There is a cringe-worthy scene in the book on his TriBeCa roof deck, the morning after his raucous 34th birthday party, which featured a performance by the rappers Naughty by Nature. While smoking a joint, he asked himself, “Why do I feel so empty?” If Mr. Duff partied his way to the top, he snorted his way to the bottom. When cocaine enters the picture, Mr. Duff’s Wall Street confessional becomes an addiction memoir. Drug-fueled benders starring pills, pornography and Patrón Silver fill the second half of the book. His low point came when, in an effort to create an alibi for skipping work, he faked a mugging by rolling on the pavement and into a puddle until he was bleeding and bruised. [Dealbook, earlier, earlier]
*This seems like something you do when the stakes are much higher, not for one missed day of work, no? Regardless, we love and respect Mr. Duff's commitment to his craft.