Friday, September 19, 2003

story time...

Story Number One:

I was happy. My girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year, and so we
decided to get married.

My parents helped us in every way,my friends encouraged me, and my
girlfriend?

She was a dream!

There was only one thing bothering me, very much indeed, and that one thing
was her younger sister. My prospective sister-in-law was twenty years of
age, wore tight mini skirts and low cut blouses. She would regularly bend
down when quite near me and I got many a pleasant view of her underwear.

It had to be deliberate.

She never did it when she was near anyone else.

One day little sister called and asked me to come over to check the wedding
invitations. She was alone when I arrived. She whispered to me that soon I
was to be married, and she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn't
overcome and didn't really want to overcome. She told me that she wanted to
make love to me just once before I got married and committed my life to her
sister.

I was in total shock and couldn't say a word.

She said, "I'm going upstairs to my bedroom, and if you want to go ahead
with it just come up and get me."

I was stunned.

I was frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. When she reached
the top she pulled down her panties and threw them down the stairs at me.

I stood there for a moment, then turned and went straight to the front door.

I opened the door and stepped out of the house.

I walked straight towards my car.

My future father-in-law was standing outside.

With tears in his eyes he hugged me and said, "We are very happy that you
have passed our little test. We couldn't ask for better man for our
daughter. Welcome to the family."

The moral of this story is: Always keep your condoms in your car.



Story Number Two:
Rachel posted this on the Posse board...

For all of you who 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 forgotten to make. I found the number, and dialed it. A man answered saying, "Hello?" I politely said, "This is Fred, could I please speak with Robin Carter?" He replied "Wrong number asshole" and 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 I hung up. I wrote his number down, with the word 'asshole' next to it, and I put it in my desk drawer.

Every couple 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 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 an asshole!"

So, one day I was at the grocery 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 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 dialed and someone said, "Hello?" 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 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 asshole!"
Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial.

Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. But after several weeks 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 said.
"Who are you?" he asked.
"My name is Don Hansen."
"Yeah? Where do you live?
"I live at 1802 West 34th Street, Asshole, a yellow house with my black BMW 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."

Then I called asshole #2: "Hello?" he said.
"Hello Asshole," I said.
He yelled, "If I ever find out who you are..."
"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 I was on my way over there to kill my gay lover.

Then, I called Channel 13 news about the gang war going down on West 34th Street.

I quickly got into my car and headed over to 34th St. There, I saw two assholes beating the shit out of each other in front of six squad cars, a police helicopter, and a TV news crew.

Now, I feel better...Masquerading as a normal person, day after day, is exhausting...

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

<< Home