I Hope They Serve Beer In Hell

First off, I would like to say that Seattle is a very cool city and I need to come back here. This was my first trip to Seattle, and I liked almost everything about it; the people were nice, girls are hot, bars are fun–the entire energy of the city is uplifting and refreshing. It’s like San Francisco without all the bullshit. If you’ve never been, visit, you’ll like it.

The screening went fantastic. The Portland screening was an anomaly; we held it in a theater with a bar, and the theater itself is very oddly shaped, dividing the crowd up into four sections, and the movie played off a DVD.

The Seattle screening was nothing like this–it was just a normal movie theater, and it made it a lot better. The film looks better when played off a 35MM print, and having 350+ people there laughing their asses off in unison is always a cool thing to see. Especially when they are laughing at something you helped create. And the impromptu standing ovation at the end was really cool.

The Q&A was fun as well–I went on a riff about having a midget and a retard in my entourage, and by the time I was done, I think I crossed even my own lines. It was bad, so of course everyone thought it was hilarious.

As for the afterparty…where do I even start with that hot mess? We went next door to this place called Earl’s. The manager  looked EXACTLY like James Hetfield. They don’t pour you shots there, they pour you glasses of alcohol. Hetfield got me a tequila shot that was at least 5 ounces. That much Herradura, especially when you aren’t ready for it, is fierce.

And then it got bad. Some of the highlights:

-To this very cute, but very ditzy girl:

Tucker “What’s the most guys have you fucked in one week?”
Girl “Uhh…three?”
Tucker “BULLSHIT!”
Nils “OK, let’s try this: How many guys have you blown in a week?”
Girl “Well that’s different.”
Tucker “Jackpot!”
Nils “You don’t have enough fingers for infinity, so just round down.”

Then she actually held her hands out and starting counting on her fingers. Awesome.

-There was a girl with a Captain America whore brand. I almost had sex with her just because of that. But her buck teeth stopped me.

-One girl was rambling on and on about all kinds of bullshit, and I tried being polite at first, but it didn’t work. So I tried something else:

Girl “Oh, and I got this new toy, it’s a silver dildo that has…”
Tucker “I can imagine no worse fate than to be your dildo.”

She left. Winner!

-A girl took a Greyhound bus to Seattle for the premiere. FROM OTTAWA CANADA. 24 hours on a bus, to meet me. I don’t even know what to say about that. Here’s the best part though:

Tucker “I feel like I should sleep with you oor something, give you a reward for coming the farthest.”
Girl “Well…if you don’t have any other options, I guess I’ll go home with you. But I won’t fuck you.”
Tucker “Wait–you rode a Greyhound Bus here–for 24 hours–and you DON’T want to hook up?”
Girl “Not really. I think I want to hook up with Corman.”
Tucker “I am utterly speechless at everything about you.”

-At the end of the night, Charlie Hoehn (one of the gophers working on the tour) came up to me and asked if he could leave with some girls. I smiled at him and looked over his shoulder, expecting to see some sweathog or a mediocre girl I’d already dissed. Nope. The two hottest girls in the fucking bar. No shit. My jaw dropped.

Tucker “Want do you want with him? You want him to teach you about about marketing?”

The hot Asian one smiled at me, grabbed him and her friend, and walked off. Wow. Good score Charlie, I’m proud of you, but if you ever take a hotter girl (or girls) home than me again–from MY event no less–you’re fired.

-I think I told some girl I was going to kick her in the vagina until it closed. Don’t remember why, but I’m sure she deserved it.

-And all of this leads to the scene that ended the night. Not sure even where to start with this. I love my fans, and most of them are cool and respectful and normal…but goddamn, some are not. Once we got to the bar, my whole night was basically an endless barrage of dudes who wanted to talk to me, broken up by whatever over aggressive slut who was willing to fight them off to get my attention. This ended with two girls who were both absolutely INTENT on fucking me, and angry as fuck at each other.

Girl #1 “That girl is such a slut.”
Girl #2 “Why’d you call me that?”
Girl #1 “Because you fuck a lot of people, whore.”

After that, I grabbed Waldman and told him I needed to get out of there. Alone. I tried to trick the fighting sluts, but their WhoreRadar was too strong, and they followed me out to the sidewalk, and continued their cacophony:

Girl #1 “The ugly girl doesn’t get to fuck him!”
Girl #2 “Fuck you bitch!”

At this point, all hell broke loose. The two girls started pushing each other, friends and other people got invovled, and I jumped in the mini-van. Then Girl #1 broke away from the pack, opened the door to the van, and tried to climb in on my lap. I pushed her out, shut the door, and locked it.

Or at least, I thought I locked it.

It was like a fucking scene horror movie. She got up, flashed this crazy look at me, grabbed the door handle and pulled it open–EVEN THOUGH IT WAS LOCKED. Then–and this is still kinda hazy to me–I think she fucking swung at me. I know  she hit me in the face, that is certain. I am not sure if she was trying to hit me or trying to climb into the van, but either way I don’t give a fuck: I pushed her back out of the van, and she plopped down on the concrete. She looked up, and in the most pitiful, drunken whore wail I’ve ever heard, she said:

“WE WERE SUPPOSED TO HAVE SEX!”

-After we drove off, our tour manager Dave, who has ran tours for pretty much every major band who has toured during the past decade, looked at me and said, “Welcome to stardom. Motley Crue’s been here for years.”

-But the best tweet of the night came from Bill Dawes. Apparently some girls found out where we were staying from the other guys on the tour (thanks Chris you moron):

“I’m hiding in my hotel bedroom. Skanks who came to hotel for Tucker Max are knocking on my door. I’m hiding like Anne Frank.”

I ended up finally getting to bed at 2am. Then back up at 6am for all the morning radio shows in Seattle before on a plane to go back to LA. I am fairly confident that this tour and movie release will take at least one full year off of my life. But I think I’d rather have an incredibly fun time for the next two months and die at 81, then do nothing and die at 82. Easy choice.

EDIT #1: I guess it was Calgary, not Ottawa she got a bus from. But it was 24 hours.Like I give a shit about Canadian geography.

EDIT #2: HOLY SHIT, someone got the greatest pic I think I have ever seen. This is the girl who was trying to break into the van to fuck me, right after I pushed her out and slammed the door:

-And the tour manager telling her she isn’t coming back to the hotel with us:

EDIT #3 — From Nils, and if you went to Cal Berkeley, or have ever been in a Cal bar when someone is wearing red, this makes much mor sense:

“About half way into the night in the bar after the Q&A and signing, our table was accosted by a large, 20-something meth-toothed mongoloid wearing a backpack and a wolf shirt. He never really said a lot–he just flashed his big, meth-toothy grin–but when he did say something it creeped everyone out. There were two girls sitting at our table for most of the evening, one of whom relentlessly fucked with him…much to my GREAT amusement. Not to be outdone Wolfboy got her back by randomly trying to grope her and just generally scaring the shit out of her. It was a ballet, really.

At some point, Wolfboy thinks he can just up and take one of our pitchers of beer and pour himself a cup. I took great umbrage to this flagrant disrespect of bar protocol and my personal property, so I made him an offer. He could have his beer as long as he took off his wolf shirt. My offer left him perplexed because he didn’t have anything on underneath his shirt. This delay cost him dearly.

Nils: TAKE OFF THAT WOLF SHIRT!
Wolfboy: (meth-toothy grin)
Nils: TAKE OFF THAT WOLF SHIRT! TAKE OFF THAT WOLF SHIRT!

I got the entire front half of the bar chanting “TAKE OFF THAT WOLF SHIRT!” until even the brain damage caused my years of meth addiction and parental neglect could no longer stand in the way of the correct decision. Off came the shirt, down went the beer, and over came the bouncer.

Bouncer: Dude, put the shirt back on or you’re outta here.
Wolfboy: (meth-toothy grin)
Nils: PUT ON THAT WOLF SHIRT! PUT ON THAT WOLF SHIRT! PUT ON THAT WOLF SHIRT!”

The Seattle Pictures

The Seattle Premiere Video: