The Tucker Max Stories
This is the first story in my second book, Assholes Finish First. Buy it on Amazon, or get a signed copy. I went to law school at Duke, and as you may know, basketball is huge there. The demand for tickets, even for grad students, far outstrips the supply. In order to solve this problem, […]
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 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.
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…
When the movie based on my first book came out Nils, a crew of assorted miscreants and I rode around the country in a huge tour bus, attending premieres in various cities and causing all sorts of havoc. There were many, many hilarious incidents, but one incident stood above the rest, an incident that was […]
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.
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.
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?”
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.
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.
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.
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.
I’m doing promotions for my new book Hilarity Ensues. Some of them are working well, like giving the ebook of Sloppy Seconds away for free, and some of them didn’t work, like this little stunt: Ryan Holiday suggested I check out Sponsored Tweets, where anyone can pay a celebrity to endorse a product on their Twitter account. […]
Most of the standard ways men categorize women are flawed on some way or another, so my friends and I came up with a better one.
When describing how drunk I get, I use my own scale.
This is the Date Application Form that was the original iteration of the site. It’s not a functioning form anymore, but you can still read it.
TuckerMax.com originally started kind of by accident, as a bet between me and some friends. This is the story.