Anger Management
This is something that was published in The Shopping Guide on October 6, 2004.
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 fogotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying, "Hello." I politely said, "This is Fred Hanifin." Could I please speak with Robin Carter?" Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't beleive that anyone could be so rude. I tracked down Robin's correct phone 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 a butt head!" and hung up. I wrote his number down with the word 'butt head' 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 a 'butt head'!" It always cheered me up.
When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic 'butt head' calling would have to stop. So, I called his number an 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 a butt head!"
One day I was at the store, getting ready to pul 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 butt head (I had his number on speed dial), I thought I had better call teh BMW butt head, 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 a butt head." Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now when I had a problem, I had two butt heads 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 Butt Head #1. "Hello." "You're a butt head!" (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?" "Butt head, 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, Butt head." Then I called Butt head #2. "Hello?" he said. "Hello, butt head," I said. He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..." "You'll what?" I said. "I'll kick your butt," he exclaimed. I answered, "Well, butt head, 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 on down on West 34th Street. I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th Street. There I saw two butt heads beating the tar out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and news crew.
posted by Rana @ 7:31 AM
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