((originally posted by Mistress Savi))
Divine Satisfaction
For all of you who occasionally have a really bad day, when you just need to take it out on someone... don't take that bad day out on someone you know, take it out on someone you don't know! HONESTLY, just read it... its SO funny... Read this guy's experience:
'Now get this: I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I had to make. I found the number and dialed it.
A man answered saying, "Hello?"
I politely said, "This is Fred Hanifin, and could I please speak to Robin Carter?"
Suddenly the phone was slammed down! I couldn't believe anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits. After I hung up with Robin, I spotted the wrong number still lying there on my desk. I decided to call it again.
When the same person answered again, I yelled, "You're an asshole!" and hung up. Next to his phone number I wrote the word 'asshole' 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. He'd answer and I'd yell, "You're an asshole!" It always cheered me up.
Later in the year the phone company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me - I would probably have to stop calling the asshole. Then one day I had an idea. I dialed his number.
When I heard, "Hello?" I made up a name. "Hi. This is the sales office of the telephone company and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our caller ID program?"
He answered "No!" and slammed the phone down.
I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an asshole!"
The reason I took the time to tell you this story is to show you how, if there's ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it! Just dial 823-4863!
An old lady at the shopping center really took her time pulling out of a parking space. I didn't think she was ever going to leave. Finally her car began to move, and she started to v-e-r-y slowly back out of the slot. I backed up a little more to give her plenty of room to maneuver.
"Great," I thought, "she's finally leaving." All of a sudden, a black Mercedes came flying up the parking aisle, going the wrong direction, and pulled into her space. I hit the horn and started yelling, "You can't do that. I was here first!" The guy climbed out of his Mercedes, completely ignoring me. He walked toward the shopping center as if he hadn't heard me. I thought to myself, "This guy's an asshole. There's sure a lot of assholes in this world." Then I noticed he had a "For Sale" sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number. Then I hunted for another place to park.
A couple of days later, I'm sitting at my desk. I had just gotten off the phone after calling 823-4863 and yelling, "You're an asshole!" (it's really easy since I have his number on speed dial now). I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Mercedes laying on my desk and figured I'd better call this guy, too.
After a couple of rings, someone answered the phone and said, "Hello?"
I said, "Is this the guy with the black Mercedes 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?"
"My name's Don Hansen."
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home in the evenings."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes."
"Don, you're an asshole!" And I slammed the phone down. After I hung up, I added Don Hansen's number to my speed dialer. I must say, for a while things seemed to be going much better for me. Now when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call.
Then, after several months of calling the assholes and hanging up on them, it just wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution: First, I had my phone speed dial asshole number 1.
A man answered nicely saying, "Hello?"
I yelled, "You're an asshole!" but I didn't hang up.
The asshole said, "Are you still there?"
"Yeah."
"Stop calling me."
"Make me."
"What's your name, Pal?"
So I told him, "Don Hansen."
Then he asked, "Where do you live?"
I answered, "1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and my black Mercedes is parked out front."
"I'm coming over right now, Don. You'd better start saying your prayers."
"Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole!" and I hung up. Then I called asshole number 2. He answered, "Hello?"
I said, "Hello, asshole."
He said, "If I ever find out who you are ..."
"You'll what?"
"I'll kick your ass."
"Well, here's your chance ... I'm coming over right now, asshole!" And I hung up. Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them I was at 1802 West 34th Street and that I was going to kill my boyfriend lover as soon as I got home. Then I made another quick call to Channel 13 about the gang war going on down on West 34th Street. After that, I climbed into my car and headed over to 34th Street to watch the whole thing. Glorious satisfaction - - watching the two assholes kicking the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a news crew was one of the greatest experiences of my life .'
