Tucker goes to celebrity party
by: Tucker Max
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STORY CONTAINS EXPLICIT CONTENT. FUNNY AS HELL, BUT EXPLICIT.
Last year I got an email from a girl who works for Red Bull, telling me that
they wanted to give me all kinds of free stuff, because I am the type of
"opinion maker" that they want using their product. Considering the long history
Red Bull and I have together, this sounded like a great idea to me. I flirted
with the girl a little and she flirted back and before I knew it she invited me
to a video game launch party Red Bull was helping to put on.
The party was when I had to fly back to LA to re-pitch the show to NBC, and
since I didn't have a car or even know where the hell I was, I had "KimChi" pick
me up at my hotel and drive me to the party.
Because of my "job," I have met a lot of people off the internet, and 90% of the
time they suck. The pictures they send are either from years ago before they
discovered the all-you-can-eat buffet at Sizzler, or are just someone else
entirely. And believe me when I tell you this: Too many women have opinions of
themselves that are entirely out of line with reality. "Im a hottie! lol!!!!!!!!!!11
u will be luvin me!!!!!!"
Even though KimChi and I didn't talk about what she looked like, I just assumed
she would be ugly, like most girls who stalk me. So when I opened my hotel door
to find a hot girl with a great body staring back at me, I was shocked. I
literally said out loud, "Goddamn. Are you KimChi or did the studio send me an
The best part of her ensemble: She handed me a bottle of vodka and a bottle of
Hypnotiq. The vodka was great, and I drank some right away. If you don't know
what Hypnotiq is, consider yourself lucky. That shit is only for dumb rappers.
We pull up to the party and it's in this huge warehouse that has no identifying
marks on it except about 70 valets standing out front waiting to park cars. I
have never seen so many valets in one place. Then, kinda hidden from view, there
was a red carpet entrance, and photographers waiting to take pictures and
everything. This was a legit celebrity party, and I was pretty excited about my
first red carpet entrance, but I get confused when KimChi pulls the car up to
the valet entrance instead of the red carpet.
Tucker "What are you doing? Pull up to the red carpet."
KimChi "What? You have to help me unload all of this stuff first."
I look in the back and see like 20 cases of Red Bull, a few cases of vodka, and
assorted other party favor-things. This does not sit well with my new image of
myself as a celebrity.
Tucker "Are you fucking kidding me? Unless Russell Crowe pitches in and helps, I
am not unloading shit. This is no way to treat a celebrity."
KimChi [she just laughs at me] "Tucker…help me unload this. Pleeeeeeeeeeease?"
I really hate how hot girls can get me to do things I don't want to do.
"Helping her" actually meant, "carry everything into the party." It was so bad
the fucking valets asked if they could help. No shit--the Mexican valets felt
sorry for me. So much for my first red carpet entrance.
The party was slated to start at 9pm. By 10:30, I was still the most famous
person at the party. It was only a contest between me, some street skater, the
entourage from Westside Connection (but NOT Mack 10 or Ice Cube), and a few
By 10:45, I was making fun of everyone who threw the party because when I am the
most famous person at a Hollywood party, it SUCKS. Then Shannon Elizabeth and
her husband walked in, and I was bumped down to #3 most famous. A few things
1. She is INCREDIBLY hot. Even better than on TV or movies.
2. Her husband is a fucking joke. He is so ugly, I couldn't even make fun of
him, because he obviously has some sort of major trump card that I didn't know
about. Like the fact that he is fucking Shannon Elizabeth, for one.
3. I doubt either of them ever want to talk to me again, and we'll just leave it
So, it's 11pm, and I am happy to be the #3 most famous person. Then Mark
Wahlberg showed up, which bumps me down to #4. He, unlike Shannon, is most
decidedly NOT immune from mockery:
"Hey Markey Mark--What ever happened to The Funky Bunch? I loved them. They were
Though he did not like the Marky Mark moniker, he actually took me seriously at
first. We talked about his new show coming up on HBO, Entourage, and how HBO
passed on my show because his was in production. Then, when he was in the middle
of a sentence, I just yelled at him:
"THE FUNKY BUNCH WERE THE HEART BEHIND YOUR MUSIC! THEY MADE YOU AND THEN YOU
DITCHED THEM! HOW CAN YOU LIVE WITH YOURSELF!"
I thought he'd get the joke. He didn't.
Then the cast from FOX's show "The OC" came in, and I was bumped down to like
#10 on the most famous list. This did not make me happy, but before I could
really lay into them, one of the best targets in Hollywood came in: David Allen
Now, David is a comedian and in his day he was really funny, so I had to be
careful. He could easily flip it and punk me if I didn't have my shit together.
He came alone, and I waited until he was at the bar getting a drink before I
Tucker "Hey man, you want to meet some girls? I hate to see people alone at
DAG [He gave this weird look and then chuckled at me] "No, it's OK."
Tucker "OH WOW! You're Derrick Coleman! I loved you at Syracuse. What was it
like playing with Rony Siekly when he had those short shorts? Could you ever see
his ball hair? Or did it just look like he was always wearing a full body
DAG [Another look of pitiful confusion] "No man, I'm David Allen Grier."
Tucker "DOUBLE WOW! That's even better! So, tell me all about your new show
that's going to be cancelled after two episodes!"
He didn't think I was very funny. I guess he's heard that joke before.
Pretty much no one at the party thought I was funny. The girl who brought me,
KimChi, got mad because I kept making fun of her friend and hitting on her boss,
"HerBoss." The boss part was unavoidable; HerBoss was hot and cool, and that
combination is too rare not to throw game at. I thought I had HerBoss, until
about three minutes after I ate some hors deurves and HerBoss reached into her
pocket, gave me an Altoid, and said, "You need this." Thanks for playing, we
have some lovely parting gifts for you, like this wonderful bottle of rejection.
At one point HerBoss tried to make fun of me because I wrote a book of pick-up
lines and hadn't hooked up at the party yet. We went back and forth, until
KimChi decided to jump in and help HerBoss mess to mock me. I was NOT having any
of that, and had actually prepared for this earlier.
Tucker "I'm sorry, are YOU talking shit to me? Here, you might want this. You
left it in my room today."
I pulled her thong underwear out of my pocket, handed it to her, and walked off.
Best Comeback Ever.
Oh--did I leave that part out of the story? Whoops. Yeah, before we went to the
party, well...I don't think I have to draw you a picture, do I?
One of the coolest things about celebrity parties is that there is all kinds of
stuff for you to take. I got free Pumas, and bags of goodies like video games
and Red Bull and shirts and what not. The only uncool thing was that the
help--bartenders and whatnot--weren't allowed to have any of this stuff. Now,
the only people who thought I was funny at the party were the bartenders, so
I'll be damned if they don't get any cool stuff...so I stole stuff from other
celebs for all of them.
You think I'm kidding? Next time you see Shannon Elizabeth, ask her if she got
her copy of "True Crime: Streets of LA."
One of the weirdest things about LA parties is the conversations. At a normal
party anywhere else in America, people talk about current events, local gossip,
things like that. Do you know what the main conversation I heard at this party
was? Driving. Seriously, a good 30% of the conversations were about how to get
from one place to the other, or trading driving secrets or back routes to
various places. It was weird to walk up to a group of people and hear, "Yeah,
you take the 10 to El Segundo, get off, go across the causeway, and you're right
in Santa Monica! It's great!"
The only other thing worth mentioning was a conversation I had with KimChi's
friend, "FakeBritney." Now, her friend is very nice and--to be honest--was very
hot (easily a 4-star, maybe 5-star--all three of them were hot, actually), but I
just can't let this go. I was pretty drunk, and my post-incident voice recording
of this is bad, but here is the gist of the conversation:
FakeBritney "Tucker, what's your favorite word?"
Tucker "Favorite word? I don't know..."free" followed by "alcohol." Or maybe
"open" followed by "bar." Or "easy" followed by "hot sluts who want to suck me
FakeBritney "NO! I mean like what is your favorite word? I think you can tell a
lot about a person from their favorite word."
Tucker "What the fuck? Alright, hold on--I am one of the best at reading people,
and I don't know what the fuck their favorite word can tell you about their
personality. Explain that to me. Explain to me how one favorite word gives you
an insight into someone's fucking soul."
FakeBritney "Well, for instance my favorite word is 'cinnamon.'"
Tucker "YOU'RE RIGHT! I CAN tell something about you. I can tell you're a
And it just went downhill from there.
By the end of the party, I was about the 28th most famous person there…even
though no one recognized me.
To get in touch with Tucker, visit TuckerMax.com!
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