This is especially for Hypercat. How wonderful to have the ability to produce the perfect reply.
A New York woman was at her hairdresser's on Park Avenue getting her
hair styled prior to a trip to Rome with her boyfriend. She mentioned the
trip to the hairdresser, who responded, "Rome?" Why would anyone want to
go there? It's crowded & dirty and full of Italians. 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 left bank called
Teste..."
"Don't go any further. I know that place. Everybody thinks its 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
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 again came in for a hairdo. 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 -- it was great! They'd just finished a $5 million
remodeling job and now it's a jewel, the finest hotel in the city. They,
too, were overbooked, so they apologized 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'd he say?"
He said, "Where'd you get the shitty hairdo?"
