World Net Daily—the completely insane right-wing "news site" that promotes and "researches" and obsesses over conspiracies like Obama's Kenyan birth and the NAFTA superhighway and FEMA concentration camps—held a press conference on Capitol Hill to celebrate their successful campaign to have their crazy (but spendy!) readers send "pink slips" to members of Congress. Lots of Republican congressmen went! Including Michele Bachmann, pictured with WND editor-in-chief Joseph Farah, one of the foremost birthers.

And remember earlier this month, when Bachmann helped organize and promote the anti-health care reform tea party protest at the Capitol? For the record, that was not a protest. That was a "press conference." It may have looked like a protest, as it was an explicitly partisan event at which the organizers encouraged the public attendees to tear up copies of a bill under consideration, and there was no point at which the press asked anyone questions about anything, but there was one important factor that made that a "press conference" and not a "demonstration": a "demonstration" would not have been allowed under House rules. Because they never sought a permit from the Capitol Police.

Furthermore, if that was a "rally" or a "protest" or a "demonstration" (which it wasn't! it was a simple "press conference"!) Bachmann would've violated House rules when she used her House website to organize and promote it.

That announcement described the event as a "Health Care ‘House Call' on Washington Press Conference" and urged citizens to "tell their Representatives to vote no to a government take-over of one-fifth of our economy."

According to the Member's Handbook - guidelines issued by the House Administration panel that govern the use of official office budgets - lawmakers "may not include grassroots lobbying or solicit support for a Member's position" on their Congressional Web sites.

Yes. Well. Seems pretty clear-cut! But the House Administration Committee decided Bachmann did not violate any rules, even though it basically looks like she completely did. The upshot is that we are granted one of those very small ironies that bitter coastal types cling to, like real Americans and religion: this means Bachmann's anti-government spending "tea party" protest was eligible to be paid for with funds from her official Members' Representational Allowance, making it a tax-funded tea party.

This, by the way, is the cover of this week's Minneapolis City Pages, which is running its millionth "history of Michele Bachmann" piece. This one actually kinda elides much of the crazy! Like the baby-farming and the hiding in bushes and stuff.

The aforementioned lawsuit, no doubt timed to coincide with Heaton's Who Wants to be a Millionaire appearance, was filed by former Heaton personal assistant Jennifer Lee, who claims she was fired because her child was interfering with her work and then stiffed her on $7,425 in back wages.

And then ABC aired her appearance on Millionaire!

Heaton, an unabashed anti-abortion conservative, started off her appearance on the show by having a little exchange with Regis Philbin in which she mentioned how "people who live in the middle of America, which is where I come from," are "nicer" and "smarter" than people who live on the East and West coasts. Then, prior to being presented with the one question she came on the show to answer, Heaton took a shot at her alma mater, Ohio State, by basically saying her education there did little to help her escape the throes of dumbassery (No real surprise there, right?). Then came the one question she appeared on the show to answer along with the four multiple choice answers from which she was to choose one:

If a euro is worth $1.50, five euros is worth what?

A. Thirty quarters
B. Fifty dimes
C. Seventy nickels
D. Ninety pennies

Heaton then had an unlimited amount of time to use simple arithmetic figure it out, not to mention the standard issue "lifelines" the show's famous for. What followed is both hilarious and cringeworthy.

In Heaton's defense, she was playing to raise money for charity, nor is she the first celebrity to shame themselves by appearing on a game show, but still!

So yeah, those little arrows showing you exactly where Tom and Giselle and Reese and Arnie keep their mansions? Completely made-up. Some genius staffer at the magazine just typed "Brentwood, CA" into Google Maps and ran with it. So, they got this Brentwood, CA, a sleepy subdivision homestead town outside of Oakland. Maybe a ton of celebrities live there? Like that Idaho trend a few years back maybe? Somehow, we doubt it.

Nice work everyone.

Page Six hisses that the girl, who is forever yours, had a lengthy sitdown with the fake gay Austrian fashion reporter, and has still not figured out—because synapses fire pretty slowly through Farina—that it was all a hoax. Most people who were duped by the reality comedian figured it out pretty quick, but no, not dear Paula. Her spokesperson declined to comment, but, I guess, now she must be aware of it.

Sorry P!

We know the liberal bloggers derisively compared Jindal to Kenneth the Page—but is that just regional elitism? Well, yes, but Republicans thought he was a joke too!

David Brooks thought Jindal sucked, so so much. So much that he couldn't even formulate the crazy backwards this is secretly bad for OBAMA that the Republicans are a mess argument he'll eventually use in a column. "It's just a disaster for the Republican party," Brooks said, calling out Jindal for "nihilism." Which is actually a pretty accurate description of the entire Republican response to the economic crisis, right?

At The Corner, official Jindal girlfriend-in-waiting K-Lo jumped out of the gate with the first response to Jindal's response, cautiously complimenting how awesome he was without really committing, because her and Jonah don't form genuine opinions until the smarter Corner contributors weigh in with things that make some sort of sense. And right on cue, Ramesh Ponnuru acknowledged that Jindal's "delivery was weak." And so K-Lo lets an emailer note that Jindal sounded ridiculous.

These psycho conservatives commenting at Larry Johnson's blog wonder if Jindal is even a natural-born citizen and pray for Sarah Palin.

Hilariously, a Free Republic commenter says Jindal reminded him of Richard Pryor's "white man voice," which is pretty clever and also maybe racist (because it's from a Free Republic commenter).

Sorry, Bobby! Maybe by 2012 someone other than a preschool teacher will give you some tips on reading speeches?

And while he concedes his behavior was "extraordinarily stupid," he remains somewhat unwilling to accept full public scorn.

These were 17-year-olds, just months from being men, he insists.

"There was never anywhere in those conversations where someone said, 'Stop,' or 'I'm not enjoying this,' or 'This is inappropriate' ... but again, I'm the adult here, I'm the congressman," Foley said. "The fact is I allowed it to happen. That's where my responsibility lies."

Oh man, Mark. Can you sound a little bit more in denial of your hypocrisy, maybe?

"The work I was doing was involving young children ... You know, you hear the term 'pedophile.' That is prepubescent," Foley said, noting a "huge difference" from lurid chats with teens on the brink of adulthood.

Yes it's actually a sad story about a sad man.

Less sad, of course, is the story of John Edwards, the smooth-talkin' populist whose political career imploded when it was revealed he carried on an extra-marital affair with a crazy woman and probably fathered her child. He addressed some students at Indiana University on the subject of poverty, and talked a bit about the election, and didn't talk at all about Rielle Hunter and his lovechild. He'd like to be remembered as an anti-poverty crusader, and not as a slick narcissistic asshole. Sorry, John.

[Agency Spy. More new ads at Valleywag]

Who is he?

Tucker Max is, essentially, a born asshole who managed to parlay that asshole-ness into fame. The wonders of the internet. He went to the University of Chicago and Duke Law School, and has spent his life since graduation relating stories about himself being drunk and hooking up with girls. Throw in some poop jokes and random destruction of property, and you have Tucker's entire oeuvre.


His stories got extremely popular online in the early '00s, thus his ensuing internet fame, book deal, and movie deal. A 20-year-old reading his stories would reasonably consider him a passable writer with a good sense of humor and some awesome adventures. A 30-year-old reading him would reasonably consider him a juvenile prick who did all the same stuff that everybody else did when they were young and crazy, but never got enough sense beaten into him by life to stop being an idiot.

Tucker is 32.

What's wrong with that?

"My mom told me when I grew up I could be anything I wanted. So I became an asshole," Tucker writes. His life goal is "To be a celebrity that gets paid to get drunk, act like an asshole, and get drunk some more." Okay, fine. But his self-esteem is predicated on the idea that being an asshole is cool, and anyone who objects is not gonzo enough to worry about.

No. Hunter Thompson was gonzo. Tucker Max is just...an asshole. We're just pointing out exactly how much of an asshole he is, so we assume he's not upset about it.

He's kind of racist, he's probably scared to death of women who aren't self-loathing, he thinks he's a far better writer than he actually is, he talks tough to little guys while hiding behind a friend to make himself feel powerful, and just about everyone who's dealt with him in person—from employees to coworkers to shock jocks—thinks he's a prick. None of which would be that important if he hadn't positioned himself as some sort of heroic rebel. There's a time when being an asshole goes from being funny to being repulsive; that time was many, many years ago for Tucker Max. But he forgot to change.

His stories aren't really that crazy, either. Ninety-eight percent of frat guys in America have all the same pastimes. Do some different shit, bro.

Why does anybody care?

It's a mystery! We would have stopped writing about Tucker Max long ago were it not for the massive outpouring of public interest. Our theory is that everyone has met a Tucker Max or two in their lives; that loud ass guy at the bar hitting on the dumbest, drunkest girl and annoying everybody else in the place, and telling exaggerated stories about it for the next six years, bro. Nobody likes that guy.

But please notify us if you detect his awesomeness.





[All previous Tucker Max coverage]

The young man was a Tucker fan, and quit a real job to go be a paid assistant on the set of Tucker's film, where we pick up his experiences:

I quit my stable job at a publishing house and moved out there. He said I could stay at his house, but when I arrived he made me sleep in the backyard the first night. Tucker had other assistants but I detected animosity right from the start. One guy continually tried to commit assault on me. I figured because of my lesser stature it was all part of the "breaking in" process. Well, 5 days into production, I'm being threatened with crossbows and berated at every turn. Tucker has me doing ridiculous tasks like getting him water at a perfect temperature. The first few times he'd say it was 10 degrees too hot. I knew he was joking, but I'd take it back and add some of the cold water (which I realize is poposterous, but if you'd seen this guy he'd sic on me with choke holds or really hard arm punches, you'd understand). Finally on day 8, I bring him a paper cup filled with water; he takes a sip and throws it right in my face. I practically fell over a chair. This was in front of Jesse Bradford who even cautioned Tucker that it was a little too far. Tucker told Jesse to shut up, and then Nils (the "other" Tucker) intervened.

After two weeks of constant abuse, including Tucker letting me use the bathroom in his house, which had his shit in the toilet that he didn't flush. I quit on the spot. Nils first tried to comfort me by saying that Tucker is a jerk, and that it wasn't worth quitting over. I said I understood until HE confides that it was him that left the gigantic log in the toilet for me.

I understand that guys like to laugh and joke and get along. I do the same thing with my friends. On the IHTSBIH set, however, it was a very different story. These people weren't funny. They were "fratastic" in that douchebag sense. On my last day on set I talked to Matt Czuchry, who I got to know rather well. He told me that the Hollywood business was cut throat, and that he'd had his share of lumps. He said everyday he was losing respect for Tucker and that he worried this role my be career ending because the character doesn't have any redeeming qualities. Actually, he said the character Tucker as it was written might appear to, but after studying Tucker himself, he realized the guy was a fucking prick.

You'll notice there are no party picks of Tucker and the actors after the first week or so. This is not a coincidence. I've never been so incensed with an individual. Perhaps I was asking for it, chasing a pipe dream with no regard, but nobody should have to deal with what I did. I haven't even scratched the surface...

I'm done with the fucking asshole for good. I've found a new job, similar to what I'm doing before, but I don't' think I'll ever forget the sheer humiliation I faced.

After quitting, the assistant sent Tucker a pretty polite email asking for his check, and wondering if Tucker would be putting up any photos of him in the film's Flickr page. The response:

From: Tucker Max
Date: Mon, Aug 11, 2008 at 10:19 PM
To: [Former assistant]

It's not MY fault you couldn't hack it. Don't come crawling back AND don't waste my time with bullshit promises if you wont back them up. You know something about photos? The person who takes them — or the person who employs the person who takes them — owns the copyright. I OWN THEM. You want them? Pay me.

You want your money? Jeff has it. Get it from him. I warn you, he's been in an extra bad mood lately.—

"...highly entertaining and thoroughly reprehensible..."
-NY Times describing TuckerMax.com

He asked for his check to be mailed to him, and said that he just wanted the photos to show his friends. Tucker wasn't fooled:

From: Tucker Max
Date: Thurs, Aug 14, 2008 at 5:20 PM
To: [Former assistant]

You want the photos so you can cry to Gawker. I didn't get where I am today by being a moron. You'll get your photos like everybody else – when the movie is done shooting.

Jeff will be passing through your area after we wrap. He'll hand deliver the money. We'll bring a camera along for the DVD extras. Now stop fucking bothering me.—

"...highly entertaining and thoroughly reprehensible..."
-NY Times describing TuckerMax.com

[DISCLAIMER: My personal belief is this story is authentic, though as some commenters have pointed out, it could be some ruse by Tucker fans to plant a fake story. Though, counterpoint: the story makes Tucker sound bad, not good, so if it were a plant (and we've seen some bad attempts), it would be a stupid one. Verdict: Real in my considered judgment, but if not, I hope Tucker writes a triumphant note soon so that we can mock it.]

The scene: Tucker is sitting next to an FBI agent on a plane, swapping stories:

Yeah…this guy is fucking cool. THIS is the type of person that deserves to sit next to me. I decide to tell him Embassu Suites part of The Austin Road Trip Story, and he loves it. He comes back with this one about his exploits with the US Border Patrol:

Agent Jones “I thought I was bad ass until I hung out with those guys. They are unbelievable. One time I was out with them right at to the border. There is a big fence with concertina wire and what not all along this stretch, but the Coyotes had cut a hole in it—”

I interrupted him.

Tucker “What is a Coyote?”
Agent Jones “They are the guys who smuggle illegals back and forth over the border. Anyway, the Coyote was smuggling about a hundred Tonks through the hole, and—”

I interrupted him again.

Tucker “What is a Tonk?”
Agent Jones “Oh—that’s what Border Patrol calls illegal immigrants who have made it into the US. They can’t call them ‘wetbacks’ or ‘spicks’ because obviously those are racially charged names, and ‘Mexican’ isn’t accurate since a lot of illegals are not from Mexico, so they say ‘Tonk.’ They call them that because it’s the sound made when you hit them on the head with a Mag-Lite.”
Tucker “HOE-LEE-SHIT.”
Agent Jones “I told you those guys were nuts. Anyway, so there we are, four trucks on this hill like 200 yards from the hole in the fence. We are totally blacked out, wearing night vision goggles and we can clearly see the Coyote hustling about a hundred Tonks through the fence. The Border Patrol guys wait until all of them are through the hole and about 50 yards into our side, when all four trucks simultaneously turn on all their spot lights and sirens. Of course, the illegals shit themselves and bust ass back to the border…and in the darkness, they all run right into the concertina wire. It was a fucking mess. Some of them did not make it.”
Tucker “You have to be kidding me.”
Agent Jones “Nope. You think our force continuum is loose? These guys shoot anything they want. You should see their situation reports for deaths. They’ll take out guys with rifles at 100 yards and write in the report, ‘Subject was threatening agent with a rock.’ It’s a joke.”

I get off the plane and part ways with Agent Jones, who is officially in my Awesome Guy Hall of Fame. Riding a great buzz, basking in genius slick maneuver that got me into first class, and having just heard some hilarious stories, I head to the gate for my Newark to Nantucket connection in a great fucking mood.

[Previously. Tucker would like you to know that he has several fans, thank you. ]

He's a cheapskate.

Last week we noted how Tucker scoffed at a former blogger who wondered why he only made $82 for six months of work. Other employees tell us the standard pay for Rudius bloggers is somewhere in the $80/ quarter range, with one noting "I got just a tiny bit more than that when my site was doing really well." Sweet. So Rudius must be making a lot of money.

You work hard for the money.

One Rudius employee was ordered by Tucker to move to a different, more expensive city because Tucker thought that they could better do their job elsewhere. Once the employee had gone to the trouble of packing up and moving and finding a new, more costly apartment, we hear, their pay was reduced to almost nothing. Which seems like the standard Rudius pay rate, now that we think of it.

He's not popular with publishers.

We hear that at least one book agent quit working with Tucker because he flaked out on book proposal deadlines. (Not true? Email us!)

He's not popular with the bloggers that work for him at Rudius.

The emails we've received from disgruntled bloggers alone are ample evidence of this. He attracts bloggers he's interested in with the promise of writing for a wider audience—though, as you can tell by their pay, not necessarily more money. But when bloggers tire of Rudius and leave the fold, we hear, they are bizarrely wiped from existence in Tucker Max's world:

If an author leaves the site, the circumstances are never discussed. Not even on the message boards. It's reminiscent of some 1984 thought-crime type thing. The author is simply never mentioned again, the site stays up and repeated questions about "what happened" are ignored.

He's vindictive.

Those who have worked with Tucker say he's very protective of his "image," such as it is. We hear that his failed appearance on Opie and Anthony is a very sore point. This sensitivity manifests itself in both the disappearing of his fallen disciples as mentioned above, and in an atmosphere in which Tucker Max sycophants feel that harassment of detractors is a way to win approval. One blogger, Violent Acres, wrote a Tucker Max parody a couple of years ago. This resulted in 70 harassing phone calls from a crazed Tucker fan in a single weekend—and we hear the harassment is still ongoing, though the blogger has filed a police report.

Is it Tucker's fault that he has a crazy fan? Not necessarily. But it is Tucker's fault that he expressed his discontent with a cast member on his movie by taking a big crap in the toilet in the guy's trailer, taking a photo of it (do not click that link), and then blogging about it.

Can't wait till the movie comes out!

[Read all previous Tucker Max coverage here. Anybody else with Tucker stories, email us.]

• Amazon has deleted negative reviews of Tucker's book, for unknown reasons. Conspiracy?
• Tucker plagiarized a line in his script about "man talk" from this scene in the movie Goldfinger.
• Tucker stole some guy's fiancee over the internet (though we are suspicious of this one, because it had a rather suspect tone of "no woman can resist Tucker's sex charms").
• "It is apparent from his you tube videos that Tucker Max mistreats his cast by letting them injure themselves in their off time. One of his actresses severely bruised her leg while dancing in a bar." We have not watched said videos. Volunteers?
• Tucker has stolen story ideas from other websites. WE WILL NOT READ ALL OF HIS STORIES IN ORDER TO VERIFY THIS. Sorry.
• Tucker's network of websites, Rudius Media, is run by a cheap bastard named Tucker Max. One ex-Rudius blogger wrote about his experience of trying to get paid for six months of steady blogging work, and finally receiving the check: "Think of a very very very low number. Then divide it in half. That’s about how much I got paid. Odds are, you may still be thinking of too high a number." We hear the sum was less than $100 for six months.
• Two sample (very unverified) incidents taken from the blog Tucker Max Is A Douchebag:

  Tucker gets in an altarcation with a woman at a bar:

  Tucker threw his drink at her, Candice threw her drink at Tucker with lightning fast reflexes, then he proceeded to grab Megan by her hair and hit her in the face with his pathetically small hands. With a bruised face, and a bruised ego, he took his shriveled penis back to his buddies.

  A longtime member of the Tucker Max message boards bemoans the fact that Tucker has allowed his fame go to his head:

  The more I thought about it, however, the more the fact that TM is basically lying in his stories began to bother me. His whole hook is that these stories are “true.” Anyone could just make this shit up and pass it off as fiction, it would get e-mailed around a few times and be forgotten. But Tucker presents it as true, that it actually happened to him, and it didn’t, he’s lying and that’s unacceptable. What gets Tucker his attention is people going “Man, I can’t believe that this actually happened to someone, that shit is so crazy!! I wish I were him.” In short, he was interesting because he represented something that many people wish they were but don’t really have the balls to be. Unfortunately, he wasn’t really that person, Tucker is more a persona than anything else.

• "I have a friend who used to go to Duke with Tucker; he told me that Max likes to feed on the souls of kittens and the tears or orphaned children."

Feel free to write in, Tucker.

[pic via Underage Lolita]

A tipster forwarded us the following text, which they say is an entry that was deleted from Tucker Max's ex-girlfriend's blog. We don't follow the man's love life closely enough to know whether this is true, but the blog does have Tucker Max listed as its contact person. Portions of this post have been floating around the internet for some time now. That's our disclaimer. Now here's the alleged Tucker Max love experience:

Humiliating
Last night Tucker blew me off. Again.

I went insane. I cut off all my hair with kitchen scissors like Frida Khalo.
Today I examined the fallout (actually quite cute and flippy. I am good at
everything). I also thought, "Bunny... there is something terribly awry. Why
are you so angry? Why have you become a bitter and horrible person since you
met Tucker?"

Today, while I'm working, Tucker is hovering over me asking me the same
question.

I have decided to make an itemized list of reasons why I might want to cut
off all my hair like a rape victim.

[Note: This is truly humiliating. If anyone were to make a medicine to cure
low self-esteem, I'd take it in spades; I'd do the 10k walk for closet
self-loathers, and wear the empty wine bottle lapel pin. I wish to God these
FACTS were fabricated or embellished, but the awful truth is that they are
not. I only hope this helps the other girls who don't like themselves].

What it is like to date Tucker Max.

-You will get fried chicken for your birthday. Later that night when you
both go to a bar, you will want a diet coke, but won't get one because that
is one less beer that he can drink.

-He will hang up on your favorite aunt, and be stunned when you get upset
that he referred to your mother as "that fucking bitch" because she called
you at a late hour.

-He will scream at you because you don't like the instant coffee he bought
you.

-He will never kiss you, and barely fuck you, even if you beg him to for
months. You are now the Virgin Mary. He will still try to coerce crazy
whores into coming to Chicago to fuck him. He will kiss them because they
are whores, and don't you know that you're only supposed to give good
passionate sex to women that you don't know or give a shit about? I didn't
know that either.

-You will beg him to take a shower, which he will not do. But he will shave
his face to have long make-out sessions with any random girl.

-You will read every piece of writing he has ever done and be supportive of
all his creative outlets. When you then ask him to read your own novel he
will drop it after chapter one because it's a waste of his time. He's not
good at editing.

-You will give him the greatest head of his life on a regular basis. He will
still suck in bed.

-He will make sure you know that you aren't very hot, only sort of cute, and
that your head is too big for the rest of your body. You also have
unattractive dark circles under your eyes and your tits are too small. He
will never compliment you.

-You will be bi-sexual and okay with him sleeping with other women, but this
will not be enough. He needs freedom.

-If he is an insensitive asshole to you, it is only because you are selfish.
You should understand that his parents sucked and now you have to pay for
this. How this is logical, I'm not really sure.

-When he has major surgery you will not leave his side. You will spend day
night waiting on him hand and foot, making sure he is comfortable and well
cared for. You will even wipe his ass when he takes a shit. Later he will
tell you that it was all unnecessary. He didn't need or want you to be
there.

-When he is supposed to pick you up and take you to a party, he will get
black-out drunk and fuck some girl instead of showing up.

-He will tell you he loves you and wants to have children with you. When you
then get pregnant, he will say that he has about two to four more years of
drinking and whoring left to do, so a baby isn't in the cards. He will
coerce you into an abortion by threatening to give away your dog if you try
to have the child. Then he will be evasive so that you will be forced to
dump him and he can get off scot-free.

-When you get upset about this, he will tell you that you are
over-emotional. When you try to explain how this hurts, he will ignore you
till you find yourself screaming and breaking things. He will explain these
outbursts to his drinking buddies as so: "Yeah she's fucking crazy. She
flips out on me like every third day."

-When you go to stay with your parents (read: bawl day and night) for two
weeks, he will fuck other women in your bed. The night you return he will
try to go out with a whore he's just met and wonder why you're upset about
that. He needs his freedom.

-When you are at your parents, he won't take your calls. Instead he will
spend his time e-mailing some whore. Later, he will not stop e-mailing this
same whore, because all whores come before your feelings even if the whores
are half as attractive and barely capable of forming cogent sentences.

-When his ex-girlfriend dies and then comes back to life, you will nurse him
through the depression. You will even be fine with her coming to stay at
your own fucking apartment so that he can decide which of you he wants. This
is so that you can be fair to both of them because you are a good person.
unlike them.

-Later on you will catch him telling this covert bitch who pretended to be
nice to you that he is only keeping you around because you are willing to
support him financially. They will laugh at you behind your back for being
"over-emotional." Oh how silly you are!

-When Tucker bounces back from his depression you will not be needed
anymore. You will just hand over the keys to his car and not say a word when
he drives it all over Chicagoland while black-out drunk.

-When girls come to the apartment, he will become "Cooooool Tucker Max." He
will dress and act differently. He will be an asshole to you. Why are you
upset? Don't you know "this is the Tucker Max show?" This pathetic statement
is his actual quote.

-And finally (though I could write pages and pages of this horrible shit):
When you've been stood up by the very first date you've planned in a year,
you will call Tucker and ask to hang out with him. He will not come pick you
up in YOUR OWN FUCKING CAR, because HE lost your license the night before
and you won't be able to get into the club he's going to. When you ask if it
's possible to go anywhere else he will refuse because there are free drinks
and whores in said club. Whores are very special. Much more special than the
woman that did all the above things out of unconditional love FOR A FUCKING
YEAR!

posted by The Bunny at 4:22 PM

JADE: A drop-dead gorgeous stripper with big boobs. She's the main event at the strip club. She tries to negotiate Tucker into the champagne room. She thinks he's cute and funny and seems to enjoy the process of flirting with him independent of the job...10 lines, 1 scene (51) AGE: 18-24 NUDITY NOT REQUIRED, but skimpy stripper attire will be worn. Only submit super-hot, gorgeous women with very large breasts (think Pamela Anderson). Will be in scene with Matt Czuchry, Jesse Bradford, and Geoff Stults, so actresses must be good enough to hold their own onscreen with them.

Implied: MUST HAVE STRONG STOMACH.

Czuchry, by the way, was Logan from Gilmore Girls and is Kate Bosworth's ex. Bradford has appeared in Bring It On and Swimfan. Stults played Ben on 7th Heaven.

Intimidating!

4. Tucker's Friend Is Down With Mexicans, Mane:

5. Tucker "Max" On A Midget Girl, Ha:

6. Tucker Max Really Has To Poop Immediately:

1. The Dramatic Opening Scene:

2. Bar Scene One: Tucker Max Has A Way With Women And Dudes Better Not Give Him Any Shit Bro:

3. Bar Scene Two: Tucker Max Can Steal Your Sorostitute You Dumb Frat Boy So Watch Out Bro:

If we have the stomach, we'll bring you more lowlights soon bro!

At a charity auction/promote-a-thon at overdone NYC clurrrb Tenjune, Slade was humiliated on the block:

But the evening's climax came when Slade stepped up to the auction block. The final auction of the night, Slade initially went for $2,250 — but the winning bidder never stepped up to claim her prize. When the auctioneer backpedaled and tried to give Slade away to the $2,000 bidder, she went mum as well, forcing the organizers to restart the auction (while Jo danced on a banquette away from the stage, cheering on the debacle). "This is New York, I thought there was more money than that," Slade said to the crowd. Upon re-bid, he ended up selling for a measly $1,200.

Ha! Serves you, stupid. Why don't you go cry to all your guy friends. You know, like Ridge and Shipsmast and Northdakota.

Most kids are obsessed with high schoolers. From 4th or 5th grade on, the teenagers who roam those hallowed halls are mythic and magical. They're your baby sitters, the beguilingly surly lifeguards at your local pool or beach, they disinterestedly shove ice cream cones into your hands while wearing stupid hats at the Baskin Robbins. They're so full of feelings and experiences that, as a child, one (or at least the people I knew) can't wait to be one of them. To drive cars! To go to proms! To experience all the giddy thrills of feeling angry and lonely and jittery in first love! And we are aided, all the way along, by young adult material that is always within our reaches. Whether it be the Wakefield twins' split-level ranch, the bright zigzags of the Max, or the leafy Eden of John Hughes' Chicagoland, some imaginary place, full of fascinating teenagers, is always close by, calling to us. And then, yeah, you get to the high school years and they're nothing like you dreamed. They manage to be both stultifyingly boring and absolutely terrifying, all at the same time. They're gross, they're awkward, they're unbelievably sad. Obviously things never wrap up on any last page or at any closing credits. They just sort of ramble on until, suddenly, you're 18 and high school is about the last place in the world you'd ever want to be again.

Or, you know, at least it was that way for me. And during that time, my interest in this other version of teendom, that one so immediate on the other side of the looking glass, never waned. It may have even gotten stronger. My sister and I scraped the bottom of the video store barrel trying to get our fix. (Ever seen the Will Friedel/Love Hewitt masterpiece Trojan War? I have. Twice.) And when I stumbled off to college, these movies and TV shows (and to an increasingly lesser extent, books—though I've read the Sloppy Firsts series and Prep and other things since) became even more enjoyable, even more hilarious. Because, finally, I could see, with complete clarity, what a total fiction they are. Though there's still something about that world — with all of its silly rules about right and wrong, its placid depictions of sex, its ideas about who boys are and who girls are — that comforts me. Of course there are different levels of quality at work here. My So-Called Life was just brilliant TV that happened to be set in high school. High School Musical is by all accounts bad and honestly a bit dull in parts. But I enjoy them both.

And, I don't know, maybe my reasons for enjoying them are a bit therapeutic, in a way. Struggling to come out in high school was terribly alienating. Yes I went to prom, but it never felt quite right. I furtively drank with friends in darkened parks and smoked joints in playgrounds like all the other kids, but something always felt off. And it did well into college (and maybe still does). Escaping back into this world of imagination, seeing what high school was really supposed to be like is silly and laughable and yet a little bittersweet, too. Call it masochism, but I enjoy that pang. I guess it's like getting pinched to see if one's dreaming. I watch High School Musical and chuckle into a sigh and say "Oh, wouldn't that have been fun." And then I feel it, that little curdle of dread, that whiff of years spent treading water, and it reminds me that I made it through. I made it through just fine. It's over (mostly) and now I can just look back and laugh. These fake people are stuck in high school forever, while we get to move on and do other, more exciting things. Isn't the real trick to surviving those years constantly reminding yourself that they'll soon be over? So I guess, really, I watch this shit — the Gossip Girls and the Camp Rocks and the Degrassis — as a benediction. Once I'm finally exorcised of all the high school trauma (that happens eventually, right?), I imagine I'll pack it in and turn my full attention toward Charlie Rose. For now, though, I'm still having fun. Awkward, delirious fun. See you at 8, Camp Rock.

Or, all of that is nonsense and I'm just an unbelievable dork. Your call.

Emo!