Saturday, April 26, 2008
Mom: Can you believe the process it takes to get a freaking box of Sudafed? I had to show my driver's licence!
Me: *withering stare*
Me: You know, Mom, the cops are only going to give you so many chances.
Mom: What are you talking about?
Me: I've told you a thousand times to move it. Someday you're going to get sloppy and blow up the whole damn house.
Mom: I have no idea what you are talking about.
Me: Stop the denial, Mom. Everyone knows. And using your own product? I can't condone that. You've got a real problem. And I can't bail you out this time.
Mom: Are you running a fever?
Me: Let's focus on you, Mom. I'm only going to say this one more time. Move the meth lab. Seriously. Move it today.
Mom: *small, wounded voice* But...that's how I make my money!
Thursday, April 10, 2008
Rehab: A Primer
(Or, Damn, How the Hell Did I Get Here?!?)
So you’ve decided to go to rehab! How exciting! Or perhaps you didn’t have a choice. Perhaps you’re running from the cops, or maybe the FBI! Maybe you ended up in a coma after drinking a gallon of vodka! Not that I know anything about that! No matter! Herein is a convienient "how to" to help you along your jolly, sober way.
Learn new phrases: "What’s your drug of choice" and "how’d you get here?" will replace "Nice to meet you." We want to know your bizness, newbie. And be assured, EVERYONE will know your life story before you are even unpacked. We will also begin to place bets on such possibilites as: When you will get kicked out, when you will jump the fence, when you will get caught sucking face with a junkie with several missing teeth. We are bored. And we are shameless gossips. (see below.)
Learn exciting new things!: A drunk? You’ll learn the ways of the junkie. Junkie? You’ll learn how to hide vodka bottles in new and crafty ways. Crack fiend? Pharmecutical enthusiast? No matter. You will learn the ways of your fellow addicts in such detail you will be able to write a thesis on drugs you have never taken. Learning is fun!
You will be bored.: Oh lord, will you be bored. BORED. And forget weekends. You will be SO FREAKING BORED. Things, pathetic things, will begin to be paragons of excitement. Such things include: Lifetime movies, having a new pack of cigarettes, eating the food your roommate left when she went to the halfway house, going to the grocery store, going to Walgreens, (don’t get too excited, these are the only places you will go, and only once a week.) Going to Winn Dixie! Hot damn! I CAN’T WAIT. This is your life now. Live it, love it. Or jump the fence. Whatever.
You will thrive on the only vices you have left: Cigarettes, coffee, and gossip. It’s the breakfast of champions!
Speaking of gossip: Rehab is a lot like junior high. Male or female, you will gossip like wee schoolgirls, with great vigor and excitement. Some girl came to group in hoochie shorts? Scandal! Some chick threw a punch at her roommate? Awesome! Some idiot put his fist through the soda machine? I need to take pictures! And forget it if someone throws a tantrum, packs their shit, and starts tossing their bags over the fence, and scales the gate. Light a cigarette, place bets on if they are just a drama queen or if "holy shit, she’s really going to do it this time!" Make popcorn. This is way better than Lifetime movies.
Group therapy: Sharing is Caring!: You will learn many things in group. You will learn that you are NOT the baddest dude on the block. There will always be someone who did more drugs, drank more booze, got arrested more times, flatlined more times, stole more, whored out more, did everything and anything more than you did. Settle down, tiger. This ain’t a contest.
You will forget things such as date and time.: You live in a bubble. Calendars are only used to count the days you have been there/days until you leave.
You will, hopefully, start to get it: In all seriousness, you will. And if you don’t, just hope you live long enough to try again.
You will eventually leave.: Rehab ain’t forever, even when it seems like it. A weird thing will happen when you leave. You’ll miss it, kind of. You’ll insist people write and call you on the outside. Hugs will be given and recieved. Yes, even that rat-faced guy with the sketchy teeth. You’ll worry about the people who have to leave when their insurance runs out when everyone knows they’ll be shooting up within 20 minutes of leaving. You’ll get used to the outside world again. Hopefully you’ll work hard and learn to take care of yourself again. You deserve it.