Fahrenheit-182: A Humorous and Inspirational Memoir by Mark Hoppus of Blink-182

I’m sitting here listening to the blue vinyl of The Mark, Tom, and Travis Show double vinyl, with side B playing “Voyeur,” to be followed by “Pathetic.” Before setting up at my desk, I was finishing Fahrenheit-182: A Memoir by Mark Hoppus (with Dan Ozzi). I laughed, I cried, I learned. What a wonderful book. For the past three days, I spent every free moment I had energy devouring it. Apparently, I had so much of blink-182’s history wrong in my head. I don’t know where I got the ideas I had, but I found out all kinds of things that other fans probably knew and would call me a poser for not knowing them.I started listening to blink-182 in 1999 when “What’s My Age Again?” was playing nonstop on the radio during our 20-hour drive south to Florida. I had a vague idea of the band because I would see their merch everywhere—including a calendar in the bookstore that I always thought looked funny—but didn’t know of their songs at the time. I grew up with strict parents that sheltered me from anything with a Parental Advisory sticker, even if we were to look at the censored CDs at Wal-Mart. But “What’s My Age Again?” was playing on the radio channels that we always listened to in the car, so I was able to really hear the blink-182 for the first time. And thanks to those 20 hours in the car, we all learned the song and fell in love with it. This didn’t mean my parents allowed me to buy the CD it was single for (Enema of the State, duh) but the damage was done; I now knew what blink-182 sounded like and I was in love.I could go on and on about my history of discovering the band, but let me circle back to the book. I learned a lot, like I said. Take this for example: I always thought the original drummer, Scott Raynor, left the band because he went to college (he was, after all, quite a bit younger than the others). He was actually giving an ultimatum by Mark and Tom for his excessive drinking, at which point he quit. Another thing I learned: Mark didn’t even meet Tom until he was 20! I always thought the two grew up together. I didn’t know Mark spent his childhood bouncing around different locations due to his father’s job (and eventual divorce of his parents). See—I didn’t know jack about the band’s history before reading this book.Of course, there were things I DID know before reading Fahrenheit-182, but I was shocked by how little I got right. I loved that Mark talked along a timeline, rather than jump all over the place like other memoirs. I loved that he didn’t shy away from showing his true feelings, including those scorned from things that had to do with Tom. I had no idea there was such bad blood between them when Box Car Racer happened; I thought that was on the level, but nope! In general, Mark shares a lot of personal feelings during this book, including anything about his depression and anxiety. He and I actually share a lot of feelings and insecurities, which made me love him even more.Generally speaking, I don’t care about the artists behind the art (I know that might be shocking, considering I wrote for music magazines for a decade and hung out with bands frequently)—I just like what I like. I learned long ago that meeting the people behind the art can be soul crushing. So I mostly don’t pay attention to the real people behind my favorite music, books, and movies. But with blink-182, I’ve always wanted to hang with the guys. I think we would have been thick as thieves. Knowing what I know about Mark now, thanks to the book, I feel like there would have been an even deeper connection that I ever expected.There are stories in this book that made me laugh out loud, like the stuff with Robert Smith of The Cure. There are sections that made me emotional. I cried when Travis was in his plane crash and during the last forty pages of the book in which Mark is dealing with cancer and repairing his friendship with Tom.This entire memoir was a rollercoaster of emotions. I wanted more of some things that I feel were just glossed over, like +44 and the Skiba years. But that’s the curse of being a fan, isn’t it? Always wanting more. And I definitely want more. But what we have here from Mark is wonderful. I loved it.

I picked up Fahrenheit-182 fully expecting a few laughs, some nostalgia, and maybe a couple of good behind-the-scenes anecdotes. What I wasn’t prepared for was just how seen I’d feel, page after page.I started listening to Blink-182 in 1997, when I was in seventh grade, the year skateboarding meant freedom, baggy jeans were battle gear, and every local high school had at least one kid blasting Dude Ranch from a battered boombox. For me and my friends, Blink wasn't just background music, it was the starting gun. We’d push off on our boards with “Apple Shampoo” or “Dammit” in our ears, replaying lyrics that felt ripped from our own awkward, stubborn, and sometimes brilliant teenage lives.Reading Mark’s story brought that entire era back with clarity that hit harder than expected. He doesn’t shy away from the raw stuff: the cancer diagnosis, the fear, the disorientation of fame, or the loneliness that creeps in even when you're surrounded by millions of fans. But what makes this memoir work, and I mean really work, is that it’s filtered through the exact same dry, self-effacing humor that made Blink different from every other pop-punk band that followed. Mark’s voice is honest and vulnerable, but it never slips into pity or posturing. You get the sense that you’re hearing from a guy who’s lived through it, not someone trying to rewrite it.What makes this book truly exceptional and worth recommending is how universal its themes become when you strip away the stage lights. Identity, mortality, friendship, growing older without growing irrelevant it’s all in here. And for those of us who tried to write our own stories in garage bands, loading into battle-of-the-bands gigs with $90 pawn shop amps and the audacity to believe we mattered, Fahrenheit-182 feels like a memoir about us, too.I played guitar and sang in a band my friends and I started sophomore year. We had a three-song setlist, a pre-MySpace page, and exactly one crowd chant from a girl who probably only came because she liked our drummer. We practiced in basements with carpet stapled to the walls and dreamed of “making it,” mostly because Blink made it feel like that wasn’t just for someone else. That maybe we had a shot too. That blend of irreverence and emotional honesty shaped how we wrote songs, how we talked about growing up, and how we understood ourselves. Mark Hoppus, whether he knew it or not, had a hand in helping us find language for things we didn’t yet know how to say.This book reminded me of all of that. And yet, it also felt new, not a rehash of old albums or nostalgia bait, but a genuine look at what happens after the curtain drops. The humor is still sharp. The voice is still unmistakably Mark. But the stakes feel real. This isn’t just Blink-182’s bassist telling his story, it’s a father, a survivor, and a thoughtful human being reflecting on what it all meant.If you grew up skating curbs to Enema of the State, or if you spent hours clicking repeat on “Stay Together for the Kids” because you didn’t know how else to process your own family stuff, you owe it to yourself to read this. Even if Blink wasn’t your band, you’ll find something here that’s deeply and surprisingly resonant.Final Verdict:An honest, insightful, and often hilarious memoir that transcends its genre. Fahrenheit-182 is far more than a behind-the-scenes tour. It’s a time capsule, a mirror, and a celebration of the misfit kids we once were and the adults we’re still figuring out how to be. Highly recommended for fans, creatives, and anyone who understands how music can become part of your identity.