Yesterday I emailed Jack’s hockey coach to find out what numbers were available to have printed on his uniform. He told me that, except for a select few, any number between 40 and 98 was fine. Here is the email exchange between Alex and I that ensued after that exciting news:
Me: “Do you know why I’m excited? Jack’s number for hockey is going to be 42.”
Me: “It’s the answer. Life? The Universe? Everything? Seriously. It’s like you’re not even a nerd anymore.”
Alex: “?? —- ??”
Me: “It’s like I don’t even know you anymore.” And I included this link.
Alex: “magic cube”
Me: “What the hell is a magic cube? What? Who? I thought we were soul mates. 42 means one thing. I can’t believe you don’t get that. It’s over. I’m out.”
Alex: “I know about the Hitchhiker’s Guide, man. I’m not stupid. But who doesn’t know that 42 can be expressed as a magic cube. You, man…”
Me: “Why do you try to hurt me? And seriously. A magic cube? I think you just made that up right now.”
Then I did some thinking and sent another email: “Oh. Wait. Is it some kind of math thing? I was picturing, like, a Rubik’s Cube.”
Alex: “http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Magic_cube Hah!”
Me: “Dude. I am sorry, but I can’t even READ that. Not to mention, I didn’t see the number 42 anywhere.”
It’s true. That Wikipedia page was entirely incomprehensible to me. I continued to send some obnoxious emails to Alex along the lines of “Yeah. That’s what I thought. You got nuthin’,” to which I received no response. I take that to mean that I totally won our exchange. Alex seems to think that his lack of a response meant that he had to return to his actual, paying job.
Stimey = geek
Alex = super geek