I guess this would be a helpful innovation for the disabled, but I think it will also be a great boon to any dark overlord who might enjoy having a robot army that he could control with his thought projections.

I’m told that, when I was one, I had an awesome birthday. I was trying to walk across the floor and fell into my birthday cake and just dug right in and began to eat it. It must’ve been a helluva good time. Unfortunately, I don’t remember any of this. To this day, Mom regrets allowing me to get so wasted.

Birthdays are carefree and fun when you’re under five, because at that age, nobody thinks it’s such a laugh riot to put up black balloons to remind you that every step you take from that point on only inches you that much closer to your grave, and in my case anyway, the eternal flames of hell.

I just turned 40 this past week. Nobody in the family got ballsy enough to put up so much as one black balloon. Instead I got an ice cream cake from Coldstone creamery, a bunch of money and some wonderful items that will enable me in an out-of-control knitting binge.

The big news there is that after my holiday knitting is done, I will be attempting my first sweater.

I am slightly intimidated by the prospect, but I hope that spending nearly $80 on yarn will put the necessary fire in me to get some stitches on the needles and knit the thing. I’m still looking for a pattern that will suit the yarn I have and be simple enough for me to get through without too many anxiety attacks over the instructions.

What REALLY scares me is not the time and effort or even the seaming up - which I do suck at but which I will do very slowly and eventually get right - what really scares the hell out of me is the fact that people who write sweater patterns are human and they can make mistakes. I don’t mind finding a mistake in a hat pattern, ’cause chances are I’ll notice something is screwy with the hat pattern before I even start it, and if I’ve started the hat, big deal, I’ll either rip out the knitting or figure out how to adjust it. I’m not so confident with the sweater patterns. They seem long and potentially mistake-ridden, and I don’t wanna find out that I’m doing something absolutely the wrong way eight skeins into a project.

Oh well, I’ll find the strengh somehow. I’m what’s called a “process knitter” anyway, which means basically that I don’t care as much about the finished product as I do all the stages of getting to it.

Getting there is half the fun.

Speaking of fun, my wonderful daughter whose quote of the week is “Why don’t you just go back and kick him in his old balls?”* will be turning 13 in a couple of days. She is the love of my life and I hope she always remembers that. Much like people who write patterns, I make mistakes, but in this case, it’s all about the product, and she’s turning into such a lovely person. She really does care about other people, and the world would be a better place if there were a lot more like her.

Happy birthday, Sweetheart. Nobody comes close to you.

*There’s a funny story behind that, but I’m not up to telling it tonight.

If you’re like me, you were pretty disappointed with the season finale of Nip/Tuck last year. We waited all season to find out who “the carver” was, then we find out it’s a brother-sister team-O’- carvers without any real explanation for why two people would both get the crazy idea that mutilating women is not only a good hobby but that it’s especially fun if you have a porcelian mask to wear for the job.

Only one episode into Nip/Tuck this year, I’ve already figured out how they’re gonna end the season. Julie is pregnant and the doctor has informed her that there is something “wrong” with the baby.

I’ll lay you three to one on your money that the baby turns out to be Wil Ferrell.

What is the first thing that comes to your mind when you think of the Bahamas? Sandy beaches, perhaps? Lovely ocean views?

How about rabies? Yes, rabies. What about hepatitis A or hepatitis B? Did malaria jump immediately into your consciousness when I mentioned the Caribbean?

No?! Well, you may need to sit down. I have some bad news.

My family is planning a cruise. Eight days in the Caribbean. It sounded lovely to me. Truly wonderful.

Then I saw the CDC website. Uh, the grossness level on that site is extreme. According to the CDC, the whole world is a festering disease-ridden ball of fecal matter, and if you accidentally touch any part of it, you need to go wash your fucking hands - NOW.

Although the site doesn’t list any required vaccines for our trip, the recommended vaccines, particularly the ones for rabies, rather disturbed me. I mean, we won’t be straying too far from the ship on any of our excursions, which should be a comfort, but what if there are rabid beasts waiting for us at the docks? I say “beasts” ’cause I don’t know exactly what kinda critters they got there. Just that I ain’t pettin’ ‘em.

Believe it or not, my husband, Mister OCD himself, is less worried about this than I am. When I suggested that we all get Hepatitis A and B vaccines, he mocked me with, “I’ll tell you what, instead of doing that, let’s just not have any unprotected sex with strangers while we’re there.”

Haha, Smarty Pants. But, what if after I get bitten by the rabid creature on the dock, they rush me to a hospital where someone with hepatitis B sneezes into my rabies wound? Who’ll be laughing then? Nobody - that’s who.

Anyway, as a result of my new found beinggrossedoutness, I determined that the CDC should have gotten a more accurate URL. I thought EW.com would do nicely, but that seems to belong to Entertainment Weekly and they may well deserve it just as much.

It’s almost time again for “Deadwood.” If that weren’t cool enough, this show is coming back. Life is good. Or, at least, it will be.

Michael saw some guy standing at a urinal eating an ice cream cone and taking a piss.

When he finished doing his business, he switched the ice cream cone from one hand to the other and left the restroom.