A Woman At Hairdresser Getting Styled

A woman was at her hairdresser’s getting her hair styled

for a 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 going to be something special and

exclusive, but it’s really a dump.” “We’re going to

go to see the Vatican and maybe get 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 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 us hand and foot.

And the hotel 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 the 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 we’d be so kind as to step into his private room

and wait, the Pope would personally greet us. 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: “Who

fu*cked up your hair?”