It's been ongoing for months, I guess its not what he wanted

 

Oh. Bummerage.

 

yup

 

I will have to make one last stroll through the hotties forum.

 

 

Here's what they do in Texas:

http://www.priapism.com

 

Also:

http://www.thechateau.com

 

Also:

Here's how Texans deal with life:


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 Robin Carter?"

Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me. I couldn't believe that
anyone
could be so rude.

I tracked down Robin's correct 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 an asshole!" and
hung up.

I wrote his number down with the word 'ass hole' 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 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 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 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 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?"

"My name is Don Burgemeyer," 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 screamed back.

"Who are you?" he demanded.

"My name is Don Burgemeyer."

"Yeah? Where do you live?"

"I live at 1802 West 34th Street, ASSHOLE! It's a yellow house, with my
black beemer parked in front."

He said, "I'm coming over there 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...again, without hanging up.

He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are!"

"Yeah, 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 home to kill my gay lover.

Then I called Channel 9 News to let them know about the war going down on
West 34th Street. I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th
street.

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

NOW, I feel better.

Anger management really works!!!