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! 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 *******!" and
> hung up.
> Next to his phone number I wrote the word '*******' 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 *******!" 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 *******.
> 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 *******!"
> 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!!
> ---------->> Keep reading - it gets better...
> 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 *******. 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 *******!" (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 *******!" 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 ******* number 1. A man answered nicely
> saying, "Hello?" I yelled, "You're an *******!" but I didn't hang up.
> The ******* said, "Are you still there?" I said, "Yeah." He said, "Stop
> calling me." I said, "Make me." He said, "What's your name, Pal?" So I
> told him, "Don Hansen." He said, "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
> "Yeah, like I'm really scared, *******!" and I hung up. Then I called
> ******* number 2. He answered, "Hello?" I said,
> "Hello, *******." 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, *******!" 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 gay 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...