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NOTE: 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 escort?"

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 other scrubs.

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 about her:

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 at that.

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 so...funky."

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 Greer.

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 closed:

Tucker "Hey man, you want to meet some girls? I hate to see people alone at parties."
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 sweater?"
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 off.""
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 fucking idiot."

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.



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