Gladys has a Bad Hair Day

Gladys still teases her hair to give it volume and over-combs it to style it. Good grief, you’d think she was still living in the sixties! It’s Sunday morning and she’s getting ready for church services. Shower, makeup, hairdo—in that order.

The phone rings and she takes the call. She then rushes through the house to make sure the children are dressed and ready to leave on time. She is known for her organization skills and her promptness, and this particular Sunday will be another validation of her capabilities.

She arrives at the sanctuary fifteen minutes early so she can post the hymn numbers at the front of the chapel. You see, she is the chorister. Her several children are seated on the pew beside George and she is seated near the podium where she will stand to lead the music when the time comes.

Using the baton her father left her when he died, she leads the music confidently with almost the same finesse her father had done.

One hour later, she meets with the pastor to discuss changing from chorister to organist. As she leaves the pastor’s office, she is facing a large mirror on the wall opposite his office door. Her heart falls through the floor and she wishes she could disappear with it! There she is—her hair combed down on one side and still teased high into the air on the other side. THE PHONE CALL!

She rushes into the restroom where one of her dear friends is just washing her hands. “Good grief!” she exclaims to her friend. “Why on earth didn’t you tell me my hair was such a mess?”

“You know, my husband asked me if I thought you knew your hair looked like that,” she said with a smile.

Gladys is taking her off her BFF list!

The Honeymoon

Gladys leaves the wedding reception wearing jeans and in tears. A friend of her mother's had tried to be funny, and had grabbed the front of her borrowed wedding gown to throw a handful of rice down her nonexistent chest, and ripped the front of the dress.

George opened the car door for her and began to pull the crumpled wrapping paper from her seat to make room for her to sit down. The getaway would take ten 30-gallon garbage bags full of wrapping paper to make room for them in the front seat. Anxious to make their exit, they left the remnants of rice all over the floor, dashboard, and in the door handles, and didn’t bother to clean out the remaining wadded gift wrap from the rear seat. They had driven only a block when they heard a small voice from behind them say, “Hey, let me out!”

By the time they returned the stowaway, most of the tin cans dragging behind them had fallen off and they drove to their apartment where they planned to spend their first night before their great adventure to the outback. George, being such a gentleman, carried Gladys’ suitcase and set it down as he used his key to unlock the door. When the door was open, he gallantly swept Gladys up in his arms and promptly tripped over the suitcase throwing her onto the floor inside.

Gladys is Thrifty

Thrift is one of Gladys' attributes. She has the uncanny ability to make someone else’s rejects from the Good Will store look like the latest fashion, often receiving compliments on her stunning attire.

Gladys has joined the Women’s Auxiliary Club where each month the women of her city dress up, have a luncheon, and plan for the next civic event they are sponsoring.  

She has chosen a simple gray dress with just the right amount of feminine charm in the form of a black and white polka dot infinity scarf to merit a classy look of elegance. She has chosen gray sling back heels that match the color of her dress exactly. She is the picture of perfection.

As she is comfortably engaging in conversation at the luncheon table, she feels something tug under her arm. “Do you always advertise where you shop?” her neighbor asks, tugging her Good Will price tag.

George: Did we make love?

George: Honey, did we make love late last night?

Gladys: Probably. You mean you forgot already? Why do you ask?

George: Well, I needed to go to the bathroom at work, and I didn’t have a fly in my jockey shorts, so I went into a stall and undid my belt and pulled my pants down. That’s when I realized my shorts were on backwards.

Gladys at work

Gladys worked on the Salt Lake City Olympics planning committee. At eight-and-a-half months pregnant, she was having a rather miserable day feeling nauseated and generally uncomfortable. She was trying to get caught up on her paperwork just in case she went into labor early. It was late in the day and her coworkers had all gone home for the day.

She had terrible stomach cramps and finally felt the freedom to release the gas that had been causing her so much discomfort. She cut loose with a long, loud, and smelly wind.

Moments later, a coughing spell broke out in the cubicle next to hers, where a gentleman had been quietly working late.

George: We Deliver

George couldn’t miss basketball practice even after Gladys explained she thought she might be in labor. He said he’d hurry home from practice and take her to the hospital if she still felt she was in labor.

When George arrived home, sweaty and smelly, Gladys announced she was definitely in labor and her water had just broken. George said he’d quickly shower if she’d call the neighbor to come and watch the other children while they rushed to the hospital.

Gladys made the phone call from her bed where she was laying on bath towels. She told Miss Babysitter the situation and then let out a scream to George as she felt the baby start to crown.

George made a hasty exit out of the shower not taking time to towel off. The front door opened and Miss Babysitter came running into the house just as George ran out of the bathroom and across the hall to the bedroom where he caught baby Ann as she made her arrival.

We’re not sure who had the most bragging rights: Gladys, that she gave birth at home on her bed; George, that he delivered his new daughter at home; Ann, that she was delivered by her father at home on her parents’ bed; or Miss Babysitter, who witnessed George delivering his wife’s baby at home in the nude.