Saturday, January 18, 2003
Next weekend we are going to see each other for the first time since September. It's a little strange. A little awkward. It feels like a first date - the same desire to be on my best behavior. The same sense of hope. The same anticipation. But there is also a lingering scar, a vulnerability that I'll have to learn to ignore. And to protect.
Jim Parisi
Friday, January 17, 2003
The coolest thing an ex-girlfriend has ever done for me: A couple years back I was seeing a girl up in the valley. Several months after we split up I received an envelope from her through a mutual friend. In it was a personal note to me signed by none other than Eddie Van Halen. She is a stylist in LA and Eddie gets his hair done in her salon. And since the bald, sophisticated, continental urbanite you now know as The Mighty Jimbo spent his younger years as a mulletted desert rat from Tucson whose room was decorated by countless posters of the master axman, whose car stereo rarely broadcast anything but the voice of Diamond Dave and Eddies wailing guitar, and whose bedroom walls bore silent witness to untold hours spent doing impassioned air guitar solos, I was supremely touched by the gesture. Rock on, girl. Rock on.
PS: Three months after we broke up, for her birthday that year, Eddie and his crew took her and one of our best friends out for dinner in drinks. Note to self: Don't break up until AFTER she introduces you to your childhood heroes.
Jim Parisi
The parents of the friend I have known the longest just returned from a two week humanitarian mission in Africa. They are both medical professionals and helped manage a clinic in Uganda and worked in an orphanage. I briefed them on a few things before they left. Things to expect, things not to expect. Tips to make the travel easier. I tell you, despite the drama and chaos played out for you daily on television, East Africa is an amazing, wonderful place. The landscape is often spectacularly beautiful and life abounds. But death is also so readily apparent. The people are perhaps the friendliest on earth, but they are being consumed by tragedy you and I can not begin to fathom. When I was in Tanzania, I met a little four year old girl whose only clothing was a flour sack with holes cut out for the arms and head. My guide was raising his brother's family as both his brother and sister-in-law had been killed by AIDS. I remember shopping with Meckmillan and seeing the tips we provided for him clothe his entire family. I am still getting emails from Allan, our friend and porter on Kilimanjaro, and one of the kindest people I have ever had the good fortune to meet. I ask you, open your heart to Africa. Open your mind to a trip, a vacation, a mission that might just change your perspective and your life. Mary Ann and Rich, you two are heroes. There is really no other word for it. I went to Africa as a tourist. At best a face to our nation. You went to Africa as the hand of God. And countless lives are better for it.
Jim Parisi
Thursday, January 16, 2003
My advice to anyone looking to get filthy stinking rich within the next ten years. Invest in laser tattoo removal services. Make it cheap. And make a killing. A whole helluva a lot of women are gonna be absolutely desperate to remove the wilting roses from their boobs and wrinkled butterflies from their asses in the next few years.
Jim Parisi
Things I will never like and/or understand but maybe I should:
How cheap Chinese food smells like rotting rat droppings to me.
Why I don't like cheesecake.
The appeal of Seinfeld. Sure - funny jokes, but didn't you just start to hate those people after a while?
How anyone managed to get the Pontiac Aztec to market.
Bourbon.
How anyone can actually like Pizza Hut.
The immense popularity of cats.
Nipple piercings.
Pants that hang below your ass crack.
Leg warmers.
How "W" managed to get elected.
Jim Parisi
Wednesday, January 15, 2003
The more I watch Amelie, the more I like the French. Hell, the more I watch Amelie, the more I wish I WAS French.
Jim Parisi
I'm glad men aren't the only people entertained by bodily functions. Dooce, you kill me.
Jim Parisi
I have a knot at the base of my skull you could use to moor a battleship. Ooooow. My firstborn and lifelong ass smooching to anyone willing to come over and massage this out.
Jim Parisi
Some things I am not ashamed to admit but perhaps I should be:
I had a mullet.
I had a mullet complete with ponytail (gimme a break it was 1989).
I laugh loudly during the movie "Mannequin".
And "Weekend at Bernies."
I have downloaded Pablo Cruise from Napster.
I own David Lee Roth's "Eat Em and Smile"
I have used rogaine.
I was 82 pounds when I started high school.
I was 120 pounds when I started college.
I have never been to a strip club.
But I have rented porn.
I have killed a mouse. With pliers (didn't want to get my hands dirty).
And a rabbit. With an Acura.
I really dig guitar solos.
I have shaved my legs.
I have shaved my chest.
I LOVE Harry Potter.
I was unimpressed with "Say Anything."
I didn't like "grunge".
I am totally, physically, genetically incapable of leaving a scab alone.
I went to Northern Arizona University.
And I studied communications.
I have danced the Macarena with wild enthusiasm.
I have been asked to go-go dance at a fetish club in Los Angeles.
I have family that has been on Jerry Springer.
Jim Parisi
Tuesday, January 14, 2003
I have jury duty tomorrow. Nobody really wants to go, and most anyone smart enough to be an intelligent impartial juror knows at least a half dozen ways to get out of duty. Of course, should I ever NEED an intelligent, impartial jury, I'm unlikely to get it for those same reasons. It's like civic Karma.
Jim Parisi
A friend of mine is in a funk. Funny cause "funk" is one of those words that can mean lots of things depending on where it's placed in a sentence. Having funk is definitely not the same as being in a funk. Feeling funky is not the same as being funky. And unless you are talking about a beefy bass line, funk is generally not a good thing at all. Regardless, she is in a funk. She isn't happy with the overall state of her life, and I can tell it's dragging her down. That kind of funk casts a a gray haze over your eyes. It's like looking at the world through the LA smog. Everything just looks dirty and incomplete. What she doesn't see is that her life is fabulous. She has a great job, lots of money, a home in Irvine - well, maybe a home in Irvine isn't all that fabulous. Too much friggin beige, bleah. She is beautiful, funny, and runs marathons for a good time (so maybe she does need to work on her mental health). But all she is seeing is gray. I was in the same place once. Hated where I was in life, couldn't stand my job. Couldn't hardly stand myself. My life looked like a jigsaw puzzle with a few missing pieces. Not matter how beautiful the picture, I just couldn't drag my eyes from the holes. I needed a change of perspective. I needed to see color again. So I quit my job and left for Africa. I stopped worrying about my job, about my money. I lived off credit cards for five months and didn't' care. I was finally following a dream that had once been sacrificed for mediocrity. And after being in Africa, I rediscovered the color of life. I met people and saw things that changed my perspective. I did things and went places that I had never even dreamed about. I took risks. I realized that the frustrations and problems in my life were entirely self created. Most importantly, I learned to love who I was and where I was and what I could do and be again. There was nothing wrong with my life. I just needed to start loving it again. So I say to my friend, take some risks. Change your perspective. And start loving your life again. It's the only one you have.
Jim Parisi
Monday, January 13, 2003
Very funny. Which one of you just did the search for "Jimbo in rock and roll peanutbutter spandex"? Creative. I like that. And for reference, those photos are just for me.
Jim Parisi
Got any nominations for the K-Tel "Meatloaf" award for 2002's biggest Flash In the Pan? Avril Lavigne maybe? Past winners include: Coolio. Marky Mark. Ricky Martin. Paula Abdul. And the grand champion...Hootie and the Blowfish. Heh....Hootie. Music's greatest example as to how you can be killed by your own success. 20 million albums sold in one year, two years later they won't even play you on K-Big. Cross-genre success is rarely a good thing for sustainable relevance.
Jim Parisi
Grumble of the day: I think we need protocols for judicious, appropriate (read limited) use of the "reply all" button.
Jim Parisi
