Anger Management
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From: Ft. Laudy
Anger Management
Some of you may have noticed that I am an angry little man at times, so I decided to develop my own anger management procedures. First I tried that "Goos-raba" bullshit, but I felt silly and frankly I think it's a little f<b></b>uckin' gay. So instead of trying to snuff my anger completely, I thought it might be more gooder to direct my anger at the people that really deserve it..... stupid f<b></B>uckin' worthless morons. Ya know, the kind of people you meet each day that you would like to strangle and then **** on their lifeless body just for good measure.
It all started one day when I was sitting at my desk and 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 Chris. May I please speak with Scott Carter? " Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me.
I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. I tracked down Scott's correct number and called him. I had transposed the last two digits of his phone number.
After hanging up with him, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an *******!" and 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 finally made it up to NH, 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 interested in 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 *******!"
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 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 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 153 Shoreline Drive. It's a yellow house, and the car's parked right out in front." "What's your name?" I asked. "My name is Mark Hanson," he said. "When's a good time to catch you, Mark?" "I'm home every evening after five." "Listen, Mark, can I tell you something?" "Yes?" "mark, you're an *******." Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two ******** 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 ******* #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. So I told him - "My name is Mark Hanson." "Yeah? Where do you live?" "*******, I live at 153 Shoreline Drive, a yellow house, with my black Beamer parked in front." He said, "I'm coming over right now, Mark. 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 ***," 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 153 Shoreline Drive, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then I called Channel 9 News and told them about the rioting going down on Shoreline Drive.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to Shoreline Drive.
There I saw two ******** beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a news crew.
There.... NOW, I feel better.... Anger management really works.
It all started one day when I was sitting at my desk and 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 Chris. May I please speak with Scott Carter? " Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me.
I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. I tracked down Scott's correct number and called him. I had transposed the last two digits of his phone number.
After hanging up with him, I decided to call the 'wrong' number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, "You're an *******!" and 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 finally made it up to NH, 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 interested in 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 *******!"
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 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 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 153 Shoreline Drive. It's a yellow house, and the car's parked right out in front." "What's your name?" I asked. "My name is Mark Hanson," he said. "When's a good time to catch you, Mark?" "I'm home every evening after five." "Listen, Mark, can I tell you something?" "Yes?" "mark, you're an *******." Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too.
Now, when I had a problem, I had two ******** 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 ******* #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. So I told him - "My name is Mark Hanson." "Yeah? Where do you live?" "*******, I live at 153 Shoreline Drive, a yellow house, with my black Beamer parked in front." He said, "I'm coming over right now, Mark. 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 ***," 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 153 Shoreline Drive, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then I called Channel 9 News and told them about the rioting going down on Shoreline Drive.
I quickly got into my car and headed over to Shoreline Drive.
There I saw two ******** beating the crap out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a news crew.
There.... NOW, I feel better.... Anger management really works.
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