A family is at the dinner table. The son asks the father:
"Dad, how many kinds of воовs are there?"
The father, surprised, answers:
"Well, son, a woman goes through three phases. In her 20s, her вrеаsтs 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 infuriates his wife and daughter. The daughter asks:
"Mom, how many different kinds of penises are there?"
The mother smiles and says,
"Well, dear, a man also goes through three phases. In his 20s, his реnis 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 ваlls are just for decoration.”
A lady goes to the doctor to see about getting a facelift.
"Well," says the doctor, "I can do the facelift, and then you’ll have to come back in six months for a follow-up."
"Oh, no.”" the woman replies. "I want it all done in one shot. I don’t want to have to come back."
The doctor thinks for a second, then offers, "There is a new procedure where we put a sсrеw in the top of your head. Then anytime you see wrinkles appearing, you just give it a little turn, which pulls the skin up and they disappear."
"That’s what I want!" exclaims the lady. "Let’s do that."
Six months later the lady charges into the doctor’s office.
"Well, how’s the procedure holding up?" the doctor asks.
"Terrible!" the lady bellows. "It’s the worst mistake I’ve ever made."
"What’s wrong?" asks the doctor.
"Just look at these bags under my eyes!" she hollers.
"Lady," the doctor reports, "those aren’t bags, those are your воовs, and if you don’t leave that sсrеw alone, you’re going to have a beard!"
A very inebriated lady walked into a bar shortly before closing time, sat at the bar and ordered, "Barbender, barbender, I would like a Martoutsy."
The bartender brought her a Martini, which she drinks in one gulp.
"Barbender, I would like another Martoutsy", again the bartender brought her a Martini.
By this time the lady is leaning heavily forward, barely able to hang on.
She called, "Barbender, your Martoutsys are giving me heartburn."
Patiently, the bartender came near her and said, "Lady, I am not a barbender, but a bartender, and what you have been drinking is not a Martoutsy, but a Martini, and finally, you do not have heartburn, your тiтs are hanging in the ashtray."