Little Miss Spotify!

Oh man, let me tell you how much I love Spotify.

First off, this is all the fault of my British friends.

Represented by this lime.

You see, the folks across the pond have had Spotify for a while now and every time one of my friends says “I know you love music, this is an awesome song, you should totally go hear it” it comes with a link to the song. And I have to email them or tweet at them and say “look, poopheads, I don’t have this magical app! Stop making me jealous with your bubble and squeak, your dry wit and your amazing music listening things!”

UNTIL NOW.

IT EVEN LOOKS LIMEY.

The basic line on it is that you are able to select songs and albums you like and put them into playlists, then stream them to your computer or phone. Like Pandora, if you could pick your own stuff. There’s also a social aspect to it; your friends who have it can see what you’ve listened to and suggest music to you, as you can for them. You can also use it like Pandora to listen to stations that are based on your interest. The only catch is that if you want to listen to it on your phone or a receiver, you have to pay about ten bucks a month.

Now I know this is the internet, and no one wants to pay for anything. But I am a great music lover and feel that it’s only proper to support the folks who bring it to you. For the price of one album a month, I have access to ALL THE ALBUMS. It has already proven to be a great help when I listened to the hot-off-the-press album of a band I really like(d?) and discovered that it was mostly terrible, and also because it’s been my main connection to Port of Morrow since my preorder package was unavailable at the office for a freaking week.

Some things that are great about Spotify are that you can look stuff up by album, artist or track and find out information about the bands. Further awesomeness, if you have the Premium service, you can also sync the songs and playlists so that you’re able to hear them while you’re offline. So if you’re roaming or in the air or whatever, you can still hear your musics! This is very important to me because sometimes my 3G/4G hates me. AND they have a “private mode” where you can listen to embarrassing music and not have your friends see it. Sadly, I didn’t find this out until after the Vanilla Ice/Boyz II Men/Return of the Mack incident.

Ashamed to even have searched for this image.

So far the only disappointment that I’ve found is that Sine Star Project is not on there. Admittedly, they’re a somewhat offbeat British prog band but dammit, you’d think that was exactly what would be on there. Also, it’s hard as hell to find anywhere I can listen to their album on the internets. I actually own it, it’s just on my PC and I am lazy.

Hence, Spotify.

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Little Miss S and Her Leaky Vent

This is not a euphemism.

I came home from Horrible Day at Work #2 in desperate need of a nap and some jalapeno poppers. What I discovered was that something was dripping in our hallway. And when I say dripping, I mean at first I thought one of the cats was peeing on the floor. So I freaked out and went into the hall to find a large wet patch on the carpet.

This is pretty much my look. Minus the suit.

Turns out there was water pouring from the air conditioning vent in the hallway, and the sound was seriously alarming one or more cats. I alerted Mister E, who put a small bucket under it and called maintenance. This did not thrill me. For one thing, I wasn’t wearing pants. For another, the last time we had a problem with our air conditioner it was the middle of summer and we had to call every day for a week to get it taken care of, and even then it only happened because Mister E called the after-hours emergency line and pitched a fit. I was not looking forward to hearing that sound for a week and waking up every couple of hours to empty the little bucket.

Fortunately, this time the maintenance guy (who I suspect is a leprechaun that fell on hard times) came in half an hour. Unfortunately, I had to put on pants. He brought some terrifying equipment and fixed things immediately. The air conditioner seems to be running fine now, and the dripping has ceased. Let’s hope the solution is permanent.

Because the last days have been so awful, I have nothing of value to say at the moment. That’s why I had to pull the Emergency Blog Kitten out of storage. You may view him below and select a name. I’m going with Mr. Snuggle Paws.

All you need to survive the apocalypse.

As a side note building on the horrors of the Friendship is Magic fics, when I was locating that picture of Kuroe I found a whole lot of terrifying fanart. Yes, the ones involving Kuroe and Dr. Kamiya were kind of hot but some of the others were just wrong.

Hairstylists Curse the Name of Little Miss S

My hair and I have a love-love relationship. It’s one of the things I have always liked about myself, and it’s also a way I express myself. I’ve cut it, dyed it, spiked it, grown it down to my butt and made a little mustache out of it. Once I let RJ cut it and cried like a little girl. A terrible haircut was the reason Mister E called me for the first time when I lived in Chicago. I live in constant fear that I’ll put on a hat or wig that includes nits. Everything I do to my hair is done with the understanding that no matter what I do to it hair grows back.

NITS. ::side eyes::

Right now it’s getting out of control because I’m hair farming again. When I said that hair grows back, it’s because it does for me. My hair grows ridiculously fast. Unfortunately, for some people it doesn’t grow as fast or at all. Hence, the farming.

Current state of the farm.

When I was a wee’un, I spent months at a time in the hospital because they thought I had brain cancer. I didn’t, but while I was on the children’s oncology ward I met a lot of really nice hairless kids. Some of my little hairless friends mysteriously disappeared from time to time, and it wasn’t until later that I realized why. As such, I have a big place in my dark and filthy heart for kids with cancer or untreatable illnesses and even though I would rather eat glass than have a child in my house for an extended period of time, I happily donate and volunteer with them. And every couple of years I grow my hair to an annoying length so I can cut it off for Locks of Love. I get good excuse to chop off my hair, kids get a fancy nit-free hairpiece and everyone gets good karma. (Interesting side note: Mister E also donated his hair to LL when we first started dating again!)

The only person who loses here is the hairstylist. She’s the one I go up to with a picture of a manga character and say “make my hair look like this!” Whenever they see me coming up to the salon with a piece of paper in my hand, they board up the doors and start shouting “NOT IT” at each other. I think they prefer the kids with nits.

My current interest, much to the chagrin of Mister E, is getting my hair cut like Ikkyu from Afterschool Charisma, an idea I have been harping on about since I started reading that series. Super short all over and a little spiky except for the long bangs on one side. My hair used to look like this, in a way.

This is Ikkyu. Google his original for Level 4 Awesome.

Interestingly enough, his hairstyle is similar to another monk from one of my all-time favorite manga, Chichiri from the uber-classic awesomeness Fushigi Yuugi. Either this is a thing in Japan or Ikkyu is a closet fan of shoujou. Either way, I’m good with it.

Chichiri says "cool story, bro."

Little Miss S is Not a Brony

I have never watched My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, nor do I have any plans to do so.

This pony is Derpy. I am not joking.

I am already a tattooed, pierced manga otaku who listens to indie rock and eats local honey. I own three computers, each of which runs a different OS. I have five cats, crochet and cross-stitch. I’m bipolar, hypertensive AND have asthma. I am a pair of glasses and a My Little Pony backpack away from getting the shit beat out of me by kids on the playground. And I don’t mean people my own age, either. I mean actual children. The last thing I need is to add being a brony.

Guys (and this is coming from someone who writes fanfiction on occasion), I read a terrible MLP:FIM fic where Rainbow Dash and Twilight become human and get it on. If I have to caution you about reading it, get off the internet right now because you’re doing it wrong.

Apparently human ponies is a thing. A very cute thing.

I don’t have a problem admitting that when I was a kid, I loved MLP. I had the ponies, the baby ponies, the sea ponies, the baby sea ponies, the boy ponies, the pony families and the girls that went with the ponies. Also, pony playsets. The Dad once made me behave by threatening to take my Minty back to the store. I had a special wooden purse I bought at a garage sale to carry around Glory and Baby Glory. The reason I won’t watch Friendship is Magic is because I’m afraid I’m going to like it too much.

This much.

I wish I had a picture of my friend Pony J’s Pony Room to show you. Not shitting you, she has an entire room in her house devoted to classic ponies. This was before FIM, mind, so it could be worse now. She installed shelves that circled the room so she could line up all her ponies. By series. The attached bathroom was filled with disembodied pony parts that she was cleaning and using to create custom mods like the one above, which is her dream pony because she’s also a gamer. I love Pony J but she terrifies me a little.

Also, I’m not interested in dealing with jerks. One of the reasons I rarely read other peoples’ fics is because I feel the need to give constructive criticism, as I hope people will do with mine. Unfortunately, this usually leads to flames and hate emails of the “YOU’RE SQUASHING DRACO_LUVVER6969’s CREATIVITY AND SPECIALNESS!!!!!1!!” kind. I’m sorry, but if you’re writing about Draco forcing Dobby the house elf to blow him, you need to be squashed. Right now. Fandoms can be super-awesome and supportive. They can also be the douchiest of douchbags.

Uncle Randy explains my position perfectly.

And so, as cute as it looks, I will likely never watch FIM. Maybe one day I’ll buy some of that cupcake vodka, drink it all and change my mind but for now I’m going to hide under my bed and pretend this other MLP fanfic about a pregnant Fluttershy never happened.

Little Miss S is Completely Inappropriate

Oh man. Let me tell you about being inappropriate. You make one or two comments about someone being a food Nazi and suddenly you’re worse than Hitler. Talk about a recursive Godwin loop.

LolGodwin

Context: the weight loss contest at work is not going well. All participants have gained weight and are summarily whinging about how fat and disgusting they are and how they really have to buckle down and eat less. I tried one last time to explain to them that trying to achieve an arbitrary number on a scale isĀ  ultimately destructive but I was voted down, so I got my revenge by using Spotify to play Return of the Mack, End of the Road and Ice, Ice Baby.

While they were screaming and bleeding from the ears, I did a little 90’s dance routine and considered how much more important self esteem is. You have to do what makes you happy and feel good, not try to fit into someone else’s mold because you’re only going to lose what little respect you have for yourself and be miserable to boot. So what I’m really saying is go ahead and be inappropriate. I am. LET’S GO TO THE VIDEO.

Went to pick up my (many) medications today. It took longer than I thought because I sort of forgot I hadn’t dropped off my newest blood pressure medication scrip. Oops. Mister E and I wandered around the store and bought a new Clean Eating magazine, out of which which I already found three recipes I want to make. By the time we got our stuff, though, I was freaking starving. We had originally planned to go to Jason’s, but on the way out we saw a place called Hearthstone BakeryCafe and decided to try it instead. Best. Decision. Ever.

When you stare into the abyss...

I decided the best way to go for less sodium was a veggie sandwich with no chips, so I selected the portabella panini. I would share a picture of it with you except it leapt into my mouth and disappeared before I could load my camera. Seriously, after I picked off the tomato it was amazeballs.

After that it was off to the grocery store, where a gentleman convinced me to try some delicious juice. Also amazeballs. It’s pomegranate berry, and the resveratrol levels in it are ridiculous. Not to mention the vitamins C and B12. Excellent for my blood pressure and my crap immune system! Seriously yummy juice, and since it’s not sweetened I’m thinking of putting it in with some blackberries, soymilk and ice and blending it into a smoothie.

"I'm filled with arils!"

Also, I am amazed and happy to report that this morning I put on a pair of jeans I haven’t worn since I lived in Chicago. Combined with the Margot and the Nuclear So and So’s shirt I haven’t worn in almost 3 years, I am an unstoppable force for good and for awesome in this world. Isn’t it fascinating what one can do when one turns their attention to eating healthier and letting go of guilt instead of depriving themselves of food and shaming other people into doing the same?