The Famous “Sushi Pants” Story
I used to think that Red Bull was the most destructive invention of the past 50 years. I was wrong. Red Bull has been usurped by the portable alcohol breathalyzer.
The Assholes Finish First Book Tour schedule is posted. Click here for details.
I used to think that Red Bull was the most destructive invention of the past 50 years. I was wrong. Red Bull has been usurped by the portable alcohol breathalyzer.
I have no excuse for what I did; it was wrong and I regret it. Even though I normally revel in my outlandish behavior, sometimes even I cross the line, and this is one of those situations….but of course, I’m still going to write about it.
I used to think that I’d seen everything. I had experienced so many things that I had become jaded with life; nothing affected me anymore. I was world-weary in the truest sense.
That was before I drank absinthe.
On a crisp Thursday night in early October, SlingBlade, PWJ, El Bingeroso and I began our journey to Dallas. We would soon become known to the State of Texas by our historical names: Pestilence, Plague, Hunger, and Death.
Raise your hand up if you’ve ever heard a professional team mascot say “What the fuck are you doing, you asshole?”
We arrive at the lacrosse house, and I begin sucking back the Everclear/Gatorade/Red Bull mixture, which I will hereafter refer to as “Tucker Death Mix.” It tasted like ghetto romance. It was awesome.
The summer after law school graduation, I moved to Boca Raton, Florida and took a job managing my father’s restaurants. I wasn’t really expecting to meet a girl I would like, as the general intellectual level of South Florida is somewhere above “functionally retarded.”
You might want to stop reading here. The ensuing conversation I am about to recount prevented me from sleeping for a full two days, and has permanently and irreversibly scarred me. Save your psyche while you still can.
Sometimes, too much to drink is still not enough. I needed therapy to bury my anxiety, and alcohol was going to be my counselor. Yes friends, this was going to be one of “those” nights.
The problem with oral sex is that it’s like writing. When done right, it’s amazing, but there are just so many ways it can go wrong, and when it goes wrong, it’s just not worth it. These are some of my funnier blow job stories.
On the Friday morning that MTV was in Chicago filming me, around 4am, my appendix ruptured. The pain was so intense it woke me from my sleep. It felt like my lower right abdomen had been stabbed with a rusty serrated kitchen knife and twisted around in my gut.
Everything I am about to tell you is true. This is the complete and unadulterated story, as I can best remember it, behind my infamous summer with Fenwick & West and the very famous “Tucker Max Charity Auction Debacle” email.
We all have dreams. Martin Luther King dreamt of racial harmony. Larry Hagman dreamt of Jeannie. For over a decade, I dreamt of fucking a midget. One weekend in July of 2006, I finally achieved my dream. It went down like this…