The phone rang. It was a salesman from a mortgage refinance<\/p>\n
company. “Do you have a second mortgage on your home?”<\/p>\n
“No,” I replied.<\/p>\n
“Would you like to consolidate all your debts?”<\/p>\n
“I really don’t have any,” I said.<\/p>\n
“How about freeing up cash for home improvements?” he tried.<\/p>\n
“I don’t need any. I just recently had some done and paid<\/p>\n
cash,” I parried.<\/p>\n
There was a brief silence, and then he asked, “Are you<\/p>\n
looking for a husband?”<\/p>\n
**********************<\/p>\n
According to a news report, a certain private school in<\/p>\n
Washington was recently faced with a unique problem. A<\/p>\n
number of 12-year-old girls were beginning to use lipstick<\/p>\n
and would put it on in the Bathroom. That was fine, but<\/p>\n
after they put on their lipstick they would press their<\/p>\n
lips to the mirror leaving dozens of little lip prints.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
Every night the maintenance man would remove them and the<\/p>\n
next day the girls would put them back. Finally the<\/p>\n
principal decided that something had to be done.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
She called all the girls to the bathroom and met them there<\/p>\n
with the maintenance man. She explained that all these lip<\/p>\n
prints were causing a major problem for the custodian who<\/p>\n
had to clean the mirrors every night (you can just imagine<\/p>\n
the yawns from the little princesses).<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
To demonstrate how difficult it had been to clean the<\/p>\n
mirrors, she asked the maintenance man to show the girls<\/p>\n
how much effort was required.<\/p>\n
\u00a0<\/p>\n
He took out a long-handled squeegee, dipped it in the<\/p>\n
toilet, and cleaned the mirror with it.<\/p>\n
Since then, there have been no lip prints on the mirror.<\/p>\n
**********************<\/p>\n
Having grown up just outside New York City, I barely knew a<\/p>\n
cow from an ear of corn. Until, that is, I married a small-<\/p>\n
town Ohio girl. While I was in seminary school, I had a<\/p>\n
temporary assignment at a church in a rural community. The<\/p>\n
day of my first sermon, I tried very hard to fit in. Maybe<\/p>\n
too hard.<\/p>\n
With my wife sitting in the first pew, I began my discourse:<\/p>\n
“I never saw a cow until I met my wife.”<\/p>\n
**********************<\/p>\n
Flying through the Midwest in the summertime means one<\/p>\n
thing: turbulence. I was working as a flight attendant on<\/p>\n
one particular flight when we hit a patch of very rough<\/p>\n
air just after a young teenager, obviously on her first<\/p>\n
flight, had entered the bathroom. After the bumps had sub-<\/p>\n
sided, she exited the bathroom, a look of sheer terror<\/p>\n
etched on her face.<\/p>\n
“Are you all right?” I asked as I helped her to her seat.<\/p>\n
“Don’t worry, that turbulence was as bad as it gets.”<\/p>\n
“So that’s what it was,” she said. “I thought I’d pushed<\/p>\n
the wrong button.”<\/p>\n
************************<\/p>\n
The phone rang. It was a salesman from a mortgage refinance company. “Do you have a second mortgage on your home?” “No,” I replied. “Would you like to consolidate all […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":[],"categories":[41],"tags":[],"yoast_head":"\n