For all of you who 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 Fred Hanifin, 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 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. He'd answer and I'd 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!"

So, one day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot.
Some boy 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 dialed and someone said, "Hello?" 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 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
Beemer our 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 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 St. There, I saw two
assholes
beating the crap out of each other in front of 6 squad cars, a police
helicopter,
and news crew.

Now, I feel better. - Have a great day!