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D e s e r t   E x p o s u r e    March 2008



The Husband Store, Flight Follies,
Idiot Sightings and Oil Geography

Plus household hints not to try, three wishes and DE in Paris.



Losing the battle of the sexes. . . This volley in the gender wars comes our way from Ned Ludd:

"A brand-new store has just opened in New York City that sells husbands. When women go to choose a husband, they have to follow the instructions at the entrance: 'You may visit this store ONLY ONCE! There are six floors and the value of the products increases as you ascend the flights. You may choose any item from a particular floor, or may choose to go up to the next floor, but you CANNOT go back down except to exit the building!

"So, a woman goes to the Husband Store to find a husband. On the first floor the sign on the door reads: 'Floor 1 — These men have jobs.' The second-floor sign reads: 'Floor 2 — These men have jobs and love kids.' The third-floor sign reads: 'Floor 3 — These men have jobs, love kids and are extremely good-looking.'

"'Wow,' she thinks, but feels compelled to keep going.

"She goes to the fourth floor and the sign reads: 'Floor 4 — These men have jobs, love kids, are drop-dead good-looking and help with housework.'

"'Oh, mercy me!' the woman exclaims. 'I can hardly stand it!'

"Still, she goes to the fifth floor and the sign reads: 'Floor 5 — These men have jobs, love kids, are drop-dead gorgeous, help with housework and have a strong romantic streak.' She is so tempted to stay, but she goes to the sixth floor and the sign reads: 'Floor 6 — You are visitor 31,456,012 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor exists solely as proof that women are impossible to please. Thank you for shopping at the Husband Store.'

"To avoid gender-bias charges, the store's owner opens a New Wives Store just across the street. The first floor has wives that love sex. The second floor has wives that love sex and have money. The third through sixth floors have never been visited."

Fire your own shots in the gender wars! Send your favorite funnies to Desert Diary at PO Box 191, Silver City, NM 88062, fax 534-4134 or email diary@desertexposure.com.



Come fly with me. . . Fasten your seatbelt and enjoy a second helping of examples — again, purportedly real — of airline crew having a bit too much fun on the job, flown our way by frequent contributor Old Grumps:

"On Southwest Airlines just after a very hard landing in Salt Lake City, the flight attendant came on the intercom and said, 'That was quite a bump, and I know what y'all are thinking. I'm here to tell you it wasn't the airline's fault, it wasn't the pilot's fault, it wasn't the flight attendant's fault, it was the asphalt.'

"Overheard on an American Airlines flight into Amarillo, Texas, on a particularly windy and bumpy day: During the final approach, the Captain was really having to fight it. After an extremely hard landing, the flight attendant said, 'Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to Amarillo. Please remain in your seats with your seatbelts fastened while the captain taxis what's left of our airplane to the gate!'

"Another flight attendant's comment on a less-than-perfect landing: 'We ask you to please remain seated as Captain Kangaroo bounces us to the terminal.'

"An airline pilot wrote that on this particular flight he had hammered his ship into the runway really hard. The airline had a policy which required the first officer to stand at the door while the passengers exited, smile, and give them a 'Thanks for flying our airline.' He said that, in light of his bad landing, he had a hard time looking the passengers in the eye, thinking that someone would have a smart comment. Finally, everyone had gotten off except for a little old lady walking with a cane. She said, 'Sir, do you mind if I ask you a question?' 'Why, no, Ma'am,' said the pilot. 'What is it?' The little old lady said, 'Did we land, or were we shot down?'

"After a real crusher of a landing in Phoenix, the attendant came on with, 'Ladies and gentlemen, please remain in your seats until Captain Crash and the crew have brought the aircraft to a screeching halt against the gate. And, once the tire smoke has cleared and the warning bells are silenced, we'll open the door and you can pick your way through the wreckage to the terminal.'

"Part of a flight attendant's arrival announcement: 'We'd like to thank you folks for flying with us today. And, the next time you get the insane urge to go blasting through the skies in a pressurized metal tube, we hope you'll think of US Airways.'

"Heard on a Southwest Airline flight: 'Ladies and gentlemen, if you wish to smoke, the smoking section on this airplane is on the wing and if you can light 'em, you can smoke 'em.'

"A plane was taking off from Kennedy Airport. After it reached a comfortable cruising altitude, the captain made an announcement over the intercom: 'Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. Welcome to flight number 293, nonstop from New York to Los Angeles. The weather ahead is good and, therefore, we should have a smooth and uneventful flight. Now sit back and relax — OH, MY GOD!' Silence followed, and after a few minutes, the captain came back on the intercom and said, 'Ladies and gentlemen, I am so sorry if I scared you earlier. While I was talking to you, the flight attendant accidentally spilled a cup of hot coffee in my lap. You should see the front of my pants!' A passenger in coach yelled, 'That's nothing. You should see the back of mine!'"



Political corrections. . . With apologies to those of Polish ancestry — sorry, this one just doesn't work any other way — we pass along this yarn from JohnC:

"Everyone gets so quickly offended these days! An example: A man asks a clerk, 'In what aisle could I find the Polish sausage?' The clerk looks at him and says, 'Are you Polish?'

"The guy (clearly offended) says, 'Well, yes, I am. But let me ask you something. If I had asked for Italian sausage, would you ask me if I was Italian? Or if I had asked for German bratwurst, would you ask me if I was German? Or if I asked for a kosher hot dog would you ask me if I was Jewish? Or if I had asked for a taco would you ask if I was Mexican? Would you? Would you?'

"The clerk says, 'Well, no!'

"'If I asked for some Irish whiskey, would you ask if I was Irish?' the guy goes on.

"'Well, I probably wouldn't!' the clerk replies.

"With deep self-righteous indignation, the guy says, 'Well then, why did you ask me if I'm Polish because I asked for Polish sausage?'

"The clerk replies, 'Because you're at Home Depot.'"




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