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.”

Chai! D woman's own is fatality o, she haf killed d men