So once I guaranteed my girlfriend will break up with me, and my friends’ girlfriends will leave them through association, I put a monetary value on women: -$50/week. That’s right, negative. I will pay $50 a week to send women to some unknown island where they can sit in a pool menstruating on each other’s ugly feet.
For more calculator fun, that’s barely more than $2,500 a year. Considering the going rate for women includes, but is certainly not limited to, the cost of dinner, jewelry, drinks, condoms, nice clothes, a nice car, and something that makes you deaf, I think we’re coming out ahead here.
This epiphany really made me proud, and I was happy to inform everyone who could hear the screams from my room. Men can play more video games, replace daytime soap operas with a re-run of last night’s game, and take salads off restaurant menus for good.
And just as I was sealing my letter to the U.N. letting them know I have the formula for world peace, my idiotic roommate had another comment: