you gotta read this... funny ****
#1
you gotta read this... funny ****
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 one day 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 Bob. 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 *******!" and hung up.
I wrote his number down with the word '*******' next to it, and put it in my
desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was having a really bad day, I'd
call him up and yell, "You're an *******!" It always cheered me up. When
Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic '*******' 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 *******!"
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 ******* (I had his
number on speed dial), I thought I'd better call the BMW *******, 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 *******."
Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had
a problem, I had two ******** 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 ******* #1.
"Hello."
"You're an *******!" (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, 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, *******."
Then I called ******* #2.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello, *******," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are?"
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ***," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, *******, 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 13 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 ******** 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 ***
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 one day 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 Bob. 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 *******!" and hung up.
I wrote his number down with the word '*******' next to it, and put it in my
desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was having a really bad day, I'd
call him up and yell, "You're an *******!" It always cheered me up. When
Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic '*******' 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 *******!"
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 ******* (I had his
number on speed dial), I thought I'd better call the BMW *******, 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 *******."
Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had
a problem, I had two ******** 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 ******* #1.
"Hello."
"You're an *******!" (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, 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, *******."
Then I called ******* #2.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello, *******," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are?"
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ***," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, *******, 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 13 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 ******** 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 ***
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