Well today has just been one of those days. From the moment I woke up until right now I have just dealt with crap. I want to tell everyone to suck a bag of dicks, but I have refrained. Instead I tried this Anger Management tip I received in an email, and boy does it make you feel better.
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 found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying, "Hello."
I politely said, "This is Mr. Shife. Could I please speak with David Hasselhoff?"
Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear, "Get the right f*****ing number!" and the phone was slammed down on me.
I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down the Hoff’s correct number to call him, I found that I had accidentally reversed the last two digits.
After hanging up with the Hoff, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.
When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're an ass clown!" and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word 'ass clown' 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 ass clown!"
It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic "ass clown 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 ass clown!"
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'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 ass clown (I had his number on speed dial), I thought that I'd better call the BMW ass clown, 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.
"Yes, I live at 34 Main 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 ass clown!" Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two ass clowns to call. Then I came up with an idea.
I called Ass Clown #1.
"Hello."
"You're an ass clown!" (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?"
"Ass Clown, I live at 34 Main 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, ass clown," and hung up.
Then I called Ass Clown #2.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello, ass clown," 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, ass clown, here's your chance.
I'm coming over right now."
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at
34 Main Street and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then I called the TV News people about the gang war going down in
Main Street. I quickly got into my car and headed over to Main Street.
I got there just in time to watch two ass clowns beating the hell out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead police helicopter and a news crew.
NOW I feel much better.
Anger Management really works.
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 found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying, "Hello."
I politely said, "This is Mr. Shife. Could I please speak with David Hasselhoff?"
Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear, "Get the right f*****ing number!" and the phone was slammed down on me.
I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down the Hoff’s correct number to call him, I found that I had accidentally reversed the last two digits.
After hanging up with the Hoff, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.
When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled "You're an ass clown!" and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word 'ass clown' 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 ass clown!"
It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID was introduced, I thought my therapeutic "ass clown 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 ass clown!"
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'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 ass clown (I had his number on speed dial), I thought that I'd better call the BMW ass clown, 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.
"Yes, I live at 34 Main 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 ass clown!" Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two ass clowns to call. Then I came up with an idea.
I called Ass Clown #1.
"Hello."
"You're an ass clown!" (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?"
"Ass Clown, I live at 34 Main 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, ass clown," and hung up.
Then I called Ass Clown #2.
"Hello?" he said.
"Hello, ass clown," 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, ass clown, here's your chance.
I'm coming over right now."
Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at
34 Main Street and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then I called the TV News people about the gang war going down in
Main Street. I quickly got into my car and headed over to Main Street.
I got there just in time to watch two ass clowns beating the hell out of each other in front of six cop cars, an overhead police helicopter and a news crew.
NOW I feel much better.
Anger Management really works.
Wow. Well done. I'm a little less angry to, just from hearing that story. Funny stuff, Shife.
ReplyDeleteLOL Well, now, that just made my day. I needed that. Did you come up with that? You're awesome. I am soooo gonna use that in real life. Really. I am. :D
ReplyDeleteThat was a fairly enjoyable little story. Thanks for that. Oh, and for the record, I prefer the term ass hat to ass clown.
ReplyDeleteAnd suddenly, going to drop my car off at the mechanic's and then going to work, makes me believe something like this would come in handy.
ReplyDeleteWell done!!!
ReplyDeleteI like ass hand better than ass clown.
I used to date an a$$ clown. It didn't work out. He had a tiny car.
ReplyDeletegreat story.
ReplyDeleteevery time i meet an ass clown, i hide behind ruby. she's a pro.
haha YES!! I love this story!!
ReplyDeleteI agree with the duck I much prefer asshat
*67 is your friend.
ReplyDeleteCall people that you know really are ass-clowns (and I'm with the Duck, I prefer ass-hat) and let them have it in a disguised voice.
It, also, proves very therapuetic.
(I've even called an employee or two once in a while)
OMFG!!! that seriously cracked me up
ReplyDeleteindigo xxx
*grabs my mother inlaws number and heads for the phone*
You're going to hell. I just know it.
ReplyDeleteSo your the guy that sent all that trouble to my house. Thanks for letting me know. Also now I just know to reverse the last 2 digits of my phone number and I call The Hoff.
ReplyDeleteGood post.
Bravo! And despite what others think, I prefer ass clown to ass hat. Just something about a hat made of an ass that just doesn't seem right.
ReplyDeletenah i prefer ass clown to ass hat lol
ReplyDelete