Eden Hill Journal

Comments, dreams, stories, and rantings from a middle-aged native of Maine living on a shoestring and a prayer in the woods of Maine. My portion of the family farm is to be known as Eden Hill Farm just because I want to call it that and because that's the closest thing to the truth that I could come up with. If you enjoy what I write, email me or make a comment. If you enjoy Eden Hill, come visit.

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Location: Maine, United States

Friday, November 12, 2004

Don't Believe It

A family is sitting around the supper table.The son asks his father,"Dad, how many kinds of breasts are there?" the father, surprised, but answers, "Well, son, there are three kinds of breasts. In her twenties, a woman's breasts are like melons,round and Firm. In her thirties to forties, they are like pears, still nice but Hanging a bit. After fifty, they are like onions."
"Onions?"
"Yes, see them and they make you cry."
This infuriated the wife and daughter so the daughter said, "Mum, how many kind of penises are there?" The mother, surprised, smiles, and looks at her husband and answers,"Well, dear, a man goes through three phases. In a man's twenties, his penis is like an oak, mighty and hard. In his thirties and forties, it is like a birch, flexible but reliable. After his fifties, it is like a Christmas tree."
"A Christmas tree?"
"Yes, dead from the root up &the balls are there for decoration only!

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