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 when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make.
I dialed what I thought was Robyn's number.
A man answered, saying, "Hello."
I politely said, "This is Ron. Could I please speak with Robyn?"
Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear.
"There's no Robyn here. Get the right F**king number!" and the phone was slammed down.
I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.
When I tracked down Robyn's correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.
After hanging up with Robyn, 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 was introduced, I thought my therapeutic "asshole calling" would have to stop.
So, I called his number and said "Hi, this is John Smith from Verizon.
I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?
" He yelled "No!" and slammed down the phone.
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 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'd been waiting for that spot, but the idiot ignored me.
I noticed a "For Sale" sign in his back window, which included his phone number.
So I wrote down the number.
A couple of days later, right after calling the first asshole I thought I'd better call the BMW asshole too.
I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
"Yes, it is," he said.
"Can you tell me where I can see it?" I asked.
"I live at 34 Mowbray Blvd. It's a yellow house and the car is parked out front."
"What's your name?" I asked.
"My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you home, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes" "Don, you're an asshole!" I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call.
Then 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 34 Mowbray Blvd. It's 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," and I hung up.
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 called the police, saying that I lived at 34 Mowbray Blvd and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then I called Channel 9 News crew about the gang war going down on Mowbray Blvd.
I got in my car and headed over to Mowbray.
I got there just in time to watch the two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead police helicopter and a news crew.
Now I feel so much Better.
This Anger Management stuff really works.