About Max Udargo
Max Udargo’s deep and expansive wisdom results from his insatiable appetite for novel experiences. He has explored the heights of human culture, and plumbed the depths of human depravity.
Max Udargo speaks 14 languages, including one he devised himself because no extant language had grammatical mood morphologies complex enough to convey his more subtle thoughts.
Max Udargo plays 11 different musical instruments. He owns over 2,000 patents.
Max Udargo has explored every culinary extreme possible, from the ravioles de foie gras à l’émulsion de crème truffée at Le Grand Véfour in Paris, to feasting on roasted human brains in an underground churrascaria in the Rocinha favela of Rio.
On his 30th birthday, at Daniel Boulud’s in New York, Max Udargo had a hazelnut dacquoise with chocolate ganache served to him in the crack of Monica Belucci’s ass.
In March of 1996, outside a brasserie in Cherbourg, Max Udargo killed a French waiter with his bare hands.
Max Udargo has summited Mount Everest six times, twice without bottled oxygen and once while drunk.
Max Udargo spent two years as a woman in Sweden before instructing the doctors to turn him back into a man, and only after experiencing the miracle of childbirth.
Max Udargo has had sex with women, men, little boys, infant girls, nuns, priests, a rabbi, the Indian chief from the Village People, three different breeds of sheep, a Dexter cow, his maternal grandmother and a Komodo dragon.
Max Udargo helped Salma Hayek and Penelope Cruz explore the lesbian impulses their friendship engendered, and then guided them safely back to heterosexuality with their friendship intact and strengthened.
Max Udargo once had sex with Dave Hasselhoff on an arctic ice floe while Steve Gutenberg masturbated in the Sno-Cat.
After he saw Flatliners, Max Udargo hired Stephen Baldwin to kill him just like in the movie and then take his body to an emergency room to have him revived. The plan was that he would be dead for no more than 10 to 15 minutes, but it took that idiot two hours to find the hospital. Turns out Max Udargo hired the wrong Baldwin.
Max Udargo has been dead for two hours.
Max Udargo has spoken with eternal angels, held the hand of the devil, and blown Bono in the back of David Bowie’s limousine while a starving Somali child looked on in ravenous horror.
Max Udargo has done everything his fertile and twisted imagination could conceive.
And yet Max Udargo feels unfulfilled, bored.
And so he blogs.