Continuing my catalogue of those nice folks in AA
Wow! These guys are bad ass!...said no one. Decorated with a homemade Bugs Bunny tattoo on her ankle, this crusty girl traipses in with her crusty friends through the rooms with a “cool as fuck” look cast across her face. Shakespeare was onto something when he wrote--might makes right (a pedantic way of saying strength in numbers). Making their bad assness known through dark scowls and jangling wallet chains, these Juggalos forge a tactical surge on the cookies, as though their party-bus just stopped by the meeting and we’re not invited to their carnival of depravity.
During all this, however, if you look one of these dickholes in the face, their eyes flash fear. On the rare occasion they speak at podium level, and after the extensive rehashing of their addiction[s] to meth, heroin, and weed (sometimes all, but never alcohol), they give great accolades to the program, because the last three days of sobriety have been intensely rewarding. Bullshit.
Here's the thing: the requirements of determining whether or not one is an alcoholic materializes in two questions (1) Are you powerless over alcohol, (2) Has your life become unmanageable? If you answer yes to both of these then you join our club. But I don't care how unwelcoming, closed-minded or dickish this is: a 17 year-old can't know that much about life becoming unmanageable. Seems to me like their parents failed, while their uncle succeeded in touching them in the bathing suit area. This ultimately scrambled their brains and they used the party as an escape. And they're here at my meeting because the party stopped being fun, and they were already fired from Carl's Jr, so they needed to get their shit together. I wish they’d go away and drink their 700 oz Rock Stars at a young people’s meeting. The adults are busy now, children. We’re recovering from a goddamn addiction, you turds.