One Monday morning a mailman is walking the neighborhood on his usual route. As he approaches one of the homes he noticed that both cars were in the driveway. His wonder was cut short by Bob, the homeowner, coming out the front door, stepping around empty beer and liquor bottles.
"Wow, Bob, looks like you guys had one hell of a party last night!" the mailman says.
Bob, 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 neighborhood over for some weekend fun and it got a bit wild. Hell, we got so drunk around midnight that we started playing Who Am I?"
"Is that a game?" the mailman asks. "How do you play that?"
"Well, all the guys go in the bedroom and we come out one at a time with a sheet covering us and only our 'privates' showing through a hole in the sheet. Then the women try to guess who it is."
The mailman laughs and says, "Damn, I'm sorry I missed that."
"Well, that's why I came out to talk to you," Bob says. "You better lay low for a few days, since your name came up seven times and several of the guys are looking for you.
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