Author: RumpelFemme

Rumpelfemme is feeling non-binary these days. The fluidity of identity is blossoming all around me and it is waking up parts of me my children as toddlers sucked dry: my sexuality, my desires, my bi-nature. My neighbor’s dress-favoring son asked me if the only way to change gender is to die and be reborn. I was like, “not fucking at all” but in a child appropriate way. He ran towards his friends (his brother and my children) and said “I knew it!” And this flowering of gender is occuring at the same time that the most disgusting misogynistic President-imposter is forcing himself upon us all, impregnating the entire USA with his racist bigot bastard and then refusing us abortion rights. An Alabama mayor posted on Facebook (where else) that he wants us to “kill” LGBTQ people.

(Carbon Hill Mayor Mark Chambers wrote:

As bad as it would be for the environment, I would very much like to pour unrefined crude oil down this man’s throat and light his eyeballs on fire for being a person in a political office who says such hateful things. So I get it. You hate people like me just like I hate people like you. You are a crude fat old white man who hardly ever gets laid willingly because your wife thinks you’re disgusting but is too repressed to start anew. I am a bi-sexual woman who starts to swoon at the thought of a woman’s soft cheek skin and gloss softened lips. I slow down and catch each sweet wave. It takes a long time to get to know a woman’s skin, how hard it likes to be kissed, nails or no nails, and fast and hard or soft and teasing. But thanks to you and your hard-on for climate destruction, time is no longer eternal… for us, not just my us, but your “us” too. All Humans. LGBTQ and Cis.

I stand here as an innocent witness to what I will always remember as the Eat Your Peas showdown of 2019.

“Every minute I spend cooking you meals, cleaning up the house, or in general parenting you, should result in instant and profound gratification from you or you are an entitled child who will grow up without any idea of the time, money, and energy it has taken ME to raise you. I deserve to be recognized for every single frozen pea I have microwaved for you, because this has kept you alive. Some kids did not have a doting father with a microwave, and they died, Horrible deaths, from neglect and malnourishment. When I microwave for you, these peas are small green microcosms of the entire universe and I am God who has bequeathed you with the gift of a warm cooked meal. Not every child gets to see their Dad as a God, because not every child has a Dad with a bag of frozen peas, a Weber grill, and microwave. I also got you a glass of water, I have parted the seas and given you peas. Remember this moment and smile when you eat them. Smile bigger. BIG—GER. Smile when you eat them or I will be forced to starve you for a time so that you can see what it is like to be without, which is the reality for alot of children, especially hispanic children. I used to work with Hispanic children, and it broke me to see them with parents who did their best, but still didn’t do Great. I do GREAT. These kids picked corn all year round, every day, in the North where it is snowing, until their fingers bleed…. Yes, Its true.
(The likeness to Donald Trump is not the narrator’s fault however the paraphrasing might be)….

“They didn’t go to school or have parents who homeschool them, they lived in a one room apartment with their whole family. They didn’t share a room like you and your little brother, you should feel always grateful to share a room with your brother, they shared a room with everyone, their mother, their father, their aunts and uncles, their grandparents and thirty cousins IN ONE ROOM. They didn’t have bunk beds, they had a bunker. They each had one pea for dinner and they didn’t complain. So the next time I hear you complain, for goodness sake, (I AM GETTING SO TIRED OF HEARING YOU COMPLAIN ABOUT FOOD) I am going to have you fucking eat one of your fingers. (Takes a Deep breath and everyone expects an apology). Ok, so now eat every last bite of food on that plate.

Instead of admitting he went a bit too far, he pulls out his phone and puts on Bill Burr talking about how strict his parents were. Blah. Blah. Fuck. Blah. Fast forwards through most of the cussin’ until he gets to the part where Bill Burr says his parents were feeding them some of the toughest cube steak ever made and each child had to finish what was on the plate including his tiny little brother in his high chair. When his littlest brother said, Do I have to eat it all? His mom said yes (she is most obviously of a different generation than the narrator). Then his tough and tiny little brother said, “I hate you.” at which point Bill Burr’s Dad throws an entire glass of milk in tiny brother’s face. The phone screen seems to erupt with laughter. In fact, everyone laughs except my children.

“What do you think of that?” he says.

“Why did you show that to us?” says his daughter, appalled. “Bill Burr seems like a jerk.” (Narrator nods in solidarity).

“What do you mean?  He’s not the jerk”

“He threw milk at their baby’s face.”  

“No he didn’t his father did.”

“Yeah but he laughed about it. He’s a jerk, like his Dad was.”

“You are missing the point. The point is that you are lucky to be in this family which takes care of you and has money and spends time with you.” Take home lesson must go something like this…It is important to watch Bill Burr laugh about his family history of abuse so you that you can recognize how lucky you are to not be abused as bad as Bill Burr was abused.

Everyone has heard of Facebook. My 6 month old niece has 87 selfies on Facebook. Perhaps you are one of the small percentage of people who still love it. Maybe you refuse to participate in the depression-inducing social media site where everyone pretends they have a perfect life. Or most likely, you wish Facebook a slow death, but you keep your account anyways because you have nowhere else to go. You post pictures of your happy family while sitting in a closet eating a whole box of Oreos. (Google knows your secrets. Google knows everything about you. Google sends an advertisement for Mint Double Thick Oreo cookies your way.) While admitting your pain on Facebook is in fashion, sometimes it is neither a good career or relationships move.

Enter ‘IhateyourFace’book, where authentic online personas can finally speak their minds freely and without consequence.

At first Rumpelfemme was skeptical. IhateyourFacebook sounds like a really negative, soul-sucking way to spend more meaningless time staring at your screen. Many hours later, we began to see IhateyourFacebook as a soul-liberating soothsayer, an antidote for the modern dilemma. If you can manage without Facebook, then more power to you. But for everyone else who sees Facebook as a necessacity to keeping in touch with those they love, then IhateyourFacebook is the perfect medicine.

An anonymous daughter who could never bring herself to tell her mother that she is a wretched lunatic can finally be honest under the false alias of a hidden identity. Now she has the inner peace to smile while her Mother posts guilt trips on her Facebook page about not visiting for President’s Day. Rumpelfemme could relate. Literally this entire blog is based on anonymously speaking our truth without consequence.

An ihateyourfacebooker came out publicly about his sister-brother porn addiction. 

Commenter: “Oh god.  Do you have a sister?”

Reply: “No, thankfully, but there are a lot of girls that I am friends with at work.  I really feel like they are sisters to me. Whew.  It feels great to finally get that off my chest.”

A poor woman, who of course will not be named, has held her breath in family photos for years. No wonder her face is tinged reddish. She came clean that it is because her husband has fucking atrociously bad breath. She suggests he brush his teeth, double fucking floss, and chug some Listerine (scope just will not cut it) and lay off the garlic and tamari until his personal hygiene matches his spice consumption.

When an anonymous troll commented: How long have you held this inside?  

She commented back, “I have been literally holding my breath for years and when Twitter came out I had a nearly uncontrollable urge to shout it to the E-World once and for all.  But what if my family or friends read it? It is torture to be a social media user and to have to hide our true thoughts.   Ihateyourfacebook has changed everything.  I no longer have to keep my thoughts buried deep in my heart to rot and fester.  It is real freedom.”

Rumpelfemme was floored by the number of email responses we received to a recent article interviewing an advocate of the Adult-Child Movement. Many people, women in particular, had never heard this concept spoken of publically and were baffled to realize that THEY were in fact living with an Adult-Child. Here are the first two email questions and Rumpelfemme’s modest attempts at answering them.

Q: My husband kept furloughing my attempts at celebrating his birthday. It seemed that my enthusiasm was not up to par and his offense was so great that we had to put off celebrating day after day while he pouted. He finally declared 8 days later that tonight was the night to celebrate his birthday. He bought ribs and some beer. Worried that my lackluster enthusiasm would show through, I bought children’s decorations and balloons and candles for his birthday cake and manically screamed “Happy Birthday” when he walked in the door. Finally, it seems he was getting the attention he deserved. He walked around the kitchen strumming badly on his acoustic guitar while singing along to his favorite spotify playlist. Then he put on the wildly inappropriate Scott Pilgrim for our two young kids (one still in preschool) and talked the entire time about video game references within it. At one point, he was laying on the kitchen floor with the dog licking his ears. I never realized it before but I think my husband is an Adult-Child in the closet. Should I confront him about this? Are Adult-Children dangerous? What discipline strategies work best?: -Unprepared Disciplanarian

A: I hear you, Unprepared. Your husband is exhibiting classic signs of choosing the Adult-Child lifestyle. If you confront him, be prepared for him to throw a major fucking tantrum about how unfairly you are treating him, while listening to his favorite comedian on his bluetooth earpiece. More than likely he will complain about how you just do not understand him, never breaking eye contact with the TV. He will bring up everything you have ever done to annoy him but do not interrupt him, especially not to correct his false accusations, this will only make him try to guilt trip you into having more sex with him. The greatest danger is in losing your sense of humor. The best strategy, once an Adult-Child is in the throws of a tantrum, is pretend you have to pee, instead take a couple Xanax and then think about horse back riding while you fake-nod understandingly for as long as you can. When he stops to go pour himself a drink because he feels you are patronizing him, pretend to fall asleep. In the morning you should hide his car keys in a laundry basket full of his dirty clothes to distract him.

Q: After reading your article, I started to wonder if my husband’s habitual cheating was not actually my fault (he claims I do give him enough affection), but perhaps is a result of his inability to decide if he wants to become an adult or remain an irresponsible child. Does this make him an Adult-Child? Is this medically treatable? -Concerned Victim

A: My dear sweet Victimette…. There is no help out there at this time because being an Adult-Child is not a medical condition. The research coming out on this suggests that Adult-Child is a lifestyle choice. Speaking of choices, it is not your fault that you do not want to sleep with your husband. Selfish Adult-Children lack the awareness to tickle your sweet spot the way an adult can. So stop being a victim and realize it is time for you to face facts. Whatever the circumstances that brought you together (maybe you chose him because you thought you wanted to be young forever), you grew up and he did not. Either there will be more spanking than hanky packing in your future , or its time to move on and find yourself an authentic adult. After all that is what adults do.

Philosophers, riddle me this? When does childhood officially end and adulthood begin? Is it entirely unfair of us as a society to expect our kids to give up childhood? Ever? Some experts in the Adult-Child Movement, argue that childhood should never be given up but instead integrated. In this first blog post of Rumpelfemme, I interview an expert on keeping childhood alive in the adult psyche. As someone who does not identify as an Adult-Child, I had a lot of questions.

Rumpelfemme: “Do many adults still have the same passions as they had as children?”

Adult-Child Advocate: “It can be subtle, sometimes, but yes every adult is really just a larger version of themselves as children. Take broccoli, for instance. Most adults have been conditioned by society’s insistence on healthy eating to say they like broccoli. But Broccoli is disgusting. We only eat it because we know that not eating it leads to heart disease. However, self-deception also leads to heart disease of a different nature. So an Adult-Child doesn’t mind admitting that he’d rather have Lucky Charm’s cereal for dinner than stupid little green trees.”

I feed my children broccoli all the time. I know they don’ t particularly like it, but they eat it. I ask my four year old to shed some light on this childhood phenomenon of Broccoli Conditioning. Son, do you like broccoli? His answer, not surprisingly, was a firm “No.” When I asked him what Broccoli is like he replied, “Well. Broccoli likes……(long pause) balloons.” That isn’t really what I asked, but still I felt really silly not knowing this.

Rumpelfemme: “Did you know that Broccoli likes balloons?”

Adult-Child Advocate: “That’s ridiculous. Everyone knows Broccoli likes hugs.”

Of course, we do not want our kids to grow up too fast. Shocking findings by an organization called Netmums, found that, “Childhood ends at the tender age of 12… Modern Life is snatching away precious years of childhood….The effect of seeing their children grow up too fast is devastating for parents, with one in five admitting that they are finding it a struggle to accept their child is maturing early. A third say they are battling to keep their child ‘childlike for longer’.

Rumpelfemme: “How can we keep our inner Child alive as an adult?”

Adult-Child Advocate: “Its a choice, just like your sexual preference and the belief in global warming. By choosing to ignore the responsibilities that the adult world is trying to force down our throats, the Adult-Child remains childlike. We have the right to act like children anytime we want. This is America. Don’t be so hard on yourself when you have high expectations of those around you to fulfill your needs for attention. Video games are an age appropriate form of entertainment no matter how old you are. Food is food and this includes cheezewhiz, oreo cookies, take-out pizza, and five hour energy drinks. Remember aspiring Adult-children, you have the right to whine WHENEVER you have to do your fair share of house cleaning.”

I had some more questions, but my guest had put on headphones and was listening to Bill Burr while he played “Starcraft” on a his handheld gaming device, so I turned my questions to his wife who was busy helping two children with their own handheld gaming devices.

Rumpelfemme: “How is it being the wife of an Adult-Child?”

Wife: “Oh its great! I always wanted more children. (Shrill laugh). But really, on a more practical note, I don’t really want to have sex anymore. Giving birth to my two biological children destroyed my vagina which now “Hangs Loose” so since everything my husband does is completely unattractive to me, it works out really well. He has his porn addiction and I get to be a Mom.”

Okay!

To join the Adult-Child Movement simply donate to Adult-ChildMovement.org at GoFundme.com/Adult-Child

Join us next week for another exciting topic… Where Darth Vader and health care combat.

Not all problems are your own problems, sometimes they belong to those around us and we are just the unfortunate souls who have to witness, experience, and try not to laugh in anyone’s face. Join us as we laugh away the stupidity brought into our lives by the people we have unwittingly chosen to love.