(A friend of mine was sent this back in 2004, and it went straight into my “read later” folder. Needless to say I forgot all about it until now. He sent it to me in 2004 no no less!! Ninure da Hippie)
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 ____ , could I please speak with
Robin Carter?” He replied “Wrong number asshole” and the phone was slammed down
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 I 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!”
So, one day I was at the grocery 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 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?”
“Don, you’re an asshole!”
Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. But after
several weeks 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?”
“I live at 1802 West 34th Street, Asshole, a yellow house
with my black BMW 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
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
six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a TV news crew.
Now, I feel better…
Masquerading as a normal person, day after day, is exhausting!