Thursday, February 26, 2015

I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell by Tucker Max

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Hey, do you guys know about the website PicMonkey? I always use it to crop/auto adjust my photos, but I had no idea it offered up this awesome feature . . .

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Ha!!! I’m Kathy Bates in American Horror Story Freakshow !

(In case you were wondering, this review is brought to you by . . . BEEEEEEEEER.)

Mitchell got to pick our latest buddy read, but I can really only fault myself since I was the one who purchased I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell and placed it on a shelf within his line of sight. I was not familiar with Tucker Max beyond the fact that I was aware people hate him, and the only reasons I bought the book were (1) the title and (2) it cost a quarter.

Turns out this is a book about the sexcapades of a 20-something year old law student. If that isn’t a precursor to you knowing the narrator is going to be a huge douchecanoe, I don’t know what is. Tucker Max spends his nights saying things like this . . .

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Knowing the reaction will be something like this . . .

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My personal stance is: If I choose to read something that I KNOW is intended to be offensive, the one thing I don’t allow myself to do is complain about being offended. What I am allowed to complain about is the fact that this is a book filled with one-liners drowning in hundreds of pages of unfunny, bad writing. I expected drunken frat boy stories and chauvinistic comments – kind of a Man Show in book format, if you will . . .

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. . . and I thought it would be a laugh a minute, not a laugh every 37 pages.

Here are some examples of things I found funny . . .

With regard to Vegas:

“We had an awesome roll the night before, but this day luck was not with us, and I ended up losing like $500. Whatever, I had at least 12 drinks, so I clearly came out on top. Stupid Vegas, they don’t know anything.”

That line made me giggle. Unfortunately, it was the only giggle to be had in a SEVENTEEN page story.

With regard to some girls trying to talk them out of going to a strip club:

Girl: “Don’t go to a strip club. You know those girls don’t care about you.”

Tucker’s Friend: “That’s not true. They sit on my lap and tell me they love me.”


It took 5 pages of story to get to that one chuckle-extracting exchange.

Then there was a story of the girl who one-upped Tucker Max. The girl made the mistake of thinking Mr. Max was more than a roll in the hay and then made a scene in a bar where Tucker promptly belittled her in front of everyone. She turned the tables, however, by faking a positive chlamydia test result, forcing Tucker to go get tested. Said test involved sticking a giant metal Q-tip up his peehole. Hilarity ensued, but sadly it once again took 5 pages of crap to build up to the ending.

The segment generically titled “Sex Stories” should have been a source of massive guffawing, but instead offered up this one sexist (but funny) moment:

Girl: “What is your favorite sexual technique?”
Tucker: “Well, I’m not sure. Probably where I pretend like she isn’t there, get off as fast as possible, she does my laundry, cleans, and then leaves.”


I know I shouldn’t laugh at that, but I did. Sadly, it was once again in the middle of 12 pages of drivel.

And last but not least, “Tucker Goes 3-Minute Dating: Hilarity Ensues.” It’s in the title, so it has to be hilarious, right????? Yeah, notsamuch. His 3-minute exchanges offered up one gem:

Girl: "So, have you ever done this before?”
Tucker: “No, never. I was supposed to do it last month, but my damn herpes flared up, so I waited until they went away. That Valtrex isn’t as good as advertised. I can’t kickbox or kayak.”


Before I end, let’s touch on the subject of just how many chicks Tucker Max has supposedly banged. The Rule of Three states if an average dude claims to have had sex with numbers in “the low 100s” you should divide that by three, resulting in a man who has actually had sex with around 30 women. Since Tucker Max is a guy who isn’t particularly attractive, “dresses up” for going out by wearing white Hanes undershirts, and gives zero shits about ever NOT partying ‘til he pukes, I assume his reality should probably be divided by three yet again (if for nothing but the simple fact that projectile vomiting (or diarrhea, as the case may be)/passing out/uncooperative whiskey dick = no hook-up).

If you get strong-armed into reading this book like I did, I encourage you to skim over everything but the diarrhea segments. I know it’s sooooooo sophomoric and lowbrow, but Jeebus I love a good public pooping shame story!

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To be honest, I’m more than a little bummed that I didn’t like this book. I tend to like everything that everyone else hates. I think I’m going to reward myself with a little present . . .

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Oh, and in case you are wondering – Mitchell sold his soul to the devil a long time ago in order to guaranty there would, in fact, be beer in Hell. We’ll save you guys some good seats : )

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1 comment:

  1. I just found you, and I'm going to follow the hell out of you! :)

    ReplyDelete