“It’s amazing how my whole body can be covered up in bed except for one inch on my shoulders and I’ll be cold. But when I pull the blanket up all the way, all of one inch, miraculously I’m warm. One inch makes a difference, especially to a man with a two-inch penis.”

“My penis is seven. Not years old or even inches. No, my genitalia is the prime number seven. Isn’t that odd?”

“Sunday nights I get about two inches of sleep. But I make do, because that’s all the erection I can muster.”

“It’s a cliché to say that men think with their penises. But it’s a fact. And penises are notoriously stupid. My penis, for example, probably only has an IQ of 144, or about 12 times its length in inches when limp.”

“She’s the kind of woman where if you give her an inch, she’ll take the whole penis.
 She took all I had, and she didn’t even take me out to coffee.”

“I am one pair of roses away from the grave,” I told the midget with the twelve-inch erection. It wasn’t his—he was just holding it for a friend (that impressive penis belonged to a much taller man). Ah, but that’s life, no?”

“I’m very close to my dad. He’s about six inches away right now and snoring in my ears.”