Something different for today’s Funny Friday . . . a couple of longer items, the first being a short story that I recall I posted some years ago and that I came across again yesterday.
One of the items has risqué language so proceed at yown risk.
Now get this. I was sitting at my desk, when I remembered a phone call I had to make. I found the number and dialled it. A man answered nicely saying, "Hello?" I politely said, "This is Patrick Hanifin and could I please speak to Robin Carter?" Suddenly the phone was slammed down on me!
I couldn't believe that anyone could be that rude. I tracked down Robin's correct number and called her. She had transposed the last two digits. After I hung up with Robin, I spotted the wrong number
still lying there on my desk. I decided to call it again. When the same person once more answered, I yelled "You're a jerk!" and hung up. Next to his phone number I wrote the word "Jerk," 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. He'd answer, and then I'd yell, 'You're a jerk!" It would always cheer me up.
Later in the year the phone company introduced caller ID. This was a real disappointment for me, I would have to stop calling the jerk. Then one day I had an idea. I dialled his number, then heard his
voice, "Hello." I made up a name. "Hi. This is Herman with the telephone company and I'm just calling to see if you're familiar with our caller ID program?" He went, "No!" and slammed the phone down. I quickly called him back and said, "That's because you're a jerk!"
And the reason I took the time to tell you this story, is to show you how if there's ever anything really bothering you, you can do something about it. Just dial 722-4822.
The old lady at the mall really took her time pulling out of the parking space. I didn't think she was ever going to leave. Finally her car began to move and she started to very slowly back out of the
stall. I backed up a little more to give her plenty of room to pull out. Great, I thought, she's finally leaving.
All of a sudden this black Camaro come flying up the parking isle in the wrong direction and pulls into her space. I started honking my horn and yelling, "You can't just do that, Buddy. I was here first!" The guy climbed out of his Camaro, completely ignoring me. He walked toward the mall as if he didn't even hear me. I thought to myself, this guy's a jerk, there's sure a lot of jerks in this world. I noticed he had a For Sale sign in the back window of his car. I wrote down the number. Then I hunted for another place to park.
A couple of days later, I'm at home sitting at my desk. I had just gotten off the phone after calling 722-4822 and yelling, "You're a jerk!" (It's really easy to call him now since I have his number on
speed dial). I noticed the phone number of the guy with the black Camaro lying on my desk and thought I'd better call this guy, too.
After a couple rings someone answered the phone and said, "Hello." I said, "Is this the man with the black Camaro 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 front. I said, "What's your name?" "My name is Don Hansen." "When's a good time to catch you, Don?" "I'm home in the evenings." "Listen Don, can I tell you something?" "Yes." "Don, you're a jerk!" And I slammed the
phone down. After I hung up I added Don Hansen's number to my speed dialler.
For a while things seemed to be going better for me. Now when I had a problem I had two jerks to call. Then after several months of calling the jerks and hanging up on them, the whole thing started to seem like an obligation. It just wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be.
I gave the problem some serious thought and came up with a solution. First, I had my phone dial Jerk #1. A man answered nicely, saying "Hello." I yelled "You're a jerk!" But I didn't hang up. The jerk said, "Are you still there?" I said, "Yeah." He said, "Stop calling me." I said, "No." He said, "What's your name, Pal?" I said, "Don Hansen." "Where do you live?" "1802 West 34th Street. It's a yellow house and my black Camaro's parked out front." "I'm coming over right now, Don. You'd better start saying your prayers." "Yeah, like I'm really scared, jerk!" and I hung up.
Then I called Jerk #2. He answered, "Hello." I said, "Hello, jerk!" He said, "If I ever find out who you are..." "You'll what?" "I'll kick your butt." "Well, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now , jerk!" And I hung up.
Then I picked up the phone and called the police. I told them a big gang fight was going down at 1802 West 34th Street. After that I climbed into my car and headed over to 34th Street to watch the whole thing.
I turned onto 34th Street and parked my car under the shade of a tree half a block from Jerk #2's house. There were two guys fighting out front.
Suddenly there were about 12 police cars and a helicopter. The police wrestled the two men to the ground and took them away.
A couple of months go by and I get a call for jury duty. I was picked o be on a trial of two guys charged with disorderly conduct. As luck would have it, it happened to be the same two guys. I might have influenced the jury, because when they announced the verdict, they said, "We the jury find the defendants to be guilty, and a couple of jerks!"
In the jungle, a group of explorers hear distant drumming. Their native bearers suddenly seem very afraid. The expedition's leader asks them, "What's going on?" A native bearer replies, "Very bad when drumming stops." So the leader asks, "Why, what happens then?" The bearer explains, "Bass solo starts."
The Lone Ranger and his mate Tonto were being chased by Indians when they just managed to get in to the Alamo. Custer came out of his office and shouted to the Lone Ranger " How many Indians are there?” "I don't know, I wasn't counting," he replies.
"Tonto, how many Indians were there, mate?” Tonto puts his ear to the ground and says "100, kemosabe.” “There's a hundred," shouts the Lone Ranger to Custer.
"Are they all on horseback?" replies Custer. Fuck me, thinks the Lone Ranger to himself. "Tonto, mate" say's the Lone Ranger... "Are they all on horseback?” Tonto rolls his eyes but gets his ear to the ground again and says "There's 70 on horseback and rest are on foot kemosabe." "There's 70 on horseback and the rest are on foot" shouts the Lone Ranger to Custer.
"Have they all got guns?" say's Custer. Jesus fucking wept, curses the Lone Ranger under his breath, "Tonto... Have they all got guns, pal?” Tonto is pissed off by this time but once again places an ear to the ground and replies “There's sixty with guns and the rest have bows and arrows." The Lone Ranger shouts over to Custer "There's sixty with guns, the rest have bows and arrows."
Custer takes a moment’s reflection, then shouts down to the Lone Ranger “He's a clever fucker, your mate, ain't he?” "Fuck off you dopey twat," replies The Lone Ranger.... "He's looking under the gate."
Farted on the bus and 14 people turned around.
I felt like I was on The Voice.
You Know It's Going to Be A Bad Day When:
1. You wake up face down on the pavement.
2. You put your bra on backwards and it fits better.
3. You call Suicide Prevention and they put you on hold.
4. You see a "60 Minutes News Team" waiting in your office.
5. Your birthday cake collapses from the weight of the candles.
6 Your son tells you he wishes Anita Bryant would mind her own business.
7. You turn on the news and they're displaying emergency routes out of your city.
8. Your twin sister forgets your birthday.
9. You woke up to discover that your waterbed broke and then you realise that you don’t have a waterbed.
10. Your horn goes off accidentally and remains stuck as you follow a group of Hells Angels on the freeway.
My Dad said you should always be up front with everyone.
Great bloke, shit goalkeeper!
The wise old Mother Superior from county Tipperary was dying. The nuns gathered around her bed trying to make her comfortable. They gave her some warm milk to drink, but she refused it. Then one nun took the glass back to the kitchen. Remembering a bottle of Irish whiskey received as a gift the previous Christmas, she opened and poured a generous amount into the warm milk.
Back at Mother Superior's bed, she held the glass to her lips. Mother Superior drank a little, then a little more. Before they knew it, she had drunk the whole glass down to the last drop.
"Mother", the nuns pleaded, "Please give us some wisdom before you die". She raised herself up in bed with a pious look on her face and said, "Don't sell that cow".
So I’m at the Wailing Wall, standing there, like a moron, with my harpoon.
I have kleptomania. But when it gets bad, I take something for it.
A fellow from Barnsley suffering from piles goes to the local chemist and says " 'ere lad, does tha sell arse cream?"
The chemist says "Aye lad, Magnum or Cornetto?"