To: Gene Newman
Editor-in-Chief/Programming Director
Maxim Magazine

From: Kevin "Kevlar" Alexander

Re: A Chill Feature Query

Dear Mr. Newman,

'Sup, bro. First up, allow me to drop some serious props. For more than ten(ish) years now, you've been at the forefront of magazines deemed socially acceptable for college-age guys to leave in their dorm, fraternity, and secret literary society bathroom. More tasteful with the 'rents than Playboy and less socially alienating than Dance Magazine, you bring the Miami editorial heat with your risque layouts of Israeli Defense Force Women, features on Micheal Chiklis and bar fights, and links to online videos where you can watch yogurt explode in slo-mo (suck it, Dannon Activia Strawberry!). But maybe it's time we take that medium level editorial heat, and "FLAME ON". (Hah! As you probably guessed from one of your myraid interviews with Jessica Alba, that was a line from The Fantastic Four's Johnny Storm as played by Chris Evans, who, by the way--not that I'm gay or anything because i'm like so totally aggressively not-- is pretty f-ing jacked in that film.)

Now that I've set your table Gene, allow me to serve you the features idea that has the potential to turn Maxim into Maxim-um Magazine or, at least, you know, Stuff. But first, here's a little background appetizer. Lately, all I've been hearing about on my T-Mobile Sidekick is the enchanting magic and wizardry of JK Rowling's final tome in the imaginative and delightful Harry Potter series. Now, G-man, you can bet your ironic T-shirt collection that I've never read any of those stupid kid witch books; or really any books for that matter, unless they were about scantily clad hot chicks shooting guns and, like, punking people. But, despite my girlfriend being really, really good looking, she's all about young English wizards, spells and Sex and the City reruns on TBS the like. So much so that she's even dragged me to a few Harry Potter themed dress up parties movies, which gave me this idea. I know you guys have done "Hometown Hotties" and "Top Ten Bollywood Babes" (editorial note: Kareena Kapoor at #9 over Bipasha Basu?? Are you crazy?), but what about this special spread: "Harry Potter's Hogwarts Hotties Who've--For Legal Reasons-- Hopefully Had Their Fictional 18th Birthdays?"

Think about it, Genie: we get an edgy cartoonist like Bill Keane or whoever draws Ziggy to illustrate the Potter Hotties and I'll write up sassy and clever captions to accompany the spread in the standard Maxim vernacular. Here's a tiny taste from my spoon of sass: Cho Chang: A former Ravenclaw Quidditch Seeker, this Raven haired Eastern beauty doesn't need high speeds, weird winged ball type things and a broomstick to get our hearts pumping! Yowza!
Or:
Petunia Dursley: Harry's aunt may seem like a nosy bitch, but behind closed doors this long-legged Muggle MILF surely knows a few spells of her own...sex spells, that is!

Although it appears to be literally perfect already (I mean, honestly, what beats yowza!?), that's just the tip of the proverbial idea iceberg that sunk the f*cking Titanic. I've got millions of ideas for your mag; from "B*tchslapping Student Loans" to "Things You Can Say to Your Girlfriend When You Kind of Want to Watch A Devil Wears Prada But Don't Want To Seem Like You Do In Front of Your Girlfriend's Friend's Boyfriend Who--While No Chris Evans--Still Appears Pretty Strong".

I know a thing or two about how the editorial process works, Geno, so I know this is not going to make it straight into your no-doubt well-groomed hands without first being read by someone lower on the food chain, most likely Assistant Online Editor Amelia McDonnell-Parry. So Amelia, babe, here is a quick glimpse at my street creds to let you know just who you're dealing with: I went pro in writing 3 years ago with the smash success of a story about 13 year olds, I've met people who've written for Dance Magazine Esquire and GQ, I imagine I'd be good at windsurfing, I've gotten numerous tickets for speeding and once even "got smart" with 5-0 the Cop, which is probably why the ticket was $380, and despite being allergic to freshly cut grass, I played Division Three soccer...in college!! If that doesn't scream Maxim material then maybe I accidentally sent this to the wrong magazine, in which case I'd totes appreciate it if you could forward it on.

It's your turn to pick who's coming to the dance, Gene-Gene. Is it going to be the guy with infinity ideas that may or may not be good at windsurfing or some other hack who pitches you with actual "clips" and probably was never in a fraternity? The choice is yours...or maybe Amelia's.
Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to do some pushups in front of my vanity mirror.

FLAME O--sh*t, I already said that.

Circus Maxim-us,

Kevin Alexander

Ps- Pictured Below: A less socially acceptable college bathroom reading option and a taste of what Billy Keane can do with swimwear.

"Dude."
"What?"
"Stop. Seriously."
"Stop what?"
"Stop f-ing around online, pack up your computer and go finish your work. You're on deadline. Today!"
"No, I know. I totally know. I'm going in one sec--it's just--have you seen Slate today? There's this article by Witold Rybczynski about how to make environmentally friendly buildings that aren't ugly. It's really interesting sounding."
"But you don't even like architecture. And Witold Rybczynski sounds like a made up name."
"I know, it totally sounds made up. I think that's what originally interested me in the article."
"Well, yeah, I mean funny names are kind a--no, wait. Stop this. Get your stuff and go to Espresso Royale and finish this draft of the Best Pre-Schools package for Boston Mag. Your editor is going to kill you."
(Whiny voice)"But if I go to Espresso Royale, I'm going to smell like coffee for the rest of the day. And plus sometimes there are hippies there, and they seem like the judging-type of hippies."
"Then stop asking them for patchouli oil and incense. Now c'mon. Pack up. You really need to go now."
"Okay, fine. Let me turn off my--oh, just got an email. It seems Ramsey has sent me a link to a blog that talks about drinking and watching football, but apparently--according to Ramsey-- does so hilariously and in a way that only guys can appreciate. Being that I'm a guy and sometimes I watch football that sounds like something I'd be interested in reading about, so let me just click on that li--"
"Are you serious? What the f**k is your problem? Ramsey sends links from this blog everyday. And I'm pretty sure he doesn't even read it."
"What's your problem with Ramsey?"
"I don't have a problem with Ramsey. I just want you to stop procrastinating so you're not in such a bad mood later when you realize you have to pull an all-nighter."
"Okay, you're right. Let me check one thing, ok? I just need to do this quick search."
(Typing)
"Um, are you Googling yourself?"
"...No."
"Yes, you are. You're doing it right now. I'm watching you."
"Dude, have you ever thought about what happens when you Google Google? That would be crazy. Doesn't that just melt your face? That's like some postmodern-outside-the-Matrix type sh*t."

"No, it's not, you'd just get sent to Google.com--anyway, stop changing the subject!! You're the worst most self obsessed procrastinator ever. Maybe if you didn't spend so much time online looking at stupid Youtube videos of bears eating moose and reading pointless links and Googling yourself, you'd actually get things accomplished!"

(Quietly) "It's meese."
"What!?"
"The plural for moose is meese."
"No, it's not."
"Yeah, man, I read Ranger Rick. It is."
"Google that shite."
"Ok, but first I'm just going to watch a quick episode of Friday Night Lights on NBC.com. I'm nearly halfway through the first season, and the Dillon Panthers just found out they made the playoffs!!"
"Dude, you really do need to go. But now that you mention Friday Night Lights, I was sort of wondering: What's going on with Lyla Garrity and her tumultuous relationship with Jason Street?"
"Only one way to find out, friend!!"

PS- To whet (wet?) your appetite, here's a preview of the show I'm obsessed with that critics are calling "better than Ezra" and "like Notting Hill with football players". And now, seriously, I'm going to leave to go Espresso Royale. The hippies don't like to stay after 5 PM anyway.

Introductory Apology: Last week was the nation's bday, and a holiday week for me from the stress and grind of sitting in front of my computer sans pants. So apologies on the lapse. If it makes you feel any better, America liked most of its presents.

To: Kate White,
Editor in Chief
Cosmopolitan Magazine

From: Kevin Alexander

Dear Ms. White,

Heyyyy Girl!!:) Kate, can I totally confess something? I’ve been Cosmo Crazy on and off since I was 13, mostly depending on my older sister’s diligence in renewing her subscription. And although not as sexually explicit as Redbook--the full figured women's mag of the 90s--you did and continue to answer many questions I hadn't even thought of about sex positions every Cosmo Girl should know and abdominal moves needed to get a bikini bod for summer. But telling you I'm Cosmolicious isn't the only point of my letter. It is the main point, of course, so I kind of regret putting it in the lede. But it does lead (LOL!) me nicely to a boxer-brief story:

While spending several days at my mother's house commenting on Elizabeth Hasselbeck’s outfit choices on a View blog I edit frequent (enough with the babydoll tops, Lizzie!), I came across a piece of information. Apparently the dude who was writing your "Ask A Guy" column is leaving. Or left. Or maybe he wrote for Glamour. Honestly, I can't remember. But either way, I want to take this opportunity to avail myself for the allegedly vacated position. Here's why: I am a guy. And I tell it like it is. Sometimes, I even tell it like it isn’t, but should be, which is probably refreshing. And believe you me, Katy, I have qualifications: I’ve owned a semi-cute cat, I like romantic comedies starring either Taye Diggs, Vin Diesel or Josh Hartnett, I use face lotion, I like to dance like no one’s watching even when people are watching and kind of embarrassed, I own more than one pair of distressed status jeans, and, finally, I've had two separate dreams where I thought I was Drew Barrymore. Now if that doesn't shout CosmoGuy, well, I dunno. I guess it's probably not a good thing for me.

But Katie, despite my Cosmolifications, I realize that you probably can’t just hire me sight unseen to write this column. First you need to know if I can handle the position and write in a girl-friendly way while giving your readership “straight talk” about how guyz “really” think. I get it. You need to proverbially taste the proverbial cocaine before serving it to your guests at your proverbial orgiastic “key” party. And because I understand ladies, Kathy, that’s totally fab with me. Relatedly, I just read on Wikipedia that ladies love poetry. So in that spirit, here’s a sample of what you would get if you bring me on, in the form of a poem I wrote for an ex-girlfriend in college after she dumped me and I mutually separated.  This poem is entitled "You Know Who You Are, And If You Don't, I'm Talking About You, Kate Boardman" and although I haven't got official notification, it'll probably be published in the Kenyon Review sometime later this Fall:

You Know Who You Are, And If You Don't, I'm Talking About You, Kate Boardman
(words by Kevin Alexander)

Darkness. Your Soul is
Dark Since
You Won’t Return
My Call(s).
Did You Change
Your Num-
Ber Again? Not
Cool


Wow, I just got goose bumps. And if you can believe it, Kathryn--I wasn't even an English major!!! I know. I guess it's genetic. Anyway, my time at this Internet Cafe is drawing to a close. I'm going to be on vacay in a few weeks, but you can email my friend Casey (it's BigCatMeow@hotmail.com) when you decide on a salary and he'll spread the good word. I look forward to our continued work relationship and good personal friendship. And if you need any more poems, don't worry: the well is nowhere near close to dry, Kit Kat.

Cosmo' Money, Mo' problems,

Kevin Alexander
Future Cosmolumnist

PS- Pictured Below: Drew Barrymore minutes before she was told she didn't get the role in Million Dollar Baby and the only poets in the US that can hold a candle to yours truly.