“We’re Not Compatible”

I couldn’t  get this out of my head last night, so here it is.

Lex and I were having a conversation yesterday, jokingly, about me stealing his money and other things.

     Lex: “ yeah what else you gonna try and steal from me before leaving.”
Me: “ oh you know the only thing left is your seed.”
   Lex: *shocked I said that*    “well you’ve tried that already and we found out were not compatible.”
   Me:*mouth open* “whatt?”
   Lex: “ not like that ,you know one of us has something wrong.”

     Me: “thaanks for reminding me about my poisonous  vagina.”
             “DNA does not compute,matches not found”  *in my robot voice”

IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE?! Can two people be incompatible therefore leaving no chance to reproduce?

That actually hurt my feelings a little because its something Ive been struggling with in secret; I do think I’m  the problem  and that my vag can’t  handle it. Have I gone to the doctor for it,no because I really  don’t want to find out I’m  the one to blame.

A reason why we think one of us has a problem  ( and why I think its me) and its not scientifically proven but I figure when you do everything right and the right time and you’re  young it should happen a little more easier. I mean I don’t even have to search Facebook to know that 90% of the women I graduated with are mothers. Half the time it’s a one night stand and BAM super sperm and super egg unite!

Uhm,  why can’t  it be that simple.

I mean it happens all the time to women; they just get pregnant, sometimes they don’t even know.

I’m  going to have to eventually go, Lex wants a family, I just don’t want him to be disappointed. I know him saying were not compatible is him acknowledging  the truth but to be given an actual denial would be a serious blow.

I just told him about this post and how his words actually made an impact and he started laughing, I probably shouldnt have been saying it with a smile on my face.. but what can I say, we’re some twisted bastards.

Hope everyone else’s  vag and balls are doing better!



I mean short.

Like I dont know 5ft tall.

I’ve been this height since I was 13,what the fuck puberty you’re supposed to help me grow not stop me in my tracks.

In 6th and 7th grade they use to line us up from shortest to tallest and I use to be in the back. It was awesome being “tall”. Then 8th grade rolls around and of course everyone over the summer had their growth spurt and I became first. What.the.fuck.

Total reverse.

Not even 3rd or 4th. First,ugh.

Unfortunately,something like this you have to live with,cant really change it; I did read once about someone wanting to be taller,so he/she surgically had an operation to do so,something about breaking the legs.

Yep, I’ll pass. Never broke a bone or had surgery so I’ll keep it that way.

You dont really think about being short in the sense of waking up in the morning like  “awe shit, still short” no doesnt happen like that. Its when doing daily routines or activities when your stupid height becomes a hindrance.

Problem #1 : being in a relationship with a tall guy. There are perks to being with someone tall but theres always some downsides. Lex is 6’5,a giant compared to me who has a habit of picking me up and spinning around really fast till I scream or he gets hit. I hate it and love it at the same time; love that hes all silly and fun but hate that im the source lol maybe find some other shorty to swing around. Its not good enought that I get to be the occasional armrest when necessary and squishy body pillow when cold. I hate going anywhere with him that involves walking long distance or short. My tiny  legs can’t keep up,seriously 3 steps to his 1. Why are you walking so wide and fast. Its like doing a marathon with him, well what I imagine it to be, out of breathe and sweaty. Gatorade me! And if we are walking at the same pace, our arms just dont work together when holding hands.

Problem #2: high up objects (obviously)
I’m 100% sure that Lex puts things on top of the fridge knowing I can’t get to it;I’ve  had enough of opening the fridge stepping inside and boosting myself up or climbing on the counters. I knew I should have taken up climbing, seeing as I do it every.single.day. the other day at the store he asked me to get him something and when I looked to see where he was pointing to I wanted to punch him. The top fucking shelf. Seriously because if you want a crazy  chick climbing shelves thats whats you’re  gonna get. He was smiling and laughing and I was slightly amused. I want to invest in a stepping stool but I dont want to be the person who has a fucking stepping stool.

Problem #3: Clothes
This is another obvious one. Is there a store just for short people? Custom specializations?I’m  so glad my style revolves around leggings ( Lex I know they are not pants!) And baggy shirts,embracing the mishaps.  The only store that actually works for me is H&M and even then things have to be rolled or shits a little baggy. The amount of pants ruined from being dragged on the floor( thanks mom for not buying me proper clothes.)
The worst is when going out somewhere nice and you go through 1000 outfits to find the one least baggy and long. Piles of clothes thrown on the cat.

Problem #4 You’re How Old?
“Lets see your ID”
*hands ID over while thinking “fucker I’m 25!”*
“Oh, okay you dont look it”
Lies. On a good day I look early 30s. Don’t  let my height  fool you into thinking I’m younger than what I am. Assholes. Always. If you think I’m  young and my bf is some tall looking adult what does that make us? What do you think he is? I mean, I have no problems making it realllllyy uncomfortable( all in fun)but really?

I is an adult,kinda.

Confession 1; Self-Medicate : The Train to Numbville

All Aboard- the worlds longest train.

Come,welcome,let the conductor and long time member show you around the haze train.

I’ve been a member since 2003,when one summer night I experimented with what would become my apart of me , far longer than expected.

I didn’t want to show you around,once I open up there is no going back. If I bring you on this confession adventure you’ll know the truth about me,well part of it. Lately, the words have been bubbling up behind my lips,fingers pressed against keys,never really saying the words. Dont judge me, everyone always does.




How anticlimatic. Thought it would be more of a shocker. Writing it now just seems soo melodramatic. 

Recently I’ve come to realize how  my medicinal habit is just covering up my real problems. I never really gave much thought to it.


It gave me the escape I needed.

The numbing I craved.

The first time I smoked I was on vacation with my cousins, I can’t say they talked me into it (trust me ive been talked into some really stupid shit),but I was convinced.

Whoever said you dont get high the first time is a liar.  Or it could  have been the amount we smoked- I was fucking stoned. High off my ass and I loved it. The feeling was intoxicating,nothing I had ever felt before.

There was a calmness.

Returning home, I had to share this new,wonderufl information with my friends (I’ve also been known to be a bad influence)and we started smoking. My mother and step father smoke, so it was only a matter of time before I did. Did I even have a chance? I Started stealing weed from them;until I made my own connections.

If smoking at 13 wasnt bad enough, lets add sexual behavior to the list. Ahh the things I did when high. I regret some. I won’t  say all because without it I wouldn’t  have had amazing memories-well the ones I remember.

I’ve drank. I don’t  drink anymore, haven’t in a few years but I once did. Early teenagers years was filled with drugs and liquor and plenty of attitude. Lots of it. I don’t  know what i was searching for, but a part of it was a needing. I needed to be liked and wanted. So I took pills,smoked blunts and chugged out of pints.

Fall of 2004, I was hospitalized for alcohol poisoning. I chugged a mixture if 12 different liquors and washed it down with beer. I don’t remember all of that day.

I remember drinking from the bottle with an ex and some friends.

I rememeber mumbling to my friend,which turned out to be a garbage can- I recognized  that somehow in my wasted state and started walking.

I remember some guy waking me up from my passed out state in the grass, me mumbling something.

I remember entering a building (which turned out to be a friends job)passed out. I heard voices talking. Then I heard my mother.

Next thing you know I’m waking up hooked up to an IV,chalk coal over my mouth and still drunk.

I was drinking a week later,despite almost dying. Every weekend. Hard. I eventually decided to just stick with weed and gave up everything else.

Weed gave me the same thing liquor did without all the horrible side effects. I wasnt the stoner who just sat around all day and did nothing. I was out on a grand adventure and emotions weren’t involved. 

With weed I didnt need to feel anything. No aniexty, no sadness, no pain. Nothing. It was what I’ve been looking for. Soo smoke I did. If I had a dollar for the amount of times I came stumbling home, blood shot eyes  and a smile on my face I would at least have 150 dollars.

Sorry mom,oh and grandma.

I was a horrible teenager. Thankfully at 15 I got a serious boyfriend,who liked to smoke! What more can a girl ask for?

Fun fact: I’m super secretive; I’m  a loner, I’ve  had friends  but they werent real. And now I have no friends expect mj.

Ive come to realized I’ve never really faced any of my issues.

Fun fact: I hate emotions.  I don’t like talking about them or feeling them or displaying them.

I just smoke.

For fucks sake I’m  going to be 26! And I have the intimacy level of a 5 year old,sometimes. Eww you wanna hold my hand. Gross.

Or like the boyfriend says “cold hearted bitch, you have no feelings” I do have feelings, wayy down under, like soo deep you need a chisel and tweezers.

So what if my motto is ” I don’t care.”

At least the weed understands, it doesnt pressure me into talking about  feeeeelings. It leaves me in peace,letting me enjoy the hazy ride and the escape of my shitty life.

I figured me writing it is me facing my issues and for now thats good enough. Will I eventually quit? I mean if I want a good job I have to. Will I enjoy it? No but thats life. Ill probably take up drinking again.

Last fun fact: I get addicted easily.

So for now, the ride continues. I’ll  think about opening up emotionally more (gag)but it kinda feels too good plus I’m  just not ready to let go.


Mother in Law rant #1

Im going to start off by saying shes the nicest woman youll ever meet, so much so, that it makes you want to throw up. Its disgustingly,annoyingly nice.

We live together (yayyy), one big happy family; the bf,his parents and lil ole me.

Thats mistake one. We won’t talk about mistake 1 because all that does is bring problems of another magnitude.

Her son is her youngest child. Her baby. Her other children are all married,multiple children;2 of them dont even live in the same state. Sooooo, she hovers over him. Plus he liked almost died 100 years  ago so you never know (she said sarcastically )

And thus thats where the problem lays or floats.

Fact: boyfriends a mamas boy,despite what he’ll tell you. He wont admit it but I know.

Another fun fact: boyfriend is spoiled. His siblings say it, his mother says it and I for fuck sure say it. Now hes not spoiled like other people but compared to me-yessir.

Anywho, his mom use to do everything,literally,besides wipe our asses. At first i loved it,of course  I did, didn’t get that shit at my house. But then it became extremely annoying.

What do you want to eat?
Why arent you eating?
Do you need clothes done?
Ill do clothes.
Why are you in the room?
Blah, blah, blah. *head explodes*


Moving down stairs, especially with that door was an indication that I now have things handled;I got your son, don’t worry.

Dont get me wrong, things are waaaay better. Until she decides shes gonna cook food without us knowing and then gets upset when we decline because ya know, I already cooked.

This has happened 500 times, I’ve  tried to tell  her politely to tell us in advance if she feels the need to cook. I’ve told lex to talk to her but nope.

Had chicken skewers in mind,she had other plans.So we were left eating what she made. It could have been me,but I ate the food and was sick the rest of the night- not a happy camper.

All I wanted was fucking chicken skewers,thats all. Pretty sure for dayyys I wanted them, then it was thanksgiving then his mother made us food. I was going to get my skewers no matter what.

The following day on our way out :
(I’m  in the garage,Lex is at the door)

Mom-in-law: heyy guys come here real quick see what I got


Lex: what we’re at the door, you do this all the time.

Mom-in-law: just real quick, look, look (as she uncovers a pot of food) Pork Roast! Yum

Me:uughhhhhhh (other inaudible mumbles and massive eye roll)

Lex: uhh, thanks (looks at my face) but we have food already out.

Mom-in-law: So, who cares you can eat this,save your food for another time

Me:jshdhgehw ( while walking out the door)

Lex: uhm,yeah well see what happens.

I had my skewers and they were fucking delicious. As for the food, its still upstairs and will probably not be eaten; not because I’m a bitch whos spiteful (a little)but because I like making food the way I like and when I like.

Thanks but no thanks.

One of the reasons you SHOULDN’T live with your in laws.



When does overreacting overlap caring?

There is an obvious difference  but cant one  lead to another.

I believe  if you truly care for someone you can sometimes overreact…but why can’t  we see it?

Yes, sometimes I am aware that I am overreacting, I’m human its one of the many things  in my nature, but how can I tell I crossed the boundry from the cute girlfriend to the annoying bitch.

I don’t want to be THAT woman.

I see the look in his eyes, that disdain, the distance being forged.

I’m  changing, why can’t he; I’m  trying to make things right again, I’ve  voiced my concerns, yet they seem to go unanswered. 

I pen this as he lay next to me sleeping blissfully,uncaring.

I tend be needy, a fault I’m  trying to fix. I don’t  know where it comes from or how i got to this point.

I just need my boyfriend back, my relationship.

The problem is this: despite living together we rarely communicate; he works and goes to school and I stay home.

When he is home I have about 60 minutes to get everything  I want to tell him and do in before he passes out.

The dreaded sleep.


See am i overreacting?

I reaallly don’t  want to judge someone from sleeping but but he just does it sooo much.

How can someone sleep so much? How can someone  drink coffee and then spread out on the couch 3 minutes later?

Now, don’t  get me wrong, i understand you work hard and are tired, once again i would NEVER judge someone  for that.

However, when I get treated like shit and made to feel like shit because I want you to get up and actually  go lay in a bed or perhaps when I get lied to my face about how really tired you are, then it becomes a problem.

I don’t  care that you’re  tired. Truly don’t I just hate  the 5 year old trantrum that comes with it.

Maybe I am overracting or maybe I care. I haven’t  quite  figured it out yet.

I’ll  think about it again next time.

– J. Rose