Foxes

When I was 16 years old, I was what you might call a “good girl”. I kind of regret it. Naughty chicks have all the fun. I mean, I don’t even have a mug shot.

The slutty looking chicks in the 1980 movie Foxes knew what was up. IMDB describes it: A group of friends come of age in the asphalt desert of the San Fernando Valley set to a blazing soundtrack and endless drinking, drugs and sex. They were only 16, if you can believe. And Jodie foster had been a Disney girl (gasp)! I’m thinking I missed some kind of class that taught you how to grow up fast and hard. At that age, I was still having dinner at the dining room table every night at 7:30 with my family. And watching The Love Boat.

I guess you have to start young. As a kid, Jodie was a tom-boyish young babe in The Bad News Bears who ended up playing Iris, the hot little prostitute in Taxi Driver. Looking back, I’m wondering what the hell her mother was thinking, and Brooke Shields’ mother, considering both women let their 12 year old daughters play tarted-up hookers. Brooke was in Louie Malle’s Pretty Baby, which apparently is excusable because the director was French. At least Jodie got an Oscar nomination. But even today, I’m a little shocked. Still, both chicks ended up at ivy league universities. I guess they were good girls too. Same with Natalie Portman. I don’t know one guy who didn’t see The Professional and lust after the underage vixen Mathilda. Even I think she’s hot. Maybe it’s the haircut and the black choker, or the cigarettes and the guns. Whatever, it’s hot.

As much as I love Jodie Foster in Foxes (and not to mention as white-trashy Agent Starling in the creepiest movie ever – do I even have to say?), I wanted to be like Annie. Which, by the way, is why I go by Annie, instead of the uber-basic Wonder Bread-infused “Anne”. Fuck that. It feels like an unsatisfied 50’s housewife’s moniker. Ummm… not me. Annie was played to Valley girl perfection by Cherie Currie, the teenage lead singer of the all female semi-sleezy band The Runaways, known for the bad-girl anthem “Cherry Bomb”. She even had a tattoo on her shoulder of cherries (when tattoos were unheard of for chicks), and bleached blonde feathered hair. Not like Farrah, but more like a San Fernando Valley hesher. Kinda like Rod Stewart. God love the 70’s. I swear, she looks like her nickname should be “Kitten”, or something raunchier, like “Skankypuss”. No matter, I love and adore her and in the words of Jodie’s character Jeanie: Back in the heavy stoned days, when we used to stay up and talk a lot, Annie and me, we were talking about dying, how it feels and all. I said I’d never get buried. I couldn’t stand them shoveling dirt in my face. Like, I know I’d be dead, but I still might have this strong compulsion to breathe, okay? But Annie, she said she wanted to be buried right in the ground under a pear tree. Really. Not in a box or anything. She said she wanted the roots going right through her, and each year, we’d come along, take a pear, and go “Hey, Annie’s tasting good this year, huh?” Spoiler alert: Annie, who has been sent to some kind of “Juvie” facility that she bails out of and, while on drugs, catches a ride with a couple of drunk freaks and ends up getting killed in a car accident. You live by the sword, you die by the sword.

I didn’t get to live on my own as a young teenager, dress like a whore, or go to rock shows. In 1981 my favorite album was Journey’s Escape and when they were in concert, I got a big NO from the ‘rents. Why? Because People Smoke Marijuana There. Good girls didn’t smoke marijuana. But who am I kidding? I had already stolen more than a few Salem Menthols from my dad and had a few sips of the hard stuff. Candy is dandy but liquor is quicker, said Ogden Nash. Amen! By the way, people actually do smoke marijuana at concerts! Found that one out at The Police Synchronicity Tour, Hollywood Park, September 1983. Best day of my young life, Baby.

I think I need to rock Annie’s look, which can only be described as Late 70’s Skinny Head-Banger Valley Chick On Drugs. Spandex. Satin. Band t-shirts. Tube socks. Straight-up jailbait. I can role my eyes and act like school is a joke and I just wanna party all night. Maybe that’ll make up for all that silly studying I did. Still, I ended up in life somewhere in the middle; I was never a troublemaker, and I’m not a soccer mom. I’ve had my kicks, but deep down, I’ll always be a good girl ♥ ♥ ♥

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Anne Clendening ♥

Anne Clendening is an L.A. chick, born and raised. She is a writer of creative nonfiction and other sordid tales of life, love and other L.A. adventures.

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