rest of the night.
7:20 p.m. I was sitting at the book signing table chatting it up with some chicks when out of nowhere, someone grabbed the sunglasses off of my head and tossed them on the floor in front of me.
~Bjorn the Village Killer starts warming up with jumping jacks~
I stopped everything I was doing, balled up one of my fists and started turning around slowly. Tucker was standing directly behind me with his hands up laughing at me; "Dude, it's me. Relax!" I laughed at how short my temper had become after 10 days of driving, drinking and fucking without any real sleep. I finished the last Beast Light and began rummaging through the cooler for another beer.
8:00 p.m. A girl came up to me and told me that she didn't understand how Tucker was fucking all sorts of chicks on the tour and that they should be fucking me because I'm "hotter and nicer" than he is. I told her that I agreed, and that we should hook it up later on that night. She concurred. Her even more attractive friend also began saying the same thing and the possibility of a threesome reared its filthy little head.
8:30 p.m. Me, the two chicks and Tucker all walked down to this awesome fucking deli in town to eat some food before we became too drunk to shovel food into our gullets. As we were eating, the two chicks reiterated what they told me back at the frat house in front of Tucker. "There you go, Mike. You know what you're doing tonight!" Yeah, I thought I did until Tucker made one of them cry and run out of the deli, forcing the other one to follow her out the door to console her.
~Bjorn the Village Killer begins aerobic stretching~
9:00 p.m. We get back to the frat house to round up the troops and have a few more beers before we headed to the after party at a place called Orbit. The two chicks that stormed out of the deli made it back and were hanging out by the doorway, refusing to set foot in the main room were everyone was. I walked over to them and one of them was bawling.
Girl 1: "I'm sorry I'm crying. I'm so sorry, you must hate me."
Me: "Don't be sorry, why the fuck are you crying, Tucker wasn't even being mean to you, it was your friend he was yelling at."
Girl 1: "I know, I know...I don't get it, why is he such an ASSHOLE?!"
Me: "Let me get you a beer."
I put all of five minutes patting her on the head and telling her that it was ok before she snapped out of it. I put my jacket back on and was about to bring her out to the RV when her friend came and dragged her out the door, never to be seen again.
~Bjorn the Village Killer is now jogging in place and checking his pulse~
10:00 p.m. We arrived at Orbit. It was ok for about 5 minutes before the fans strolled in and began choking the life force out of Tucker and myself with offers from dudes to get "Tucker Max Drunk" and the occasional jealous, pussy starved guy trying to muscle up and talk shit. It was unbelievably oppressive.
It was around this time when this very cute chick in a green shirt and HUGE boobs began chatting me up, buying me beers and telling me that she wanted me to stay at her place. I thought to myself, "Finally, I have somewhere to put this hard on of mine and fall asleep on a real bed instead of waking up alone in Anne Frank's attic with scoliosis." We moved to one of the couches and began to make out and unabashedly grope eachother in front of people. After a few minutes, I got up to take a piss. I came back to find - HAPPY SURPRISE - GirlinGreenShirt passed out on the couch, completely shitfaced.
~Bjorn the Village Killer begins to sharpen his war axe on the skulls of the innocent~
Seeing as that I like the nickname KungFu Mike more than Shifty McRapist, I left her to keep my jacket warm with her drunken corpse and went to find Tucker, who was so freaked out by the situation inside the bar that he grabbed the first female fan he could find so we could escape to the confines of her apartment, which happened to be a couple of blocks away.
11:00 p.m. Tucker grabs one of the chicks and drags her into her bedroom. The other girl, a very cute Asian girl, looks at me and says, "You know I have a boyfriend, right?"
~Bjorn the Village Killer is now ritualistically bathing in the blood of sacrificed children and singing songs about days of raping and pillaging past.
11:10 p.m. VeryCuteAsian drives me to the RV. When we arrive, she asks me if she can get a tour of the inside. Once again, I have managed to take lemons and make lemonade. We got inside and it was FREEZING in there. The temperature in Charlottesville couldn't have been above 35 degrees that night, and for some reason it felt even colder inside the RV, perhaps it was baby Jesus slipping ice cubes down the back of my soul's t-shirt either way it was God damn cold. I was about to turn the ignition so we could heat up the place to a suitable fuck-making temperature when it hit meTucker had the keys to the RV. I called his phone no answer. VeryCuteAsian decided to take off, leaving me alone in the cold, dark innards of the recreational vehicle to stew in my own vehemence.
~Bjorn the Village Killer dons his horned helmet and assumes the three point stance~
11:30 p.m. There I was; 10 days into the book signing tour, exhausted to the point of sensory loss, pummel-fuck drunk, sporting a semi from three potential hook up situations that went to hell and frozen solid with no place to sleep and no feasible way to correct the situation. My emotional meltdown was inevitable; the only question was when and where it was going to come to a head.
12:00 p.m. I bolted out of the RV and hiked the 6 blocks over to a bar called Jabberwocky where she was drinking with friends. I got to the door and the bouncer wouldn't let me in due to the fact that the shit hole flop house was packed to capacity. I told him that I was meeting a friend in there and he fucking slammed the door in my face like I was some kind of leper looking for a bathroom to wash my sores in. I called the chick up and told her what happened. Her response? "Oh, that sucks. Too bad." *Click*
Ladies and gentleman, Bjorn the Village Killer has entered stage left.
With my nostrils flares and my fists balled up I started the journey to the RV, staring at the ground in an attempt to keep myself from engaging in conversation that would ultimately lead to me sitting in a cell minus my belt and shoelaces. I didn't make it 50 feet before my shoulder clipped a mailbox. I started kicking the shit out of it and screaming obscenities. When I was done, some guy actually started talking to me.
Random guy: "Hey man, are you ok?"
Me (long pause) "WRONG QUESTION!!!"
As I trekked back to my frozen sleeping chamber I walked by a handful of other people. They said nothing to me, but they were in my way and in my mind that meant that they would feel Bjorn's cold, northern fury.
"WHY ARE YOU WALKING SO CLOSE TO ME?! ARE WE FUCKING DATING?! AM I TAKING YOU TO THE FUCKING PROOOMMMMMM?!"
"GRAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHRRRRGHHHH" (Kicking newspaper machine)
"WALK FUCKING FASTER. IF I WANTED TO SEE A JIMMY FUND PARADE I'D GO TO YOUR FAMILY FUCKING REUNION!!!AARRGHHHH!!!!"
"WHOOOOOOOOORE!!! YOU ARE A FUCKING SHIT-CUNT WHOOOOOOOOOOREEE!!! FUUUUUUUUUCKING FUUUUUUUUUUUCK!!!!"
(To a happy couple strolling down the street) "GET OUT OF MY FUCKING WAY YOU UGLY FUCKING WHORE. I DON'T KNOW HOW YOUR BOYFRIEND GETS HARD LOOKING AT YOUR SCREW MUG, YOU FUCKING CLOWN-FACED FUCK HOLE!!!."
12:30 p.m. Somehow, I made it back to the RV without being shot. After a few rounds of screaming to myself and pounding the tabletop with my frozen hands, I called Bunny in the hopes that she would talk me off of the ledge. She was phenomenal, as usual. I swear, she should get a job as a hostage negotiator or something.
As I was calming down, I got a beep on the other line from the chick that hung up on me. She had left the bar, and wanted me to meet up with her at her friend's place and let me sleep at her house afterwards. At that point I didn't care about my pride anymore; that awful girl had just hung up on me and Bjorn would normally punish such insolence with cruel wordsbut she had a soft bed in a room with heat. I folded and walked over to her place another 7 blocks away.
1:30 p.m. I finally made it to her friend's place, physically and emotionally drained, with snots frozen to the sides of my face. I walked inside and I instantly recognized a few people from the book signing earlier that day, one of them being this really cute chick that Tucker offered a free book to if she did 20 push-ups (she only ended up doing 17.5, but we gave her a discount for effort). I would have totally put my remaining strength into hooking up with herbut I was a battle weary man and I didn't need to gamble away my only sure shot at a place to crash.
2:30 a.m. I turned to the girl that I was staying with and asked her when she planned on going home so I could sleep. "In a few minutes, don't worry" she told me.
5:00 a.m. We finally walk back to her house (which ended up being directly NEXTDOOR mind you, I could have fucking walked over and slept instead of entertaining people with tales from the road and doing stupid Tucker Max Q & A for a room full of people smoking out of a hookah and drinking Miller Light for 2.5 hours), took our clothes off and got in to bed. I didn't even expect to hook up at that point, but as soon as the lights went out we were fooling around.
5:30 a.m. Right as we were about to fuck, she turned to me and says, "You know, I think I should just go to bed."
~Bjorn the Village Killer has put on his superman pajamas and is fast asleep, sucking his thumb and dreaming about future village torching~
Without saying a word, I turned away from her and closed my eyes, completely incapable of any kind of rebuttal, civil or otherwise.
7:00 a.m. I woke up to the sound of my cell phone going off. It was Tucker, and he wanted to start driving right away. I hopped out of bed, tossed my clothes on and bolted out of the front door, my only fuel at that moment being my manic desire to get the fuck out of Charlottesville as soon as physically possible.
KUNGFU MIKE POST-SCRIPT - Tucker just forwarded this email to me:
'Tucker,
Hey man I'm in Phi Psi at UVA. I was just wondering if Kungfu Mike had written his account of his late night c-ville antics. When I was talking to him he was pretty drunk and I have a friend that said he saw someone roaming the streets late-night with a red jacket yelling at people.
Glad you had a good time here. You should consider coming back for Foxfields again.
-Ben'"
EDIT#3: Just got this email from Danny at Phi Psi. He fills in some gaps that I had forgotten/missed:
"Hey man,
I just read your recap of the UVA signing. I'm glad you had a good
time, but thought I'd add a little to the story from my perspective if
you want to include this as well.
I don't know if you remember this but at one point at Orbit a a short,
stubby blond with what you described to her as "gargantuan tits" came up
to you and me and the three of us talked for a few minutes. Things
quickly turned ugly when she refused to buy the two of us shots. Being
you, you said something horrible to her and she then went into a tirade
about not fucking you because you were some "D-list celebrity."
Well, I just thought you'd like to know that she showed up at the house
a little after closing time looking for you. She was stumbling around
the halls saying shit like "I don't just fuck anyone, but I'm gonna fuck
Tucker." What a hypocritical whore. We kicked her out after a few
minutes of that shit.
The twelve hour binge caught up with me after that and I passed out only
to wake up a few hours later to engage in a violent puking session. You
are probably thinking who the fuck cares dude. But the fact of the
matter is that I have been drinking since I was 15 and I can count on my
hands the number of times I have puked. Consider your work here at UVA
complete.
I also have no idea how the fuck you managed to get out of here so early
the next morning. I got up around 9:00 feeling like you had accidently
hit me with your RV and I noticed you guys were already gone. I imagine
you had to feel pretty much the same. I almost called you just to make
sure your RV wasn't a flaming wreck on the side of the highway.
Seriously, from what I understand you can't even drive that thing sober
and you had to still be tanked when you guys took off.
And one more thing; the heffer that we called you out on. I don't know
if you forgot about this or not, but that's the same girl that wrote you
that Choo-choo card and that was another of the redeeming features you
cited in raising her from a 1-star to a 2-star. I guess we were all
just unaware that the criteria for upping a girl's status went beyond
the physical to corny forms of humor. Whatever.
That's all I got. I had a blast. Feel free to come party with us
anytime and good luck with the rest of the tour."
Friday, Feb 10th: College Park, MD
# of books sold: 93
# of books signed: 112
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 12+
# of pictures taken with fans: 35+
# of girls I hooked up with: 1
Thanks: To the Maryland Book Exchange and to Jeff for setting everything up.
Highlights of the stop: This might turn out to be my favorite update to write. Let's see: The signing went smoothly. My favorite part was this one girl who, over the course of two hours, came by three times. The last time she started giggling and handed me a note, then ran off. It said:
"This is the third time I have been by to see you. Maybe we should 'get together' later. ***-***-****, [name]"
I would have called her, but I lost the note. Oh well, sorry babe, I totally would've fucked you, next time just be a little more forward. There is no reason to be shy with me; we could have gone right out to the RV.
After the signing we drove from College Park to Rosslyn, where SlingBlade lives, to shower and what not. I was supposed to go to an after party at Cornerstone in College Park from 7-9, but as soon as I sat on SlingBlades couch, ten days of excessive drinking and lack of sleep caught up and I passed out. Besides, after the debacles of the past few days, I was none too eager to be surrounded by socially awkward dudes who just want to "hang out and talk."
Me, SlingBlade and KungFu Mike finally roll into the bar around 9:30, and take some bar stools at the end of the bar. It takes about 15 minutes before the first people find us, but thankfully they are girls, so it was fine...or so I thought.
This girl who looked no older than 16 comes up to me and says,
Girl "Are you Tucker Max?"
I see her braces and start to feel dirty. I can't even make a joke at this point.
Tucker "Uh, yeah."
Awkward silence ensues. No question this girl is in high school.
Girl "So...where are you from?"
SlingBlade gives me a look that can be described as "these are your fans, you disgusting pedophile."
Tucker "Kentucky."
Girl "Like the Derby?"
SlingBlade "We've got a winner here. This one still hasn't even learned how to have an adult conversation. Maybe you should ask her who her favorite Laguna Beach character is, that's more her speed."
She ran off after that, thank god. A few more girls came up, most of them just saying 'hi' and then leaving, until these two who were at the signing stopped by, "Elise," who has been emailing me for the past month asking if we can hook up, and her friend. This is the first email she sent me:
"I found your website through a friend and began reading late last night. Once I started I couldn't stop, and I read on for 2 hours before my eyes couldn't take staring at my computer screen any longer. As soon as I woke up this morning I picked up where I left off, and I have been reading all day. In short, you are a skeezy asshole with whom no self respecting woman would ever associate, but for some reason I am so very attracted to you. If you decide to come to College Park, I'm down for meeting up. If you decide you don't want to fuck me, there are 15,000 other girls to choose from!"
[In her defense, this is a fairly standard email for girls her age to send me. Before you dog her, you should think back to what a worthless fuck bag you were at 19. I know I was a big one.]
Anyway, Elise has a great body and is a nice girl, but...how do I say this, she was very...pliable, I guess is the right word. Perhaps "eager to please" is better. Of course, after that email I don't know what else I should expect. Maybe some self-respect, but if she had that, she wouldn't be throwing herself at me in the first place.
Once I established the ground rules with Elise--that we were going to fuck and that I was going to spend the night in her warm, comfortable bed--I got bored with her and talked to other people. But SlingBlade had some fun messing with her.
SlingBlade "Call one of your whore friends and bring her out. I would like something soft and warm for my penis, please."
Elise "Why don't you just tell girls you are SlingBlade, they will want to fuck you then."
SlingBlade "What are you talking about? Is this your perception of reality, that I am famous enough that all these girls know who I am?"
Elise "Yeah, sure, I guess."
SlingBlade "You're an idiot."
Elise "Well just go up and dance with a girl and then she'll sleep with you."
SlingBlade "What? What are you describing, your average night?"
Elise "Yeah, pretty much."
SlingBlade "And here I was, wondering what Tucker saw in you."
Elise went to do something, so SlingBlade engaged Elise's friend.
SlingBlade "Does she hook up a lot?"
Friend "Yes, she fucked 17 guys last semester. I know all of them, I've talked to them, they all say she's awful in bed. Apparently she just lays there like a corpse."
SlingBlade "How many did you sleep with last semester?
Friend "Three...BUT I WAS DATING THEM!"
Elise and I eventually leave together and go back to her place. If by "place," I mean "dorm room." Yes, I know how fucking sad that is. Normally I would have taken her back to my luxurious RV for sex, but after ten days on the road I am desperate for a soft, warm bed and some sense of normalcy. Why I think I can find this by fucking 19 year old state school cum dumpsters in their college dorm rooms, I don't know. Alcohol has destroyed my reasoning abilities.
We get back to her dorm (I didn't have to sign into this one, thank god) and then to her room and start fucking. I finish quickly; I just want to go to sleep at this point, which I do right after I come.
I am not sure what time it is when she wakes me up, but its not the morning so I am pissed. She turns the light on, start moving around, and weeks of frustration with this tour come out on her. I just let loose with a string of profanities and obscenities, telling her to turn off the light and shut the fuck up so I can sleep. Then she starts crying.
Great. I've had enough of this. Of these stupid girls who keep coming out to fuck me, of not sleeping in a bed, of this tour, of everything. I just put on my clothes and leave; as I go out the door she screams, still in tears, "I had a great time!"
I go to the elevator and press the button. Down the hall there are several people playing grab-ass or something, I wasn't really paying attention, when all of the sudden someone yells, "Is that Tucker Max?"
I have never been happier to see an elevator door open. I don't even know how I found my way home; I got on some bus and then the Metro and between bouts of passing out and asking people for help, I somehow got to the right place.
Seriously, is this really my life? You couldn't write fiction like this, no one would believe it. Sadly, this is not the end. I present to you, the email aftermath:
1. From Elise, the next day:
"First off, i am still pretty drunk, so im sorry if i am incoherent at any point in this email.
i just wanted to apologize for tonight, i know under any circumstance the excuse "i was really drunk" is not appropriate, but tonight i was REALLY drunk, and i definately said some things that i shouldnt have. other than that, i really dont remember much of the ngiht, but im curious to see your account on your website (and as i already see, you are pretty angry with me). sooooo, again, sorry, and peace out."
2. From some random dude who heard about the story before I posted it:
"My friends and I are eagerly waiting around, refreshing your book tour page for the update in College Park. I had the opportunity to fuck [Elise], and can describe it as nothing more than one of the worst lays I've ever had. We are cracking up about this as we speak and look forward to what is bound to be one the most hilarious updates I've read on your book tour."
3. From a random girl who did the same:
"Hey Tucker! Im a huge fan and was visiting the University of Maryland last night. I was unable to make it to the signing or the party, and was extremely pissed off bc i didnt get to see you. ARound 2 or 3 am.. (not sure exactly when, the hours are sort of a blur to me now) I am walking in a hall of the freshman dorms and am suprised to see the message board of a girls dorm.."Im fucking Tucker Max". First of all, i started flipping out because i figured you might still be in there and i wanted to join in haha. so i start banging on this girls door and finally this three year old looking pale skinny girl comes to the door and is like who are you. I basically tell her that im in love with you and ask her if you had been there. She proceeds to tell me that you had just been there and left, but that you probably hate her. I ask her to tell me the story and am quite amused at what she has to say. She tells me that sure enough, you had been fucking her, and that it was all good for awhile. Then she tells me that she started crying because you puller her hair too hard. I tried to stifle my laughter, and felt sorry for the girl for a second, as she looked on the verge of tears again. I ask her if she knows where you have gone, and she dropped SlingBlades name but obviously i had no idea where the hell his place was. Basically, i thought this was really funny bc i read your update on how you are never fucking a college freshman again and i cracked up thinking about how she kicked you out for "pulling her hair to hard" haha cant wait for a further update.. just thought you might wanna hear her side of the story haha.. I really want to come to a signing , but there are no more around here as i live in the Baltimore area. I see that you might go to UDel, but not until fall and i dont wanna wait that long haha. What are your summer plans.. will you be doing any touring then?? Wrtie back if you get time, if not, keep degrading womean and being the biggest fucking pimp around, you're my hero. haha <3 always"
4. And then there is this one. This is quite possibly my favorite of the bunch. Read it first:
"Hey Tucker,
This is the little blonde freshman's roomate. We just wanted to make sure, for our safety and yours, that you will keep in mind the fact that you came into my room also last night. Please remember to be mindful in what you say about the 'items' in the room last night; or information of physical abuse could emerge. haha all in playfulness. keep it dl and keep fucking ass"
The "items" this dumbass is referring to are the fucking POUND of marijuana and three foot water bong on the table when I walked in the room. I wasn't going to say anything at first, but since this idiot decided to threaten me, the gloves are off.
I don't care if you are playing, you don't ever, ever threaten me. The "abuse" this idiot is talking about are the consentual bite marks I left on Elise, and I think maybe I pulled her hair during sex. Considering that she liked it then, I am not worried about "abuse" allegations, but you might want to find new place to store your pot, or you may find out what the penalties for "possession with intent to distribute" are.
EDIT#1: I forgot about this; some college website was having a promotion at Cornerstone that night, and the guys who run it recognized me and came over to talk. They were cool guys, and were giving me the standard "I love your stuff, I'm a huge fan" bit, and they asked me,
Guys "Why are you College Park?"
Tucker "I had a book signing today."
Guys "You have a new book out?"
I didn't show it, but this enraged me. I wasn't mad at those guys at all, they didn't do anything wrong, but when the average person--who is already a fan, and recognizes you in a bar--doesn't even know that you have a new book out (forget the book tour), then something is wrong with your book's PR. Yet I STILL made the NY Times Best Seller List.
ANOTHER SPECIAL SLINGBLADE UPDATE:
We are staying at SlingBlade's place in DC and I left my computer out last night...big mistake. These are the three emails he sent that I have found so far:
-To a girl who was asking about the location of one of my signings:
"You better show up to my signing or I will kill your whole family. I'm serious. I killed 12 people last year alone. I'm going to ejaculate on your corpse. Even bums won't fuck you when I'm done with you. Smooches."
-To a girl who sent me a Hook-Up Application and wrote it in teenager internet-ese:
"hey gurl. i'm glad u hollad at me. LOL. me gonna spew ejaculate all over dat ass baby. me can't wait yoyoyoyoyoyoyo. LMAO, ROTFLMAO, u is soooooooooooooooooo pretty. pretty gurl. pretty gurl makes me wanna go boom-boom. me go boom-boom wit u :-)."
-To someone who tried to call me out about something stupid:
"When I see you in hell you will pay dearly for your insolence. In the meantime, don't fuck up my shit with that delicate flower you call your fat friend. Also do you have any other fat friends (male of female) and/or are you fat?"
Saturday, Feb 11th: Annapolis, MD
# of books sold: 86
# of books signed: 98
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 8
# of pictures taken with fans: 50+ (so far)
# of girls I hooked up with: 0
Thanks: To Hard Bean in Annapolis and everyone who came out.
Highlights of the stop: Alright, the actual Annapolis signing itself went great. A ton of Midshipmen came out, which was pretty much the whole reason I went there. Over the years I have had a lot of support from Navy and Naval Academy guys, so I wanted to stop there to show my appreciation. Well, everything went fine except for two things:
1. This dude asked me if he could free-style rap for me. You read that right: Free-style rap. And he was whiter than Christmas. Seriously. My Awkward Meter went off the scale, so I refused at first. He kept insisting, so I did this:
Tucker "Here is a coffee cup. Go stand outside and freestyle rap to passers-by. If you can collect two dollars in quarters, I'll let you rap to me."
An hour later the dude comes in with 8 fucking quarters in his cup...so I let him rap. To call it a Sesame Street rhyme would be a compliment. I think one of his friends recorded it, and I hope for his sake no one ever sees it. I have never been more embarassed for another person in my life.
2. This one cute girl with big tits wanted to hook up with me. No problem, I had an RV there, but she looked a bit young, so as per my standard procedure I asked to see an ID.
Girl "Uhhh...I left it in the car."
Tucker "Go out and get it. I'm patient."
Girl "Uhh...maybe I left it at home."
Tucker "Of course you did. Go away."
Another girl told me she was 18, and I called her out about it, so she brought me an ID...that said she was 22. The girl was actually 16.
Why do underage girls do this? They have to know that I am going to ask for ID and they have to know I am not going to fuck them unless they are clearly above age. Is it fun to try and put me in a position where I can go to jail? Seriously, this is not funny or cute, stop it. I am not into underage girls, teenagers do not turn me on, and I don't like being propositioned by little girls (even if they look 22). I will fuck you when you are 18, BUT NOT BEFORE, so STOP ASKING.
Sunday, Feb 12th: Washington, DC
# of books sold: 71
# of books signed: 102
# of alcoholic drinks consumed: 0 (thank god)
# of pictures taken with fans: 20+
# of girls I hooked up with: 0
Thanks: To Ken and the brothers of Lambda Chi, you guys were awesome and stepped up great, I appreciate it and I owe you one.
Highlights of the stop: This was a great signing, I wish I could have spent more time there, the people who showed seemed pretty cool and whatnot, I was just totally drained and needed to get home and get some rest.
I do have to mention this: My favorite part of this signing was the girl who showed up with brand new fake breasts, and asked me to examine them and give my opinion, and I did so obligingly. Nothing on earth would make happier than to become the defacto expert on fake tits.
ANOTHER SLINGBLADE UPDATE:
I just got this email from him. I'll give you one guess who's shampoo that he is referring to:
"Either you or your nancy-fag boyfriend KungFu Mike left your high-falutin shampoo in my apartment. I usually use Suave, which, as far as I can tell, is the cheapest shampoo you can buy without driving into Mexico. So I tried your apricot scented repleshing 3 in 1 homoerotic cleanser and I've never had a better hair day. I feel glorious. I just began lisping and feel the sudden urge to dance to techno. I also realized that my pants aren't nearly tight enough."
Monday, Feb 13th-15th: NYC
I am back home for three days rest. It is true; sleep loss really is cumulative. I think I slept 16 hours yesterday, and I am still drained.
Overall, the first part of the tour was both a success and a dissappointment; with virtually no press I am drawing big crowds, but I would have drawn bigger crowds had I organized the tour better (and of course if I had gotten the press I should have). Of course, I've never put a book tour together, so I guess it's alright. Most of the mistakes I made on the first leg should be rectified on the second leg; the signings are generally later in the day and in more central locations, and there is more lead time for papers and magazines to do stories.
Furthermore, I am done with that fucking RV. Never again. For the second leg we are renting an SUV and just staying in hotel rooms. Driving that thing is fucking insane, I'm never doing it again. I must have done several hundred dollars worth of damage to that thing; I'm not actually sure, I didn't stick around to hear about the total damages, I just dropped it off and then cancelled the credit card I paid with, so they couldn't tack more shit on. When I peeled out of the lot, they were still trying to count up the damage.
Go to The Tucker Max Book Tour Running Update, Part 3
Posted by Tucker Max at 1:07 AM