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Here's something to think about when negative people are doing their best to rain on your parade.
Do remember this story the next time somebody who knows nothing and who cares less tries to make your life miserable.
A woman was at the hairdresser's getting her hair coiffured for a dream trip to Rome with her husband.
She mentioned the trip to the middle-aged, female hairdresser, who replied: "Why the hell would you wanna go there? It's crowded and it's dirty... you are crazy going to Rome. How are you getting there?"
"We're flying with Easyjet," was the reply. "They did us a great deal!"
"Flying with Easyjet!?" exclaimed the hairdresser. "Why, that's an awful airline! Their planes are all old and filthy, they always run late, and their flight attendants are lax and ugly. Where are you staying in Rome?"
"We'll be staying at this exclusive little place on the Tiber River called Teste."
"Hell, don't go any further! I know that place. Everybody picks it, thinking that it's going to be something special and exclusive, but that's piffle; they find it's really a dump. What sights are you going to see while you're in Rome?"
"We intend to visit the Vatican City and maybe catch sight of the Pope."
"Ha! That's rich!" guffawed the hairdresser. "You and the million other people all trying to spot him! He'll look the size of an ant. Good luck on this crummy trip of yours. Boy, you are sure going to need it."
A month later, the woman came back for her usual hairdo, and the hairdresser asked about her trip to Rome.
"Ah, it was wonderful," explained the woman, "not only were we on time, flying off on one of Easyjet's brand new planes, but it was overbooked, and they bumped us up to first class. The food and the wine were exquisite, and I had an extremely handsome 25-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot. And the hotel was fabulous! They had just finished a mega £1-million-pound refurbishment, and now it's an absolute gem, the finest hotel in the city. They had also been overbooked, so they apologised and offered us the owner's suite at no extra charge!"
"Hmm, that's as may be," huffed the hairdresser offhandedly, "but I bet you didn't get to see the Pope."
"Actually, we were extremely lucky, because, as we toured the Vatican City, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder, and said that the Pope sometimes likes to meet the odd foreign visitor, so if I'd be so kind as to step into his private room and wait, the Pope would give me a personal audience. And, sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope himself glided through the door and shook me by the hand!
With that, I knelt down and he spoke a few words to me."
"Really? What did he say?"
He said: "Who the fuck did your hair?"
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A group of four male lawyers loved their Saturday morning golf, then one was transferred to another town, leaving just three, and it was not the same any more.
A new woman lawyer, Rosetta, joined the company and overheard the guys talking about their golf. "I used to play on my ladies' golf team in college and I was pretty good," she said. "Would you mind if I joined you next week?"
The men looked at each other, no-one really wanting to say 'yes', so they said ok, but they would be starting at six-thirty a.m. (reasoning the early time would discourage her).
She said it may be a problem, and asked if she could be up to 15 minutes late. They rolled their eyes, but agreed. "Good," she smiled, "I will be there at six-thirty or six-forty-five."
Rosetta showed up at six-thirty sharp and beat them all with a 2-under par score. She was good fun and a sweet person, and the guys were impressed.
Back at the clubhouse, they congratulated Rosetta and invited her back next week. "Ok! I'll be at the course at six-thirty or -forty-five," she said.
The next week she appeared at six-thirty sharp. Only this time, she played left-handed. The men were incredulous as she beat them with a praiseworthy even-par round, despite playing entirely with her off-hand. They were amazed, and wondered if she was trying to make them look poor by beating them left-handed.
They could not figure her out. She was very pleasant and did not seem to be purposely showing them up, so they invited her back, as each one now had a great desire to beat her.
The third week, the men arrived on time, but she was 15 minutes late, which irritated them. This time she played right-handed, and narrowly beat all three.
The men opined that her late arrival was gamesmanship, but she was so complimentary about their play, they could not be ungracious.
In the clubhouse, the three men shook their heads. Rosetta was a riddle no one could work out; it was quite eerie. They downed a couple of beers, and finally, one of them asked her outright, "How do you decide if you're going to play a right- or a left-handed game?"
"Well," she confided, "when my Pa taught me to play golf, I soon learned I was ambidextrous, so I would switch hands.
"When I got married, I discovered my husband always sleeps in the nude. From then on, I developed a really loony ritual. Before I left each morning for golf practice, I'd pull the covers off him. If his 'you-know-what' was pointed to the right, I golfed right-handed; if it was pointed to the left, I golfed left-handed."
The guys thought this was hysterical. Astonished at this bizarre information, one of them joked, "So... what if it's pointing up in the air?"
"Then I'm fifteen minutes late."
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