I met Tucker Max in New York, and yes, I threw up on the street outside the bar. Fuck you. Don’t act like you never threw up from drinking too much.

"I smell weakness... Ah, there it is." - Tucker

Here’s the thing: I was drunk, but I thought I had slickly slipped away without being detected. Unfortunately for me, Tucker must have some kind of sixth sense for weakness. He knew I was in the bathroom trying to fight off undrinking 10 hours of free beer. So he pulled me out of the bathroom, followed me outside, and then took pictures with his phone of me spilling expensive German beer on the sidewalk. Then he posted them on his website… Thanks, dick.

My favorite part of the story is that when I came back inside, the bartender broad told me that next time I should “let her know” so they could clean up the bathroom. I gave her a confused look and walked back to our table. But even in my condition, I couldn’t help but think, “this bitch must be joking.” First of all, I didn’t throw up in the bathroom. Second of all, pour another beer you dumb harlot. If I throw up in your bathroom, you’ll find it the same way everyone else does: by getting your head snapped back by the heavyweight jab that is the pungent aroma of liquor, bile and half-digested food.

Anyway…

Before meeting him, I had run across Tucker’s site a several times over the years when friends would forward links to his stories to me. I enjoyed them, but I always assumed that it was just a guy taking advantage of the anonymity offered by the internet to embellish his life enough to make it interesting. Even the name Tucker Max sounds made up.

Seriously, who would believe that one guy could have driven the car of a girl he just met through the window of a donut shop, had a girl he was fucking in the ass shit all over him while a friend secretly video taped them from the closet, dated a Miss America contestant, had a girl tattoo his name on her body the day she met him, had an MTV documentary made about him, was banned for life from Embassy Suites, and still managed to not only graduate from law school but also had the balls to write it all down for the world under his real name? Not me, I am way too cynical to fall for that shit.

Now, having met him, I stand corrected. Tucker is for real, but maybe not exactly what you’d expect. He is crass and cocky to be sure, but he's also sharp and deliberate. It's an odd mix of ridiculous college fuckup and smartest guy in the room. That's what makes him and his life interesting. It would be easy to dismiss his stories as the often-hilarious ruminations of stupid frat guy 10 years past his prime if he wasn't so smart or such a good writer.

The truth is he's more than just another guy who claims to unapologetically live by his own rules; they are a dime a dozen. The difference is he isn't lying, and that is all too rare.

The Phat Phree: I have no idea how to do an interview. You cool with that?

Tucker Max: You don't know how to drink either, and I managed that quite well. I think we'll be fine.

TPP: Fuck off. So how, exactly, does a graduate of the University of Chicago and Duke Law School end up telling stories about his drunken misadventures and sexual exploits for a living? Shouldn’t you be making millions exploiting legal loopholes for some faceless corporation?

TM: I could be doing that, but then I'd also have a $1000 a day coke and hooker habit and beat my wife and kids in the Hamptons on the weekends that I see them. This way, I only punish my liver, and what good is a liver if you don't abuse it?

TPP: I worked with your editor (for the book), Jeremie Ruby-Strauss, when some of the Phat Phree writers contributed to the “Save Toby” book. Why does he have a hyphenated last name? I thought that was reserved for “empowered” women who wear slacks to work, and marry pussies who are cool with it when she decides his name isn’t good enough for her.

TM: I KNOW--I dogged him about this for like a year. I think it's because he's from northern California; they think that shit is normal up there. He probably grew up knitting Alpaca sweaters and protesting against "blood diamonds" outside of the local Zales. People who care about things are funny.

TPP: So you are a goddamned New York Times Best Selling author now, congratulations. I know you initially had some reservations about publishing your book traditionally rather than self-publishing and selling it from your site. Is making the Times List vindication for you on some level?

TM: I don't know. Two years ago, I would have said yes, but revenge is a funny thing. Once you get it, it seems hollow because you have moved past that on to more important battles. Revenge for the sake of revenge is petty and flawed; I try to think strategically instead of just emotionally. And I like to jack off in front of a mirror. It makes me feel sexy and loved.

TPP: We both know that voices like yours almost always get diluted in the process of making them more “accessible” for the mainstream. You’ve managed to avoid that to a large degree, but not without turning your back on a shit-ton of money. You walked away from a sitcom at NBC, and you turned down large advances at big publishing houses. If my math is correct that puts Pride above Greed on your list of favorite deadly sins- behind Lust, Gluttony, and Anger, of course. Have I got the order right?

TM: Right now, as I write this, I am drinking Beast Ice at a frat house at UVA; I don't even know what "Gluttony" means. Wait, I just drank like 10 beers in an hour, so maybe I do. You're such a pussy, I'll kick your ass, COME ON YOU FUCKING GUINEA BASTARD, I'LL KICK YOUR TEETH IN!

TPP: Let’s get back to the drinking and fucking before we lose everyone.

TM: Way ahead of you brother. No bullshit, I am about to have sex with a slightly overweight girl with huge tits in my RV. By "slightly overweight" I mean "I pray to god no one sees me leave with her."

TPP: Both of my favorite stories in your book take place in Texas: “The Austin Road Trip” (where you are running through the lobby of a hotel shitting yourself and kicking it up behind you like a mud drag racer), and “The Midland, Texas Story”. Have you considered moving there for the good of your writing?

TM: I actually did live in Austin for like three months. It was pretty cool, but that place is way too small for me. Within a month all the cops knew who I was. I need a larger canvas to apply my paint.

TPP: Now, you’ve had sex with a lot of women, and possibly one post-op transsexual. Being the guy who has sex with lots of girls is a big part of the Tucker Max in your stories. Do you have any desire to get married and have a family i