Sunday, June 17, 2007

In Tribute I Do Pay

I have always been writing, and in turn, have always been reading.

It was my favorite authors who inspired me to write, unknowingly giving me the push through the literary door that I needed in order to express my ideas on paper.

So, this post is in tribute to them:

Zora Neal Hurston...Stephen King...Truman Capote...Jamaica Kincaid...Ernest Hemingway...Richard Wright...Langston Hughes...James Baldwin...Alice Walker...Toni Morrison...Flannery O'Connor...Sophocles...Alex Haley...Jean Rhys...Anais Nin...Homer...and Wallace Thurman.

Thank you for your words about love, fear, murder, family, money, race, incest, discrimination, war, history, slavery, sex, and skin color.

Who Is Your Favoite Author?


Posted by Jaimie :: 7:26 PM :: 18 Peeked Into My Diary:

.:Write In My Diary:.


Wednesday, June 13, 2007

You Had Me At...

Recently, a friend and I were talking.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" he asked.

"Nope. I believe in lust at first sight." I answered.

"Why can't it be love?" he wondered.

"How can it be? You don't even know the person. They could be just a really sexy lunatic."

In my opinion, love at first sight is unrealistic.

I once made the mistake of telling someone that I loved him on the fifth date. Needless to say, he went running, stayed gone for a few months, came back...and we never talked about it again.

I discovered that it was not love, but lust that made me say what I said. Honestly, I said it after a night of heated physical play...not a night of talking about our plans, goals, and dreams of a future together.

Do You Believe In Love At First Sight?

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Posted by Jaimie :: 5:50 PM :: 8 Peeked Into My Diary:

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Tuesday, May 08, 2007

He's No Lady

Disclaimer: After reading my reader's comments, I realize that I may need to clarify this post. This post was written for a specific person who decided to attempt to sue me in front of 10 million people (you can rack your mind for the various court shows that are on television right now), and I found it quite funny that he can't move on with his life. He is a LadyBoy.

Dear Diary,

He should be stronger than me because he's been here ten years longer than me.

Doesn't he know he's supposed to be "the man", and not pale in comparison to who he thinks I am?

I feel like a lady, but he's a Ladyboy...

and he should be stronger than me.

Why does he always put me in control?

I always have to comfort him every day.

Is he gay?

I feel like a lady,

but he acts like a LadyBoy...

Who's Emotionally and Mentally Stronger: Men or Women?

I love you Amy W.! Thanks for your great words!

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Posted by Jaimie :: 10:02 PM :: 13 Peeked Into My Diary:

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Monday, April 30, 2007

You Know You Love Me

Dear Male Bitch,
Well, everybody got an opinion now, don't they?
But it aint no thing to me.
It really don't make any difference now to me if you don't like what you see.
I pay no mind to the negative kind,
Because it's just no way to be.
I don't stop to please someone else's needs
Gonna live my life for me
Cause whether they love or they're hatin' on me
I'll still be the same girl I used to be...
I've never been the type to be shy
I know that some would say I'm too headstrong
But I’d rather be a woman who voices her mind
Whether you think I'm right or wrong
And I know some people wanna criticize me because it makes them feel better about themselves, so say what you will, but time will reveal in the end that I will be here still.
So, stop "lurking" around my blog m****f**** and cowboy the f*** up.
Why Do Men Read this Blog, Judge Me, and then Comment Anonymously?
Thanks to my girl Xtina for unknowingly letting me tweak her words for my advantage.

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Posted by Jaimie :: 5:08 PM :: 10 Peeked Into My Diary:

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Friday, April 27, 2007


You know how it happens when you are bored and sitting in your therapist/gynecologist/dentist's office and reach for that People/US/National Enquirer to read all about how Nicole/Lindsay/Calista are near death, and Britney is a weirdo, and Demi and Ashton are about to break up?
You know how suddenly interested you become in other people's business, thumbing through the magazine, reading about the latest "gossip", "break-ups", and rehab trips?
And then the receptionist for your therapist/gynecologist/dentist calls your name and you drop the magazine, forgetting all about their problems, but also assuming that most of it is true because...well, its written in a magazine.
This blog is kind of like those magazines.
Don't get all excited and believe that this is really a diary. This blog is for entertainment purposes, for discussion, for self-evaluation.
I am Jaimie, the author of this blog.
And I am also an anorexic, alcoholic, drug addicted tramp who plans on stealing Ashton Kutcher from that old bitch Demi one day soon.
What Is The Purpose Of Your Blog?

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Posted by Jaimie :: 6:23 PM :: 13 Peeked Into My Diary:

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Tuesday, April 24, 2007

Rug Burned

Dear Diary,
When I was 17 I had a boyfriend whose initials were JJ.
JJ had a mother with a perfect house. Perfect. Everything was white; the sofa, the armchair, the carpet, the dining room table, the chairs. White.
One time I went to visit JJ. We were upstairs in his sister's room eating hot dogs and drinking root beer.
When we finished eating I said, "We better take our plates downstairs before your mom gets home and trips about the mess we made."
"Yeah, you're right," he said, and we walked out of the room.
I walked in front of him, down the perfectly white carpeted steps. He followed behind me.
Suddenly he said, "Oh, did you hear? Kurt Cobain killed himself."
"What??!!" I said, swiveling my feet around on those slippery, white carpeted steps.
And there I went...down, down, down the steps, on my back, the skin ripping from the muscle like a banana being peeled. The root beer and ketchup flew out of my hands and splattered all over the walls, carpet, and furniture.
I tumbled down the steps, screaming in agony. "My back!! My back!!"
And JJ...guess what he did?
He stepped over my limp body, ran to the kitchen...
...and began cleaning the carpet.
"My mom's going to kill me! Shit! My mom's going to freak the f*** out!"
"My back..." I whimpered. "I think it's skin; its, its burning."
"Get up and help me clean. My mom's going to be back any minute. Shit!"
I slowly got up and was surprised to find out I wasn't paralyzed. I touched the skin on my back and it was wet. My skin was stripped raw.
It wasn't until I was up limping to the bathroom that JJ realized that his mother's carpet wasn't nearly as important as my ability to walk. He jumped up from his scrubbing long enough to take a look at my back and say,
"Damn, that's going to leave a nasty scar."
What's Your Most Memorable Injury?

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Posted by Jaimie :: 7:39 PM :: 11 Peeked Into My Diary:

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Saturday, April 21, 2007


Dear Diary,

For him, I was a flame...but love is a losing game.

Remember the 5-story fire when he came?...but love is a losing game...

I wish I never played

Oh, what a mess we made

This was more than I could is a losing hand.

I was self-obsessed--he was profound,

but I thought it would last til the chips were down...

Now, I know he's a gambling is a losing hand.

We had futile odds, and were laughed at by God...

So here's the final frame: LOVE IS A LOSING GAME.

Thanks to Amy for help with this post.

Why Is Love Such A Gamble?

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Posted by Jaimie :: 3:37 PM :: 13 Peeked Into My Diary:

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