I am a native Californian and lived in Orange County until I was about 13, when my family moved to Hermosa Beach California, one of 15 cities that make up the greater South Bay area. Moving to the beach was a bit of a culture shock as everyone there had a tan and I didn't. I had curly brown hair, not straight long blonde hair as was the "norm." Due to these flawed physical qualities, I was relegated to the life of a wallflower, hanging out with a few close girlfriends who were not popular either. My life changed forever when in 1977, I picked up a Creem Magazine and saw an article about the Sex Pistols. I was 15 or 16 years old at the time. I was immediately attracted to their "FU" attitude towards popular, music, culture and especially dress. Punk rock provided an immediate vindication of everything I had thought to myself.

At the time, I had a real sense of the importance of "the movement" as we used to call it. I kept a diary of events and a scrap book of every article on punk I could find. Janet and I even talked about bringing in a movie camera to record gigs at The Masque. Unfortunately, my parents didn't want their 16-year-old daughter going to nightclubs in Hollywood. (Up until this time, my curfew was to be home by 6pm!) I had many arguments with them over allowing me to go see bands. I tried every approach but nothing seemed to work. Finally, I snuck out my bedroom window and just took off. I went with Marz, Ratz and the gang to The Masque - the only time I ever went to the Masque. I saw Arthur J. and the Goldcups, Weirdos, Controllers and Black Randy (12/31/77).

It was one of the most exciting moments in my life. However, my parents freaked out, discovered my diary and I never saw it again. I was kicked out and had to live with my dad in Orange County. After two weeks, I came back to live with my mom and step dad and we worked out a 12 midnight to 1AM curfew situation. Under those circumstances, it was very difficult to see bands; often I was leaving before the headlining act. I was often grounded and there were many many shows that I missed out on due to the restrictions.

The punk world was so small that if you saw a punk walking down the street and you didn't know them, you went over and introduced yourself. That's how people met and networked. There was a real sense of comaraderie that would later disappear in the early 1980s as the scene got too big and kids fell into clicks. Soon enough we found out about The Church and Black Flag. Black Flag was virtually unknown at the time, just beginning to play shows. The Church became a central part of the scene; a site of frequent parties and a band rehearsal space as well as a crash pad. Red Cross and The Disposals were regulars down there. The parties brought punks from as far away as Hollywood and Huntington Beach ("HB").

Which brings me to how I started writing for Flipside. I was at a Clash show at The Santa Monica Civic one night when I met two guys from Huntington Beach; Ray-Zer (real name, anyone?) and Chris Martin. They invited me to Edison High School to check out their scene. So I ditched school and took a bus down to Edison. I met and made fast friends with all the HB gals and soon enough, I was more involved in what was going on down there in Huntington, than I was with what was doing on in the South Bay. I made so many phone calls to Huntington Beach, that I had my own phone in my room and a flat rate $60 per month plan to cover my calls down there. In those days (circa 1979-1980) every weekend there was a party, in fact, there were parties usually going on throughout the weekend. Sissy Barela, who I had met at a Church party, became my best friend and most weekends we could be found at HB parties and/or at gigs at the Cookoo's Nest.

*Our school was selected by The Ramones to be extras for the filming of Rock 'n Roll High School. When the film was completed, we had a special event screening in the school auditorium. Now you would think this filming experience would have created some new understanding between us and the sheep of Mira Costa High School. But I don't remember being treated any different. High School was a bitter experience; I have blocked it from my mind and have never attended any high school reunions. In high school I went from a mundane wallflower existence to a hated freak punk rocker. But as a punk, I lived a grand life with new-found popularity that I never had as a high school student. As far as I'm concerned, with a few notable exceptions (see above), the rest of my fellow Mira Costa High School students can all rot in hell.