Posted:
When you 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 Andrew. 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 ass hole!"
and hung up.
I wrote his number down with the word 'ass hole' 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 ass hole!"
It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic 'ass hole' 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!"
One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some
guy 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 ass hole, (I had his number
on speed dial), I thought I had better call the BMW asshole, too. 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 1802 West 34th Street . It's a yellow house, and the car's parked
right out in 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 ass hole." Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed
dial, too.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two ass holes 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 Ass hole #1. "Hello."
"You're an ass hole!" (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?"
"Ass hole, I live at 1802 West 34th Street , a yellow house, with my black
beamer 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, ass hole."
Then I called Ass hole #2.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello, ass hole," 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, ass hole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 1802 West 34th Street , and that 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 Street. I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th street
There I saw two ass holes beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and news crew.
NOW, I feel better.
Anger management at it's very best.
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 Andrew. 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 ass hole!"
and hung up.
I wrote his number down with the word 'ass hole' 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 ass hole!"
It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic 'ass hole' 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!"
One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some
guy 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 ass hole, (I had his number
on speed dial), I thought I had better call the BMW asshole, too. 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 1802 West 34th Street . It's a yellow house, and the car's parked
right out in 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 ass hole." Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed
dial, too.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two ass holes 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 Ass hole #1. "Hello."
"You're an ass hole!" (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?"
"Ass hole, I live at 1802 West 34th Street , a yellow house, with my black
beamer 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, ass hole."
Then I called Ass hole #2.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello, ass hole," 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, ass hole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now."
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 1802 West 34th Street , and that 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 Street. I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th street
There I saw two ass holes beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and news crew.
NOW, I feel better.
Anger management at it's very best.
Excuse me for the language though.. 😊
I posted this because found it funny
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