fancytoy.net

{ feeling : kinda drained
{ hearing : malcolm in the middle
 
So a strange thing happened during this winter break: I managed to finish reading six books. I’d usually be hooked on a video game the entire time or maybe TV but the books read were …
 

1. Dry by Augusten Burroughs
2. A Wolf at the Table by Augusten Burroughs
3. Look Me in the Eye by John Elder Robison
4. Me Talk Pretty One Day by David Sedaris
5. Magical Thinking by Augusten Burroughs
6. I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell by Tucker Max

 
Basically this tells you I like the memoirs. More specifically, Augusten Burroughs. This is very sudden considering I’m one of those nerds that used to read series like Lemony Snicket and EverWorld. Oh yes, not to mention Harry Potter.
 
Then there’s Tucker Max.
 
The funny thing about me reading Tucker Max is that two different people somewhat suggested him to me because I was griping about the fact I ran out of Augusten Burroughs books. Actually, the original plan was for me to read as much as possible, zoom through the David Sedaris books I grabbed and anything else lying around.
 
But then picking up this little book, I had to read it as soon as possible from this back cover:
 

“My name is Tucker Max, and I am an asshole. I get excessively drunk at inappropriate times, disregard social norms, indulge every whim, ignore the consequences of my actions, mock idiots and posers, sleep with more women than is safe or reasonable, and just generally act like a raging dickhead. But, I do contribute to humanity in one very important way. I share my adventures with the world. “

 
What’s also funny is that I finished this book right when he was going to do a book signing at the Borders down State Street. Knowing what I know now, I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have acknowledged my existence anyway unless shit-housed drunk. I rank no higher than a two on his lovely rating scale. That’s if I’m being generous to myself, ha.
 
What can I say? That back cover paragraph pretty much sums it up. It was a collection of his memories not unlike books I had read previously. While I thought the only difference is that he is an asshole, that’s not even it. Of the memoirs I’ve read, including this one, the authors are human but generally not great human beings … No offense to them. Human flaws and all that, nothing wrong with that. Who am I to really judge, y’know?
 
I guess it’s just because Tucker Max is straight?
 
Going through the book, I got angry at some points at his actions but the thing is, he’s telling me this. He doesn’t care that he just broadcasted shitting all over a hotel lobby. The writing immediately makes me laugh whenever there is a moment in which I want to stab him in the head. He makes it so I cannot hate him for being an asshole … Which is weird because I really do hate all sorts of idiot assholes.
 
I think I just answered my own contemplation. Tucker Max isn’t an idiot. You’d think so but no. The guy just likes to party and crush people’s self-esteem time to time.
 
That said, he summed it up quite nicely:
 

“The problem with oral sex is that it’s like writing. When done right, it’s amazing, but there are just so many ways it can go wrong, and when it goes wrong, it’s just not worth it.”

 
The book is totally worth it. It’s like how I was griping about the fact I can’t have my Gangster Rap in Printmaking … I’m a girl, it doesn’t bother me. Granted, I would not want to touch him because he’s probably the pigeon equivalent of a guy (Where has he been?) but he writes great stories.
 
I’m kind of curious on how said stories play in large format.