The iPad? Really, Apple? I mean, thank you for finally answering my prayers to have an iPhone that was way too big to carry in my pocket, but how many hours did it take you to come up with that name? iPad. Sheesh! What's next? Shoes with touch screens called the iPed? Personally Identifiable Data that can surf the web called the iPID? This thing that actually exists with a 10-inch color screen called the iPud? (Yes, I did have to look something up for Pud, and yes, I was horrified to find that)

I had a thought the other day about how subconsciously the regular Nintendo taught us how to seduce women. Remember how you couldn’t just shove the cartridge in the slot and expect to play a game? You just got a flashing green and black screen. No, you had to take your time with it. You had to blow in it just the right way, and a little rubbing of the cartridge never hurt your chances. You had to really search for the right spot that would just make the system go CRAZY and actually play your game for you. Everyone had their little routines of foreplay with the NES cartridges that they swore turned the system on in just the right way that it would let you play with it. And it also taught us safe sex, since you couldn’t play a goddamn game without first putting the Game Genie on over the slot. Between that subliminal message, and the fact that I’m pretty sure I learned to read and spell because of Final Fantasy games, I’m not sure why videogames ever had such a bad rap. Videogames taught me everything I know!

I broadened my cooking horizons by making homemade French fries and jalapeno burgers last night. Woo hoo for me! They even turned out edible. Way more edible than the fajitas I made a week or two ago, a mess of red and white disgusting liquid and chunks that haunt my dreams to this day. Cooking is so stressful for me, though, that I think tonight I’ll just be microwaving something.

Are you ready for the State of the Union? Prepare to be temporarily reminded of why we voted for Obama in the first place: The man gives a great speech. Afterwards he does some questionable things like gives trials to terrorists and ignores the economy to focus on a health care bill that no one likes, but the man can talk. There’s no denying that fact. He speaks English very well, and the tone of his voice… oh, the tone. And the pacing! And the body language. I tell you what, between the tone, and the pacing, and the body language, he could be reciting the alphabet and I’d be like “Next time I WILL sing with you, Barack Obama! I will!” with tears running down my face.

Let’s all sing happy birthday to my dad, as today he turns… 56! The big five six. If you multiply those two numbers together, that’s 30, and that’s not so old.

Okay then. Have a happy fantastic day.