Drug Addiction Treatment Alcohol

Alcoholic to Alcoholic

Drug Addiction Treatment Alcohol

FB Join GroupFlip and I consider ourselves professional addicts.

We do.  Hey, we’ve consumed enough drugs and alcohol to keep an army of pushers in business, and we’re still above the grass.  That’s worth something, right?  We think so.

However, there comes a time in every addict’s life when you need to stop frying your brain (if you still have one).  You’ve reached that point when you do something you swore you’d NEVER do.  You start listening to the aggravating voice in your head that’s always yelling, “Rehab, baby!”


Unfortunately, it’s not easy to find a good rehab.  You’d think this would be a no-brainer.  It’s not.

Flip’s dad is an alcoholic.  He bounced in an out of rehab for ten years before he found a good one and dried out.  His excuse for why the other rehabs failed was the shrink.  It was the shrink’s fault.  Her dad said the shrink was too easy for him to con.

Right.  Only an alcoholic would believe that.


Flip says the minute her dad walked through the door they could tell the latest rehab had failed.  Within minutes he’d do something really stupid.

Once he unpacked his luggage, stashed his t-shirts and man panties in the dresser, and then turned around and pissed in his suitcase.

No, I’m not kidding.

Flip’s mom started screaming.  Her dad said it wasn’t his fault.  He said he thought he was in the bathroom.

Yup.  That rehab didn’t work.

Then there was the time he came home a few hours early from rehab.  Flip and her mom were at the grocery store.  They pulled up to the house just in time to see the front door wide open and six neighborhood dogs chase each other inside.


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Within minutes, the dogs raced out the backdoor, around the corner of the house, up the porch steps, and through the front door again.  Flip and her mom sat in the car and watched this happen three times before her mom jumped out and stormed into the house.

They found her dad standing in the den, grinning from ear to ear, reeking of gin.  He had a poker in his hand and was stoking an enormous fire he’d build in the fireplace.  There was only one problem with that.  It was July.

The temperature in the house was so hot from the blazing fire her dad had opened all the windows and doors.  No air conditioner could handle such extreme heat.  The dogs raced past them one more time before Flip’s mom started screaming (she did that a lot).

Yup.  That rehab didn’t work either.


Eventually, he found a rehab that did work for him, as well as a great support group.  But it took ten years.

Who can wait that long?  Not you.

So Flip and I decided to do some research.  We’ve been asking our recovering alcoholic friends (who aren’t six feet under) about the rehabs that worked for them.  Every time we find a good one, we list it on this site.

Be sure to check them out.  And do it before people start screaming, because you pissed in your suitcase or you almost burned the house down building a fire in July instead of January.Were-on-a-Mission-from-God

Rehab, baby!  It’s calling you.

In the meantime, click the button below to subscribe to “Sober World,” our totally rad, outta sight newsletter.  You’ve never seen anything like it.  Wild, irreverent, and hysterically funny.  Recovery will never be the same again if we have anything to say about it.  Uh,oh…

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Flip and Flop





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