When are HUMP! tickets going on sale? We
wait with whetted appetites and utter anticipation. Yet when I go to
the HUMP! website, there’s not a word about ticket sales, only about
making and submitting films for HUMP!. Any information about getting
our hands on tickets would be helpful! Thank you!
Tall Rough Top
HUMP! can’t come if you don’t.
I’m not talking about audiences, TRT, or all
those Craigslist scalpers who gouge people for tickets to our porn
festival every year. No, my point is this: Seattle’s biggest, best, and
only amateur and locally produced porn/erotica film festival can’t come
if Seattle’s dead-sexy, adventurous, and sex-positive folks don’t make
pornographic and/or erotic films for HUMP!. That’s why our HUMP!
on filmmakers right now and not filmgoers.
A few words to HUMP! filmmakers and HUMP!
stars: The deadline for HUMP! entries is October...
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...or erotic films for HUMP!. That’s why our HUMP!
on filmmakers right now and not filmgoers.
A few words to HUMP! filmmakers and HUMP!
stars: The deadline for HUMP! entries is October 6, 2008. That’s just a
few weeks away—but there’s plenty of time to make a sexy short
film for HUMP!. One of last year’s winning teams made its HUMP! film
the day before the deadline!
If you’re tempted to make a film for HUMP!
but you’re concerned about your privacy—if you’re worried about
your future great-great-grandchildren finding your HUMP! film on the
interwebs one day—rest easy! We work hard to make HUMP! safe,
fun, and anonymous for all. You make a film, you give it to us, we make
two master screening copies (one’s a backup), and return the original
to you. Our only copies are destroyed live onstage after the final
HUMP! screening. We’ve hosted DOZENS and DOZENS of HUMP! screenings
over the last three years with ZERO leaks! HUMP! lets you to be a porn
star for a weekend—not for life.
Let me emphasize that point again: We’ve got
three HUMP! festivals under our belts and we’ve never had a leak.
That’s three festivals, dozens and dozens of screenings, and thousands
of hooting, clapping, cheering HUMP! fans—and not one single
security breach. Your dirty movie is safe with us, porn star!
Some other frequently asked HUMP!
“Do I have to show my face in my film?”
Nope! We need proof of age—a photocopy
of a passport or driver’s license—for everyone who appears in
your film, but you can be shot from the neck down. Or you can wear
masks. Or makeup. Or a Sarah Palin wig and glasses. So long as your
film is creative and hot, it’ll make the cut!
“Does my film have to be hardcore?”
Nope! Erotica, animation, mechanical dogs,
amorous saltshakers, horny napkins, and nonexplicit shorts all have a
home at HUMP!.
“Are there cash prizes?”
Yep! Big-ass cash prizes have always been a
part of HUMP!. We’ve got two $2,000 First Prizes—one for Best
Hardcore and one for Best Humor—and this year we’re adding a $500
Best Actor Prize and a $500 Best Actress Prize. All prizes are awarded
by audience ballot!
“Anything else I should know before I get
started on my film?”
Films must be shorter than eight minutes.
Nothing illegal, please. No poop, no animals, no kids. Films that
include shots of Red Square, Dino Rossi, Mars Hill Church, Bellevue, or
a jack-o’-lantern are awarded extra points by the HUMP! jury. Films can
be submitted in DVD or VHS format. Deadline for entry is October 6,
2008. HUMP! goes down at On the Boards on October 24 and 25. Release
forms and more information are available at www.thestranger.com/hump.
And finally, TRT, tickets for HUMP! go on
sale October 8. Watch www.thestranger.com/hump for
Is it possible for a man to insert his balls
into a woman? It’s a topic I don’t want to Google. A few months ago, I
was making out with a guy and he whispered that he wanted to insert his
balls into me. I said, “What?!?” and he moved on to other things. I’ve
shared this story with a couple of girlfriends. After laughing, they
all said they’ve never heard of such a thing. Are we prudes or am I
missing out on something?
Nothing shrivels the ol’ dick quite as
quickly as the “What?!?” bomb.
There the guy was, boned for you, and he was
brave enough to put his desires out there, to make himself vulnerable
(which is what the ladies are always saying they want, right?), and you
lobbed the ol’ “What?!?” bomb at him and made him feel like a freak. Is
it any wonder that he quickly moved on to “other things” and, one would
hope, better sex partners?
And that’s too bad, RIT, because it sounds
like you may have been a little curious, maybe even tempted, by his
request. I mean, here you are, all these months later, wondering what
that “What?!?” caused you to miss out on. But before I fill you
in—or stuff it in—let’s pause to consider just what
prompted you to toss out that “What?!?” bomb in the first place.
You’re not the only person whose first
reaction to an unexpected request is “What?!?” Many of us feel
obliged—even the sexually adventurous among us—to go on the
record with slight-to-mild-to-royal shock when a new partner presents
us with a request for something besides standard-issue sex organ
stuffed in standard-issue orifice. Our shock—real, feigned, or
exaggerated—allows us to establish our moral superiority while
placing the other person in a weaker position. It forces the other
person to acknowledge that he or she is the bigger pervert and that we,
by even contemplating indulging his or her kinks, are doing that person
a favor. Tragically for all involved, most people on the receiving end
of a “What?!?” emerge less likely to share their kinks with future sex
partners, resulting in less interesting sex lives for all.
On to your question: Yeah, a guy can insert
his balls into a vagina—or an anus, or a mouth, or the seventh
hole of the Augusta National golf course. Some guys like to do it
loose; they pack the sack in by hand and the orifice then closes around
their sacks, above their balls. These guys derive pleasure from having
their balls trapped and tugged. Other guys like to wrap their scrabble
bags with a short length of soft rope or a rubber sheath; this pushes
their nuts down to the bottom of their sacks and creates, essentially,
a firmer, more-easily-inserted, temporarily phallus-shaped sack that
they can literally fuck the shit out of you with.
So here’s what you missed out on, RIT: a
safe and unique sexual experience with a guy who isn’t afraid of his
own desires but is, it seems, too easily spooked by the odd “What?!?”
Who knows? Maybe he was “the one,” but your reaction to his kink
prompted him to go off in search of more indulgent, less-sex-negative
Your loss, I’d say.
Tell me the name of my fetish! In intimate
situations, all I want is the foreplay portion of a hookup: kissing,
petting, dry humping. But it goes no further than both parties being
shirtless, i.e., no oral, no penetration, no getting off. Is there a
name for this fetish?
My Own Crazy Kink
Indeed there is, MOCK. It’s called “second
At a recent party in Paris, I fucked a
Spanish girl in an inflatable igloo. As we were going at
it—standing up, from behind, clothes mostly on—she put a
finger in her ass. Being the gentleman I am, I asked if she’d prefer
something more substantial in there. She said yes. After a few minutes,
I began to smell something. I prayed to the God I don’t believe exists
that it wasn’t what I suspected. I finally looked down and saw her ass
and my dick were covered in brown. Nearly vomiting, I tried to stay
calm and make what I would consider a traumatic situation for her a
little less embarrassing.
Thing is, she wasn’t embarrassed. She didn’t
seem to mind. In fact, after I lost my erection, removed my socks and
underwear and used them to try to clean things up, she sucked me off.
The next day, I received a text from her saying that she had a great
time. No apology for shitting on me, no quip to lighten things up. I’d
suspect that she forgot the whole ordeal (she was drunk), but I’m
confident that despite my efforts to clean up, she awoke the next day
with shit on her person and skirt. In the days since, my sympathy for
the cute little thing has turned into resentment. Shouldn’t she have
known she had to poop? Shouldn’t she have apologized?
Shitty Shitty Bang Bang
You did all the right things after that
Spanish tramp shit on you—and we’re talking shit here, not a
splash of santorum. You pulled out, you cleaned up, you moved on. Some
folks would’ve freaked but, eh, those folks don’t get it. You can put
lipstick on ass, my friends, but it’s still ass. Shit happens, as the
saying goes. Shit shouldn’t happen. But when you’re fucking ass, shit
has to be regarded as a “known known.”
The accidental shitter, however, owes the
shittee the courtesy of being appropriately mortified; the shitter
should also quickly assume all clean-up duties (oral doesn’t count);
and if the shittee is being cool, the shitter should thank the shittee
for not making a big deal about it. Based on this girl’s actions, SSBB,
I’d say she was blind drunk, utterly clueless, into shit, or all of the
above. Whatever her malfunction, SSBB, wipe her from your phone’s
I recently read on Wikipedia (which knows
all) that you own Ann Landers’s desk. I really enjoyed her column
growing up, and now I enjoy yours. I’m wondering how you display the
desk, and if you write at it.
Wikipedia doesn’t know all, CW. For
instance, the site incorrectly lists my age: I am 34, not 43. And that
picture of me they’re using? I may have to sue.
But I do own Ann Landers’s desk. I bought it
at auction after Landers passed away—after securing an okay from
her daughter, Margo Howard—and when I’m not writing Savage Love
in a bar, an airport, or an inflatable igloo, I write at Landers’s
desk. And let me tackle the obvious follow-up question: I’ve never had
sex on Landers’s desk, you sick fucks. I can’t go so far as to say that
Landers’s desk has been entirely unmolested since it came into my
possession, as I’m not the only person with after-hours access to my
offices. But if this desk has been violated, it wasn’t by me.