A woman was at her hairdresser's getting her hair styled prior to a trip to Rome. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser, who responded, "Rome? Why would anyone want to go there? It's crowded, dirty and full of tourists. 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 called il Teste..."

"I know that place. Everybody thinks its going to be something special and exclusive. But it's really a dump, the rooms are small, the service is bad and they're overpriced. So, whatcha doing when you get there?"

"We're going to Piazza San Pietro to see the Pope."

Laughed the hairdresser; "You and a million 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 another hair styling. 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 placed us in first class. And the hotel-it was great! They'd just finished a $1 million remodeling job and now it's a jewel, 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, "I know you didn't get to see the Pope."

"Actually, we were quite lucky, for as we toured the Vatican, a Priest 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 the private residence 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 that shitty hairdo?"

Have you ever noticed that when you're of a certain age, everything seems uphill from where you are? Stairs are steeper. Groceries are heavier. And, everything is farther away. Yesterday I walked to the corner and I was dumbfounded to discover how long our street had become!And, you know, people are less considerate now, especially the young ones. They speak in whispers all the time! If you ask them to speak up they just keep repeating themselves, endlessly mouthing the same silent message until they're red in the face! What do they think I am, a lip reader? I also think they are much younger than I was at the same age. On the other hand, people my own age are so much older than I am. I ran into an old friend the other day and she has aged so much that she didn't even recognize me. I got to thinking about the poor dear while I was combing my hair this morning, and in doing so, I glanced at my own refection ... Well, REALLY NOW ... even mirrors are not made the way they used to be! Another thing, everyone drives so fast today! You're risking life and limb if you just happen to pull onto the freeway in front of them. All I can say is, their brakes must wear out awfully fast, the way I see them screech and swerve in my rear view mirror. Clothing manufacturers are less civilized these days. Why else would they suddenly start labeling a size 10 or 12 dress as 18 or 20? Do they think no one notices that these things no longer fit around the waist, hips, thighs, and bosom?The people who make bathroom scales are pulling the same prank, but in reverse. Do they think I actually "believe" the number I see on that dial? HA! I would never let myself weigh that much! Just who do these people think they're fooling? I'd like to call up someone in authority to report what's going on -- but the telephone company is in on the conspiracy too: they've printed the phone books in such small type that no one could ever find a number in there! All I can do is pass along this warning: Maturity is under attack! Unless something drastic happens, pretty soon "everyone" will have to suffer these awful indignities.

A guy is walking through Chinatown in New York. All the Chinese restaurants, the shops, the signs and banners on all the buildings, fascinate him. He is having the greatest time just walking and looking around. He turns a corner and sees a building with a sign that says "Hans Olafsen's Laundry."

"Hans Olafsen?" he thinks. "How in the world does that fit in here?"

So, he walks into the shop and sees an old Chinese gentleman sitting in the corner. The visitor asks "How in the world did this place get a name like Hans Olafsen's Laundry?"

The old man says, "Is name of owner."

The visitor asks, "Who is the owner?"

"I am he," answers the old man.

"You? How did you get a name like Hans Olafsen?"

The old man replies: "Many years ago, when come to this country, I standing in line at immigration office. Man in front was big Swede. Lady look at him and say "What your name?" and he say "Hans Olafsen." Next, she look at me -- "What your name?" I say, "Saim Ting."

A little boy wanted $100 badly and prayed for two weeks, but nothing happened. Then he decided to write a letter to the Lord requesting the $100.

When the postal authorities received the letter addressed to the Lord, USA, they decided to send it to President Bush.

The President was so impressed, touched, and amused that he instructed his secretary to send the little boy a $5.00 bill. President Bush thought this would appear to be a lot of money to a little boy. The little boy was delighted with the $5.00 and sat down to write a thank you note to the Lord, which read:

Dear Lord,

Thank you very much for sending me the money. However, I noticed that for some reason you had to send it through Washington D.C. and, as usual, those jerks deducted $95...