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 (like someone at the Hall).
I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A woman answered, saying "Hello." I politely said, "This is Mary. 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 person answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an asshole!" and hung up.
I wrote her 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 her 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 her number and said, "Hi, this is Mary Smith from the telephone company. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?" She yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone.
I quickly called her 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 woman 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'd been waiting for that spot. The idiot ignored me. I noticed a "For Sale" sign in her car window, so I wrote down her number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole ( I had her number on speed dial,) I thought that I'd better call the BMW asshole too.
I said, "Is this the person 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 Donna Hansen," she said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Donna?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Donna, can I tell you something?"
"Yes?"
"Donna, you're an asshole." Then I hung up, and added her 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?" she asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," she screamed.
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Donna Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"Asshole, I live at 1802 West 34th Street, a yellow house, with my black Beamer parked in front."
She said, "I'm coming over right now, Donna. And you had better start saying your prayers."
I said, "Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole."
Then I called Asshole #2. "Hello?" she said.
"Hello, asshole," I said.
She yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ass," he screamed..
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 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 assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad
cars, a police helicopter and a news crew.
NOW I feel much better. Anger management really works.
What do YOU do for Anger Management?