Check that box – planned parenthood
Here’s some math to ponder: in another 10 days I’ll be ovulating. If I were to get knocked up, I’d have a baby summer 2004. Baby Bungie would graduate from high school when I’m 56 years old.
To the best of my knowledge, unless you produce a child star or a prodigy of some sort, kids are not a revenue generating proposition. One of my friends, who shall remain nameless for the sake of the kids, refers to her offspring as “loveable money suckers.” Diapers cost money, lessons cost money, clothes cost money, and don’t forget the medical deductibles. Kids are like that roommate you had in college that always bummed money off you and drank your last beer without asking.
As of today, I have limited savings and no retirement. I don’t get these women who say their biological clock is ticking. Screw the clock. Do the math. Do you really want to be 56 years old wondering how you are going to put a kid through college when, in your heart of hearts, you really want to downsize, retire, and get a home in the mountains? And you know as the spinster daughter, you are going to get stuck taking care of your aged mother.
Bleak financial future aside, let’s say I plan to do the Murphy Brown thing. Who should my unsuspecting sperm donor be? Well, in 18 years, I want Baby Bungie to be able to get full-ride for college. In order to increase the odds, I’ve determined that I’m going to have to have a minority baby. That way, if Baby Bungie is smart, there are scholarships. If he/she isn’t smart, then there’ll be minority grants. So, my sperm donor cannot be Hispanic or Black because in 18 years, those populations will not be in the minority.
So, does anybody know any horny Eskimos or American Indians? I have a dream that my child will be able to confidently check the Other race box on all the applications that I currently check Decline on.
Who am I kidding? That dream is still a nightmare any way you look at it. I’m going to continue to use my disposable income the same way I did 20 years ago: I’m going to buy music, beer, and vacations. Maybe I’ll even save for retirement one day.
Maybe.