Just some to start the weekend
ANGER MANAGEMENT
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 dialled it. A man answered, saying "Hello." I politely said, "This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?"
Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right f*****g number!" and the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. When I tracked down Robyn's correct number to call her, I found that I had accidentally transposed the last two digits.
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 I 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 was introduced, I thought my therapeutic 'asshole' calling would have to stop.
So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is
John Smith from the Telstra. 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 asshole!"
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, 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 that I'd better call the BMW asshole, 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 Mowbray Blvd, in Vaucluse. 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 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. Then 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 34 Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse, 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, asshole," and hung up.
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 arse," 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 34 Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover. Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Mowbray Blvd, Vaucluse.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to Mowbray. I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap 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.
AUSSIE TRACKER
An Australian tour guide was showing a group of American tourists the Top End. On their way to
Kakadu he was describing the abilities of the Australian Aborigine to track man or beast over land, through the air, under the sea.
The Americans were incredulous.
Then later in the day, the tour rounded a bend on the highway and discovered an Aborigine lying in the middle of the road.
He had one ear pressed to the white line whilst his left leg was held high in the air.
The tour stopped and the guide and the tourists gathered around the prostrate Aborigine.
"Jacky," said the tour guide, "what are you tracking and what are you listening for?"
The aborigine replied, "Down the road about 25
miles is a 1971 Valiant Ute. It's red. The left front tyre is bald. The front end is out of whack and it has dents in every panel. There are 9 blackfellas in the back, all drinking warm sherry. There are 3 kangaroos on the roof rack and 6 dogs on the front
seat."
The American tourists moved forward, astounded by this precise and detailed knowledge.
"Goddammit man, how do you know all that?" asked one.
The Aborigine replied, "I fell out of the f*****g thing about half an hour ago."
TURNER BROWN
A little guy goes into an elevator, looks up and sees this HUGE guy standing next to him. The big guy sees the little guy staring at him, looks down and says, "7 feet tall, 350 pounds, 20 inchbleep, 3 pound left testicle, 3 pound right testicle, Turner Brown."
The small guy faints away and falls to the floor. The big guy kneels down and brings him to, slapping his face and shaking him, "What's wrong with you?"
In a very weak voice the little guy says, "Excuse me, but what EXACTLY did you say to me?"
The big dude says, "I saw the curious look on your face and figured I'd just give you the answers to the questions everyone always asks me.
I'm 7 feet tall, 350 pounds, 20 inchbleep, 3 pound left testicle, 3 pound right testicle, and my name is Turner Brown."
The small guy says, "Thank God! I thought you said 'Turn Around'."