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    Showing posts with label Lavern and ShirLey. Show all posts
    Showing posts with label Lavern and ShirLey. Show all posts
  1. By Lisa Harmon

    My life is sweet.  I have spent my entire life doing pretty much whatever I feel like doing.  OK so I have to work, I’m not independently wealthy, but that’s it.  After work its all Lisa time!  For that I need to thank my mother, my grandmother, Laverne DiFazio, and of course, the most wonderful invention ever -  birth control.

    The sixties were a pivotal time for women.  Women’s roles were changing, and women were becoming independent. 

    As a girl growing up in the late sixties the old and the new were right in front of my face.  My grandmother was a married woman.  My grandfather was the boss, and my grandmother did most of the work.  I saw that with my own eyes.  They were the old generation.

    My Mother was the new generation.  Single, with a job and her own money.  She had it going on.  If it wasn’t for my brother and me, she could have had the life! 

    But who really had everything that I wanted, who really was living la vida loca, back then, well, it was Laverne DiFazio.  I loved her and I wanted to be her roommate.

    Laverne DiFazio – she had a job, an apartment and she was tough and funny.  She had no kids slowing her down.  Sure she had to work a shitty job, just like me, but she was free, free, FREE!  She was my idol.

    It was fantastic knowing that I didn’t have to get married, that I didn’t have to have kids.  I knew I could just get a job and an apartment and be happy!  And believe it or not, that was my plan, when I was twelve.  I was going to get my own job, my own apartment, and done.  That was it.  That was the plan.

    The plan came into effect at eighteen.  I left home, got my own place, and made my own rules.  I can listen to the stereo whenever I want!  I don’t have to make the bed!  I don’t have to do anything anyone tells me, because this is my place that I paid for with my money which I procured through my own hard work!  This is Lisa’s world.  Lisa’s apartment.  Lisa’s rules.  I was ecstatic.  I had my freedom.  In my entire life, that’s the only thing I ever gave a fuck about.  Being free.  And when work would get shitty and awful, I knew I was working for my freedom.  And I kept at it.  I loved being on my own, and I didn’t care how much I had to work for that little apartment.  I loved that place.  It was my little place to be me.  It was my tiny piece of this giant world. 

    And none of it would have been possible at all without Grandma, Mom, Laverne DiFazio and birth control.  Thank you!  I love you all.

    Laverne & Shirley Theme - Theme to my Life!

  2. Trying Not To Be Too Dumb.

    Saturday, September 15, 2012


    By Lisa Harmon

    I’m trying my best not to be too dumb.  At one time I was super-smart.  Good grades smart.  I wasn’t valedictorian or anything but I was a bookworm with analytical skills and a good memory.

    Fast forward all these years and joints later, and wham!  What happened to my brains?

    My declining mental acuity brings to mind this famous (in my family) retort from Squiggy (of Laverne & Shirley, in case you’ve heard of another one) in response to being asked to “think about it.”  He becomes incensed and yells “Think about it!  Think about it!  With WHAT?!”

    That’s me.  Think about it, with what?  My super-clogged brain?  I can’t keep anything in my head.  It is a complete stand-still up there.  I can’t even remember the sentence I’ve just read.  I once forgot the end of the sentence I was saying while I was saying the beginning of the sentence!  Astounding and one hundred percent true!

    I have lost so much to father time, 20/20 vision, good hearing, tight skin.  But what I miss the most is my brain.  It was my most distinguishing feature!

    I wasn’t the prettiest, the skinniest, or the coolest.  But I was smart and funny and that was me.

    I’m not smart anymore.  I spend most of my time now trying not to be too dumb.  I mean a little dumb is one thing, but when people start rolling their eyes and talking really loud and slow, man, I don’t want to be on the receiving end of that!

    And this dumbness is not even my fault!  I mean, do you know how many times that store on the corner changed?  It was a Wetsons, a Nathan’s, a Roy Rogers, a Burger King, a Wendy’s, a Subway.  Now it’s a Dunkin Donuts.  So what?  The damage is done.  I’ve got half my brain cells used up remembering all the damn restaurants that have come and gone in just one store on just one block!

    Here’s another way I got dumb:  research.  Yes research.  Not doing it, reading about it.  Of course you know, on Sundays, Tuesdays and alternate Thursdays, caffeine gives you cancer.  On the other days of the week, caffeine prevents cancer.  Except Wednesdays.  On Wednesdays, caffeine prevents Parkinson’s.
    Is it just me or is there a deluge of brain-clogging (mis)information out there?

    Come on!  I know you need a conclusion to keep getting funding for your study, but you’re really driving me nuts over here.

    Here’s what else makes me dumb:  Cell phones.  I don’t know anyone’s number anymore.  You know why?  It’s not just because the number is in my phone.  It is also because everyone has changed their number twenty-five times since high school!

    Everybody I know had one phone number from 1975 to 1995.  After the 90’s, everybody’s number changed over and over.  Again, clogging up those precious few brain cells.

    Also making me dumb:  the internet.  I used to talk to people, face to face or on a land-line!  Yes.  For those of you that don’t know, a land-line is a way to talk to a person that’s far away, without having to say “WHAT?  WHAT?  WHAT?” like on a cell phone.  When I talk to people, I have to be quick to be witty.  It kept me sharp.

    Now I don’t talk to anyone.  I comment on their facebook statuses.  Well that doesn’t make me sharp!  I’ve got all day and the rest of my life to make a pithy comment.  It makes me stupid.  Having all that time for my “off-the-cuff” remarks takes out the challenge.

    And finally slang.  Slang’s sole purpose is to confuse old people.  It is constantly changing to separate the old farts from the hip kids.  I recently was told that I was DTF*.  I had to ask what that meant.  By the time I found out, it was way too late to be offended!

    So here I am, with my softening (or hardening) brain.  It doesn’t work quite as well as it used to.  It’s a little jammed up with a lot of junk preventing me from remembering important things like which brand of hummus is the one I like. 



    If you see me, searching for the right word, or unsure what you just said to me, or confused about what a meme is, or sticking my finger in the hummus, please don’t judge me.  Right now I am just trying to not be too dumb.

    *DTF = down to f*ck.  I am still not sure exactly what it means!