Well, I set out to complain about the absence of smutty threads and got sidetracked. I had meant to say Prurient junk/ embarrassing stories but it was too long. And that's what she said. I also thought of starting a mudcat penis club, but it would be members only.

   But I did pass over an aspect of the story-swap. At the time I met this woman some younger guys I worked with were conducting a research project about thongs called What's the deal with thongs? So when she told her story and came to the thong, she said she knew it was hers, because she wore thong underwear. At that point I interrupted--"We've been looking for you! (pause) But go on."

   The deal, according to her and another thong-girl present, is that all underwear will try to work it's way back down up in under there, so the thong is worn to be put there and be done with the fight. This was the most authorative account we had, because nobody else wore thongs or was a reliable spokesperson. One guy had an account from his girlfriend at the time that thongs were in fact uncomfortable, and women only wore them for effect. Then he found a thong in their laundry, and wondered when and why she was wearing it. She said it was old and she didn't wear them, and yet, he said, here it is in the laundry this week. Other factors soon came about which terminated his relation to that field research source.

   For some reason all the people present at this little gathering had drifted in and around this chat, and I backed out of my story, and brain-locked on coming up with another. It may have been the most perfect little party I ever went to, everyone was unusually funny, one topic rolled on to another, someone kept trying to sell me a clawhammer banjo, and lobster was served out of thin air at 4 in the morning. But there lingers this story-teller shame, and a realization that my parents had a better mastery of the art of getting together with friends.