Jaime featured as Emile Bernard and Agostina Segatori in the cast recording, reading and 54 below performance of Matt Dahan's musical Starry. She has since featured in productions such as The Moms: Fannypackin' Heat as well as being an original cast member of Glass Ceilings: A New Musical. In 2010 she featured as One in a staged reading of Daughter of Lot at WorkShop Theater Company Jewel Box Theater, New York playing the character on One.
JAIME LYN BEATTY DATING PROFESSIONAL
Jaime has featured in a number of theatre productions throughout her professional career. Jaime then attended the University of Michigan where she graduated with a BFA in acting. Jaime attended the world renowned LaGuardia High School for Performing Arts (a.k.a the "FAME" school) where she graduated from the drama department. At the age of twelve she became the youngest person to ever be accepted to the Thirteenth Street Repertory Company. I was the poster child for failed Asian wonders.Jaime was born and raised in New York. Even with it being under 700 square feet, I could barely keep up with the rent anyway. One tiny kitchen that was so small that I could extend my arms at any point and touch both walls, my living room that dueled as my dining room, my bathroom with only a bath so I could sink in my depression and my bedroom with only a twin size bed and a desk with a 1999 computer crammed into one tiny space. I felt my anger rise as I stormed three centimeters to my kitchen. Not to mention the list of unfuckable memorabilia such as a lava lamp in every room, a Monty Python and the Holy Grail poster above my toilet and three different waffle machines. Why would I ever waste the time acting like I don't believe in love when no girl in their right mind would even consider dating a twenty-seven year old man with a beanbag chair. I took my closed laptop and tossed it across the room so it landed on my beanbag chair. It's the biggest scam and the biggest waste of time devised by those who want to watch the world burn! I prided myself on being above the mainstream, and now I was considering sinking into the current? What was wrong with me? In love, at least two people are hurt, but with a crush, the person is having their heart ripped to shreds by someone whom does not even know that their plugging in the woodchucker! They put all of this time fantasizing about how they smell when they hug or what their wedding is going to look like when they could be doing so much more for themselves. How is it possible that I'm even considering a relationship? Not even that, a crush? Crushes are about the worst thing next to love. What the fuck am I thinking about? Why am I having thoughts on some chick who, for all I know, could be in her fifties and over 200 pounds? I didn't even know what JLB stood for! It could be something like John Likes Boys or something! And even if I knew she was relitively normal, how could I ever trust her? How could I trust myself? I could almost picture her in my head, too: brown eyes, red hair that goes to the bottom of her boobs, freckles, laying on her stomach with her laptop propped up on her bed as she writes with her tank top slowly riding up so a flash of her stomach is visible. I wouldn't be the only one talking in iambic pentameter while everyone else is in prose. I wouldn't be so disappointed if someone with grammar like that popped into my life. Yet again, I couldn't help but think about it. It all seemed a little too fishy to be true. Maybe she was some sociopath or something. But then, how did JLB find my account at all? What kind of person just sits all day on a porn website to find someone that isn't interested in porn? Maybe she wasn't a good idea at all. I quickly dismissed that theory since her grammar was better than the third grade education they received. What was she doing on this website if she didn't want any of that? Maybe she was a porn star undercover or something. This was a website that was notoriously known for strippers and porn. What the hell was it about? Was this JLB chick trying to come onto me or reassure me that I'm not the only person in the world who is a socially awkward potato? I started to have my doubts. It swam in and out like each word was a fish and my brain was some convoluted pool of syrup. All I could think about was the letter that was written to me last night. My shoulder throbbed from sleeping on it weirdly and my hair lay in my eyes, tickling my forehead to the point where I desperately needed a haircut.īut this morning, I wasn't even bothered by all of my imperfections like I normally am. It felt as though I had drank an entire liquor store the night before.
I woke up with a pounding headache like the heart beat pulsing was a hammer inside my skull. The truth is something that almost nobody wants to hear, but everyone wants to know
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