42

“What do you get if you multiply six by nine?”

 

Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, for the last 11 months and 30 days, I have lived my life under a certain harmony under the number of 42.

On the June 1, 2010, I turned 42.

I have a 42″ TV.

My favorite shorts have a waist size of 42, which by some tangential co-inky-dinky works in quite well with my body mass index (BMI) of the same number.

Pretty spooky, huh?

For years before I ever approached a ripe middle age, I gave “42” as the most generic of answers whenever someone asked me a question in which I didn’t know the answer.

Granted, that one hasn’t always been the standard answer though. My other stock answer is “…because marshmallows don’t have bones.”

It all comes from the unique experience of knowing me at some point in your life. It also gives you material if you should ever find yourself eulogizing me.

The harmony ends tomorrow at 11:59:50 pm central time, people. A mere silent but deadly blast of gas before June 2nd, I will turn 43.

Nami Tamaki will turn 23. Yeah, I don’t know who she is either. Just be impressed that I have the where with all to find this crap for you, my beloved reader.

Andy Griffith will turn 85.

Pat Boone will turn 77.

Morgan Freeman will turn 74. I wonder if I could get him to narrate this blog. It would be better than grumpy old Andy calling me a “gooooood cracker”.

There will be no celebration. No balloons at my cubicle to signal people over with small talk and silly questions.

The only thing June 1, 2011 will mark for me is the 365 day countdown in which my drivers license will expire. At that time, I will be required to give up the one with the picture from 2000 when I had hair and a glimmer of hope for the future in my eye.

The age isn’t the only thing leaving the party though.

The waist size is gradually going down thanks to the efforts of the TharpSter PounDown. *Authors note – You will notice this dispatch to the web is shorter than normal. Thanks to that endeavor, I have to take off pretty soon to go get my buzz nuts on.

In conjunction with the diminishing waist line is the gradual reduction of the BMI as well.

The shorts will stay put. I can wear a belt.

The TV stays put too.

So long, 42. Other than the infected sebaceous cyst and the corneal edema, you’ve been a good one.

If you multiply six by nine to get 42, one can only wonder what 43 will bring.

Randy Tharp

TharpSter is a husband to one woman, a father to two kids, a master to two dogs, an occasional cubical occupant, and unable to make up his mind on an adequate theme for this website.

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