My turd is a direct communication from the Holy Father.

Dr. Finch

You can't come in here, this is my mastabatorium!

Dr. Finch

Agnes Finch: Natalie is not coming. I told her I'd deal with it.
Augusten Burroughs: Don't try to stop me, Agnes. I'm going. I'm going to miss you.
Agnes Finch: I'll miss you, too. You're a... the best son a mom could ever want. You need to know that.
[She hands him a small box filled with money.]
Augusten Burroughs: Oh, my God. Agnes, there's--there's a lot of money here.
Agnes Finch: A penny here, a dime there. It adds up. The Doctor doesn't know I have it, of course. No one does. You know, this morning, the IRS came again. And I almost gave it to them. Then I though, "No. For once in my life, I'm going to invest wisely." When you write a book, you send me a copy. Goodbye, my sweet boy.
Augusten Burroughs: Agnes. What're you gonna do now?
Agnes Finch: I don't know. Maybe I'll take down the Christmas tree.

Deirdre Burroughs: I disapprove of your choices.
Augusten Burroughs: I haven't had a choice!
Deirdre Burroughs: You did when you wrote this, didn't you?
Augusten Burroughs: You read my journal?
Deirdre Burroughs: Don't try and compete with me, Augusten. If you move back in with me, I won't allow it. You'll only get hurt. When I become a very famous woman, they'll write that I had a son who was a writer too, who doesn't compare to my brilliance. I want more for you than that.
Augusten Burroughs: Did you mix your pills again?

Natalie: Terrence started seeing my dad after his mom died. She left him everything. He was 41 when I was 13. He told me I was pretty. And he made me believe it. One day, he broke my collar bone, and I had to hitch-hike to the emergency room, and I passed out on the side of the road, and somebody found me. My dad told him that he'd press charges and that he'd go to jail unless he donated money to my college fund. Then he did. $75, 000.
Augusten Burroughs: That's so great. So if you'd just apply--
Natalie: My dad spent it. Every penny. So that the IRS wouldn't take this house. So... I do know what it's like, Augusten... to love somebody who doesn't deserve it. 'Cause they're all you have. God, I hate my life.
Augusten Burroughs: I hate this kitchen. I need high ceilings.
Natalie: Me too.
Augusten Burroughs: Let's get rid of it then. Let's take down the ceiling.

Dr. Finch: Well, the only loophole or way I could see me getting you out of school for any considerable length of time would be for you... to commit suicide.
Augusten Burroughs: You want me to kill myself?
Dr. Finch: Well, if you tried to kill yourself, I could explain to the schoolboard that you were psychologically unfit to attend, and that you needed intensive treatment. It would a staged suicide attempt. Of course, your poor mother would have to find you and drive you the hospital, where you would stay for three weeks or a month for observation.
Augusten Burroughs: I don't know. It doesn't...
Dr. Finch: Augusten. Where is your spirit of adventure?

Where would we be without our painful childhoods?

Dr. Finch

Neil Bookman: You OK with what happened?
Augusten Burroughs: Yeah. Sure. Well, thanks for everything.
Neil Bookman: Thank you. Thank YOU for everything.

Augusten Burroughs: I'm gay, too.
Neil Bookman: Holy Mary, Mother Of God. So that's what this is about. You're gay?
Augusten Burroughs: Yeah. I thought Natalie had told you.
Neil Bookman: Small world, right? You and me. Crazy. Smoke? Here, let me light you. Want a ride home?
Augusten Burroughs: Please.
Neil Bookman: I won't go fast. Maybe.
[Cut to Augusten and Neil in bed.]
Augusten Burroughs: What just happened?
Neil Bookman: You think you're gay, right? That's what gay men do. Just wanted you to know what you're in for. Want a beer? Smoke?
Augusten Burroughs: No.

Norman Burroughs: So... you're saying we should split up?
Dr. Finch: In order to reach that conclusion, Norman, I would need to see both you and Deirdre on a regular and disciplined basis, for five hours a day.
Deirdre Burroughs: I'm available, Doctor Finch.
Norman Burroughs: Five hoursa day?! I can't do that! I have to work!
Deirdre Burroughs: See, Doctor Finch, I told you. I'm married to a narcissist.
Dr. Finch: Norman, if I'm willing to clear my schedule to save your marriage, but you're not... then get out! Leave this office, go home, and start dividing your books and your record albums.
Norman Burroughs: This is bullshit. This is really fucking bullshit.
[Doctor Finch begins writing in his notebook.]
Norman Burroughs: What're you writing?
Dr. Finch: "Norman Burroughs is homicidal. He is an unapologetic alcoholic. He is dangerous and a threat to himself, his wife, and his child."

Norman Burroughs: Is he an MD doctor?
Deirdre Burroughs: Yes. And as I've told you a hundred times, he got his MD at Yale.
Norman Burroughs: You heard about this guy from where?
Deirdre Burroughs: Doctor Newpall. Augusten's allergist. If you were more of a man and involved in your son's life, you'd know who that was. I smell manure.
Norman Burroughs: I don't smell anything.
Deirdre Burroughs: I do, I smell manure. It's coming out of your ears.
Norman Burroughs: Fucking bitch.

I think he's a genius. Like when I was your age, and I'd have a rage seizure, he'd put on music to lower my blood pressure. Nat King Cole. "Stardust." Revolutionary sort of stuff, you know? Worked everytime. If he hadn't adopted me... shit, I don't know what I would've done.

Neil Bookman

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