Oh, we did think we were bad—teenaged Catholic school girls, acting out. Trouble is that we were even naïve about acting out. Our idea of being bad was dancing the locomotion with Little Eva in Mary’s basement. Yes, just the girls, dancing in our socks in the wood-paneled rec room of a suburban rambler in College Park. Bad to the bone, uh huh, dancing to records and singing along with Louie Louie like we knew the words and the words were naughty. Mary and I once crept into the woods behind her house and drank beer. We just sat on a pile of leaves and drank. We even had a bottle opener because we were experienced and we knew you needed a device to open the beer bottles. Mary walked back into her house and went to sleep and I walked down the street to my house and climbed into bed, no one the wiser.
I wish someone had given us some instructions on how to be really bad. It was pitiful—we were young. We just didn’t know better.
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