Currently The Best Damn Drug Rehab Book: The must-have Substance Abuse and Narcotics Addiction Guide By Ryan Wade Brown see related

            I don’t know how it happened.  One day you’re trying to fend off the sniffles that is filling your house with germs and the next day you’re freebasing the stuff.  I know that on the side of the circular container it says “take a tablet every three to four hours with a maximum of four a day” but my philosophy about that kind of stuff is sort of like those freeway signs that tell you a curve is approaching and to slow down to 50 mph.  Well, everyone knows that those limits are for trucks (why else would there be a tilted truck on the sign?) and that a regular passenger car can go about twice that.  I figure it’s the same thing with Airborne limits.  The four tablet maximum is for 25 pound eleven year-olds so I figure since I’m 38 and 160 pounds, I could take about four tablets every ten minutes. 

            For a long time, I was in denial that I had a problem.  Angela tried to confront me when she found a kilo of Sam’s Club packages of Airborne (with a street value of $56.27).  When she asked me why even the milk in my cereal was effervescing, I knew that I wasn’t going to be able to keep it from her much longer.  I think the last straw for her was when I tried to snort lines of it on a mirror with a rolled up Benjamin and ended up foaming at the nose. 

            So I went to rehab.  Surprisingly, I didn’t see a single celebrity there.  I guess the Missouri Re-hab Clinic in Festus isn’t the “in” place for celebrities to go to.  I did make friends with a guy named “Bubba”.  We sat around in a circle boo-hooing about our neglectful parents while we all had the shakes because of going through withdrawal.  Overall, it was fun and I could see why celebrities like to go back. 

I decided to turn my mishap into a teaching moment for the kids since Angela and I hadn’t talked to them about drugs yet.  So I took out a pan, some eggs and started to fry them up telling them that this was their brain on drugs.  Then we practiced yelling “NO!” at the frying pan before we ate our brains with ketchup and some whole wheat toast.  While dining, Tyler asked a good question—he asked what actually represented the drugs; the frying pan, the heat or the non-stick Pam spray.  I admitted to him I didn’t really know but that we should say, “No” to all three, just in case. 

I know I deserve this.  Every single time I’m judgmental against someone, God puts a big ole plank in my eye to teach me a lesson.  I guess I shouldn’t have been so judgmental against Alex Rodriguez for injecting ‘roids nor towards Michael Phelps for smoking a bong the size of our canister vacuum cleaner.  This makes me nervous because a couple days ago, I was really judgmental towards that woman that had octuplets as a single mom—not because she had more kids but because she had plastic surgery to look like Angelina Jolie.  So the next time you see me, if I have really big, collagen-filled lips, you’ll know why.