saw this on another group :)
For all of you who occasionally have a really bad day, and you just need
to take it
out on someone, don't take it out on someone you know, take it out on
someone
you don't know.
I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had forgotten
to
make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered saying, "Hello?"
I politely said, "This is Fred Hanifin, could I please speak with Robin
Carter?"
Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that
anyone
could be so rude.
I tracked down Robin's correct number, and called her. (I had transposed
the last
two digits of her phone number).
After hanging up with her, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.
When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an asshole!" and
hung
up.
I wrote his number down, with the word 'asshole' next to it, and put it
in my desk
drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really
bad day,
I'd call him up and yell, "You're an asshole!"
It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic 'asshole'
calling would
have to stop.
So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the
Telephone
Company. I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with the caller ID
program?" he
yelled, "NO!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and
said,
"That's because you're an asshole!"
So, one day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking
spot. Some
boy in a black BMW cut me off, and pulled into the spot I had patiently
waited
for. I hit the horn and yelled that I had been waiting for the spot.
The idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his car window, so
I wrote
down his number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole (I had his
number on
speed dial), I thought I had better call !the BMW asshole, too.
I dialed and someone said, "Hello?"
I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
"Yes it is."
"Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and the car's
parked
right out front."
"What's your name?" I asked. "My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes?"
"Don, you're an asshole!" Then I hung up, and added his number to my
speed dial,
too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call.
But after several months of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it
used to be.
So, I came up with an idea: I called Asshole #1.
"Hello"
"You're an asshole!" (but I didn't hang up.) "Are you still there?" he
asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Don Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"Asshole, I live at 802 West 34th Street, a yellow house with my black
Beemer
parked in front."
He said, "I'm coming over right now, Don. And you had better start
saying your
prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole."
Then I called asshole # 2:
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello Asshole," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, asshole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right
now."
Then, I hung up, and immediately called the police, saying that I lived
at 802
West 34th Street, and I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then, I called Channel 13 news about the gang war going down on West
34th St.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th St.
There, I saw two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of
6 squad
cars, police helicopter, and a news crew.
Now, I feel better.
-- http://www.kencofish.com Ken Arnold, 401-781-9642 cell 401-225-0556 Importer/Exporter of Goldfish,Koi,rare Predators Shipping to legal states/countries only! Permalon liners, Oase & Supreme Pondmaster pumpsPlease Note: No trees or animals were harmed in the sending of this contaminant free message We do concede that a signicant number of electrons may have been inconvenienced.
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