>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, "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 realized I had called the wrong number. I tracked down
>Robin's correct number and called her. I had accidentally 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!"
>
>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 that
>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 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 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 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, 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
>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.
>
>When I got there, I saw two assholes beating the crap out of each other
>in
>front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and the channel 13 news crew.
>
>NOW, I feel better - This is "Anger Management" at its very best.
>
