Booty Texts

It’s 2am and my phone lights up with a message.  It’s a simple message, but the implications are obvious.The subtext of this text: “Hey, would now be a good time for me to come over and have sex?” The actual text reads: “Hey”


I know what he means, because this is a person who I have a prescribed relationship with and I know where this ‘Hey” is going.  You don’t make small talk with Santa Claus do you?  You say “Here’s what I want.” As is the subtle beautiful booty text relationship.  My problem with this brief message, is not it’s brevity, or it’s casualness… it’s the lack of imagination.  Sex is a beautiful, carnal, physical exchange and we’ve become so embarrassed and ashamed of our sexuality we are losing the language to talk about it.


I surveyed a small group of hetero lady friends (as the hetero males seem to be the number one unimaginative Booty Call perpetrators) about their worst Booty Text.  Here are the worst and/or most frequent texts in pursuit of booty.


“How about a little hump day fun?” -sent on a wednesday (ugh)

“When can I cum eat ur pussy”

“Hey, Missed me?;)”

“Happy Hour?” -sent at 2am

“excuse me, is your bed taken?”

“You up?”

“You free?”

“You around?”


“Hey Hey”

“Hi there”


When I really want to get down don’t make me say ‘no’ just to invalidate your dumb ass ideas of what sexy is.  It’s not fair!  A good booty text is pretty simple:  Be vulnerable!  Be bold! Be playful and funny! To inspire your brief lusty shouts into the void, I’ve enlisted some local writers, comedians, and pro-tweeters…


“WebMD says my junk might be broken forever. Can I get a second opinion?” @Alex_Falcone


“Come over and be the little spoon while we watch that Disney version of Robin Hood with those hot foxes.” @RorynotRoy


“We’ve got tonight, who needs tomorrow. And I promise not to cry afterwards this time.” Tommy Gaffney


“I think my dick needs some ‘you’ time.'” @WalkerNicolas


“I want to do that thing you said we could do when my ankle healed. Also, I bought the “item.” “ @Jason_Rouse


“I’m not tryna fuck, but if that what has to happen for us to spoon together all night, then you could probably convince me.” – @Curtis_Cook


And if that wasn’t enough to get your lover’s engine going try this… “I’ll buy breakfast” @bripruett


Wishing you great love and good sex,


Your Dumb Rape Jokes

My brilliant friend and hilarious comic Barbara Holm wrote this piece about how some dick hole comic told a rape joke at an open mic, she didn’t laugh, and he bullied her from the stage about it.  This would be tacky behavior if the joke were about cats or airplane food, but because the joke in question is about rape this is some gendered, emotionally-charged shit.  Male AND female comics need to had better recognize why some of us cannot abide by this shit any longer.

Here’s what happens when you tell your DUMB shit, ill-advised rape jokes.

1. You set up your joke about rape

2. I remember when I was raped *

3. You tell your punchline

4. It is not funny enough to bring me back into the present

5. You start talking about the mall, or cats or something.

6. I am left wallowing in my painful memory AT A COMEDY SHOW (where I’m expected to be funny… probably after you because there’s no justice in the universe)

*this may be the experience of 1/3 or more of the audience.

I want #4 to work out for you guys.  I really do.  I’ve seen it work, but those experiences are rare.  Like double rainbows, but rape-y.  I think comics are drawn to the challenge of taking a tragic/traumatic experience and making it into a cathartic bouquet of guffaws.  That’s what we comics do with our own pain, it’s my favorite coping mechanism ever.  I think this makes the world better, but only when you are successful!

If you have the jocular hubris to take on a majorly traumatic experience like sexual assault, you better bring it.  You self-important, dumb, motherfuckers.

I recently had the privilege of talking with veteran comedy fairy-god-mother Susan Rice.  She dropped this knowledge, “You have a responsibility to your audience.  You can’t bring your shit to them and leave it there.”  You gotta ask yourself, Why am I even talking about this dark horror show? What is this really about? Is it about your dumb ego?  If so, just stop.  Go talk to a therapist, not an audience.

I am also going to quote spider man here, as I often do: “with great power comes great responsibility.”  You funny people have been picked to make the world brighter and lighter.  Don’t let us down.

Feeding Strays

A lot of us Portland types are burning the candle at both ends. Maybe you work a day job and night job and moderate a Doctor Who message board. Perhaps you are a corporate job-creator type (thanks for moving here!) who works all day in a tie then jogs the esplanade before hitting your recreational sports league, followed by a 10-course microbrew tasting. Maybe you’ve got a kiddo or two and when you aren’t locked up with them you compulsively attend Timbers games and trivia nights.

Or take me: Stand-up comedian, receptionist, karaoke jockey, board member of a non-profit, barista, and most recently, blogger for the Portland Mercury. Seriously, TAKE ME PLEASE!

I’m so busy I don’t even have time to care for a pet. Truth be told I don’t even have time for a plant, I’ve got three houseplants in foster care right now. I’m 29 YEARS OLD AND I HAD TO TAKE MY PLANTS TO MY GRANDMOTHER’S HOUSE BECAUSE I KILLED THEM WITH NEGLECT.

These fascinating Portland lifestyles (barf) don’t leave a lot of time for romantic relationships. I think most folks just grab an activity partner or two and cram them in when they can find the time. I describe this practice as “feeding stray cats.” Example “I’ll feed you, kitty, but I can’t afford to take you to the vet and I’m going out of town for 6 days to visit some friends in L.A. See you around, text me!”

I have the need to smooch, cuddle, bang, talk, laugh, and relate with others; what I don’t have is the time and energy to maintain a monogamous relationship, NOT TO MENTION have the social life to support MEETING someone to fulfill all my needs. When I miraculously meet someone who meets my five point criteria (smart/funny/cute/good values/likes me back). I try to let him know what my situation is, and typically, he is super stoked.

I enjoy the stray when he comes around. There’s a give and take. I try not to think too much about who’s been feeding the stray for the past few weeks. I try to focus on the pleasure of sharing myself with another person, though it may be short-lived. Focus on the laughs, the physical sensations, smells/tastes, the beauty of the connection.

If you are picking up what I’m laying down, hear this: Don’t feel guilty. Give generously to those who give generously to you. Thank you for reading! Looking forward to writing my next piece. The subject: BOOTY TEXTS!

Wishing you great love and good sex,
Bri Pruett