much needed in my home after a sighting while at the dells last week!!!!!
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.
It all started one day when I was sitting at my desk and 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 Jim. May 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 incredible,
dumb 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 highly therapeutic
'asshole' calling would have to stop. Then, in a moment of inspiration,
I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the Telephone
Company. I'm just calling to see if you're interested in 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. It was then I 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 by this
time), I thought I might 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
is parked right out in front."
"What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Don Burgemeyer," 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?" he said.
"You're an asshole!" (But this time 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 Burgemeyer."
"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 into the next county," 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 9 News about the gang war going on down on West
34th Street.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th Street. There I saw
two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad
cars, a police helicopter, and a news crew.
NOW, I feel better. This anger management stuff really works!
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.
It all started one day when I was sitting at my desk and 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 Jim. May 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 incredible,
dumb 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 highly therapeutic
'asshole' calling would have to stop. Then, in a moment of inspiration,
I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the Telephone
Company. I'm just calling to see if you're interested in 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. It was then I 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 by this
time), I thought I might 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
is parked right out in front."
"What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Don Burgemeyer," 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?" he said.
"You're an asshole!" (But this time 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 Burgemeyer."
"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 into the next county," 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 9 News about the gang war going on down on West
34th Street.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th Street. There I saw
two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad
cars, a police helicopter, and a news crew.
NOW, I feel better. This anger management stuff really works!
