Itsy (Part A): No one warned me about the weenus

I have no idea why I'm starting with Itsy...because in any sort of line up, he would be dead last. He is a boy among men. A stubby little golf pencil among standard number twos. A cocktail weenie among those sausages that "plump when you cook them." In a world of pickles, he is a mini gherkin. Yes, my friends, he has a teeny, tiny penis. A weenis, if you will. Wenis? Weenus? I'm not sure how to spell that, and I really don't give a flying crap...I hope I never have to encounter such a sight again, much less have to tell you people about it.

Now, before you pervs get the wrong idea, I'm not promiscuous (that means slut, Sherlock), but I have seen a pickle or two in my day. I know what they're supposed to look like. We are not talking slightly smaller than average. We are also not talking about a "grower" (don't act like you don't know what the two types are - men are either "grow-ers" or "show-ers," except in Itsy's case, where he is neither.) For further proof that I am not a penis snob, I showed a picture of said weenis to two of my girlfriends. (Why on earth that dude texted me a picture of his defunct genitalia in hopes of raising my libido is beyond me...what it did raise was the remnants of my chicken-fried lunch). Anyway, girlfriend A said, "Oh...that's just sad...what's wrong with it?" Girlfriend B simply said, "Gross."

Now that we have established that Itsy's man-pickle is, in fact, itsy, we can continue with the story...

Except that now I have to go to work. I will post Itsy: Part B this afternoon.

Love,
Annabelly