If I had a bigger chest, you could see that this says.....oh, never mind. I think you can see what it says. What it says is I got this from my B**g Sister, Nat, also known as Tan Lucy Pez. See, she gifted me this because I am such a swell guy, and I model clothes so spiffily. (Or maybe she was making fun of my lack of prostate; I guess you'll have to guess, but all in all there is no question that I am spiffily.)Intercourse, Blue Ball and Paradise are little towns out in the Pennsylvania country, near the Amish people. I don't know how close they are to Hop Bottom.
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The family is sitting at the dinner table.
The son asks the father, "Dad, how many kinds of boobies are there?"
The father, though surprised, answers. "Well, son, there are three kinds of breats. In her twenties, a woman's breasts are like melons, round and firm. In her thirties and forties, they are like pears, still nice, but hanging a bit. After 50, they are like onions."
"Onions?" inquires Junior.
"Yes. You see them, and they make you cry."
This infuriates both mother and daughter. So daughter asks, "Mom, how many types of 'johnsons' are there?"
The mother responds, "Well, dear, a man goes through three phases. In his twenties his johnson is like an oak tree, mighty and hard. In his thirties and forties it is like a birch tree, flexible but reliable. After his fifties it is like a Christmas tree."
"Like a Christmas tree?" inquires Daughter.
"Yes, dear, dead from the root up and the balls are for decoration only."
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I'm so old my high school swim team did laps in the primoridal pool.
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My favorite word today is fiber. N., you know, kinda like a fiberous begonia. Def.: What old people find in their carpet, and young people find in their vitamins.
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