Oh, algebra That spited step-daughter of science. Laughed at for her simplicity, and mocked by her more abstract and theoretically-complicated peers, like Trigonometry and Calculus, Miss. Algebra nevertheless is useful. Especially to you, Calvin College, anonymous Junior at equally anonymous State U.
Post this equation on your Keg-erator, and refer to it every Saturday and Sunday morning, or whenever this dreaded-yet-all-too-familiar- conversation occurs between you and your roommates:
"I say Goddamn, this is a mighty hangover boys."
"F. Why does our living room look like the French Quarter?"
"Better question: Why doesn't the toilet flush anymore?"
"It's clogged. Hey, there's clumps of hair on the keg, and all over the kitchen floor. Anybody?"
"Yeah, rememer we shaved a mean mullet onto Drunk Dave."
"Oh, not really, no."
"Anybody know where this brown, brackish liquid in the sink came from? Did Herman throw up here too?"
"Who the f*ck is Herman? Is the toilet catastrophe his doing? You know what? I don't care. Guys. Seriously. We need to clean this place up.
Stop. Right. There.
It's time to size up the scene:
First, use Algebra to quantify the mess:
((A-B) x C ) / (D + E + F + G) = The Mess Quantified
A = Number of Empty Beer CansB = Number of Wounded Soldiers
C = Empty Pizza Boxes
D = Disgarded condom wrappers on floor.
E = Number of cushions mysteriously AWOL from your couch
F = Number of appliances no longer operational
G = Number of squirrels running widly through your kitchen, eating your Lucky Charms straight from the box.
Now do the math. If the resultant number is above 70 your apartment is totalled. Accept the fact that losing your security deposit is a veritable blue-light bargain compared to the daunting task of defunk-ifying the HAZMAT incident that is your apartment. Also, I'd recommend against trying to convince FEMA that a very localized cyclone just ripped through your apartment. All you'll get is a trailer. There's no sense rushing into the trailer park lifestyle quite yet. You'll have plenty of time for that when you graduate from college with a worthless degree in liberal arts.
EDIT: Upon peer review, the equation does not appear to withstand scrutiny. Thus, it seems prudent to bump up the go/no-go threshold to something like 114. Another, completely arbitrary number. Point is, fellas, cleaning is lame, and detracts from scholarly pursuits like Booble searches and willy whacking. I'm just trying to employ "the science" as a rationalization tool to justify your natural inclination to avoid handling a swiffer.