Hi, my name is Jennifer and I am a dumpster diver. (Audience in unison: "Hello Jennifer." Meeting leader says, "Welcome to Dumpster Diver's Anonymous! Please, go ahead.") I begin... It all started many years ago, I think I was about 12 or 13 years old... (Audience collectively gasps.) I was pretty young when I did IT the first time. **I dab a tear from the corner of my eye.** I know that I shouldn't blame anyone for my own decisions.... but MY MOM took me for my first dive. It was innocent, really. **I fade into a fog of memory.** We were looking for boxes, I think we were moving or maybe we were going to have a garage sale. I don't clearly remember because the dive.... well, I was hooked, the rush of adrenaline coursing through my veins, the fear factor, the smell of garbage and moldy boxes... 
I felt uncomfortable the first time, doin' the dive. But my mom kept encouraging me, taunting me. "Come on, Jen, you can do it. Here, (she grunts as she heaves me up) lean over the side...(grunts) see any? Come on, you can do it! (grunts and pants) Big ones work best! Nobody can see us back here. Look over there... (banging heard on the side of the dumpster) under that bag. Come on...YOU'RE GETTING HEAVY! Eeeeww, that's so BIG!" My heart was pumping as the adrenaline rushes me. There were three big boxes and one with a lid, (Audience groans with pleasure.) JACKPOT! The rush was amazing. Our codependent dumpster diving began. She would boost me up and I would rifle through the bags and boxes for ones that fit our needs. We would scurry off with our prize in tow, throw them into the trunk of the car, jump into the seats to tear away from the wretched scene, both giddy with delight!
One time, **I choke back a sob** I remember a certain dive I'll never forget. The gig was dangerous, the night humid and steamy, our desire for boxes at it's peak. We pulled up behind BEEEEEP station off of BEEEEEP Road. The night was dark, we were confident in our plan. We would just look. I made her promise. But she kept pushing me to go look while she stayed in the car! Then I saw them, tucked behind the big dumpster, all red and sturdy! I couldn't believe my eyes! Plastic boxes with flip top lids! It was the motherload, a dream come true, a diver's paradise. **Tears of joy and sorrow now streaming down my cheeks!** I knew, KNEW in my heart that this hit had to be the last! We would get caught and who knows what would happen. They might make us put them back!
But, I had to have them! They had flip tops for God's sake! (Audience glances as one another nodding in agreement.) So, (Mission Impossible theme playing in background) I snag three, scanning the parking lot for the fuzz or the station attendant or... okay, nobody. I swing the boxes up into the back of the truck, jump into the passenger seat and mom races away, tires squealing or cutting up the gravel or crunching the gravel slowly, I don't accurately recall. We were high as kites from our dive, the endorphin's running wild. An amazing, powerful feeling! (Audiences watches wide eyed.)
The moral of my story, my fellow Dumpster Divers, is to take care in collecting your box booty! While the euphoria is amazing and the stench of dumpsters intoxicating, you never want to become so corrupted by your passion that you take packing materials from convenience stores. I wish I could tell you all **sniff, sniff** that I returned all the shipping crates. But it would be a damn lie. Somewhere, deep in my basement storage, there is a red flip top crate with BEEEEEEEEEEEP Convenience Store written on the side.
I am a recovering Dumpster Diver, it's been 6 months and 3 days since my last dive (Audience cheers). I find myself pulling around buildings to the dumpster on occasion. Sometimes, I even crack the window to get a whiff of the moldy box smell and steal a glance for a nice sized box. The urge to dive bubbles up but I'm able to push it down and drive away.... for now.
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