LITMIR.BIZ

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repulsed by me, you haven’t been paying attention.”

      Girl 2 “You aren’t repulsive.”

      Girl 1 “Yes he is.”

      At that moment a guy with crutches walked by our table toward the bathroom.

      SlingBlade “I wish I had crutches like him, because then I could beat myself to death with them, which would be preferable to my night thus far.”

      Since the bathrooms are the small one-person-at-a-time type, the crippled guy had to put his crutches outside the door while he pees. Seeing this opportunity, I decided to lighten the mood at his expense. I run back there and throw his crutches in the empty girls’ restroom. At the table, I cannot control my giggling, because I know what is coming next:

      “WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY CRUTCHES?”

      Girl 2 “Hehehehhe—you two are both so funny!”

      SlingBlade [in the SlingBlade voice] “How would a man go’bout contactin’ da’ po-lice, were he so inclinded, hrrrmmm.”

      Tucker “Oh Christ…not again.”

      Girl 1 and I decide to take her car and go back to her place (you know, for sex—something normal people do), leaving Girl 2 and SlingBlade to the Fates. Though I did not see what happened next, SlingBlade recounted it to me the next day:

      He kept drinking until Girl 2 left. Without him. Apparently she got fed up with him alternately passing out and calling her a whore in the SlingBlade voice. After her departure he wandered around the bar, finally deciding that he needed to go to the bathroom.

      As he walks to the bathroom, he starts veering to the right, and in an attempt to correct this he flings himself to the left. Instead of correcting himself, he ends up slamming head-first into the wall, which lays him out straight on his back. This is directly in front of a bunch of people, all of whom naturally laugh at him.

      He’s so hammered that he just lays there for a minute, trying to remember how to stand up. Eventually he rolls himself over, but can’t get up on his feet. Instead he starts to crawl, arm over arm, military-style, to a nearby chair. Once there, he pulls himself up on the seat, looks over to the crowd who was watching and laughing, points to himself and yells:

      “Still single ladies!”

      Where Is He Now?

      SlingBlade is a different person now than he was when all these stories took place (most of them occurred between 1999-2002). Even though I begged him and begged him to start a site similar to mine where he could display his prodigious comedic talents, he repeatedly declined, instead pursuing a very different field. It ended up working out well for him, and he is a much happier person now, mainly because of this new job. He has asked me not to write anything about his current occupation, and of course I’ll respect his wishes.

      And yes, though he has sold all his action figures on eBay (for a profit, as he likes to note) and no longer sleeps on Batman sheets, Sling-Blade is still very single.

      Update 1/20/2008

      SlingBlade is now married. For real, I was even at the wedding. And believe it or not, she’s hot (a solid 5-star), and seems like a very nice girl. So seriously, would all the socially awkward women out there please stop sending me email asking to be set up with him. Aside from the fact he would have hated you anyway, he’s now off the market.

      TUCKER FUCKS A FAT GIRL; HILARITY ENSUES

      Occurred—March 2000

       Written—August 2004

      We’ve all done it.

      We’ve all accidentally fucked a fat girl.

      You start the night with the best of intentions, but somehow you end up in one of those blacked-out, where-the-fuck-are-my-pants drunken states, and wake up with some girl who is packing more ass than a Sir Mix-a-Lot video. Getting smashed and goin’ hoggin’ is almost a rite of passage for the American male. There’s no shame in that.

      This being said, very few of us have fucked a fat girl on purpose. I will be honest: I may be a member of that club, but it’s up for debate. Let me explain:

      It all started in February of 2000, the first month my website was up. I was 23 years old and in my second year of law school. TuckerMax.com originally started as a Date Application Page that I put up to settle a bet. My friends thought the page was hilarious, but wanted to see some results:

      PWJ “Tucker, the site is awesome, but you need to actually meet a girl through it.”

      Tucker “I don’t know.”

      Hate “Max! How could you put that site up and not hook up with at least one girl through it? That’s weak.”

      Tucker “I don’t know; there have been some crazies emailing me.” Hate “When has that stopped you in the past?”

      SlingBlade “This is opposed to the crazies that you pick up in bars?” PWJ “Dude, you can’t put this thing up and never go on a date or hook up from it. You have to. At least one girl.”

      Tucker “Fine. Might as well. What’s the worst that could happen?” Hate “OH YEAH! That line of thought always serves you well!”

      But I didn’t just promise my friends that I’d go out on a date with a girl I met through the site. I ended up promising that I’d do my very best to hook up with her.

      So of course as soon as I make this promise, I get no applications from any girls near the Durham, NC, area. I know this sounds ridiculous now, as I get dozens of propositions a day from girls, but you have to remember that back when the site started, it was almost totally unknown outside my circle of friends. Maybe 30 people a day saw it, if that. There were only like three of my stories up, and the notion that this site would become anything beyond a silly joke never even crossed my mind. If you had told me then that within two years my webpage would become my launching pad to fame, I would have laughed at you and told you stop sucking the glass dick.

      One week went by, nothing. Two weeks, nothing. I was starting to get a little desperate, thinking about all the shit I was going to have to eat from my friends because I couldn’t even get a date off my own Date Application Page, when finally a girl emailed me. She had just moved to Raleigh for a job, knew no one, and thought I was funny. We emailed a little, and she seemed cool and normal enough, but I had to make a couple requests before she sent me a picture of her. Once I got the pic, it was clear why it took her three emails to work up the courage to send one.

      Ladies and gentlemen: She’s a fatty.

      Normally, this would have been an easy decision. I’d just say, “Get the fuck away from me and go back to your trough,” and everything would be fine, but this time it was different. I had PROMISED my friends that I would hook up with a girl from my webpage, and FatGirl was my only option.

      I put her off for a few weeks with cutesy email banter, while I prayed for a girl without a giant oversized pig heart to email me.

      One week…two weeks…nothing. Finally, I consulted my friends on what I should do. I showed them the picture:

      Hate “WOOOOOOO-WEEEEEEE! YOU GOT YOURSELF A CHUNKER! FORGET THE DATE, LASSO HER AND TAKE HER TO THE STOCKYARDS!”

      PWJ “Yeah, you did promise. She might be your only chance.”

      SlingBlade “Just make sure you take her to a bar that doesn’t serve food. You can’t afford that kind of date.”

      El Bingeroso “Wow. Yeah man, that sucks. Wow…but you did promise.”

      Hate “WOOOOOO-HOOOO! MAX YOU ARE MAKING US PROUD! GOD BLESS THAT WEBSITE!”

      After some deliberation, I decided to meet FatGirl out. It still makes

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