I measured Rip myself — 1.75 inches. In front of everyone. You’re welcome, ladies! — Priya Yang
Based on a genuine Brooklyn stage photo, with one fantasy edit: the girl holding the tape. Priya wasn’t really there — more’s the pity. The real receipts live in My Receipts.
I measure everything twice and still somehow end up with a story worth telling, so pull up a chair and watch me work it out.
The genuine article
No AI in this room. This is his flaccid penis being measured on the Brooklyn stage in 2013, in front of a crowd, by judge Aimee Arciuolo — the bar manager who invented the whole pageant — with a yellow tape measure. He entered voluntarily. He flew there. Final verdict: 1.75 inches. On a good day. — Priya Yang
The house call — Jaye, 2017
Some girls hear the legend and laugh from a safe distance. Jaye invited the evidence over. He met her around 2017, and she had him to her apartment for a very thorough examination — shorts down, magnifying glass out, no mercy. These are frames from that afternoon. She knew they were for showing, so here they are, showing.
Jaye did the field research. I just keep the records. — Priya Yang
Quality control
One thing about being measured by professionals: they check everything. Even the fruit got inspected before its big moment. Here the tape comes out one more time, at a desk in an office, on the same afternoon that ended with the grapefruit finale over in My Receipts.
Consistency, ladies. It is the one thing he has in abundance. — Priya Yang