2/22/2005

Anger Management

Anger Management:

When I have the occasional bad day and need to take it out on
someone, I don't take it out on my loved ones anymore...

I got the idea 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 Chris.
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
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 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. 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 2 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 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 shit really works!

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