Unicorn on the cob.

While taking a semi-routine trip to the Frosty Queen [which happens to be my old stomping grounds - I make one mean chocolate dipped cone!] with my mom, we happened to stumble into quite the atypical conversation. One which probably comes off better when said aloud rather than written, but nonetheless it was one I couldn’t fight the urge NOT to share.

So, my brothers friend [they used to be really close in High School, still remained friends but not as tight as they used to be] committed suicide last week. This friend and I also share a pretty significant ‘connection’, if you will, but I’ll leave it at that. This evening my mom and brother were talking over dinner, and she said something along the lines of ‘Don’t you EVER do that to me.’ [You know, kill himself] to which he replied, ‘Man don’t YOU ever do that to ME.’
I told my mom on said car ride I’d actually been worried about her a few times, given the kinda shitty way things seem to go for her a lot of the time. And she said if she ever were going to have done it, it would have been after my dad died. But she assured me that since she got through that, there’s nothing she can’t handle. That put my mind at ease to hear. I mean it’s always good to hear that someone you love has no intention of ever committing suicide. End of morbid conversation. Or so I thought. After a bit of a slightly awkward pause, she then said, “But I want you to know, that if that were even a thought in my mind to ever do, I’d have taken you and Kyle with me.” She said this in all seriousness, like it was okay. I said “Uhhm, pardon?” And she continued, “I wouldn’t want you guys to have to go through life dealing with the fact that you knew your mother killed herself.” As shocked as I was, I managed to spill out “I’m pretty sure I’d have been able to deal with it, eventually!”
Please understand - she said this as calmly as though she were reading a grocery list. As though she were almost expecting me to be thankful. As if to reply, “Oh, that’s so thoughtful.” — And this is where telling the story in person would benefit the entire scenario, because the face I’m making at this point pretty much sums it all up.

And so, as long as I sleep any nights in this house, I’ll walk on the safe side and keep the door locked; with my trusty Blackberry by my side. In case I need the police on speed dial.

On a side note, anybody need a roommate???

xo J

It doesn’t feel right to say this, because it still hasn’t quite hit me. But my grandmother who I was very close to passed away on April 3rd. She was the only one I had left, and the only one I was ever close to. I only ever knew one of my grandfathers, and he passed when I was very young. My other grandmother passed a few years after that. My grandmother [who I called Nana] had been living in Nevada with my Uncle. But when I was younger she lived just a few miles from me, in the house my mom grew up in for the most part. Every day after school from elementary up until High School I’d go to her house. I used to have my birthday parties there, because my birthday falls in June and she had a pool. When she moved, we developed a habit of writing letters to each other very frequently. when this started I was still in my ‘obsessed with any and everything Britney Spears’, and she read The Enquirer and other rag mags nearly every day. Whenever she’d see photos, no matter how tiny, of Britney she’d cut them out for me and send them with her letters. I’ve saved every letter she ever sent.

But the main reason for this blog entry is because of a gift. Something myself and my mom were completely clueless about before a few days ago. After my grandmother passed, my uncles collected some belongings from her room they thought might be sentimental or of interest to my mom and I. Among these items [most of which were journals and journals FILLED with hand written recipes. Literally hundreds, possibly thousands.] was a journal. A simple journal, not unlike one you’d see at Borders or Barnes & Noble. Until you open it. On the inside cover on the left side is a note written in my moms writing. It says, “To Mom. Christmas 1988”. Then you shift your eyes to the right, and there’s another note. This one reads, “To Jamie, Here are some mementos from your Nana. I hope you treasure and heed these sayings I have put in this book for you. I love you bigger than the ocean. Love, Nana. June 1989”

The first page she tells me a short story about one Christmas when she was 9 years old. It ends with this moral value: “If you want something bad enough, wish and work hard and you’ll eventually get it if it’s within reason.”

The next few pages tell of similar stories from her childhood, she describes the personalities of my mom and grandfather at certain ages, and gives me some great advice. For a few pages after that she kept track of her favorite quotes she wanted to share to inspire me. Such as “Don’t let anybody tell you that you can’t if you really know you can. Go for it. At least they can’t say you didn’t try.”

She then adds a couple of her favorite recipes mixed in with some more inspirational sayings.

Then she turns it into somewhat of a diary, to me. The first ‘diary’ entry she wrote begins with this; “Today August 8th, 1995 your father passed away.” None of the diary entries are much longer than a page with the exception of one or two. She kept track of things for me, chronologically. September 11, 2001 she wrote what time the towers were hit, what time they fell and when the other planes crashed. She wrote on November 17, 2002 “Well today I’m 74 years old and you are auditioning at the Rose Bowl for ‘American Idol’. I wish you all the luck in the world. I know you will do your best. Good luck.”

She didn’t update it often, in fact there are only 2 small updates and a recipe separating that last entry from the one on her following birthday. But she kept it constant. She started it in June of 1989 and wrote the last entry on January 16, 2008. She kept this journal for nearly 20 years, obviously knowing some day I would be reading it.

I can’t find words to describe the feeling I have of knowing she did this for me. It’s the best gift I have ever received. I’ve only skimmed through it and read just a few pages because I don’t want to race through something this meaningful to me. I will only be reading it bit by bit. Just the way she wrote it.

I could not have asked for a better grandmother. I miss her more than words, and yet I don’t even feel like she’s gone. Part of me wants to still pick up a pen and write her a letter. Another part of me wants to call her cell phone and have her say ‘buffet’ for me [which she pronounced ‘boofay’]. I guess it’s bound to hit me sooner or later. I just wish it had been later. Much later.

Goodbye Nana. I love you bigger than the ocean.

xoxo

Someone or someones keep spamming me everywhere [aka stalking me, as some might refer to it] about the ‘87876345476 pounds of make up’ I wear. And ‘let’s see how pretty I am without it’. Lol. If there is one thing I CAN’T do that involves creativity, it’s make up. I just don’t have a knack for it. So for anyone to assume that I have the time or patience for such a task is HIGH-larious. So now to shut you up, here I am …. just as I look always, with nothing but some concealer, mascara and a little eyeliner.

Now, kindly shutten ze up.

Please and thank you :-]

weeeeeeeee

xo J

So, I am pretty proud of my work out playlist - because before I know it, it’s finished and I’ve had nearly an hour of solid work out time. Mostly it works if you go walking, because every song keeps your walking tempo upbeat, at the perfect pace. Some of them give you such an attitude, like the sidewalk is one fierce runway. If you want to strut your shit down the street like me, make a playlist of these songs:

For Your Entertainment - Adam Lambert

Popular - The Veronicas

Monster - Lady GaGa

Kill The Lights - Britney Spears

La La La - LMFAO

Faster Kill Pussycat - Paul Oakenfold & Brittany Murphy

What’s It Gonna Be - Orianthi

Tik Tok - Ke$ha

Cinema Italiano - Kate Hudson [Nine Soundtrack]

Dynamite - Christina Aguilera

If You Seek Amy - Britney Spears

Good Girls Like Bad Boys - Jadyn Maria

Relapse - Jesse McCartney

Blah Blah Blah - Ke$ha

Beware Of The Dog - Jamelia

Owner Of A Lonely Heart - Yes

Outta Here - Esmee Denters

That will give you almost an hour of solid work out time. If you want to switch out some of those songs for others, here are some good replacements:

Do It - Keri Hilson

Baby Be Mine - Michael Jackson

Please Don’t Stop - Blake Lewis

The Love You Save - The Jackson 5

Bad Things - Jace Everett

S.O.S. - Jordin Sparks

Mama Do - Pixie Lott

I Kissed A Girl - Katy Perry

You Rock My World - Michael Jackson

Heartbreaker - Will.I.Am

All of these songs have a really great walking tempo to them. Before you know it, you’ve had an awesome work out and listened to some great music!

So those are the songs I switch out on my playlist to have a really fun walk. Though they can be used for most any work outs to keep you motivated. Treadmill, exercise bike, kickboxing, free weights…. you name it! Hope this helps.

xo J

Because if you have nothing better to do than stalk MINE, poke and prod at every little detail and then write about it, you have a sad, sorry existence.

Lately, certain people [or shall I say ‘person’, because every single post is exactly the same] has taken it upon themselves to dissect every single thing I say and try to use it to belittle me. Honestly, all this does is make me laugh and shake my head. Especially because it’s done ‘anonymously’. These people [or again, person] is obviously aware of my myspace, twitter and facebook. And yet uses a means in which you are anonymous to attempt to ‘talk shit’. Which doesn’t work, by the way.

I don’t understand people who stalk you on every website, if they are only hating on you. What’s the point?! And what the hell makes you so bitter?! I have never met you but obviously I have made a pretty large impact on your life if you take so much time out of it to brush up on mine. The funny thing is, I don’t know, nor do I care who you are. You, on the other hand, revolve your online life around me. Who is the clear winner there??

It’s just funny when said person tries to say things like I represent all ‘typical LA girls’ by being slutty, going to clubs, drinking and getting drunk, hooking up with guys….. I mean really?! If you’re so adamant on stalking my life, then you obviously know none of these things are even close to true. So the fact that you pull that kind of shit out of your ass just for attention is astounding. Firstly, I haven’t even stepped foot into a club or anything even similar in over a year. They are crowded, annoying, filled with smoke and obnoxiously drunk people who do nothing but boast about or act as if they have some sort of enviable ‘status’ and I want no part of it. If I go out, it’s to a hole in the wall sushi bar or my favorite karaoke spot. Not some stupid, played out Hollywood club. It’s not my scene. Secondly, I don’t get drunk. Mainly because it’s way too expensive for me to attempt it. I have an extremely high alcohol tolerance and I have no interest in meeting it. On the occasion I am with good friends and there is champagne or we sake bomb or have some margaritas, then I will have a few. But it’s very rare that you will find me ‘drunk’. Third, I never, absolutely NEVER hook up with guys. Even when I didn’t have my man, I am NOT about some little douche bag fucker who thinks he’s the shit trying to hook up with girls. I never even let guys TALK to me let alone think they are making any kind of physical contact near me. Guys make me sick and I am EXTREMELY picky about who I let into my life. I do not ‘hook up’. If I let a guy get close to me, he is there for a while. Period. Fourth, if you even LOOK at my pictures, everything I do is something like going to a wax museum, or Universal Studios, or to the zoo, or at a friends house. So I mean really, this ‘slutty, trashy club girl’ shit is just ridiculous. Why don’t you photograph me at these places then we’ll talk.

So if you have something to say, then grow some fucking balls and say it to ME. What the hell are you so scared of?! You obviously don’t know me, so why do you care about me knowing who you are? You apparently like to watch my every move, so, you live a sad life, but at least have the nerve to NOT do it anonymously like a scared little PUSSY. It’s so pathetic.

It’s especially funny that anyone like this thinks they affect my life in any way, or think it makes me feel bad about myself at ALL. It actually makes me feel incredibly good about myself, because I know my life isn’t as unfulfilled as yours. I don’t fill my life with jealousy and hate toward someone I know nothing about and then cyber-stalk them and try my best to garner their attention. If I have something not so nice to say about someone, it’s because I’ve just read about them saying or doing something stupid and I have an opinion. If I want to say Heidi Montag is a fucking fool for getting DDD tits and that much work done on her face then I will. But I sure don’t stalk her life and try to anonymously say some stupid bullshit to her. I have better things to do with my time.

And as far as this person thinking they know what I do in my daily life and how I fill out my time, you DON’T. Nobody does. What I am doing with my own time is my business and that’s it. I do not post or brag or inform the world of everything in my life because some things are private. And I do not like to mention things until they are coming into fruition. I don’t want to hype people up until there is something to show for it. This is my perfectionism at work. I am a writer. I am currently working on 6 different publishing writing endeavors. I am constantly writing lyrics and melodies for my producer friends who send me their beats, whether it be for me or one of their other artists. I have small businesses that I operate and help with. I am constantly helping organizations and volunteering my time as often as I can, which isn’t as often as I’d like but I’m sure it’s more than you do. I read. A LOT. I have a plethora of books because I read almost every night before I go to sleep. I have a higher vocabulary than you can even imagine from reading. If I come across a word I don’t understand, I write it down in a notebook and look up the definition and write it down. I am trying to teach myself French. I am constantly dreaming up new ways to create and use my imagination to the best of it’s ability, because to not would be a waste. I walk or jog almost daily. I work out as often as I can. I make time for my dogs and pay as much attention to them as they will let me. And this is just a small glimpse into what I do on a day to day basis. So don’t you dare try to sit like a stupid, anonymous log and attempt to know even an ounce of my life because you happen to catch some random tweet of mine here or there. You know NOTHING about me. Close friends of mine hardly know too much about me. It’s just ridiculous that people can assume such outlandish things.

My favorite are when these people like to call me ‘fake’. I’m sorry, I hate to break it to you… but I am as real as they come. The only thing fake about me are my acrylic nails. Thank you for thinking I have had my boobs done. What a compliment. Unfortunately, I just happen to be a very experienced and well-informed bra shopper. And trust me, when I do have my boobs done, I will hardly deny it. It’s no secret to anyone that I LOVE boobs. I have wanted mine done since before I can remember. Unfortunately, there are more important things to spend money on right now. And as far as my attitude goes, once again… YOU DO NOT KNOW ME. What are you even basing this ‘fake’ accusation on?! So ridiculous. I don’t try to ever be something I’m not. I will be the first to admit I am a klutz, random, ridiculous, witty, and sometimes bitchy human being. But anyone will tell you, I am very in tune with my conscience, and get sick at even the thought of people not recycling. I think of others before I think of myself. When it comes to Christmas, I NEVER disappoint because I pay attention all year long and I pick up on things and I store them in my memory. So people are genuinely surprised and happy with what I give them, which usually ends up being a lot. I spoil the people around me because it makes me happy to give. I think of strangers when I’m in the passengers seat. I like people to be courteous and treat to be treated. If I don’t finish a meal at a restaurant, I have it bagged up to give to a homeless person I may see on the way home. I don’t like to see food go to waste when there is someone on the street who will really appreciate it. I clean out my closet and dresser every 6 months and drop off unwanted clothes to Goodwill. I am only selling my stuff this time around so I can raise more money to donate to the Red Cross than I have already. Anything I can do to help, I do, and I do with a smile on my face. I never pass up an opportunity to make somebody happy because it makes ME happy. I support my friends when they have shows or birthdays or meltdowns because it makes me feel good to be there for them when they need it.

Yes I may be snappy or sarcastic or mouthy or bitchy sometimes, but the people who really DO pay attention to the things I say and read about me and know about me, know that I am this way and appreciate me for being REAL. I don’t give a shit who you are. If you say something stupid, I am going to let you know. It’s not my fault that half the internets population can’t form a grammatically stable sentence. Or use forms of internet ghetto slang that hurts my eyes and my brain when attempting to read it. Or ask really stupid questions or make really perverted comments or attempt to tell ME something about myself when they know nothing about me. It’s just plain ignorant. And I don’t put up with it. If I were “fake” I would slap a smile on my face and act like it’s okay to speak to me so ignorantly. Let that one swim around inside your empty head for a few minutes.

As far as the stupid ‘fan’ issue goes, WHO REALLY FUCKING CARES! I have had lots of people tell me they are a ‘fan’ of mine or of what I do. That’s perfectly fine. If people want to refer to themselves that way, then so be it. But I certainly never, EVER refer to people as ‘fans’. Because I am not a celebrity! I KNOW THIS! You think you are hurting my feelings by telling me I’m not. You are stupid! I have never claimed to be! And I certainly have never acted as such. The reason for the ‘fan page’ on facebook, which seems to be an issue with one loser in particular, is because [and I’ve said this a thousand times] FACEBOOK HAS A 5,000 FRIEND LIMIT. I did not know this when I signed up on my regular page, because it is not stated anywhere on the entire website. The only way to allow more people to become my friend is to create a ‘PAGE’. Is it my fault that facebook chose the words ‘become a fan’ for said pages?! No. But as I have clearly said on that page, it is not a “fan page”. It is simply a new FRIEND PAGE because I was getting way too many requests and not enough space. Now, if your issue is me adding so many people, then you are a moron. Why am I going to deny anyone who wants to be my friend? The more the merrier! I don’t ever go requesting anybody unless I actually know the person in my real life, or if it’s someone I admire. So if people feel the need to want to be MY friend, then I gladly accept it with open arms. I enjoy that people find me interesting enough or find something about me worthy of wanting to befriend. But then there are YOU. That small group of people who do it just to sit and stare at a life you wish you had. Why don’t you go out there and DO IT if you’re so envious of it?! It’s not that hard. Stop sitting back and watching. Get up and DO. I can’t understand how people can live life so bitterly. It’s got to be so miserable. Maybe you weren’t held enough as a child. But don’t take out your childhood neglect on me. I am not your therapist.

If you have a solid, legit reason to hate on me, then by all means let me know because I’d love to hear it.

But because I know I am a phenomenal human being, the only conclusion that I can come to is that you wish you had my life. Which is pretty damn pathetic, because I don’t do anything with mine that couldn’t be done by somebody else with a little ambition.

Get up and look in the mirror and evaluate yourself. Find out the reason you feel the need to hate on others because chances are, that’s where you’ll find it. It really makes no difference to me. I welcome the ignorance because it brings humanity into my life. And I always enjoy a good laugh. But just please don’t expect that what you say bothers, hurts or gets a rise out of me in any negative way. It doesn’t. And this blog is just to let you know how uneducated you are. Don’t try to dissect a life you know nothing about. You won’t find anything, because it’s not YOUR life. This isn’t the Truman Show. You’re not watching my every move 24 hours a day. And as you can clearly see by this blog, you’ve been quite horribly mistaken.

Now kindly shut the fuck up, or grow some balls and talk to me yourself. But this anonymous bullshit is just pathetic. Quit hiding. You know you just look like an idiot. Especially because its hardly worth an eye roll when I see such pitiful attempts at bashing. It just doesn’t work with me. It doesn’t affect me. You are definitely barking up the wrong tree.

Get a life. Stop obsessing over mine.

xo J

I kind of found it funny that upon catching up with the latest useless celebrity garb on my favorite guilty pleasure website PerezHilton.com that I stumbled across a photo of Mischa Barton. Not too unusual, as she happens to be one of his favorite targets. However, he posted photos of her in which she is dressed to shoot a scene wherein she plays a hooker. Completely understandable just by looking at the ensemble. Normally this would be a story I’d just skim through, as I take no personal interest in Mischa Barton. But then I scrolled down and caught a glimpse of her “hooker” shoes.

These happen to be a pair of heels that I own. My favorite pair of BeBe heels, actually. And I have about seven [pairs]. Now, I’m wondering if such a shoe sends out the message that I could possibly work as a hooker in my spare time. No, it couldn’t possibly.

But then I remembered. The last time [and only time, come to think of it] that I wore them, I kid you not, was for a sexytime night in a cheap motel room. Granted I wasn’t paid for it and it happened to be with my ex-boyfriend who I still hold a flame for, but that’s beside the point. The fact is, I wore them knowing full well I was headed to a cheap motel with a boy I planned on boinking all while leaving said heels ON. Now, does this make it reasonable that she would happen to be wearing the exact same shoes for a role in which she plays a sex worker?

A little too coincidental if you ask me.

xo J

Purely for my own entertainment, this is my list of unconventional celebrity crushes. Because Taylor Lautner and Zac Efron are sooo cliche.

Michael Cera

TJ Jackson

Andy Samberg

Jonathan Taylor Thomas (okay, so he’s a little ‘conventional’. But it’s a name you don’t hear every day.)

Robert Downey Jr. (only because of the age difference does he make this list.)

Conan O’Brien

Zac Hanson

Nick Swardson

And that concludes the list for today. There are at least a good 5 or 6 more I just can’t think of at the moment. Happy 2010!

xo Jamie

Brittany Murphy

1977 - 2009

But just for a minute. So don’t run away.

I just want to talk about my friendship. Even if we are not considered great or even good friends, I still like to go out and support and be there for them whenever I can. That’s just the kind of person I am. I treat people the way I would like to be treated. My best friend Nikki, for example. I don’t get to see her much because she works pretty much 24 hours of every day, but when she has a show I do everything I can to go and get as many people as I can to go support her. I try to make it out to the things that are important to her. But I do that for everyone I know. Because I think it’s nice when anyone ever does that for me and it makes me feel good to be supportive. I know WAY too many people who don’t seem to have this gene. But it doesn’t matter. I still am who I am and I can’t help but have that caring characteristic. But, for the record, if my efforts are unappreciated or ignored, you can bet I will care less about being supportive of you. I do these things to make the other person feel good. So what’s the use if they don’t appreciate it? I know way too many people like that and it’s sad. Wish more people could have a better attitude.

On another note, I had another crackhead dream last night. The thing with this one though, was that I wasn’t sure if in my dream I had actually dreamt it before, or if it was the first time I was having the dream but in the dream I thought I’d had it before. Make sense? It started out, God, well … I was getting horses for some occasion, but they came in pieces. Like one piece was cut at the part where you’d cut it to mount it’s head on a wall and I couldn’t find that horses middle anywhere. I kept petting it’s head though. It wasn’t bleeding, apparently it was normal to travel with horses in pieces. More convenient, I suppose. Then I was being followed by some guy who was trying to kill me, tons of people around but no one could help me, and he just kept following me. At some park. People kept TRYING to help me but it never worked. This is where I was sure I knew the ending had happened before … Ryan Gosling wanted to help me, but for some reason he couldn’t and I was crying and begging him to shoot the guy, but it turned out he had given the guy his gun. Ryan felt so guilty, he was crying and trying to apologize …. then in slow motion, the guy goes to shoot me and Ryan jumps in front of the bullet.

Now, I could SWEAR I’ve had that dream before, but I’m not sure if I really did or if it was just all in my dream that I knew how it ended. But I woke up with a pretty bad headache.

There are about a thousand more details I could go into with that non drug induced dream, but if I did I feel I might be considered a patient in a mental ward. I’m telling you, though …. someone needs to invent a machine that records your dreams as you sleep so you can watch them when you wake up. How rad would that be!

xo J