I can bring any woman to orgasm by the sheer force of my personality.
Supermodels have been known to weep when denied the pleasure of my company.
I can tap dance circles around Michael Flatley.
Not only can I program my VCR, I can program yours. You may contentedly go out tomorrow night knowing that the latest episode of “Meet My Folks” will be awaiting your return home.
I can eat whatever I want, and gain weight only when I choose. Yesterday I ate 6 Big Macs, 4 large bags of chips, two cokes, a fruitcake (c. 1972) and the leftovers from last week’s “Fear Factor”. I lost 3 pounds.
My head is the size of a grapefruit, and I can still fit into “one size fits all” caps. I don’t clip my fingernails, but do employ 10 nervous, naked maidens to chew them for me. While I have invented a perpetual motion machine, I do not have the energy to actually build it.
I have discovered the Grand Unification Theory. I will publish it when I feel you are ready. That bastard Hawking won’t stop calling me. I once invented lip gloss for a girlfriend with hideously unshiny lips.
I invented the Internet.
My name is Al Gore and I am your true President.
OK, I can’t stand it anymore…
Hey Alice, how you (and your rack) doin’?
I have large knees. Women and children are frightened by my knees. I have to cover them in public, lest I should knock down a small animal or baby. Men find my knees erotic and enchanting. They love to do nasty things with/to/between my knees. I am currently under consideration for the World Knee Hall of Fame. My acceptance speech will go something like this - “I would like to thank all the little people, and even the big people with little knees. Don’t give up hope, with determination and a bit of luck you too can have such blessings. Don’t hate me because I am big-knee’d!”
“Hey, Torgo. Been hitting the Thighmaster lately?”
Well now. The girls and I are just…
magnificent. 
Pfoo.
When I was in Grade 7, the only girl in the whole class who had developed bosoms told me that I reminded her of James Bond!
After consuming a six-pack of Yuengling’s Black and Tan to wash down several burritos, I’m able to anally produce the oboe portion of Handel’s Messiah.