A dinner table is set for a family. “Dad, how many different kinds of boobs are there?” the son inquires. “Well, son, a woman goes through three phases,” the father responds, shocked.

A woman's breasts in her twenties are round and strong, like melons. They're like pears in her 30s and 40s, still sweet but drooping a little. They're like onions after 50.” The son inquires, "Onions?" “It's true. They make you weep when you see them.” His wife and daughter were enraged by this.

“Mom, how many different kinds of willies are there?” the daughter inquires. “Well, dear, a man goes through three phases as well,” the mother says with a smile. His willy is like an oak tree in his twenties, mighty and tough. It's like a birch in his 30s and 40s, versatile but dependable. It's like a Christmas tree because he's in his 50s.” The daughter inquires, "A Christmas tree?" “Yes, it's dead from the top down, and the balls are just for show.”

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