Let's get good. And dirty.

WARNING: if you don't find acid-tripping fraternity boys on The Price is Right, porn films that set out not only to break... but to shatter world records, or the question, "Wait, is there a chance I might have given my dog AIDS?" even remotely funny, don't read any further.

If you believe that any of those things can be both hilarious and heart-warming, read on.

I never promised that this blog would be interesting and I never promised that it would be socially appropriate so I make no apologies for what follows.

You know it's going to be an entertaining night when you walk into a theater to hear an author read his work and someone hands you a) an autographed copy of the author's newest book, and b) a string of blue pearlescent ass-beads.

Wait, did I say "ass-beads"? I meant "bookmark."

No, I meant ass-beads.

If you don't know what that means, kindly DO NOT Google it at work. Again, I make no apologies.

The aforementioned item is a promotion for FoxSearchlight's (yes, that Fox, as in Rupert Murdoch: hyper-conservative and... ass-bead enthusiast?) new "dirty-minded love story" Choke, based on Chuck Palahniuk's novel of the same name. The warning on the "bookmark" reads: "For your book not for your bum. And not for small children." Which is appropriate on so many levels.

We have our books, we have our beads, we take our seats and prepare for what lies ahead. Chuck Palahniuk is giving a reading in the only remaining non-chain movie theater in DC, sponsored by Olsson's books.

If you've ever read any of Chuck's books--you might vaguely anticipate what's coming despite all outward appearances. And when he walks out amidst cheers and hoots, he looks like one of the characters from his books. He's just a guy. In a shirt and pants. Normal height. Normal haircut. He taps the mic, which doesn't work, and some Olsson's employee runs over and turns it on--just like the beginning of 85% of all events where someone has come to speak to a group of people about something normal. It's an awful lot of normal for someone with so much gleeful filth going on upstairs.

Everyone in this giant room knows all the rules of Fight Club. That might not seem that impressive, since most people know at least the first rule of Fight Club. But thanks to Chuck, these people also know what it's like to eat a lobster with it's heart still beating. They know that the best place to meet an easy date is at a sex addiction recovery meeting. They all feel slightly superior and slightly guilty that they know these things.

Except Tim. Who has never read anything by Chuck Palahniuk and is just here to have a good time.

The reading starts like many others; the author tells a little story from his life. It's a heartwarming story that starts with a pact between a couple he knows. They've agreed to put their fat, diabetic, incontinent, 17 year-old cat to sleep as soon as his bag of outlandishly priced cat food runs out. When the punchline comes we all have a a hearty chuckle about the power of love playing out over such an unlikely hero. I won't tell it to you, in case you're lucky enough to hear it in person some day.

Then Chuck tells us we're going to play a game and the blowup dolls come out.

And that's just thing. It's amazing how a situation that just sounds so wrong can really be highbrow and funny and innocent and never remotely uncomfortable. Typically, if you're in a theater with that many people frantically blowing up that many sex dolls you are in the wrong place.

But this was just a little good, clean fun. Floppy pink plastic legs sticking up everywhere in this theater with red velvet seats and cherubs on the ceiling. The sounds of furious huffing and puffing. Chuck Palahniuk, world-famous author, yelling at everyone "You've got to squeeze the little valve thing or you're never going to get anywhere!" To the first fully-inflated male and female doll blowers went a book of short stories. The games are over. It's time for a reading.

Chuck reads an unpublished short story of his called "Loser" because he wants us all to have something fresh. Because we came all this way to see him and it's the least he can do. It's about a fraternity boy during pledge week who drops a "hello kitty" tab of acid and is the next contestant on that game show where the giant, god-like voice asks you to "come on down!!!" It's a hilarious story. It hurts your face to hear it.

It hurts my face now to think about it.

So then some local author comes up and sits with Chuck in their little chairs and they have an interview. And of course the guy's first question is "I know you hate this question but...." (then why are you asking it?) "...how do you feel about the way Fight Club has been received?" And it's wonderful. Chuck gives this wonderful, unintelligible answer that only happens when authors try to speak but they realize that what they're trying to say is so full of nuance and significance that it should be written down, but it's too late! He's already started speaking!

It's something about the Titanic. And culture digesting things. And cud. And it makes almost no sense but you know he's thought about it until his brain bled. And he just wants us to know how it feeeeeeeels, DAMNIT!

And there are more questions from the audience. Those typical audience questions that start with "So, first of all I think you're awesome and now I'm going to tell you about me, because someone handed me a microphone. I'm um, a (insert current level of education/addiction here) and I have a lot of friends/problems/questions/diseases. My entirely unrelated question is (insert some intellectual-sounding gibberish about characters/method/plot/inspiration)." Bless their little hearts.

Two really good things did come out of the Q & A. One guy asked Chuck to tell "the Pug Dog Story", which is a true story someone sent to him in a (long) letter. I won't relay the whole story but I will say that it's not the kind of story one should ever tell in a crowded Barnes & Noble. And don't worry. Nothing at all bad happens to the Pug Dog. Dogs really can't get AIDS--at least, they can't get HIV.

The second good thing is that they revealed that Choke has been made into a movie starring Sam Rockwell. And since we were already in the theater, the dimmed the lights and showed us all the preview, which made everyone a little bit giddy. No one was expecting a multi-media experience.

At this point in the evening, it seemed like things really couldn't possibly get any better, so we played another round of the blow-up doll game and Chuck handed out a few books to people who correctly answered various trivia questions. He also informed us that instead of sending thank you letters in reply to his fanmail, he sends gift packages full of things that make him happy.

That's when I realized, as he stood there telling this amazingly serious story about how all of his characters are essentially lonely people who are searching for ways to be intimate and to be loved without actually having to build honest, intimate relationships, and how he's constantly amazed at the level to which strangers will share their darkest and most traumatic stories with him because he's so clearly someone who has no shred of dignity left.... he's standing there, pouring it out... sincerely sharing his discoveries about the beauty and tragedy of the human condition... and in his arms he's holding about fifteen limp, wadded up, deflated blow-up dolls.

That's when I realized that Chuck Palahniuk is not only someone whose writing I enjoy and admire... Chuck Palahniuk is someone I like. He's someone I'd like to be friends with.

For the first time, I'm looking at an author I might actually like more than I like his books! How can this be? Authors are usually like giant wet blankets woven from unbreakable fibers of pomposity and ennui. Either that or they're just flat out boring--they live in their heads.

But Chuck seems to be, as he stand there in front of us all, primarily interested in making everyone feel good. In making us laugh the way porn makes you laugh. It's so desperate and dirty and terrible but it's also just too ridiculous not to laugh at it. In the end, it's just there because people want to feel needed, important, and loved.

And so the last thing that gets thrown into the audience is fitting. Here, he drags out a giant cardboard box full of Autograph Hounds and says "I spent my winter signing these." Apparently, among the important objects in the new book, Snuff, is an autograph hound. It's just a stuffed dog that you have everyone sign. It's like a memento to prove that people like you.

Chuck and his assistants from the Olsson's throw probably 100 of them into the audience for people to catch. And I think it's his way of saying that he likes us wants to be our friend too.

It's a great two hours. Everyone get up on their feet and applauds. Chuck ducks out the back door. A crowd of people carrying half-inflated blow-up dolls, stuffed dogs, books and ass-beads rumbles towards the metro.

Everyone feels good about all the bad things we've just seen and heard and done together. But the point is that everyone feels good.