I Met Tucker Max

So, I'm a relative n00b to this whole blogging thing. But last week, I got to meet my inspiration and my hero, Tucker Max. Tucker is everything I aspire to be as a writer and a person. Not so much for the ridiculous sexcapades (though those would be fun) but for what Tucker has actually accomplished. Tucker Max, if you're unfamiliar, is a millionaire blogger, author, and newly minted movie producer. However, he wasn't always nor was he supposed to be. Tucker Max was supposed to be a lawyer. He is incredibly intelligent and he went to a top law school. What I respect about Tucker is that he threw it all away because he realized he hated it. Most people would continue to plod on, become a lawyer, and hate their life. Tucker refused to do that. He pursued his passion (writing) and went from a casual blogger to an internet sensation to a (very) well compensated author. He has inspired me in many ways. A lot of people think: Tucker Max, professional douchebag. But he really has had an amazing journey. And instead of being too scared to change his whole life on a whim with nothing concrete to fall back on, he simply just went for it. And I respect him for that. I got to meet him at a sneak preview of his movie. In all honesty, the movie is probably going to bomb. Although I found it pretty funny, I don't think it's going to make it at the box office. For the first time in a long time, Tucker Max might fail at something. It'll be interesting to see how he reacts. But I finally got to meet the man, the myth, the legend. And by the way, where did that phrase come from? Isn't myth and legend redundant? Anyways, I got to shoot the shit with Tucker at House of Shields for a bit and I can finally say I met my inspirational leader. If you know me, you undoubtedly have heard the story where I thought I had met Tucker Max a couple of years ago only to find out it wasn't the actual Tucker Max. That encounter shattered me. I was so positive I had met him and I bragged about it to my friends. Then it turned out not to be Tucker. One of the swiftest emotional turnarounds is finding out something great turns out to be false. It's a kick in the cajones. Which is a nice segueway into my next story...

I drink. A lot at times. I give my friends plenty of entertainment. I bring joy to the masses with incredible inebriation. I'm not a feisty drunk. I don't start fights. I bring happiness and fun. It's what I do. And like most, when I'm drunk, funny things tend to occur. I could make this blog solely about my drunken (mis)adventures and I would never run out of material. This story is a glimpse into my world and a typical night of Macster Madness.

Let me set the scene. There's one particular bartender I've had a crush on for about 5-6 years at a particular establishment I've been frequenting for literally a decade (even before I was legally able to drink). Suffice to say, I'm probably too old for this bar now but we all have our vices. Mine happens to be 21-22 yr old females and bars that could double as a fraternity house. For the sake of the involved, names and locations have been changed. I had an immediate attraction to "Katie" the very first time I saw her. She was hot, she was wearing a cowboy hat, a low cut white shirt exposing some tantalizing cleavage, and she was fun. Think Coyote Ugly spunk. Over the past 5-6 years or whatever it has been, I've put in work on Katie. She has seen me at my finest. And by finest I mean my absolute blacked out worst. I've looked like such an idiot in front of this girl so many times, I have no rational explanation why I should even dream that she would ever be interested in me. But, I'm Macster. And I'm awesome. And those type of thoughts just don't enter my mind because seriously, if you DON'T like me, you have a problem. Katie had to dig me. Aside from passing out at her bar numerous times or talking to her in garbled Drunkese or, well, coming to the bar for her entire time of employment and being her "Norm" and taking advantage of her free shot giving, I had to look like a complete catch in her eyes. No doubt about it. Now, I had never pursued Katie heavily because she always had a boyfriend. And it wasn't just the "oh I have a boyfriend" excuse to deflect unwanted passes by customers and drunk idiots because I never actually asked her that question and she never brought it up. I never ask that question. In my eyes, you're single until proven unavailable. But I have my sources. I'm observant for one. And I have my people. And my sources had constantly informed me that this fish was hooked. And it stayed that way for years. She may have been single for a few weeks once, but I missed my opportunity because I was unaware of it. The point is Katie was never available. I'd go to her bar, we'd chit chat, she'd feed me shots, I'd black out. Rinse, recycle, repeat. But then something changed. About a month ago I was having a drink with one of my sources when he brought it to my attention that Katie's boyfriend recently had dumped her. She was heartbroken. But more importantly, she was single! My spirits soared. My heart skipped a beat. FINALLY!!! After years of waiting, I was ready to pounce. Katie would be mine!! All that work seemingly was about to pay off. I started planning on when I could go to her bar and start my assault on her broken heart. I was going to mend that thing in a (pun intended) heartbeat! I was going to fill her void. I was going to transform. That cute fun guy at the bar who always came in? He was about to get upgraded to potential mate. I was sure my charm over the years had subconsciously seeped into Katie's mind. Then, fate happened. As if all the signs didn't point to this working out already, there I was soaking up the sun and the view at Crissy Field on a Thursday afternoon and who should I see strolling down the beach? Katie. With her dog. I struck up a conversation. The very first conversation I had with Katie outside of a darkly lit room reeking of vomit and jaeger. Here was my time to shine, show her I was different from those drunk assholes at the bar. I was deep. Mature. Intelligent. Witty. I aced the conversation. Her dog even liked me. She invited me to the bar that night. She wanted me there. I was good to go. I would have asked for her phone number right then and there, but I didn't want to. I had it in the bag. No need to look eager. The Pimp Gods were smiling down upon me...

Let's fast forward through the night. Here's the quick recap: Went and watched football at a different bar. Made the move to her bar. Started chatting with her. She gave me shots. Lots of shots. I blacked out. The next morning arrives. I wake up on my couch. My buddy who's visiting from Arizona is crashed on the couch next to me. I remember next to nothing about the night. I zombie my way to my bedroom and collapse into hangover hell. A couple of hours later I awake. My buddy from Arizona has left. Every time I black out I have a typical routine the following day. I check to see if I drunk dialed anyone, check to see if I drunk texted, and then I check to see if I drunk Facebooked. While I'm checking my call log, I notice I made a call to a "Katie" in my phonebook. Initially, I think it's my friend Katie in Arizona. I then check the call time to see if we actually chatted or if I just left a drunk voicemail. Then it hits me. This isn't Katie in AZ. This isn't any other Katie in my phonebook either. This is a new Katie number. THIS IS MY KATIE!! I successfully got Katie's phone number! I am the fucking man. Katie gave me her number. The convo at Chrissy Field was a great success. I warmed her up and she gave me the number that night. We're going to go on dates. She's going to be my girlfriend. Life is grand. People who know me know about my crush on Katie. It has festered for years. I text a select few "I got Katie's number". A few text back in disbelief. A couple offer up congratulations. My hangover disappears. Birds are singing. Things are glorious. And then...

Ring ring: "What up, man?" It's my buddy from AZ who was with me the night before.

Me: "DUDE! How great was last night!"

Him: A fucking disaster.

Me: I don't remember ANYTHING but it was so much fun!

Him: Do you remember me basically having to drag you out of What's Up, Dog?

Me: We went to What's Up Dog?

Him: Yep. You basically demanded shots from the guys behind the counter because they apparently gave you some Hennessey one time when you went in there late night.

Me: Yeah, those guys rule!

Him: Yeah, they wanted no part of you last night.

Me: Whatever, who cares? The important thing is I got my bartender's number!

Him: What?

Me: I got Katie's number!! I woke up this morning with her number in my phone! Just bow down to me right now. I dominate. She loves me. We're going to make babies but not actually make babies if you know what I mean.

Him: You got her number?

Me: Yeah.

Him: When?

Me: I don't fucking know! But it's there.

Him: That's funny. I'd be surprised she'd give you her number.

Me: Why? I'm awesome.

Him: Well, because you were making out with a fat chick at the bar all night. ALL NIGHT. And you were making out right in front of the bartender, so I'm pretty sure she wouldn't give you her number after that.

Me: ...

Him: Yeah. Anyways, good times. I'm catching my flight. I'll call you later.

Me: ...

Click.

Shortly thereafter I receive a picture message. It's of me making out with a fat chick at the bar sent from my buddy's phone. My heart sinks. Those birds are annoying the shit out of me. My head is pounding. Today sucks. What the fuck are the chances that at Katie's bar, the day I talked and built rapport with Katie during the day, that I make out with a girl also named Katie that very night. It's over. My dreams of netting the Katie Fish are in death throes. I have fucked myself. Just another night of Macster Madness.

The above story is a perfect snapshot of my life. Random. Exciting. Heartbreaking. Every blackout is an adventure, a journey, a choose your own adventure book where I typically choose the wrong path. But in the end, a story.

I am going to end this post with a completely random observation that has no bearing on anything I posted above: Girls, I notice a new trend. Like the Tiffany bracelets that you all wore and might still wear, the sorority trademark if you will, I've noticed a new piece of jewelry that is quickly becoming quite hip... the key necklace. Every time I ask a girl what the significance is of the key necklace, I don't get a straight answer. I usually ask if it represents the key to the heart. Cheeseball. But girls, you guys like cheese sometimes. But you all deny it has that meaning. So what is up with this new trend? What does the key necklace truly mean? Unlock the mystery for me! However, for some reason, like those perfectly ordinary Tiffany bracelets, I totally dig the key necklace. I just wish I knew why they're trendy and what they supposedly stand for... feel free to let me know.