Here's The Joke

A woman was at her hairdresser's getting her hair
styled for a trip to Rome with her husband. She
mentioned the trip to her 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 gonna be something special and exclusive,
but it's really a dump, the worst hotel in the city!
The rooms are small, the service is surly, and they're
overpriced. 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 went back in for a trim. 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 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 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: "Where'd you get that shitty haircut?"