I propose a little experiment. After reading how Jim Carrey suddenly started seeing the number 23 in everything from his oatmeal to his underpants and ascribed mystical meaning to it all, I just chose my own number with which to get all mystified up. Maybe I’ll even make a short film about it. Or a dance. You never know.
Anyway. I threw a dart at the old dart board, and came up with 2. That’s kind of a stupid number, so I threw again and hit 7. As we all know, 7’s mystical properties have long been known. So a third throw hit 12, and I had a winner.
I immediately pondered how 12 had affected my life. One of my childhood pals (it’s a long story, but it’s true, I swear) was Terry Bradshaw, then quarterback of the Pittsburgh Steelers. His number? 12! Creepy.
Last time I ordered a dozen donuts, there were 12 in the box. What does it mean?
There are also 12 months in the year, and 12 signs of the zodiac.
I’m afraid my life may soon be taken over by this number, so I’m chronicling the story here in Blogistan. You’re welcome to see how 12 affects you and let me know your results. If I take the number 12, as chosen by chance (or was it?!?) and see how it affects my life, will I end up in a movie with Jim Carrey? Or maybe with John Kerry?
update: Call me crazy, but I just noticed that my last post was "six feet high." That’s half of 12, and I wrote that post 48 hours before I ever threw that dart. And 48 hours is 4 times 12. I’m getting kind of scared. Can I make this stop?
update update: When I got home, I checked my messages. All 12 of them.
