Saw this post on sport-touring.net; cracked me up...

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 Jim. May I please speak with Mat Matecko?" Suddenly, the phone was slammed down on me.

I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude. I tracked down Mat's correct number and called him. I had transposed the last two digits of his phone number. After hanging up with him, I decided to call the wrong number again. When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled, “You're an arsehole!" and hung up.

I wrote his number down with the word 'arsehole' 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 arsehole!" It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID came to our area, I thought my therapeutic ‘arsehole’ 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 arsehole!"

One day I was at the store, getting ready to pull into a parking spot. Some guy in a black Harley 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 on the Harley, so I wrote down his number. A couple of days later, right after calling the first arsehole (I had his number on speed dial), I thought I had better call the H-D arsehole, too.

I said, "Is this the man with the black Harley for sale?" "Yes, it is." "Can you tell me where I can see it?" "Yes, I live at 200 Rio Vista. It's a yellow house, and the Harley is 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 arsehole."

Then I hung up, and added his number to my speed dial, as well. Now, when I had a problem, I had two assholes to call. But after a couple weeks of calling them, it wasn't as enjoyable as it used to be. So, I came up with an idea.

I called arsehole #1. "Hello." "You're an arsehole!" (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 200 Rio Vista, arsehole! It's a yellow house, with my black Harley 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, arsehole." Then I called arsehole #2

"Hello?" he said. "Hello, arsehole," 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 arse," he exclaimed. I answered, "Well, arsehole, here's your chance. I'm coming over right now." Then I hung up and immediately called the police, saying that I lived at 200 Rio Vista and that I was on my way home to kill my gay lover.

Then I called Channel 4 News to let them know about the war going down on Rio Vista. I quickly got into my car and headed over to Rio Vista. There I saw the 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…it works great when your can’t ride.