Therapy
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
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  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!