A family is at the dinner table when the son asks his father, “Dad, how many kinds of boobs are there?”
The father answers, “Well son, there are three kinds of boobs:
In her 20’s, a woman’s are like melons, round and firm.
In her 30’s and 40’s they are like pears, still nice but hanging a bit.
In her 50’s they are like onions.”
“Onions?” the son asked surprised.
“Yes! You see them and they make you cry.”
This infuriated his wife and daughter, so the daughter asked, “Mom, how many kinds of willies are there?”
The mother was surprised but said with a smile, “Well, darling, a man goes through three stages.
In his 20’s his willy is like an oak tree, hard and proud.
In his 30’s and 40’s, it is like a birch, flexible but reliable.
After his 50’s it is like a Christmas Tree.”
A Christmas Tree?” giggles the daughter.
“Yes,” mom said, “the tree is dead and the balls are just for decoration.”
I say, bullshit, peeps. It is the staff of like. All she has to do is show it a little attention and it will revert back to its might oak form…even at 80.