Guess this speaks to how it pays to be polite (or you never know what can happen!!!

Well.... Here goes:

As I promised my girlfriend, I started anger management classes recently...

The instructor told us that the best way to get a hold of your anger was to do something constructive with your anger and channel it to a project which will bring you satisfaction... so.... I was sitting at my desk when I remembered a phone call I'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying "Hello." I politely said, "This is John. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?"

Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear "Get the right f***'in 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 *******!" 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 was introduced, I thought my therapeutic "******* calling" would have to stop. So, I called his number and said, "Hi, this is James Smith from the Verizon. I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID Program?" He yelled "NO!" and slammed down the phone. quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're an *******!".. and hung up.

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 which included his phone number, so I wrote down the number.

A couple of days later, right after calling the first ******* I thought that I'd better call the BMW *******, 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 3412 Taft Street, in Hollywood. 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 *******!" Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, too. Now, when I had a problem, I had two ******** to call. Then I came up with an evil plot.... 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" - I said in a very deep voice.

"Yeah? Where do you live?"

"*******, I live at 3412 Taft Street, in Hollywood, what's a pantywaste like you going to do about it?

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, *******," and hung up.

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 3412 Taft Street, in Hollywood and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover. Then I called news channel 9 about the gang war going down on 3412 Taft Street. I quickly got into my car and headed over to Taft. I got

 

True story or one of those chain letters I get in my email every other day?

 

i think its just chain mail, i just thought it was funny

 

sounds good