Joan always looked 20 years younger than she was. One day (while she was shaving her bikini zone) a small mail man (no bigger than a gallon jug of grape juice) knocked on her door. "Who's there?" She asked in abject horror. "Don't be horrified. It's just me, a small mail man," came the answer. "I'm shaving as closely as I can right now to my ****," Joan responded. "Come back tomorrow or the next day." The mail man was horrifically confused by the situation and left the United States for several years to seek psychiatric treatment in Cuba or Morocco.