Finally, a support group we can all get behind
Do you have so many problems in your life you'd have to quit your lousy, stinking job just to attend all the support groups you qualify for? Are you spotty, fat, miserable, bored, hungry, contagious, homocidal, suicidal, patricidal, delusional, bitter, but also inexplicably content? Do you have so many half-empty bottles of expired medication in your cabinet a forensic expert would think you were a lab animal? Is more than half of your living space occupied by either a) your stash of junk food, b) old clothing that doesn't fit you anymore but that you hold onto in the vain belief that one day it will, c) old boyfriends, or d) beer bottles? Do you wonder every day how the hell you managed to hold on to that family, that face, that body, that job, that significant other, and that drug habit when you can't even seem to hold on to your glasses? Do you consider common household appliances surrogates for therapy? Do you think it works for you and wish all those people would stop pestering you to get help? For all of you living life with severe but completely ambiguous mental problems that you've been made to feel ashamed of but deeply feel you don't want to do anything about, you don't have to be alone any longer. Come, share your problems over and over and over and over again to make certain they're well and truly burned permanently into your psyche and will be with you forever. Welcome to Fucked Up Anonymous.
come hither - back off
The FUA was founded as an alternative to all those other support groups that cater to only an insignificant fraction of our personal problems. AA? Please. When was the last time you remember alcohol being the only thing you had to worry about? Does your therapist consider it an appropriate method to relieve your stress and tension by running over squirrels with a minivan? We do! Sex addicts everywhere are also more than welcome, as we encourage dramatic representations of all our problems. When you need to tell others of your truly messed up life without that horrible pressure that you have to change anything, you've come to the right place. We're nuts. We're hopeless. We like it. We're Fucked Up Anonymous.
When you enter our doors, you will be embraced by acceptance and love, and will also have full access to our Punch Bowl of Mystery Pills. Feel free to make your own personal donation to it, or grab as many handfuls as you wish. FUA meetings are completely confidential, unless of course Micky gets into the sodium pentathol again. All members of the FUA will be guided by their FU peers through our extensive 12-step program, in order to fully address and fully embrace their own personal FU.
- You must first acknowledge that you don't have a problem. What problem? There is no problem. Do you have a problem? I'm problem-free. It's everyone else who has a problem. I'm just fine. I'm happy. I'm functioning. Yeah, so I went into my ex's home with a blowtorch and a bucket of cow manure. Who hasn't?
- If you're dabbling with alcohol, pills, gambling, sex, overeating, undereating, shoe fetishes, sadomasochism, necrophelia, or other such vices, you need to start putting more effort into it. Dabbling just doesn't cut it around here.
- You must ensure your daily intake of the four basic food groups: Beer, Pizza, Chocolate, and Prozac. We don't tolerate broccoli eaters around these parts. Sick bastards.
- When you know the relationship is well and truly over, then you know it's time - to try and make it work just once more. We'll help you write the letters, give you free cell phone access, and shield you from police when you climb the fire escape to their window.
- Put the Mr. Clean down and back away from the armoire. Nothing says "I'm not accepting of my inner FU" more than vaccuuming the carpet weekly or cleaning out the fridge. Your home is the mirror of your soul. It's time you set free the rotting lettuce and dust bunnies of your mind. Besides, vacuuming is meant for midnight after the crying jag and pint of H�agen-Dazs.
- Making amends: after facing and accepting all the horrible events of your past, your poor health, your wobbly psychiatric condition, and your inevitable future, members of the FUA will write down a list of people and seek them out - to tell them just what kind of puke-spewing moronic sadists they really are. You're not paranoid. Everyone is out to get you. Get them first. Hey, we've already established you don't have a problem. Obviously it's all their fault. Make sure you let them know it. We supply the stink bombs and singing telegrams.
- Time to let the love back into your life. Get a cat. Get twenty.
- All those clothes you've kept in your closet and never dared wearing again? Let them see the light! Crop tops with sequined bellbottoms, floppy hats with hand-knit scarves, suit jackets with mesh muscle shirts - let it all hang out. Our qualified seamsters will aid in sewing together the pants that are four sizes too small in order to get to the full you within. You'll love yourself for revealing your true inner nature. So will your boss. And your grandmother.
- Singing on street corners, playing in public fountains, rummaging through commercial trash bins, and talking aloud to the voices in your head will set you free. It will also allow you to collect change from passersby who think you're a homeless schizophrenic. Win win.
- Get in touch with yourself: masturbate on public transit.
- Deal with your heartache, stress, and anxiety in a healthy, freeing way: hide under the bed with a flashlight, teddy bear, bag of Cheetos, and shotgun.
- Now you can be all you can be for the entire planet. Obviously it's time you start a blog. Actively recruit. The Punch Bowl of Mystery Pills is getting a little low.
You can do this. You can be at peace with your weirdness. When you feel your resolve faltering, shout out our motto: FU For Now! FU Forever!
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