the clueless american

I had horrible traffic on the drive in this morning, which gave me time to watch the drivers in front of me. For a few miles I was behind what appeared to be a guy based on the very short or nonexesitent hair. As we moved along it appeared he was washing his face, perhaps cleaning off the crumbs from his breakfast. Then it looked like he was possibly putting on makeup, and then I was sure as he started to apply mascara. As I looked I realized he had on long, dangly earrings too. Was I following a bald woman or a transvestite without his wig? The world may never know.

Little e, the one who thought the $3 sermon request envelope at church was to request the preacher to preach about something rather than a copy of today's sermon, had another great one today.

We're in Savannah for a few days and were taking a trolley tour around the city. As we passed a famous church, the driver said, "imagine a feather floating down from that steeple. Through the magic of Hollywood it twists and turns in the wind until it winds up right over there where there was a bench. Do you know who was sitting on that bench?"

"Forrest Gump," the whole bus said in unison.

e was looking every which way except where Forrest Gump's bench had been in the movie. I kept trying to point her at it when she turned to me and said, "I'm looking for the feather!" I'm still chuckling about it!