Quittin' Ain't Easy
by David James
Hey, Y'all!
Like I told y'all, I checked myself into this what you call a “ facebook Rehab Clinic” up here just about 40 miles outside of Kalispell, Montana in a little town called Gulag. I quit MySpace and that got me a reduced rate.
Things are OK, so far. Food's OK. We got a TV. And nice, lime green, comfortable, overall-looking outfits.
Most days, after defriend therapy, we get to play, “Go Fish” and “Old Maid”. Drats, I got the old maid twice yesterday. We're all on what you call the 12-step program. No posting or commenting or liking. I'll get to come home if I pass the so long social networking exam and undergo a full psychological debriefing after the 12th step. I'm on step 2 now. Every morning at breakfast you have to get up before the whole group of about 20 of us patients and say 12 times: “I am a facebookaholic.”
There are NO women here at the Gulag clinic. I asked and Mr. Roy, my watcher, told me they have a special place in Hell, Montana, a few miles down the road. I miss being around women. Mr. Roy said there was a mixer scheduled for next month. I'm OK with waiting because there is this real cute buffalo I got my eye on. She's kinda flirty with dark, mysterious brown eyes and stuff. Y'all know the type.
I gotta go now because I hear Mr. Roy coming back out of the staff meeting. I sneaked this illegal facebook post and I sure don't want to be put back to Step 1. They call that a relapse and you get demerits and stuff.
Best,
Facebook Freddie
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yup. fave, friend! er, i mean, ex-friend. whatevuh!
Thanks for reading this silly thing, Jerry.
Not as far fetched as you'd think.
I laughed out loud. You’re on a tough page today. Lots of good stuff on the Naut. Yours included.
Love this, David.
Ha! There are many of us still in blissful denial.
Thanks, thanks, thanks, thanks. Love, not gratitude.
I attended the Minneapolis screening of Bill W. on Thursday evening, and not wanting to be a sober-party-pooper here, but I had complex reactions to it.
My date was born in Akron, not a friend of Bill W., had not even heard of him, but when I ask him out, he goes.
He saw a familiar Akron building in the documentary and mentioned it to his mother who had just flown in from GA.
She told him that his grandfather had been the attorney who represented Dr. Bob in Akron.
So there we were, surrounded by friends of Bill, many with quite large guts, I noticed in my row, eating popcorn, drinking pop, and unbeknownst then to either of us -- any of us there -- my date was more directly connected to A.A.'s founders than any other moviegoer in the room.
In the car, driven by my A.A. friend, J., his gf from high school, who joined us, said to my date and me in the backseat, "Are you friends of Bill?" And I said, "I am not not friends with Bill W."
That was not good enough. I do not fault J., because we are lifelong friends, since A.A. and I parted, but it had been a while since I had been near anyone as clearly cult-oriented as his ex-gf, K. I said later (I'm leaving out so much) to my date that she had asked to see my border-crossing papers.
AMB *
Good fun, David. Enjoyed.
Folks, thanks to all y'all for reading this silly-assed thing. If a couple of you smiled, the story achieved my purpose in writing it.
Here's a question (David b/c'd me to be sure his satire is sound. I said it is): What is a backstory (do y'all like this term?) of a story that belongs not necessarily not exactly to the writer but to the reader?
Sorry, I think I was jotting (above) and not writing. I can see I dropped a pronoun that would have helped clarify my interest in it. I purposely didn't describe my own alcohol use. There, I just did.
I am a cult survivor. 20 yrs after a therapist first said I had to go to A.A. and other 12-Step groups (Alanon, CoDA, SA, and CoSA), repeatedly, a kind of conversational hypnosis.
I agree with John Riley. And satire is a powerful response.
The original literature of A.A. also seems sound.
I hope it's okay that I find this story scary funny and not "not funny." Try that again: sober-party pooper.
Thank you, Ann. I like the way you peel back stories to see what's underneath. Your comments are often musingly thought provoking and your observations insightful.
In countries where wine and beer and sweet liqueurs are a food. In countries where the Internet is an invention of freedom. They often do segregate by gender in t'x centers. My religious heritage doesn't gender segregate. Did my heritage used to segregate? Did it invent co-education? The Scots. I do not desire a drink, and yet a drink might slow this set of keys. Ta-ta, good to see you, gotta run, as if I'm trying to learn avoidance.
"defriend therapy"
Hilarious!
Very funny, yet with the ring of truth that makes it so.
I enjoyed this and got the biggest kick out of "defriend therapy" too. You have succeded (written for smiles) well David, thank you.
Hi, Ernie!
We won't tell on you Ernie. (For a small fee).
Thanks so much for writing, but, frankly, I think you are going to be there for a very very long time, the worst part being the jumpsuits in LIME GREEN. Ugh! That is inhumane punishment.
Your unfriend,
gg
P.S. FAVE*, but you can't have it until you're sprung.