You Deserve a Drink: Boozy Misadventures and Tales of Debauchery

A PLUME BOOK

YOU DESERVE A DRINK

Eric Michael Pearson

Modeling is tough.
To get ready for this shoot,
I didn’t eat for, like,
two and
a half
hours.

MAMRIE HART
grew up in the middle of nowhere North Carolina. She then hightailed it to New York to become a serious actress. Upon realizing that her face is made of rubber, she got into comedy. After years of bartending and performing live in New York basement theaters, she eventually found her own true home, the Internet, where she now resides. With that said, you can literally google anything about her. She also hates writing bios.

Praise for
You Deserve a Drink

“I loved this book. Mamrie Hart is hilariously brilliant, and really puts things in perspective with
You Deserve a Drink
. Specifically that I do deserve a drink. And the only person I feel like having one with right now is her.”

—Judy Greer, actress and author of
I Don’t Know What You Know Me From

“You know that voice you have inside that tells you not to do certain things because they are reckless, embarrassing, or socially unacceptable? Mamrie Hart does not have that voice. She does it all and tells it all in
You Deserve a Drink
.”

—Rachel Dratch, SNL alum and author of
Girl Walks into a Bar

“
You Deserve a Drink
is like a night out with Mamrie Hart: charmingly weird and hilariously memorable. All that’s missing is the hangover.”

—Tyler Oakley, YouTube star

PLUME

An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC

375 Hudson Street

New York, New York 10014

penguin.com

Copyright © 2015 by Mamrie Hart

Photographs courtesy of the author

Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

LIBRARY OF CONGRESS CATALOGING-IN-PUBLICATION DATA

Hart, Mamrie, 1983–

You deserve a drink : boozy misadventures and tales of debauchery / Mamrie Hart.

pages cm

ISBN 978-0-698-17602-7

1. Hart, Mamrie, 1983– 2. Actors—United States—Biography. 3. Entertainers—United States—Biography. 4. Drinking of alcoholic beverages—United States. I. Title.

PN2287.H27A3 2015

791.4302'8092—dc23 2015004927

Penguin is committed to publishing works of quality and integrity. In that spirit, we are proud to offer this book to our readers; however, the story, the experiences, and the words are the author’s alone.

The recipes contained in this book are to be followed exactly as written. The Publisher is not responsible for your specific health or allergy needs that may require medical supervision. The Publisher is not responsible for any adverse reactions to the recipes contained in this book.

O
ne humid summer night in Austin, Texas, Mamrie Hart and I spent an hour drunkenly arguing and openly crying on the street while wearing David Bowie– and Tina Turner–inspired wigs, butterfly eyelashes, and
KEEP
AUSTIN
WEIRD
tie-dyed T-shirts. Yes, we had been out at a bar dressed like that. Yes, the bartender bought us two-too-many shots. Yes, the jury’s still out on whether that bartender thought we were reject prostitutes having an existential crisis. And yes, what we were actually arguing about was complete nonsense. But man did those giant orange butterfly wings superglued to Mamrie’s eyelids hold up. The next morning we dragged our haggard bodies into our production van (we had been in the middle of filming a travel web series). When the crew left to get some coffee, we finally looked at each other and had this conversation:

“We cool?”

“Yeah, we’re just idiots.”

“Bloody Mary?”

“Dear God,
yes
.”

And that was that. We were back.

That day it really hit me: A friendship with Mamrie Hart is a truly special thing. It’s a friendship that, even in the seemingly difficult times, is abso-fucking-lutely ridiculous, in the best way possible. And that, plain and simple, is Mamrie’s life.

We’ve been friends since 2007, where we met on our first sketch comedy team, Finger (pronounced Fing-uh, because we were
clearly hilarious
). One of the first sketches we performed was called “Party Starters,” about two girls who start parties everywhere they go, even in inappropriate places (again,
hilarious
). But the core of that sketch has carried through to our friendship. Together we’ve been globe-trotters, meeting Mexican and American wrestlers, professional bull riders, spiritual healers, one-eyed mini ponies, a woman watching a Britney Spears concert through opera glasses . . . the list goes on. She’s pushed a person out of a cab, screaming, “That’s Brooklyn, bitch,” at the end of a drunken night. She’s shown me her blackjack skills while wearing a Snoop Dogg sweatshirt, sloshing a Lemon Drop martini, and flirting with a man to get a free electronic cigarette. She’s made me a bra with removable airplane bottles. She’s gotten me a green screen as a birthday present and wrapped it with
DENTAL DAM
written in huge letters across the outside. She’s crashed on my couch and farted herself awake in the middle of the night. She’s given me a handmade trophy to commemorate my excellent repression skills. She’s voluntarily bought swamp suits, a blow-up doll, karate gis, pizza costumes, and an electronic inflatable penis costume for other live shows we’ve done. She’s a special breed.

Needless to say I couldn’t be more thankful to have this absurdly sweet, reincarnated-vaudevillian-entertainer-meets-DIY-driven-hillbilly-sass-factory in my life. And now she’s created a book that lets you into hers. THANK GOD. Take it from someone who has watched her scoop room service lasagna off a carpeted hotel-room floor and eat it: None of what you’re about to read is exaggerated, fabricated, or G-rated. But it is, like her, special.

—Grace Helbig, #1
New York Times

bestselling author of
Grace’s Guide

I
wrote a book, you guys. This is big. Anyone who knows me at all (and you certainly will by the end of this thing) knows that I don’t even
read
books, let alone write them. Sure, I’ll occasionally find myself perusing
Us Weekly
, or a lengthy takeout menu, or an ex-boyfriend’s Facebook post about his new perfect family, but that’s about it.

For those of you who randomly picked this up at Barnes & Noble,
*
allow me to tell you a little bit about myself. My name is Mamrie Hart and I wanted to write this paperweight to combine my two favorite things: delicious cocktails and embarrassing myself. ’Cause nothing goes together better than dirty martinis and queef stories. A duo for the ages.

In 2011, I created a show called
You Deserve a Drink
, which lives on the Internet.
*
Every week I make a custom cocktail in honor of whoever in pop culture I think needs one the most. After sitting down and putting these stories on paper, I realized the person who most deserves a drink in this book is
you
, the reader! It’s gonna be a doozy, dudes. Why, you ask? Because . . . drumroll, please . . .

This book has a built-in drinking game!

Drinking games are a great way to rationalize excessive drinking, plus I selfishly want everyone to have a buzz so they think I’m a better writer than I actually am. The rules on my show are simple—drink every time I make a terrible pun—but that won’t work here. I can’t be responsible for alcohol poisoning of the literally
dozens
of people who will read this book. Instead, I came up with these rules.

Drink every time I . . .

1. reference an old television show;

2. talk about a food product that could be purchased at 7-Eleven;

3. use a slang term for a reproductive organ.

Turns out, you learn a lot about yourself when you write a book; and turns out, I talk about these three things incessantly. I don’t think there’s been a day in my adult life when I haven’t discussed
Boy Meets World
(why did they make Eric so dumb in the last few seasons?) or at least mentioned nachos.

Another detail you will see scattered among these pages is the word
rutabaga
. No, you are not about to embark on a bio bender about root vegetables.
Rutabaga
is my safe word. Normally safe words are codes used during BDSM (hard-core sex stuff) that the submissive person can use when he/she isn’t comfortable. Well, my safe word will be written every time I want my parents to stop reading that chapter. Part of me wishes I had said it before even writing the definition of
safe word
. I know my parents and other family members are going to read this book. It’s inevitable. And they will be super proud. I’ll be the goddamn Lady Gaga of this year’s Thanksgiving!

Sorry, Aunt Debbie, I cannot take the stuffing out of the oven. I can’t risk a thumb burn when I have to autograph books next month.

But there are a few tales that my relatives might not want burned into their brains. I figured a safe word would be a good way to prevent future therapy costs, and so they don’t “turnip” their noses at me come Turkey Day . . . ’cause rutabagas are turnips (more highbrow classic jokes like that in the pages ahead).

Now that all the rules are in play, let’s do this thing. Let’s read a fucking book, you guys! You could be reading this on the beach and quietly wondering how, exactly, to get that sand out of
there
, or be by yourself at a bar while you wait for a blind date and want to avoid having conversation with the people around you.
*
Whatever the circumstances, I hope you have a good time reading it. I had a great time writing it. And with that . . .

Full House
, Flamin’ Hot Cheetos, and
Chubby Cubbies
. Drink, mothafuckas!