Tucker Max is a dirty dirty man.
Everyone knows this guy or has a little Tucker Max in them. I sat down and read a good chunk of I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell this weekend. Like any booze filled weekend, it gets exhausting after a while. I needed a shower, a bowl of chicken soup, a blanket and a nap. I felt hungover and itchy. I considered getting tested for STDs (excuse me, STInfections). I was embarrassed to be reading this book sitting next to my boyfriend even though he was reading Cosmo and making fun of what they were teaching us girls.
Read the book or visit the website. I laughed, I nearly vomited. I put the book down in disgust but picked it up again. I considered sending Tucker an email telling him how disgusting he was. I recommend reading it, but not in full chunks at a time. Maybe one or two stories. Or three. It’s a fast read, but exhausting.
I figure an email telling him I needed a shower would be flattering enough. I'm sure I'm not the first woman to ever tell him that.
Forget the shower, you need a plastic tarp, a flashlight, and some antibiotics. You never know with guys like Tucker Max. Or Jack Bechta. Wait, I think I still have my tarp. Wanna borrow it? Nevermind, I'll get you a new one. Safer that way.
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