On Sunday, I watched Nine Hours of Amateur Porn

I’m one of the judges for our annual amateur porn festival, Hump! Which means that I spent Sunday in a small room with all the other judges, watching every single one of the 90 under-five-minute porns submitted. You have to see what the final selections are when the festival hits Portland in November—get your tickets here! And get them soon, because it’s a hilarious time and showings always all sell out.

Anyway, people have asked me what it’s like to watch strangers’ porn tapes from 10am to 7pm. Here’s my hour-by-hour rundown:

In hour zero, you’re nervous. Ninety short amateur porn films. You’re giddy, a little on edge. You have no idea how you will scale this porn mountain. What will the view be from the top? Likely, you will be staring into the dark, scarred valley of Never Having Sex Again.

In hour one, you’re critical. After the anxious expectation of having your eyes burned out by staring directly into someone’s bleached sphincter, the reality of other-people-fucking is a let down. You laugh as the first naked breasts flop onto screen, stare intensely at the first unveiled vagina, and roll your eyes at the stranger melodramatically stroking his dick. Talk and jerk. Is this all there is?

In hour two, you’re horrified. My God, the horror strikes you by surprise. A woman in a leather-bound chef outfit grabs a rubber glove full of Crisco and you say, “No, no.” But then, yes, yes, the Crisco is in-out-in-out! The sex-toy expert next to you shakes her head and murmurs sadly, “They’re never getting that clean.” Images flash by to a death-metal soundtrack as you scream—did she really smash that man’s dick was a hammer? You look around, desperate. Was that blood real? Someone, please, someone must understand.

In hour three, you’re fired up, ready to go. Yes we can! You have summated the horror, you can take anything. What you got? Remote control dildo car? Clown sex? Bring it on!

In hour four, you’re joyful. The world is full of beautiful people and their creative ideas. You burst out laughing at the films that take sex not so seriously. The classical soundtrack! The use of kale! All genius. And, you’re a little shy to admit, the sex is actually hot, all these lesbians doin’ each other with gift baskets of vegetables in tastefully decorated kitchens. The gay guy who slips into a butt plug and then into a sweater vest—ooo, his smile matches your own dumb grin.

In hour five, you’re curious. It’s impossible to determine what is a widespread fetish and what is a joke. Is pie-ing someone in the ass a thing? What about wearing a creepy plastic mask while touching yourself? Christmas sweaters? Unitards? Cupcake fucking? You’re learning all kinds of stuff: You’ve now seen nipple tattoos and you know what a T-Rex looks like with a boner.

In hour six, you break for lunch. Eating a salad roll covered in peanut sauce reminds you distinctly of the blowjobs you’ve recently seen. Ugh. You opt for a beet salad and wonder whether you’ll ever eat salad at your lesbian friends’ houses again. You watch a couple porns while choking down your food and you admire the small details—someone really put some work into crafting those miniature strap-ons. Surprising accuracy with just Femo and electrical tape, really.

In hour seven, you’re bored. Bored of seeing dicks. Big dicks, small dicks. Dicks attached to giant balls. Dicks in strange metal contraptions. Dicks that remind you of those limp salad rolls. Dicks in costume, slapping into one another. Dicks a million! You get hostile, bitter toward the films that don’t hold your interest. Keep it short, people! Make it snappy! It’s not a porn if no one gets naked.

In hour eight, you’re delirious and images seem to be repeating themselves. A second person has sex with a tree. Another unicorn sex tableau. That giant double-headed purple dildo shows up again. That thing must be a best seller. Someone gives a blowjob through the sunroof of a moving vehicle—whoa, haven’t seen that before. Finally: A guy fucks a loaf of Wonder Bread. You always wondered if guys longed to do that.

In hour nine, you’re an expert. You know a good porn when you see it! Those sequined gimp masks? Pitch perfect! Applause! The straight couple filming as they fuck in front a Princess Diana poster? So bizarre and hot and fun! Swastikas? Total boner killer.The judges agree in unison: Keep it! Toss it! You are unfazed by bouncing of boobs, the licking of blood. You are jaded by orgies. You are objective, ruthless. You take that long-desired last step and finish the final film. You are a porn-watching machine.

In hour ten, you’re on the bus. Your mind is a sodden rag which cannot be rung out. You are bewildered. You look around at your busmates. You imagine each of them in their bedrooms. That old woman with groceries. That guy reading a book. That bored waitress on the way to work. What a bunch of pervs. You know what they like. You’ve seen it all.