jimbo

Saturday, January 04, 2003

SJ just posted a great story about her daughter. SJ rocks. Cracks me up regularly. Her story reminded me of a kid I used to know back when I was a life guard at the Four Season's Hotel and Resort in Las Colinas Texas. A tough gig, getting a tan and fetching drinks for flamboyantly rich wives of DFW surgeons and ball players.

This positively adorable and surprisingly intelligent and articulate kid named Greg used to visit the pool. He was four. He used to float around underneath me with those little yellow inflatable arm bands. Looked like a little blond duck. Anyway, I called down to him one day and asked, "what's your name?"

"Gweg." he says

"Gweg?" I reply.

"No...Ga-weg" he responds with careful emphasis.

I almost fell out of the chair.

I called him Gweg from then on. I spent that summer hanging out with Gweg and his family. He used to smile and wave and walk up to me every time he came to the pool. He would have run but he knew that running at the pool was against the rules. He wouldn't even run when we would play catch and he missed the ball. I even did some baby sitting for him - when I wasn't out with one of the waitresses from the Club bar (told you it was a tough gig). Geez, he must be in high school now. I doubt he remembers me now, but I'll always remember him, paddling around under my guard stand.
Jim Parisi

Ah, the greatest mystery of our age. 500 chanels. Nothing on TV.

I'll be reading a book.
Jim Parisi

Friday, January 03, 2003

Does anyone out there remember RagCity Blues? They were a clothing manufacturer in the early/mid 80s that made women's slut wear (no offense). Their most famous product was a pair of zip-around jeans. They also had tie-up jeans and button-up jeans.

But, oh yeah, those zip-arounds. Painted-on-tight jeans that fastened via a zipper that went from the top of the back of the pants all the way around under the crotch to the front. Yeah baby, yeah. Personally, I wonder how many women got a little somethin' somethin' caught in that zipper considering how tight they were supposed to be worn. Ouch. Big time. All the hot stoner chicks with feathered hair, cut-off Motley Crue T-shirts and wasted boyfriends destined for careers in carpet cleaning or extermination or the road crew wore those jeans to school. Ohgoodgod those jeans tormented my pubescent mind and fueled more than one lurid adolescent fantasy. Those jeans were a menace I tell you. I used to sit in Freshman English and just drool on my desk at the sight of my friend Rebecca wrapped tight in those jeans. They were a menace to her too. Midway through a presentation the zipper broke. She wore those jeans so tight they cut off her circulation - though they did wonders for mine. When that zipper failed the jeans split at the crotch at damn near the speed of sound , and a fatally embarrassed Rebecca bolted for the door almost as quickly, a pant leg in each hand.

With the sudden death of glam rock and the advent of ghetto hip and Silver Tabs the brand quickly faded into obscurity. But no one I know in California has heard of this product. Was this brand a phenomenon only in the Camaro culture of the country's midsection? Were the coasts just too hip for jeans that zip around the crotch? I can't see how. The epicenter of the whole glam rock universe was Hollywood. Does anyone remember those jeans? And if you still have a pair, come clean and admit it. Better yet, send me a picture....grrrowl.
Jim Parisi

Ok, so how long does it take for you to remember to write 2003 on your checks? After about a month of scratching out erroneous "02s" I'll be ready to stab myself with the ballpoint.
Jim Parisi

Thursday, January 02, 2003

How can you not fall in love with her when she looks at you like that? Especially when you can see yourself in her eyes. The joys of unclehood. I get to see a baby look at me like that and never have to dive into a poopy pair of pampers.

Jim Parisi

John hung up the chaps (gay men everywhere will have to start masturbating to someone else now), cut his hair (head-banging, forty-year old stoner chicks really into Bon Jovi will need to start masturbating to someone else now), and shut down THE definitive vanity site, Cockybastard.com. He is now doing yoga (with a little practice HIS masturbatory habits are going to get WAY more interesting) and chasing a new muse as a LifeStudent. Good luck John. Looking forward to bidding on those fur pants on Ebay.
Jim Parisi

Wednesday, January 01, 2003

I have been asked several times for my resolutions. Don't you people read? So, even though I don't like resolutions (as we have already covered), I'll toss some ideas out there just to keep people from harassing me.

TMJ's Resolutions for a spectacular 2003:

I resolve to spend less time examining my flaws, blemishes, and unsightly
parts in the mirror.

I resolve to spend less money on hair care products.

I resolve to spend more time leaping and less time looking.

I resolve to get that thing looked at.

I resolve to play at least one practical joke this year.

I resolve to eat more fresh peaches.

I resolve to finally come to grips with my crush for Bronson Pinchot.

I resolve to give up my woobie.

I resolve to put the seat up.

And then to put it back down.

And if I forget I resolve to improve my aim.

I resolve to add at least one stamp to my passport this year.

I resolve to remove the words "paradigm", "empowered", "uber", "net-net", and "interfaced" from my vocabulary.

I resolve to add the words "I love you" to my vocabulary.

I resolve to resist the temptation to buy any more clothing made from vinyl.

I resolve to spend more time naked.

I resolve to spend less time in the missionary position.

I resolve to spend less time with regret.

I resolve to spend more time being thankful.

I resolve to get hurt more often.

I resolve to see the world with young eyes.

Jim Parisi

Tuesday, December 31, 2002

I don't like resolutions. Resolving to do something is too soft. Too passive. It has no action. I've learned that unless you are moving in the direction of your dreams and goals then they simply remain as such. Dreams and goals. It's all just vapor.

So I have plans. Plans require work. They require thought. Effort. It's the first step in the direction of those dreams. I've learned a lot in the last few years. A lot about who I am and what I want and what I am capable of doing. I've set some plans in motion and I'm getting closer. I do wish I knew more about what I really want. About what I really want to do where I really want to be. I wish I had the confidence to make some of the big sacrifices. To move confidently toward loftier goals. I'll start small. Quitting my job two years ago and trucking off to Africa with someone I didn't know was a big first step for me. Maybe in the near future I will feel financially secure enough to quit this job and try full time to get something, anything published. Or maybe not. Who knows?

I do have some plans for 2003. And some hopes believe it or not. Plans to travel, plans to improve, hopes for change, hopes for love. What I am learning is that I just need to be confident in the decisions I do make. More courageous. And that I need to be more decisive. By not making a choice regarding the direction of my life I allow other forces to make those choices for me. I need to be willing to accept the risks associated with my choices. I need to accept the consequences. I need to be aware that I can change again if I need to. My life canvas may not come with an eraser, but I have lots and lots and lots of paint. I am learning that the joy is in the journey, and if we are lucky, in the destination as well.
Jim Parisi

Monday, December 30, 2002

I am a relative regular at a sushi place in Orange County. Zen Bistro. I pop in about once or twice a month. Jinu, the proprietor and chef is a master at creating positively miraculous vegetarian variations for me. Incredible. How about this today: Pumpkin (yes, pumpkin) filled shitake mushroom tempura with a spicy three mushroom sauce drizzled over the top with a sprinkling of shredded seaweed. Or fresh tempura vegetables in a soy paper roll. The man is a freakin Godzilla of sushi. I'll soooo back him in an Iron Chef death match with ANYONE. And I wasn't always a vegetarian, so I know good sushi. But today he sealed his place in my life as the sushi chef to beat. After I left the restaurant, he handed me a wrapped Christmas gift: A collection of elegant chopsticks and a Christmas ornament. Jinu, you rock. I'm not above giving him a well deserved plug. Everyone, go visit him. Zen Bistro, Triangle Square in Costa Mesa.
Jim Parisi

Ever been in a car with heated seats? I have decided that heated seats are no longer a luxury but a requirement for me on any future automobile purchase. I thought it was a ridiculous option when I heard my mom's car had heated seats. Then I went for a ride during a cold Dallas night while the chair warmed my ass to a comfy golden brown. OhmyGod. Add a vibrating massager and I would rip the damn thing out and put it in the living room. I must tell you, if you have the means, and you enjoy a toasty rear end, heated seats are an option so worth having.
Jim Parisi

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