Last week my lovely friend K.B. called wanting to set me up on a blind date. Now, normally I'm not into that sort of thing, but after checking my social calendar and stumbling upon the harsh reality that "Eat Cheetos" and "Cry myself softly to sleep" was the only entry I had for the next 3 months, I accepted. Not wanting to set myself up for disappointment, I set my expectations at an all-time low. So imagine my surprise when I arrived at my romantic table on the beach and caught my first glimpse of the angel that was to be my dinner companion. She was about 15 inches tall. Black as the sweetest dark chocolate. Trim and fit, but with enough space to hold 120GB of gaming goodness. The most beautiful HDMI port I'd ever seen, and the cable to plug it into my soul. And her controller. Dear Lord, her controller. When I held her sleek black wireless controller in my hand, I knew it was love. The conversation flowed as freely as the champagne -- a $479.99 bottle of bubbly that was well worth every penny -- and was filled with stories of superior graphical quality and engaging online connectivity. Without exception, the most emotionally fulfilling conversation I'd ever had. But alas, all good things must come to an end, and as I watched her stroll off into the sunset, my head was filled with one thought, and one thought only, "I love you XBOX Elite. You had me at Halo."