Most TV shows are after the unexpected. They want to create that water cooler moment that brings you back the next week, still buzzing about what you saw before. John Locke was in a wheelchair. Livia Soprano takes out a hit on her son. Michael Scott drives a car into a lake. The secretary runs over the new guy’s foot with a lawn tractor. All of these moments – good and bad – traffic in that instant when you gasp in shock and awe, amazed by the way the storyteller led you away from what you expected and toward something else entirely. Being surprised by a story is one of the most basic of human thrills. But I don’t think it should be the only thing we build our stories off of. The more storytellers try to surprise the audience, the more the audience goes in always expecting to be surprised. But stories can do other things as well. They can move us or comfort us. They can create a way for us to re-hear truths we’ve long believed. They can reflect our lives as they’re really lived. Surprise is a great tool, but it often seems like the only tool TV fans and critics value anymore. There’s something to be said for a story that holds a mirror up to our own flaws and emotions and says, “We know how this feels, too.”

Todd VanDerWerff on “Huge”

For you: Stifler’d, a story that depicts Seann William Scott as the voracious, bossy bottom we all know hope he is while presenting an examination of post-9/11 American ennui.  Never say I don’t give you your money’s worth around here. (What money, you ask? That’s up to you.)

But seriously, I had a great time writing this – thanks to all who voted and hope you enjoy.

Another Backwoods illustration detail, cause it’s Saturday. Michael’s sent me five by now, all are fantastic, and more are on the way…

As I said, normally I would be all over this fellow, but he was Kathy’s boyfriend still (they always got back together eventually-I think she liked to give her vag a break for a week or so). I told him to calm down, that he was drunk, to quit being silly. He told me that he knew I was gay, that we had some friends in common that I did not know about. Besides, it had been over a week for him and he was horny. And Kath wouldn’t know unless I told her about it. And besides, when else would I have an opportunity to play with something like what he had to offer?

Read “Kathy’s Boyfriend” by Expat Stud

Repost from old blog, 9/22/2007I read Blake Nelson’s novel Girl when I was in high school (back in the day, devouring my girl friend’s used copies of Sassy in study hall). I enjoyed it a great deal (a novel about teens with sex and drugs!), but Nelson fell off my radar until recently, when I read that his young adult novel Paranoid Park was the basis for Gus Van Sant’s latest film (I’m a big Van Sant fan, with a particular affinity for his slowest, most boring work).

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Congratulations, pollsters: you did the right thing. I know I pushed for the Seann William Scott/Stifler story, but truth be told I voted for the ill-fated story about a tanning salon clerk. But that’s cool – apparently THREE OTHER PEOPLE think it’s a good idea, too (even my devoted bf suggested I nix it). What is it about preening, body-conscious dudes that turns me on so much? Sorry, world – you may never know (unless, of course, said world reads any of the dozens of other stories where I write about shaved, cologned assholes).

Anyway, the Stifler story is already a quarter of the way written, and I have a good feeling about it. It’s making me laugh, at least. These celebrity/slash fiction pieces are the most fun to write, mainly because I don’t have to come up with the characters. Hell, I can basically plagiarize Wikipedia:

Stifler is a popular, confident, oversexed jock. He can be a bully and a prankster, but is always good natured. He is known to have had many sexual partners, with 23 acts of sexual intercourse and at least one act of oral sex in his freshman year of college alone.

Done and DONE.

In related news, it seems our beloved SWS has gained some weight. It’s okay with me – I’m sure his ass is just that much more succulent.

I was asked at lunch today who or what I worshipped. The question was asked sincerely, and in the same spirit I responded that I worshipped whatever there might be outside knowledge. I worship the void. The mystery.

–Roger Ebert

Read some of the bullshit on these cups.  Caribou Coffee has this trash printed all over the window of their store, which I walk by most everyday.  It never fails to fill me with rage:  ”Give your change to charity,”  ”Plant lots of trees,” “Have a favorite charity,” “Indulge in CHOCOLATE therapy.”  The one I saw this morning – “Build communities, not empires” – made me want to smash their windows and spray-paint that very phrase on the side of the building.

I take full responsibility for my choices as a consumer.  I’m well aware that I’m not doing anybody any good by giving my money to Starbucks, Target, McDonalds, etc.  But don’t fucking patronize me with your corporate PR bullshit affirmations.  I will never drink your moose piss coffee.

Do the right thing: vote for Stifler.

This summer I started working on a series of nonfiction stories for a chapbook my friend is going to put out, tentatively titled Sex Makes Life.  Before that I was working on my college stories book, tentatively titled College Town U.S.A. But I put both of those projects aside recently to finish up a top-secret project I’m developing with some friends.  Now I’m feeling ambivalent about my unfinished books, or maybe just overwhelmed.

So:  a story poll (the idea being, as always, that I’ll take whatever is voted on and write a story around it).  This’ll be a short one (time-wise) cause I want something to work on asap: poll closes Friday (8/13/10) afternoon.  Please vote!

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Just informed by Drub’s blog that one of Canada’s finest, Maurice Vellekoop, has a website and blog. There’s lots to peruse here but I might as well just link you to the porn. Vellekoop has a way with color as well as sexy men, and his ABC Book is a must-own.