Smelly Pants

Today I went to lunch with my writer friend. She told me the following story. I laughed so hard I almost peed my pants. I told her she should write about it, but she didn't seem to see the value in it. She told me I could have it. So here it is. I have assigned her to write one of my stories for me, without telling me which. Here is her story. By me.

Smelly Pants

When I was a Freshman, I was getting ready for my English class, and I found a pair of pants in my washer. I remembered that they had been sitting there for three days. I threw them in the dryer, and then I put them on and rushed to class. After class, I stayed to talk with one of my friends. It started to rain. I asked him if he needed a ride to his car.

“Yeah,” he said. While we were walking to my car, something smelled really bad. I looked at him like, “what’s the matter with you? You stink really badly.”

We got inside my car and he said, “your car smells funny,” and I looked at him like, “yeah, uh huh. It’s you.” Because it wasn’t me. I was just in my car. It didn’t stink. He stinks. I couldn’t wait to get him out of my car. The smell was so disgusting. Like, rotten cheese. I was excited when he got out. “Finally,” I thought.

Then, I realized that the smell was still there. Wait. I thought the smell was coming from him. I sniffed around my car and got really close to my legs. The smell was coming from my pants. It was me. The pants sat in the washer and they had mildew. When I stuck them in the dryer, I couldn’t smell them. But, when it started to rain, the smell came back.

Years later, I saw that guy again. I went up to him.

“Hi, how are you?” I asked.

“I remember you. You gave me a ride to my car that one time,” he said.

Yeah, I knew what he was thinking, “you’re that chick that stinks.” I bet he went to all of his friends and told them a story about how some girl gave him a ride to his car, and she totally stunk.

I thought about explaining the story to him. What would I say? “Remember that one time you got in my car and you thought it smelled really bad? Yea, well, it was my pants.”

The LA Storytelling Fesitval

David O'Shea defines "fringe" at the storytelling festival.

Last Saturday was the LA storytelling festival and Jill and I graced them with our presence. It was great to see some faces we knew, like Ellen Switkes (Cornucopia) and David O'Shea and meet some new people. The festival was a combination of concerts (people performing their stories) and workshops about storytelling. I saw some great storytellers perform including Kathleen Zundell, who died in May of this year--through the miracle of technology she lives on. I also enjoyed Richard Marsh--Irish guy, nice beard. When he's not here touring festivals, his "real job" back in Ireland is to lead tour groups around and tell stories that happened in those places. Not a bad gig. If you have a chance to listen to him in person or on CD, do it.

Storytelling, I learned, includes not just personal narratives, but also fairy tales, folklore, myth, and anything else that one can tell that will keep people listening. Some tellers, as they are called, are captivating using only subtle gestures and movement--like Jonathan Solomon and Gordon Henderson. Others are big on performance and even use props, like Kristina Wong did in her story (she auctioned off items from her past that contained baggage in exchange for real and symbolic bids--it was a cool idea, though the audience didn't get it as well as she'd have liked.)

Overall, I think the festival struggled a little. I heard that there were a couple hundred people there, and none of the workshops or concerts were empty, but it felt oddly deserted or depressed. The catering was by Mort's hot dogs, and true, he did have veggie dogs, but come on--this is Los Angeles. This is a festival. Where is the movable feast? Also, the intermix of workshops and concerts felt schizophrenic. Either make it all stories and call it a festival or all workshops and call it a conference. But I digress. All in all, it was a great experience and maybe all it needs next year is about 200 more people to go and sit in the back row laughing their guts out.

I was just glad to see David, who I could listen to for hours, and Ellen, who looks duchess as all get out in dark sunglasses. I would tell you about David and his obsession with recording Veteran's stories, but I have asked him to write a guest post, so you will have the pleasure soon.