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
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 assh*le!" and
I wrote his number down with the word 'assh*le' 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 assh*le!" It
always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic 'assh*le'
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 assh*le!"
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 assh*le, (I had
his number on speed dial), I thought I had better call the BMW assh*le
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
assh*le." Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two assh*les 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 Assh*le #1.
"Hello." "You're an assh*le!" (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, assh*le."
Then I called Assh*le #2. "Hello?" he said.
"Hello, assh*le," 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
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
Then I called Channel 13 News about the gang war going down on West 34th
I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th street.
There I saw two assh*les 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.