A woman was at the local salon having her hair styled for an upcoming trip to Rome with her husband. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who responded: “Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It’s crowded and dirty. You’re crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?”
“We’re taking Continental,” was the reply. “We got a great rate!”
“Continental?” exclaimed the hairdresser. “That’s a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they’re always late. So, where are you staying in Rome?”
“We’ll be at this exclusive little place over on Rome’s Tiber River called Teste.”
“Don’t go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks it’s gonna be something special and exclusive, but it’s really a dump, the worst hotel in the city! The rooms are small, the service is surly, and they’re overpriced. So, whatcha’ doing when you get there?”
“We’re going to go to see the Vatican and we hope to see the Pope.”
“That’s rich,” laughed the hairdresser. “You and a million other people are trying to see him. He’ll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours. You’re going to need it.”
A month later, the woman returned for another hair cut and the hairdresser asked her about her trip to Rome. “It was wonderful,” explained the woman. “Not only were we on time in one of Continental’s brand new planes, but it was overbooked and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot. And the hotel was great! They’d just finished a $5 million remodelling job and now it’s a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologised and gave us their owner’s suite at no extra charge!”
“Well,” muttered the hairdresser, “that’s all well and good, but I know you didn’t get to see the Pope.”
“Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder, and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors, and if I’d be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would personally greet me. Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand, I knelt down, and he spoke a few words to me.”
“Oh, really! What did he say?”
“He said: ‘Where did you get the crappy hairdo?'”
An eight-year-old girl went to the office with her father on the office’s annual ‘Take your kid to work day’. As they walked round the office she started crying and getting cranky. Her father asked her what was wrong.
As the staff gathered round she sobbed loudly: “Daddy, where are all the clowns you said you worked with?”
The children were lined up in the lunch room of a Catholic primary school for lunch. At the head of the table was a large pile of apples. The nun made a note, and posted on the apple tray: “Take only one. God is watching.”
Moving further along the lunch line, at the other end of the table was a large pile of chocolate chip cookies.
A child had written a note: “Take all you want. God is watching the apples.”