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- Subject: (no subject)
- From: ShayDguy@aol.com
- Date: Wed, 13 Sep 2000 20:35:35 EDT
A group of Americans was touring Ireland. One of the women in
the group was a real curmudgeon, constantly complaining. The
bus seats are uncomfortable.The food is terrible. It's too hot. It's
too cold. The accommodations are awful.
The group arrived at the site of the famous Blarney Stone.
"Good luck will be followin' ya all your days if you kiss the
Blarney Stone,"the guide said. "Unfortunately, it's being
cleaned today and so no one willbe able to kiss it. Perhaps we
can come back tomorrow."
"We can't be here tomorrow," the nasty woman shouted. "We
have some other boring tour to go on. So I guess we can't kiss
the stupid stone."
"Well now," the guide said, "it is said that if you kiss someone
who has kissed the stone, you'll have the same good fortune."
"And I suppose you've kissed the stone," the woman scoffed.
"No, ma'am," the frustrated guide said, "but I've sat on it."
Two church members were going door to door,
and knocked on the door of a woman who was
not happy to see them. She told them in no
uncertain terms that she did not want to hear
their message and slammed the door in their
faces. To her surprise, however, the door did
not close and, in fact, bounced back open.
She tried again, really put her back into it,
and slammed the door again with the same result - the door bounced
Convinced these rude young people were sticking their foot in the
door, she reared back to give it a slam that would teach them a
lesson, when one of them said, "Ma'am, before you do that again you
need to move your cat."
> A New York woman was at her East Side hairdresser's getting her hair
> 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
> "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
> the city! The rooms are small, the service is surly and they're
> 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 just a jewel, finest hotel in the city. They,
> too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner's suite
> no extra charge!" "Well," muttered the hairdresser, "I know you didn't
> to see the Pope."
> "Actually, we were quite lucky, for as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss
> tapped me on the shoulder and explained that the Pope likes to personally
> 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."
> "Really?" asked the hairdresser. "What'd he say?"
> He said, "Where'd you get the shitty hairdo?"
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