Q: What did the janitor yell when he jumped out of the closet?
A: "Supplies!"
The 104-year-old building that had served as the priory and primary student residence of the small Catholic university where I work was about to be demolished. As the wrecker’s ball began to strike, I sensed the anxiety and sadness experienced by one of the older monks whose order had founded the college.
"This must be difficult to watch, Father," I said. "The tradition associated with that building, the memories of all the students and monks who lived and worked there. I can’t imagine how hard this must be for you."
"It’s worse than that," the monk replied. "I think I left my Palm Pilot in there."
The day before my high school graduation, the principal called an assembly. He wanted to say farewell informally, he explained, as he reviewed our years together.
There was hardly a dry eye among us as he concluded, "We will remember you, and hope you will remember us. More importantly, we want you to remember each other. I want all of you to meet in this very auditorium 25 years from today."
There was a moment of silence. Then a thin voice piped up, "What time?"
My boyfriend and I were taking his 19-year-old niece to a weekend festival. When we arrived at her house to pick her up, she appeared in tasteful but very short shorts, and a tank top with spaghetti straps. A debate began immediately about appropriate dress. I took the girl’s side, recalling that when we began dating, I dressed the same way.
“Yes,” said my boyfriend sternly, “and I said something about it, didn’t I?”
Everyone looked at me. “Yeah,” I replied. “You said, ‘What’s your phone number?'”