I'm sure by now most have you have heard of
Tucker Max, the brains and beauty behind the intelligent book and film
I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell. Well, after reading the
true account of Courtney A's experience with Tucker at LemonDrop.com recalling her bed room adventures with Tucker Max, I have been inspired to tell my story here.
It all started one cold night in Indiana when I decided I needed a #5 Vito from Jimmy John's. You know the one. Salami, Ham. Provolone. Delicious.
There I was, standing in line wearing my fat pants since I had already downed two Pumpkin Spice Lattes earlier in the day. As I am ordering my little slice of heaven from the counter attendant, in walks Tucker and entourage. It must have been the Giselle-like view of my hot behind (
as described here) that provoked the one-liner he laid on me. I was hooked. He asked me to go home with him and I agreed. If my sandwich could come with.
Flash forward one delicious smelling cab ride later and we were back at his hotel. I couldn't wait to eat my sandwich. Tucker must have been in a hurry and had other plans. There was only one thing to do as he started kissing me and inching toward the couch. Make the grab now or regret it for the next seven minutes. It was on.
As we tumbled toward the pink scratchy couch pillows, I clutched the Jimmy John's bag tightly in my fingers. Kissing Tucker, I was able to tilt my head sideways to procure a view as I slowly opened the bag. I pulled out my sandwich and slowly pulled back the waxy paper. The sandwich appeared, ready to be bitten, just as Tucker started kissing my neck. This was it. My mouth was free.
Keeping one hand on the back of his head to ensure he wouldn't suddenly change locations, I took the first glorious bite. The salami seemed to melt in my mouth as the provolone stood sharply apart from the other greasy, spicy flavors. That's when Tucker went for the elastic waistband on my fat pants. What happened next was magical.
I bit into a pocket of capicola and onion and the flavors of the toasty bread, greasy meat and cold crisp cheese all blended together in my mouth. The net seven minutes were beautiful. Not too sure what Tucker was doing down there, but I enjoyed #5 Vito right down to the very last bite. I crumpled up the paper and tossed it behind the couch just in time and Tucker was none the wiser.
So in many respects, my interlude with Tucker was much more pleasant than Courtney A's. And it's all thanks to the joys of Italian deli meat.
- ArmFat
** Disclaimer: This confession may be slightly exaggerated or completely made up **
