Did somebody yell fire??

My most memorable birthday was the year my hair caught on fire.

Yes, on fire.


I was having a birthday bash in the lower level of our supah seventies stylin split level—the downstairs bathroom had velvet wallpaper—can ya dig it?

We were rock’out to the top tunes of 1979.

You may mock the seventies, but I bet you know every one of these:

Top 10 Hit Songs 1979
1 My Sharona The Knack
2 Bad Girls Donna Summer
3 Le Freak Chic
4 Da Ya Think I'm Sexy Rod Stewart
5 Reunited Peaches and Herb
6 I Will Survive Gloria Gaynor
7 Hot Stuff Donna Summer
8 Y.M.C.A. Village People
9 Ring My Bell Anita Ward
10 Sad Eyes Robert John


I think this is the foundation for my taste in crappy POP music.

I graduated in 1990 so my childhood was POP of the late seventies and my tween and teen years were the POP of the eighties.

I am the person that asked my loverly man S, as he played The Joshua Tree for me, the following question:

“Hey, he’s really good—wasn’t Peter Gabrielle in a band or something?”

**crickets**crickets**

“Yeeees, it was called Genesis.”

(said slowly like he’s talking to someone who rides the short bus)

I think he didn’t break up with me b/c we were still in the ‘this new sex is awesome’ stage, it is the only thing that explains how this music lover didn’t walk out right then.


But I digress…


Come with me to 1979 and imagine my polyester plaid pants and we’re all swinging our Brady Bunch hair to Rod Stewart’s ‘Do Ya Think I’m Sexy’ and giggling

because we know that’s something
ahem, adult

—but we really have no freaking clue what the song means b/c in 1979 a seven year old is still pretty innocent

—there’s no MTV and the raciest thing we’ve seen is our Day’s of Our Lives where they stare at each other all intense, kiss like mad, and then the camera pans to the wallpaper.

We’re so innocent my theme is Raggedy Ann—and no one thinks I’m a dork.

They think that it is cool that my mom is artistic and hand drew Raggedy Ann invitations on the paper we made ourselves.

They even think it ‘s Far Out that my mom made a Raggedy Ann cake.

Eventually we tear ourselves away from Rod and settle down for cake and presents.

My mom lights the candles and stepps aside, camera ready.

I leeaaannnforward for the posed ‘pretend to blow but don’t really till after the flash’ shot

—and suddenly my mother is giving me a beat down.


That’s all I can think.

My mother is beating the crap out of me?

My friends are staring in horror.

Then she stops and I realize she has been beating down the flame that was racing its way up my Brady Bunch Hair.

I do not think

"I might have died."

I do not think

"thank you mother."

I do not think

"at least the cake is ok."

I think







I want my hair back!!!!!!




The party paused while we snipped and aired out the room.

Then there was cake and joking and presents.

I wish I could say that there was a American Girls/After School Special moment

One where I went to school Monday and all my friends had cut their hair as a show of solidarity.

But alas, no.

Kids were much more innocent then, but they still wanted to look cool.