How Was Your Day? Asshole!

Can anyone spot a conflict of interest here?

You Had A Bad Day, Asshole!

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 had
forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it.

A man answered, saying, "Hello."

I politely said, "Could I please speak with Robin Carter?"

Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't
believe that anyone could be so rude. I realized I had called the
wrong number. I tracked down Robin's correct number and called
her. I had accidentally 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
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 came to our area, I thought my therapeutic
'asshole' 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
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 had been waiting for that 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 asshole
( I had his number on speed dial), I thought I had better call
the BMW asshole, too.

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 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.

But after several months of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable
as it used to be.

So, 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 1802 West 34th 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, asshole."

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 ass," 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 1802 West 34th Street, and that 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 street.

When I got there, I saw two assholes beating the crap out of
each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and
the channel 13 news crew.

It Started.

Jake came home from work, sat down in his favorite chair,
turned on the TV, and said to his wife, Sarah, "Quick, bring
me a beer before it starts."

Sarah looked a little puzzled, but brought him a beer.

When Jake finished it, he said, "Quick, bring me another
beer. It's gonna start."

This time, Sarah looked a little angry, but brought him
a beer.

When it was gone, Jake said, "Quick, another beer before
it starts."

That's it!" Sarah blows her top, "You bastard! You waltz
in here, flop your fat ass down, don't even say hello to me
and then expect me to run around like your slave. Don't
you realize that I cook and clean and wash and iron all
day long?"

Jake sighed. "Oh shit, it's started."