Every school year would end the same way. Signing yearbooks. Exchanging telephone numbers. Telling people that we should totally hang out over the summer and then never seeing or speaking to them again. I would look my peers in the eye while saying my goodbyes and think, “This is the summer where I break the five-foot barrier. You wait and see.” And every summer I would return from break to find that the exact opposite had happened; everyone had sprouted upward and I had remained the same size. Year after year. The same thing.

Me too! OMFG that exact thing happened to me this one time, it’s EXACTLY like your thing, I swear, it’s so CRAZY that we both have your thing going on. #twinning!

Now penises are fine. I’m good with penises. Let me be clear: The penis is my friend. A penis makes sense. Cylindrical, aerodynamic, smooth—clearly designed for job.  

When a hard-working humorist knuckles down to a grueling session of writing funny stuff, he is frequently confronted with a mortifying emptiness of the brain’s humor center known as “Humor Block.” God only knows how to deal with it—and these are His/Her/Its tips.

I went to my first school dance dressed as Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. It was spring of 1985 and Amadeus had just won Best Picture.