cardiovascular_tech
02-16-05, 08:25 PM
Bad day solutions
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, could I please speak with Robin Carter?" He replied "Wrong number @#%$" and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.
I tracked down Robin's correct number, and called her. (I had transposed
the last two digits of her phone number.) After hanging up with her, I decided
to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an @#%$!" and I hung up.
I wrote his number down, with the word '@#%$' next to it, and put it in my
desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really
bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an @#%$!" It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic '@#%$' calling
would have to stop.
So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with the caller ID program?" He yelled, "NO!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an @#%$!"
So, one day I was at the grocery 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 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 @#%$ (I had his number on speed dial), I thought I had better call the BMW @#%$, too. I dialed and someone said, "Hello?" I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
"Yes it is." "Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and the car's
parked right out front."
"What's your name?" I asked. "My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes?"
"Don, you're an @#%$!"
Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. But after several weeks of calling
them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. So, I came up with an idea: I called @#%$ #1.
"Hello?"
"You're an @#%$!" (But I didn't hang up).
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed.
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you? " he asked.
"My name is Don Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"I live at 1802 West 34th Street, @#%$, a yellow house with my black BMW
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, @#%$."
Then I called @#%$ # 2: "Hello?" he said.
"Hello @#%$," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, @#%$, 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 six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a TV news crew.
Now, I feel better... Masquerading as a normal person, day after day, is
exhausting.
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, could I please speak with Robin Carter?" He replied "Wrong number @#%$" and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.
I tracked down Robin's correct number, and called her. (I had transposed
the last two digits of her phone number.) After hanging up with her, I decided
to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an @#%$!" and I hung up.
I wrote his number down, with the word '@#%$' next to it, and put it in my
desk drawer. Every couple of weeks, when I was paying bills or had a really
bad day, I'd call him up and yell, "You're an @#%$!" It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic '@#%$' calling
would have to stop.
So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is John Smith from the Telephone Company. I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with the caller ID program?" He yelled, "NO!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an @#%$!"
So, one day I was at the grocery 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 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 @#%$ (I had his number on speed dial), I thought I had better call the BMW @#%$, too. I dialed and someone said, "Hello?" I said, "Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?"
"Yes it is." "Can you tell me where I can see it?"
"Yes, I live at 1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and the car's
parked right out front."
"What's your name?" I asked. "My name is Don Hansen," he said.
"When's a good time to catch you, Don?"
"I'm home every evening after five."
"Listen, Don, can I tell you something?"
"Yes?"
"Don, you're an @#%$!"
Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. But after several weeks of calling
them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. So, I came up with an idea: I called @#%$ #1.
"Hello?"
"You're an @#%$!" (But I didn't hang up).
"Are you still there?" he asked.
"Yeah," I said.
"Stop calling me," he screamed.
"Make me," I said.
"Who are you? " he asked.
"My name is Don Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?"
"I live at 1802 West 34th Street, @#%$, a yellow house with my black BMW
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, @#%$."
Then I called @#%$ # 2: "Hello?" he said.
"Hello @#%$," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"You'll what?" I said.
"I'll kick your ass," he exclaimed.
I answered, "Well, @#%$, 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 six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a TV news crew.
Now, I feel better... Masquerading as a normal person, day after day, is
exhausting.