A family is at the dinner table. The son asks
the father, “Dad, how many kinds of boobs
are there?” The father, surprised, answers,
“Well, son, a woman goes through three
phases. In her 20s, a woman’s breasts are
like melons, round and firm. In her 30s and
40s, they are like pears, still nice, hanging a
bit. After 50, they are like onions.” “Onions?”
the son asks. “Yes. You see them and they
make you cry.” This infuriated his wife and
daughter. The daughter asks, “Mom, how
many different kinds of willies are there?”
The mother smiles and says, “Well, dear, a
man goes through three phases also. In his
20s, his willy is like an oak tree, mighty and
hard. In his 30s and 40s, it’s like a birch,
flexible but reliable. After his 50s, it’s like a
Christmas tree.” “A Christmas tree?” the
daughter asks. “Yes, dead from the root up
and the balls are just for decoration.”
