Coffee break at A Word with You Press
Literati! A warning! Stefania Allison uses bad words in this! (it was late at night that she wrote this. Maybe she was a little tuckered)
I thought as I always do that I am everyone’s favorite author, but Stef has declared it to be Tucker Max (sounds more like a mixed drink to me rather than an author–I’ll have a tucker max, easy on the tobasco )
Max at 140tc, September 2009
|Born||September 27, 1975 (age 37) United States|
|Occupation||Writer, blogger, producer|
|Alma mater||University of Chicago (B.A.)
Duke University (J.D.)
|Notable work(s)||I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell, Assholes Finish First, Hilarity Ensues, Sloppy Seconds: The Tucker Max Leftovers|
Tucker Max (born September 27, 1975) is an American author and public speaker. He chronicles his drinking and sexual encounters in the form of short stories on his website TuckerMax.com, which has received millions of visitors since Max launched it as the result of a bet in 2000.
Max’s book I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell became a New York Times #1 bestseller and has made the Best Seller List each year from 2006 to 2011. It has sold over one million copies worldwide, including 400,000 copies in 2009 alone. He is also the founder of the now defunct Rudius Media, an Internet-based publishing outlet and management firm. His book was subsequently made into a feature film of the same title. In 2010, he followed up with Assholes Finish First, and in 2012 with Hilarity Ensues and Sloppy Seconds: The Tucker Max Leftovers.
Max was a 2009 Time 100 finalist, though he did not make the magazine list.
So Tucker (rhymes with ?) is Stefanie’s wingman. Here is her night out under his protective wing.
by Stefanie Allison
“You know what they say: assholes finish first!” my wingman called after his “date”.
“If you didn’t finish first all the time, maybe your exes wouldn’t hate you so much,” I said.
“Yes, but you’re forgetting something important, Stef.”
“I’m Tucker Max!”
I ignored Tucker and looked towards the bar where Brandon was; how could someone from such a short paragraph of my life have the same impact on me as a Shakespeare play? Brandon started to move towards the dance floor and Tucker’s eyes remained on the bartender’s chest
God, I’ll just have to wing it! I got up and raced to Brandon, grabbing his arm.
“Hey,” I said. His emerald eyes still glimmered when he smiled.
“I remember you,” he said. My skin tingled when we touched; but why did I feel afraid?
“Going hogging, tonight?” Tucker asked Brandon.
“Hope you don’t let her get on top,” Tucker said before burping loudly.
“Excuse us,” I said, dragging Tucker away. “You’re supposed to be my wingman! Help me!”
“I am. You’re dodging a bullet,” Tucker said.
“What are you—?”
“I could have ended up with the fatty tonight,” Brandon said to Tucker’s “date” from earlier. I looked at Tucker then reached into my purse for “asshole emergency” bottle.
As the smell of the Liquid Ass permeated through Brandon’s jeans, Tucker said I was single-handedly responsible for his decision to write a fourth book.