Purchasing Power

It's sometimes referred to as the "Big Mac Standard" basically a way of comparing the purchasing power of currency in the cities of the world. While it sounds like some Ronald McDonald wet dream come true, it is actually used in making comparisons of purchasing power across the globe.

Each year, Swiss banking giant UBS calculated the hourly wage rate for a number of professions in an area and then divides it into the local price of "a globally available product," for which it chose McDonald's flagship hamburger." (1) This year they report that on a global average, it takes 35 minutes of work to pay for a Big Mac.

Looking more closely at the report, citizens of Tokyo enjoy the greatest buying power, needing to work only 10 minutes to earn enough to buy a Big Mac, closely followed by Los Angeles, Chicago and New York, whose citizens work 11, 12 and 13 minutes respectively to buy a Big Mac. Other cities they studied include Sydney Australia: 14 minutes, London, England: 15 minutes, Paris, France: 21 minutes, Beijing, China: 44 minutes all the way up to Bogota, Colombia: 97 minutes.

Encouraged by the results of this study, I immediately came upon an idea that could combine two of my favorite things in this world: food and sex. Taking the basic idea of using McDonald's Big Mac as a standard of currency I decided to take the study a step forward. Unfortunately, due to a recent Nude Day hamburger eating contest I am no longer welcome at the Houston and surrounding counties' McDonald's Restaurants, so I needed to improvise.

Of course you know, I am talking about the favorite fare of Mick Daltons Quick Lube and Hamburger Emporium, the Big Mick, featuring two semi-meat patties, pickles, onions, with special sauce all on a sesame seed bun. Anyway, I filled the back seat of my car with Big Micks and headed out to test my true buying power.

My first stop was at a nearby newsstand, video arcade and porn shop where unfortunately I ran into a PETA card carrying vegetarian health food nut cashier who turned down my offer of ten Big Micks for day-glow silicone filled vibrating dildo faster than the punk rock reject cashier turns down my credit card at the local Shell station.

I decided to wait at the porn shop until the manager came in, but that also turned out to be a real fiasco because he apparently recognized me from some earlier problems at the shop and immediately threw me out. He had the audacity to tell me that he was tired of me and my "special sauce" causing the pages of his triple X rated magazines to stick together. I've never brought a Big Mick into that establishment before so how could I have gotten the special sauce on the pages for them to stick together.

Figuring that sex toys and porn magazines are really bush league items anyway, to really get a true indication of the value of my Big Micks I needed professional input. Well, in Houston, if you are looking for pros, there's two places to go. You can go to the ballpark or stadium to find a handful of overpaid prima-donnas or you go to South Main for the hardest working pros in the business.

Well, after dropping my last fifty dollars on gas at the Shell station, after they turned down my credit card once again, I started my car and headed into Houston. My air conditioning hasn't worked in a while, so the Big Micks were easily maintained at a temperature of 130 degrees F. The proven shelf life of a Big Mick under a heat lamp is about seventeen and a half hours, so I was still in good shape.

Once I exited the freeway and pulled onto South Main, I quickly located my first prospects, Katrine and Leslia, two nice looking women, wearing skin tight hot pants with what looked like a shear white bra, with nothing else but for knee high boots. I pulled up to the curb and watched at they swayed over to me.

"Hi ladies," I said, "How about a little fun."

"Oh Damn Leslia, it's that pervert who came here last week wanting a senior discount."

"Now ladies, you can't blame me for wanting the best bang for the buck."

"You wanted half price for a half size dick, no sir I ain't playing those games," Leslia shouted at me.

"No, no, I have a better deal. All I want is a blow job, quick and clean."

"Quick and clean is thirty, but for you, it's forty."

"Well, today is your lucky day. According to the Swiss bank UBS that's probably nearly twenty Big Micks."

"Whats you talkin' 'bout?" Katrine asked.

"How about a blowjob for twenty Big Micks."

"You must be crazy, you know how hard it is to fit into these hot pants? And you want me to eat all those burgers."

"They're not just burgers they're Big Micks."

"Get your ass out of here your cholesterol breath grease ball."

"But ladies...."

"Look, the only person who might talk to you about those Big Micks is Bertina," Leslia said as she turned and walked away.

Well it took a while, but I finally spotted Bertina, who was already headed my way. She was spectacular, standing at nearly six foot five inches tall, with what had to have been an 86" bust. Of course she also had a 74" waist and an 86" ass, a perfect 86-74-86 figure. Without even bothering to come to the driver's side window, she climbed into the passenger seat and asked, "What's your pleasure baby?"

"A quick and clean blowjob."

"Well, you know the going rate..."

"I want to pay you in Big Micks."

"Oh my, those are Big Micks? How many you give me?"

"Twenty for a quick and clean..."

":Forty."

"No, twenty five," I replied.

"Thirty and I'll let you touch my pussy before we start."

"Deal," I replied, unzipping my pants.

What followed was a hot and sweaty adventure that had the springs on my car squeaking so loud it echoed off the nearby buildings. After nearly loosing my right hand in her humongous panties, I leaned back while she went to work on me. The suction she could generate with her giant cheeks was incredible and in no time I had spurted my load into her mouth and she was climbing out of the car carrying the Big Micks she had not eaten during our escapade.

Based upon that experience, you might think my research into purchasing power was a success, but sadly it wasn't. When I picked up my laundry later in the week, the college aged attendant was shuffled to the back while her father, the store owner pulled me aside cussing at me in Vietnamese and pointing to the "special sauce" stains in my underwear. He immediately banned me from his laundry, while searing me with his "you incredible fucking pervert" glare as I stumbled through the door.

And if that wasn't bad enough, my girlfriend mistook the sesame seeds tangled in my pubic hair for crabs and immediately threw me out of her apartment. Since that time I've been working on making bail, but I can't get anyone interested in negotiating. I just don't get it, I mean those Big Micks are still warm and it will be at least a week before they go bad, but the bail bondsman's just come off of bypass surgery and is simply not hungry for those semi-meat patties.

Footnotes:

1.) "A Tokyo paycheck buys the most" Houston Chronicle, August 14, 2006 pg. D1.