Quote Originally Posted by 34_40 View Post
On Monday morning the Postman is walking through the neighbourhood on his usual route, delivering the mail.

As he approaches one of the homes he noticed that both cars were still in the driveway.
His wonder was cut short by Derek, the homeowner, coming out with a load of empty beer and liquor bottles for the recycling bin.
'Wow Derek, looks like you guys had one hell of a party last night,' the Postman comments.

Derek, in obvious pain, replies 'Actually we had it Saturday night. This is the first I have felt like moving since 4:00 am Sunday morning.
We had about fifteen couples from around the neighbourhood over for some weekend fun and It got a bit wild.
We all got so drunk around midnight that we started playing WHO AM I.'
The Postman thinks a moment and says, 'How do you play WHO AM I?'
'Well, all the guys go in the bedroom and we come out one at a time with a sheet covering us, with only our 'family jewels' showing through a hole in the sheet.

Then the women try to guess who it is.'

The Postman laughs and says, 'Sounds like fun. I'm sorry I missed that.'
'Probably a good thing you did,' Derek responded. 'Your name came up seven times...

Puts me in mind of a true story that might be amusing to some, it sure is and was to my family.

In the mid fifties, my folks decided to move from the semi-urban area of Los Angeles to the suburbs some thirty miles to the east. In doing so, my Dad, who worked for the Postal Service, took a job as a mail carrier, and my Mom, who usually held a full time job as well, took a bit of time off and stayed home for a few months. My Dad delivered various routes in the community, and once or twice a week, he did the route that we lived on, and it was a bicycle route - anyone remember the post office bikes? In addition, my Grandfather operated a milk distributorship, and on Tuesday and Friday, he stopped by the house to leave milk and stuff. One day, I was sitting on the curb down the street visiting with another kid, and a few of the neighbor ladies were at the mail boxes between their houses, talking. I heard them mention "that woman down at the end of the street, 'the merry widow of Galatea'"; "she is a very busy woman", said one, and another made some other snide remark about this woman entertaining all sorts of men during the day, that the postman visited her at least a couple of times a week around lunchtime, and that the milkman also came around twice a week and stayed for a while; sometimes, both men were there at the same time. There was a lot of clucking and tsking, and they went on gossiping about other folks on our street. It finally dawned on my thirteen year old brain who they were talking about. I told my folks about it, and they were somewhat taken aback, but we got a real laugh out of the episode, and my Mom actually joined in the gossip that went around the neighborhood, and let on subtly what her husband and father-in-law did for a living. That episode was a source of a lot of amusement for us over the years.

.