#1
any storys or anecdotes that are long, rambling and funny.
heres one i recently heard.

Anger Management:

You know 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'd forgotten to make. I found the number and dialed it. A man answered, saying 'Hello.'

I politely said, 'This is Chris. Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?'

Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear, 'Get the right f *** ing 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 asshole!' and hung up.

I wrote his number down with the word 'asshole' 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.

Then Caller ID was introduced, 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 calling to see if you're familiar with our Caller ID program?'

He yelled, 'NO!' and slammed down the phone. I quickly called him back and said, 'That's because you're an asshole!' 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, 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 that I'd better call the BMW asshole, too. I
said, 'Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?'
He said, 'Yes, it is.' I asked,

'Can you tell me where I can see it?'

He said, 'Yes, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax. It's a yellow duplex, and the car's parked right out in front.'

I asked, 'What's your name?'

He said, 'My name is Don Hansen.'

I asked, 'When's a good time to catch you, Don?'

He said, 'I'm home every evening after five.'

I said, 'Listen, Don, can I tell you something?'

He said, 'Yes?'

I said, '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. Then I came up with an idea.

I called asshole #1; he said, 'Hello.'

I said, 'You're an asshole!' (But I didn't hang up.)

He asked, 'Are you still there?'

I said, 'Yeah.'

He screamed, 'Stop calling me.'

I said, 'Make me.'

He asked, 'Who are you?'

I said, 'My name is Don Hansen.'

He said, 'Yeah? Where do you live?'

I said, 'Asshole, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax, a yellow duplex, I have a 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, asshole,' and hung up. Then I called Asshole #2. He said, 'Hello?'

I said, 'Hello, asshole.'

He yelled, 'If I ever find out who you are...'

I said, 'You'll what?'

He exclaimed, 'I'll kick your ass!'

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 34 Oaktree Blvd, in Fairfax, and that I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.
Then I called Channel 9 News about the gang war going down in Oaktree Blvd. in Fairfax.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax. I got there just in time to watch two assholes beating the crap out of each other in front of six
cop cars, an overhead news helicopter and surrounded by a news crew.

NOW I feel much better. Anger management really does work.
#3
I lololololololol'd. It reminds me of Billy Connolly's chimney sweep prank call.
I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE STREETS OF GALWAY
#4
I lol'd.
Gear
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Shitty No-name amp
#5
sweet jesus what the hell is that
funkyducky


Icing happen when de puck come down, BANG, you know,
before de oder guys, nobody dere, you know.
My arm go comme ça, den de game stop den start up.

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Get To Da Choppa!
#6
10.25 AM, just woke up.

You have already made my day, TS
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You sir are a dick!
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And then again, Wildthang, "You're probably NOT one of them clean Socialists, either"

Wat.
#7
heh, would've been even funnier if it actually happened.
Banging on a trash can
Drumming on a street light
#8
Hahaha, that was terrific!

And no, nothing I post could top that.
XIAOXI
#11
I have two dogs and I was buying a large bag of Pal at Big W and standing in line at the check out.

A woman behind me asked if I had a dog.

On impulse I told her no, I told her I was starting an all Pal diet again although I probably shouldn't because I'd ended up in hospital last time, but that I'd lost 50 pounds before I awakened in an intensive care ward with tubed coming out of most of my orifices and IV's in both arms.

I told her that it was essentially a perfect diet and the way that it works is to load your pants pockets with Pal nuggets and simply eat one or two everytime feel hungry and that the food is nutritionally complete so I was going to try it again.

I have to mention here that practically everyone in the line was by now enthralled with my story, particularly a guy who was standing behind her.

Horrified, she asked if I'd ended up in the hospital in that condition because I had been poisoned. I told her no; it was because I'd been sitting in the street licking my balls and a car hit me.

I thought one guy was going to have a heart attack he was laughing so hard as he staggered out the door.

Stupid bitch...why else would I buy dog food?
Quote by Ed Hunter
I took out a fly with my jet of piss once. I felt like God!



“This is ridiculous; my job is to sit here and do this bloo-loo-loo-loo, bloo-loo-loo-loo” - Paul Gilbert on sweep picking.
#12
^ rofl, Raven, the way you ended that made it even more amusing. That's hilarious - especially if it's true.
XIAOXI
#13
So, I used to go horse riding all the time. This one time, I was riding a horse that kept bucking. I stayed on for a while, and when I tried to get off, my foot got stuck in the stirrup.

I started calling for help to the people around me. A few of them turned to look, then they walked off. One or two stared for a minute, and then they also just walked away.

I’m struggling for a few more minutes, and still no one seems to notice I’m in trouble. People keep on going by, and I’m sitting there on this damn horse, trying for the life of me to get my foot unstuck. I mean, I’m asking every Tom, Dick, and Harry that’s around to give me a hand, and they act like I don’t exist.

I try to free myself for a few more minutes, but the damn thing won’t budge. A good half hour goes by, and by that time, I’m screaming my head off. “Get me off this fucking horse, assholes!” “What the fuck is wrong with you people! Help me!”

Now I got a crowd around me, and still, not one of them helped me.

Finally, someone got the manager of Wal-Mart to come out and deal with it.
And I got him to give me my quarter back.
#14
You are my arch nemisis. I see you wandering around as I go about my IT Computer Nerd business: Tall. Middle Eastern. Pot Belly. We catch each others eye every now and then and give each other a slight nod. I know you, I know what you do and I am on to your games.

I saw you this morning, we made eye contact. You nodded and took another bite of whatever Death-Ass producing garbage you fuel up on that makes the bathroom, smell like the inside of a dead monkey's colon, and nodded at me. I got you this time, ****er.

I give you my icey grin and nod back, then hurry back to my office. It's almost noon, and that's the time you like to run to the toilet and preform your daily ASS JIHAD on all the people just trying to wash their hands. Maybe in your country there is no commen sense that would tell you that lunch time = hand wash time. People want to get clean and eat, not be fumigated with the high octane liquid shit attack you subjugate them too.

But I got you this time. Yeah ****er I GOT SOMETHING COOKING UP FOR YOU! Two egg sandwiches with cheese. Greasy sausage patties. A couple glasses of Tang. Some leftover Chinese food. A Twix. Root Beer Soda. Some steamed broccoli I had in the fridge. A Hot Pocket with peperonni and cheese. A Chocolate Poptart. And like a cherry on top ... a McDonald's Quaterpounder with cheese.

I never eat this shit, it's all greasy and ****ing nasty, but today is the day I fight back. I go out for a quick mile jog and almost die. My stomach feels like there are two midgets fighting to the death inside there. I walk back to work, ass clenched tighter than a virgin's thighs at Church.

Great. The hot chick from next door wants to chat. She assumes the sweat on my face and arms is from running. She doesn't realize that it's a cold sweat induced by my severe sphincter trauma. She finally shuts up and I stagger to the Death Ass Arena.

You are there already in your favorite stall: The one right next to the ****ing sinks. You stupid, socially retarded ****. Fine. You have yet to begin your daily purge of Middle Eastern Ass Stew. I enter the stall next to you and drop my pants in preperation of the upcomming battle.

Your opening salvo is fired: A sloppy wet fart with a solid-shot closer. I laugh and show you the power of Advanced American Foodstuffs.

The tuba fart I unleash echos off the walls and shrinks my waistline about an inch. The guy at the urinal laughs as I slap the wall between you and I and say "Back to YOU, Kajid!". You are silent, I assume you know who I am and that the time has come for us to battle. I know you are summoning your intestinal fortitude for full out war.

You do not dissapoint me.

With a hissing "SSSShhhhhzzzzzzzzz!" you squirt out a deadly spray of ass juice that pollutes the air and makes my head swim. The pisser at the urinal is no longer laughing, he quickly zips up and runs for the door. He did not stop to wash his hands, instead opting to head for the hills. I cover my mouth and nose with my shirt and the black spots dissapear from my vision. My head clears. I am ready.

"AAaaaaaaaRRRRRGGGHHH!" I yell, as I drop Big Tim. That's short for "Big Timber" ... AKA "Mississippi Butt Log".

Quick-fire farts stutter out of my ass, as I push the monster log from the Shit Dimension into our reality. The beefy, yeasty stench easily overpowers the Indian Ass Gutter oder of your previous attack. Mega Turd hits the water in the bowl with a mighty splash, the reek is that of a dead whale slowly ripening in the hot, tropical sun. I catch my breath and wipe my brow, and start to pat myself on the back. I should have known the battle was not over.

The only thing I can think of is that you must have completly unzipped your ass to your elbow. That's the only way I could begin to explain the lumpy, creamy splashes falling out of your ass into the toilet. It sounds like you are pouring a gallon of strawberry shake with whole strawberries in it into the shitter. I see the hairs on my arms start to curl from the horrid stench wafting up from under your stall. I shudder and sway on my throne, unsure if I will survive.

I have no choice. I must employ the Deal Breaker. I hunker down and clench my hands together. My fingers twitch and entwine like a nest of snakes, almost like I am running through a series of ancient Ninja Hand Symbols. My feet lift up onto the toes and my legs start to shake.

"You want to play??" I growl. A low moaning comes from my stomach, like a dinosaur calling into a swampy, foggy night. "YOU GOT IT! AAAAAAHHHHHH!"

Like Cloud summoning The Knights of the Round in Final Fantasy 7, I summon the Excalibur of Turd Demons to destroy my enemy. Hot magma-like shit rockets out of my ass, releasing a noxious, sticky cloud of deadly recal perfume. I hear you gag and see your feet shuffle around, but you can't get away, can you? No. You can't.

Veins throb on my neck and temples as the turd monster tears itself from my bowels. My lips skin back from my now clenched teeth and I try not to scream. Your roll of toilet paper rolls into my stall. You must have torn it from the wall with numb fingers in an attempt to "Wipe and Scoot". Too late. MUCH too late!

Odors pound you with merciless fists: Rotten Fruitcake stuffed with boiled chicken assholes. Hammered shit-logs served on a bed of week old white rice. Rosie O'Donnel's racid crotch farts. The smell of your mom's dank, hairy Middle Eastern armpits.

Your stall door bangs open and you stagger out. You take three unsteady steps to the door and can barely open it wide enough to slip out. I laugh at you before you leave. "Yeah! RUN, ****er!" I yell, and laugh again. You say nothing.

It's all over except for the clean up. **** with me again, you shit filled Anal Terrorist. Me and my ass will be waiting.
Banging on a trash can
Drumming on a street light
#16
Quote by MakinLattes
Lmfao

Makes me laugh out loud...... every... ****ing... time...
Banging on a trash can
Drumming on a street light
#17
who can be bothered reading these, i did one, and it wasnt that good!!!!!!!!!!!

[quote="'[x"]Huffy[x]']Just give up, because Callo just destroyed you.
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CALLO

#18
Quote by Callo
who can be bothered reading these, i did one, and it wasnt that good!!!!!!!!!!!

Haha people are so lazy.

"What the crap is this? I don't come to an internet forum expecting to READ WORDS."
Banging on a trash can
Drumming on a street light
#19
I thought they were pretty funny
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#21
Quote by Abunai X
^ rofl, Raven, the way you ended that made it even more amusing. That's hilarious - especially if it's true.


Well I actually saw that posted by someone else here on UG so I'm not sure if it's true or not.
Quote by Ed Hunter
I took out a fly with my jet of piss once. I felt like God!



“This is ridiculous; my job is to sit here and do this bloo-loo-loo-loo, bloo-loo-loo-loo” - Paul Gilbert on sweep picking.