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Abie, a rather shy and retiring gentleman who lives southwest, sent this gem...

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 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."

"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 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 very
handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot." Pausing,
she continued: "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 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 himself 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 f*cked up your hair?"
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