ASSHOLES
FINISH
FIRST
ALSO BY TUCKER MAX
I HOPE THEY SERVE BEER IN HELL
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Copyright 2010 by Tucker Max
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Designed by Diane Hobbing of Snap-Haus Graphics
Manufactured in the United States of America
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Max, Tucker.
Assholes finish first / by Tucker Max.
p. cm.
1. Max, TuckerSexual behaviorAnecdotes. 2. Max, Tucker
Alcohol useAnecdotes. 3. SexAnecdotes. 4. Drinking of alcoholic beveragesAnecdotes. I. Title.
CT275.M464713A3 2010
616.85'83300922dc22
2010023159
ISBN 978-1-4169-3874-3
ISBN 978-1-4169-5114-8 (ebook)
CONTENTS
THE DC HALLOWEEN PARTY AND
THE WORST GIRL I EVER FUCKED
BONUS SECTION: OTHER PERSPECTIVES
FROM THE PEOPLE WHO WERE THERE
AUTHORS NOTE
My real name is Tucker Max. All the events described in the following stories are true to the best of my recollection, though certain dates, characteristics, locations, and other trivial details have been altered.
I hope you enjoy reading about my life as much as I have enjoyed living it.
TUCKER GOES TO CAMPOUT, OWNS DUKE NERDS
OccurredSeptember 2000
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, the people in charge make grad students camp out in a field to get into the lottery for the chance to get tickets. They expect you to spend a weekend sleeping in dirt and checking in every time they blow their whistles, like a fucking homeless kindergartener.
You think Im exaggerating, dont you? This is taken directly from the Duke grad student website:
Welcome to Duke! Lets get right to the most important issue on your mind: How can YOU get season tickets to this years mens basketball games in Cameron Indoor Stadium? Eligibility to purchase tickets is determined via the Graduate and Professional Student Council Basketball Ticket Campout. Campout for Duke Mens Basketball season will be held starting at 7:00pm on Friday, September 8, and runs through Sunday, September 10, at approximately 7am.
The rules are simple: make it through the weekend without missing two attendance checks and your name is entered in a lottery. Lottery winners are then drawn and each of these lucky individuals is eligible to buy one of the 700 graduate and professional season tickets.
But Campout isnt just about basketball tickets. With almost 2000 students representing nearly every program and department at the University in attendance, this is also the premier graduate and professional student social event of the year. Campout is an excellent opportunity to bond with your students in your own program and make friends in other programs.
The bolding is theirs, not mine. Not only do they want grad students to spend their limited free time toiling in a parking lot, they are condescending about it. Either that, or theyre just fucking retardeddo they really think that being stuck in a parking lot with 2,000 nerds is the premier graduate and professional student social event of the year? Not going to a bar or to a party with your friends, or, God fucking forbid, ACTUALLY GOING TO THE GAMES. Nope, to them, the coolest thing a grad student can do is to root around in filth.
I want tickets, so I have to go. OK, fine. But if those Duke basketball tools are going to make me sleep outside for two nights, Im going to make them pay. And not just by getting drunk and fucking their ugly girlfriends.
It took me a few days, but I finally figured out how to completely ruin the event for everyone who sucks, while concurrently making it awesome for me and my friends. About two weeks before the grad student campout was to start, I was in the law library, intently focusing on my computer screen when my buddy Hate walked up.
Hate What are you up to?
Tucker Ordering something online.
Hate What, a Russian mail-order bride?
Tucker Better. A bullhorn.
Hate What for?
Tucker For Campout. Look at this one, dude: It has a one-mile range! And a 110-decibel siren! Its made for police use!
Hate [ten-second blank stare] Jesus have mercy on our souls.
I paid extra for 2nd day delivery. When the day of arrival came, I was so excited I stayed home from class. Waiting for the delivery guy felt like Christmas, except without the part where your parents drink all the present money and wrap up things from your room as your gifts. Credit and Hate stayed home that day too, not because they were excited about the bullhorn, but because they are dicks. They wanted to taunt me until it arrived, knowing the anticipation was slowly killing me. (That, and none of us ever went to class anyway because law school is ridiculously easy.)
Credit Max, I havent seen you this excited since Brad Pitt took his shirt off in Fight Club.
Tucker Credit, youre Jewish, your best friend is black, and your girlfriend is a cheating whore. Even if I were gay, Id still have it better than you.
When the FedEx truck finally showed up, I sprinted to the front desk. I scribbled my signature, ran back to my room, tore open the package, loaded the batteries I already purchased, then cautiously put the bullhorn up to my lips and whispered:
Hello.
My voice boomed out of the bullhorn so crisp and loud it shocked me. I felt a strange new power surge through me. It was like I drank from the Holy Grail. I took a deep breath and bellowed:
WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!! CREDIT, I AM THE GREATEST MAN ALIVE!! HATE, IM FUCKING INVINCIBLE!
I ran out of my room into the living room. Hate was jolted forward in his recliner, white-knuckling the armrests with a look on his face like hed just seen the devil. Credit had the same exasperated expression he got when he learned the student parking lot was a full mile away from the law school building.
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