I pride myself on precision, accuracy, and organizational skills, so before I present you with my latest problem, I feel it’s necessary to explain what I mean in this headline.
The word “where,” at least in this context, does not refer to where on my balls I should shave. Clearly, I should shave everywhere on them until they’re as shiny and smooth as a tiny pair of flesh-colored birthday-party balloons.
So instead, the headline refers to where the actual ritual of ball-shaving should take place. Right now, I’m faced with a perplexing dilemma of whether I should shave them in the shower or in my bathroom sink.
This may not seem like much of a problem to you, because maybe you’re one of the lazy and uneducated masses who don’t understand things such as Excel spreadsheets and cost-benefit ratios. In a way I feel sorry for you, but that is eclipsed by the overwhelming sense of contempt and outright hatred I have for you and your “ilk.”
Like most decent men who are concerned about their genitals’ hygiene and cosmetic appearance, I shave my balls thrice weekly: Monday night, Wednesday night, and Friday night, from 6:00 to 6:10PM each time. Yes, I’m more than a little disturbed by the fact that this schedule leaves two full nights (namely, Saturday and Sunday) where no ball-shaving takes place, and this throws my whole week off because it’s not symmetrical, but don’t blame me for the fact that there are an odd, rather than an even, number of days in the week—blame God.
During a financial test run three months ago, I endured the agony of dry-shaving my balls for an entire month merely so I could gauge what financial impact it had upon my household expenses if I were to finally choose between shaving my balls in the sink or in the shower. Using this “dry” month as a control variable, I then proceeded to shave my balls for an entire month in the shower, and then the next month in the sink. Then I compared each month’s water bills. Basically, it was $1.43 more expensive to shave my balls in the shower per month than in the sink—or in layman’s terms, 11 cents per shaving. (average month has 4.3 weeks, which works out to 12.9 shavings per month…1.43 divided by 9 = 11.08572 cents, which I’ve rounded down to 11 cents, even thought it’s not exact—in short, I like rounded numbers more than I like being exact, although I hate the fact that I have to choose).
So, clearly, from a purely financial standpoint, it makes obvious economic sense to shave my balls in the sink. But here is where it gets emotional rather than factual, an area in which I’m entirely uncomfortable.
The problem is that when I hang my balls in the sink and start shaving them with a hand-held razor, I often have the compulsion to shave my balls right off of my body. Does that sound weird to you? It sounds a little weird to me, but that’s why I’m asking. I often wonder whether it’s worth $1.43 per month to avoid the existential terror I feel at the possibility that I might shave off my own balls.
Of course, there’s always the option of laser hair removal. I’ve worked on the spreadsheets, and it would take approximately 14 years (14 years, 2 months, 11 days, 4 hours, 3 minutes, and 7 seconds, if you want to be anal about it) to recoup the expense of cosmetic surgery. Then again, after that time interval is reached, I’ll never have to pay again to shave my balls. But then yet again, I may not be alive in 14 years, so I would have wasted an investment.
This is why I’m coming to you. What should I do?
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