Good

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I HOPE
THEY SERVE BEER
IN HELL




i

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I HOPE
THEY SERVE BEER
IN HELL



TUCKER MAX












CITADEL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com

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CITADEL PRESS BOOKS are published by

Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022

Copyright © 2006 Tucker Max

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by
any means without the prior written consent of the publisher, excepting brief
quotes used in reviews.

All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special
quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotions, premiums, fundraising,
educational, or institutional use. Special book excerpts or customized
printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone
the office of the Kensington special sales manager: Kensington Publishing
Corp., 850 Third Avenue, New York, NY 10022, attn: Special Sales Department;
phone 1-800-221-2647.

CITADEL PRESS and the Citadel logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
First printing: January 2006

10 9 8 7 6

Printed in the United States of America

Library of Congress Control Number: 2005934008

ISBN 0-8065-2728-5

iii

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CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS......................................................................................................... vi
AUTHOR’S NOTE .................................................................................................................viii

TUCKER MAX STORIES
THE FAMOUS SUSHI PANTS STORY .................................................................................. 1
THE NIGHT WE ALMOST DIED ........................................................................................... 7
THE BLOW&JOB FOLLIES .................................................................................................. 20
EVERYONE HAS "THAT" FRIEND ..................................................................................... 26
TUCKER FUCKS A FAT GIRL; HILARITY ENSUES ........................................................ 45
THE NOW INFAMOUS TUCKER MAX CHARITY AUCTION DEBACLE ..................... 52
QUITE THE VACATION ....................................................................................................... 65
TUCKER GOES TO VEGAS.................................................................................................. 68
FLOSS ...................................................................................................................................... 84
THE FOXFIELD WEEKEND ................................................................................................. 86
THE AUSTIN ROAD TRIP .................................................................................................... 96
MY KEY WEST TRIP........................................................................................................... 131
GIRL BEATS TUCKER AT HIS OWN GAME................................................................... 134
TUCKER TRIES BUTTSEX; HILARITY DOES NOT ENSUE ......................................... 140
THIS'LL JUST HURT A LITTLE ......................................................................................... 147
THE UT WEEKEND ............................................................................................................. 152
THE PEE BLAME ................................................................................................................. 163
TUCKER GOES TO A HOCKEY GAME............................................................................ 167
THE ABSINTHE DONUTS STORY .................................................................................... 173
THE MOST DISTURBING CONVERSATION EVER ....................................................... 185
SHE WON'T TAKE NO FOR AN ANSWER....................................................................... 194

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TUCKER RUPTURES HIS APPENDIX .............................................................................. 198
THE SEX STORIES .............................................................................................................. 208
TUCKER HAS A MOMENT OF REFLECTION; ENDS POORLY ................................... 219
THE DOG VOMIT STORY .................................................................................................. 228
THE MIDLAND, TEXAS STORY ....................................................................................... 234
THE WORST TUCKER STORY EVER............................................................................... 248

APPENDIX
APPENDIX 1: THE TUCKER MAX FEMALE RATING SYSTEM .................................. 254
APPENDIX 2: THE TUCKER MAX DRUNK SCALE ....................................................... 256





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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

The Bunny-For whatever issues we've had, and there have been
many, no one has been more solidly in my corner. Not my parents, not
my friends, not even my dogs. She is a very special person. [BTW,
she is an excellent writer in her own right and I suggest you check out
her site: thebunnyblog.com. But finish my book first.]

PWJ-I am a proud and complex man, and as a result I have to face
most of my problems alone. But sometimes even I need someone to
go to, and PWJ was there to help pull me out of the two lowest points
of my life. Friends like this are beyond rare; they are priceless in the
truest sense of the word.

Nils Parker (aka Drunkasaurusrex)-I would call him the Robin to my
Batman, but that underestimates the importance that his contributions
make. Robin is replaceable; Nils might not be.

Donika Miller-It's hard to describe why Donika has been so important
to my development as a writer. She is someone who really gets
it, but isn't seduced by my bullshit. She sees through the crap to the
real issues, she isolates the problems I don't see, she does more than
just add value-her critiques turn good writing into great writing.

My law school friends get a separate mention, not only because they've
had to put up with more shit from me than almost anyone, but because
more than half these stories wouldn't exist without them playing the
foils: PWJ (he gets two mentions), SlingBlade, Hate, Credit, JoJo,
GoldenBoy, EI Bingeroso, JonBenet, and Carolyn (my first year
roommate). In a very real way, these guys helped mold the person I am
today.

Those who have always been there to help whenever I asked, who've
saved my ass in several situations, and who otherwise have contributed
something tangible to this book: Luke Heidelberger (without whom my
site probably wouldn't work at all), Max Wong (my mentor in
the entertainment business; plus she gives great critique), D-Rock (who
has gotten me out of lots of fights and always calls my shit out when I
need it), The Cousin (the JV me), Dickless Vonboffinsheep Bedwettter,
the Turd (always willing to give me a vacation spot), Junior, Skippon,
Sharts, Ford, Zach Albarron (the craziest guy I know), Laura, Christine
(whose commentary was golden) and all my other 'real life' friends.

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I have to thank my agent and my editor. My agent Byrd Leavell has not
only believed in me from day one, he has fought for me where almost
no one else would. I am probably too fucked up to ever get married or
even have another serious long term relationship with a woman, but I
can't imagine dumping Byrd. As for my editor, Jeremie Ruby-Strauss:
I'll get all the press and the credit, whatever there is, for this book, but
he deserves some of it. He not only got my vision for this book, but
actually fought all the bullshit bureaucratic battles to maintain that
vision. Without these two guys, I would still be just an Internet writer.

To anyone I've forgotten who should have been in here: I am a bad
person and I'm sorry, but if you know me well enough to deserve to be
in the acknowledgments, you already know that.

[I'm also going to throw in a thank you to the moderators on the Tucker
Max Message Board. It's a weird place, but they do a great job making
it fun (and making me enough money in the process so I could finish
this book in peace without having to worry about paying bills): Joseph
"JoeyHustle" Hansen, Jon Tando, Ben Hanson, Erin O'Leary, Jess
Allen, Brian Stieglitz, Mike Gill, AncientMariner, Boozy, SoylentGreen,
CJ*, Dark Helmet, DietCokehead, Foxfyre, Wahoo, KimChi, madd
scientist, Siappybird, SqueekyCleen, and WillyDuer.]


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AUTHOR’S NOTE

My real name is Tucker Max. Unless a full name is used, all other
names are pseudonyms.

All the events depicted in the stories are completely true. Only certain
dates, characteristics, and places are changed to protect me from
criminal prosecution or civil liability.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed living it.



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THE FAMOUS SUSHI PANTS STORY

Occurred-July 2001
Written-July 2001

I used to think that Red Bull was the most destructive invention of the
past 50 years. I was wrong. Red Bull's title has been usurped by the
portable alcohol breathalyzer. The same device that cops have been
using for 10 years to conduct field sobriety tests is now available to the
public. It is the size and shape of a small cell phone with a clear round
tube sticking up from the top, almost like an antenna. One blows into
the tube, and a few seconds later a Blood Alcohol Content (BAC)
reading is given. Though not as accurate as a blood test, they are
accurate to within .01, which is good enough for my purposes.

I was living in Boca Raton, Florida, when I bought one to take out with
me on a Saturday night. This is the story:

9:00pm: Arrive at the restaurant. I am the first one of the group there,
even though our reservations are for 9pm. The restaurant is crowded
full of the abysmal type of people that infest South Florida. Already
depressed, I order a vodka and club soda.

9:08: No one else has arrived. I order another vodka and club. I consider
checking my BAC, but doubt that it would show anything thus far.

9:10: Two 30+ year-old Jewish women on my left keep eyeing me.
Both have fake breasts. One has exceptionally large fake breasts.
They are beckoning me from her shirt. She is not highly attractive. I
begin drinking faster.

9:15: No one else has arrived. I order my third vodka and club. While I
wait for it, I try out my portable breathalyzer. I blow a .02. This is the
greatest invention ever made. I am giddy. I show the breathalyzer to the
fake-breasted Jewish women next to me. We begin a conversation.

9:16: They both have thick Long Island accents. I summon the bartender
over and change my order to a tall double vodka on the rocks,
splash of club.

9:23: Four people at the bar have tried my breathalyzer, both of the
fake-breasted women included. Everyone wants to know their BAC. I

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• voorkant.pdf
• Tucker Max - I Hope They Server Beer In Hell.pdf
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• achterkant.pdf

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