This is getting ridiculous. When I attended my first Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, I thought it would be a cool bunch of people swapping stories about drunk driving and stealing from your loved ones. Just a whole bunch of McNulty’s talking rock bottom shit. But after eight meetings, nobody here is even remotely on my level. No wonder you all want to remain anonymous. If I was as boring as you all, I wouldn’t want notoriety either.
I, on the other hand, fucking rule. Like last week when I shared my hilarious story of blacking out and shitting my pants at a wedding. Awesome, right? But when I got to the big reveal that it was actually my wedding, I did not get a single laugh from the audience. Instead, one of you put your hand on me and started talking about “sharing my pain” when you should’ve been offering to share some of that flask I’m sure you have. Come on, I know it’s not empty. I haven’t seen you pull it out once.
I don’t think it’s me, by the way. And not just because I have a lifelong pattern of blame-shifting and no sense of accountability. Because when Kyle shared his anecdote about having his kids taken away, which I thought was a riot and gave him plenty of laughs and a few quick “Woo!”s, everyone got all mad for some reason. You guys gotta loosen up. And you know what helps me loosen up? Actually, never mind. You guys are boring.
Unfortunately, I’m stuck with you all for the next ten court-appointed months, so we’ll have to make do. But just to put it out there: you people are no fun at all. At this point, I want to stop drinking just so I can never see you losers again. Is that how the program works? Whatever. At the beginning of this meeting, I was proud to call myself an alcoholic. After hearing all your stories, now I’m not so sure.