Uberconnected and Overwhelmed

See that post? That post that happened right before this one? That was sent from my PHONE.

I still haven't figured out how to get Titles on there. That's the next project.

In any case, though, it's a little nuts. I can now email or text posts to this blog. As I'm typing this, in my Firefox browser, my FoxyTunes plug-in is showing the name of the track that's playing on my computer. I can control that tune--pause, skip to the next track, whatever--right from within my browser, without having to switch windows. Or at least I could if it was being played by iTunes--but it's NOT. Today, that track is being played by Pandora, a website which takes suggestions from me and creates instant personal radio stations catered to my specific tastes, which is possible due to the work being done on the Music Genome Project.

Confused yet? There's more. I can add the track that I'm listening to into this post.

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Now playing: Omar (New Age) - Dancing With The Wind
via FoxyTunes

There. And then you could click that link and look up the track and buy it online--instantly.

But wait, there's more. Because I'm not using just the basic version of Pandora. I'm using the special Pandora.FM version, a mashup created by just another guy, a fan of both Pandora and Last.FM and who wanted to do something to exploit the usefulness of both.

Wait, hang on, my song has changed.

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Now playing: The Octopus Project - Hold The Ladder
via FoxyTunes

Pandora.FM takes any information I enter in Pandora--radio stations I make, tracks I "favorite" and sends it to Last.FM to be recorded in my library. And then my Facebook page takes this information, if I want it to, and records it on my page so all 435 of my friends can see what I'm listening to.

It's completely nuts and I'm loving every second of it.

And you better bet that I finally signed up for my twitter account. You can find me at Magreader. (My privacy behind this online name of mine is a rapidly dwindling thing.)

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Now playing: The Gasman - Overlord
via FoxyTunes

This is a test of the Emergency Blogging System. This is only a test.

April is the Cruelest Month

I happened to be at my dermatologist's office a week go, trying to cure the flesh-eating virus that has made itself at home on my hands, and the nice lady at the front desk was trying to schedule me a follow-up appointment.

"Let's see," she said. "The doc has asked for a three-week follow up, so how's...April 28th?"

I was in the middle of pulling on my calendar on my phone, and I instantly froze. I tried to remain calm. "Wait a minute," I said, barely breathing. "Three weeks from now we'll STILL BE IN APRIL??" I realized only after the fact that I was, indeed, shouting.

In my defense, I hadn't eaten. And without regular food, I am one step away from being forcibly checked into a mental hospital. I know this about myself and try to work around it, with varying degrees of success. However, lack of dating apparently produces a very similar affect, which makes sense if you think about it--lack of sugar is, indeed, lack of sugar. The problem is, without dating, my personality schizing out when I haven't eaten apparently becomes 100% more noticeable--and I can't work around my dating break. Just a few days before I blamed the receptionist for the linear passage of time, I was at a loud bar with about 15 of my closest friends, and the single ladies and I were planning on pairing up and doing "a lap". As I was on break, I was just going to be wingwoman, which was fine with me, until my friend Calsee stopped me. She had been hanging with me for five hours, three of which were at a dance show during which we couldn't even talk, and her patience had already run out. She left my side in the middle of my sentence. I stopped, bewildered. She came back and pressed a few dollars into my hand.

"You are yelling," she said. "Seriously, you are yelling. Please eat something. ANYTHING. You cannot come and chase boys with us while you are YELLING."

I looked at the rest of the Blonde Squad. "Am I yelling?" I asked. The whites of their eyes were showing. "YES. PLEASE EAT SOMETHING," they all chorused. I was forced outside to the hotdog stand, where I ate as quickly as possible, but it wasn't fast enough; by the time I returned all the laps had been performed already. The group had decided I wasn't going to recover quickly enough to be worth anything, and they were right. After yelling about several more things, I realized I wasn't going to be able to "work around" my break, and grabbed a taxi home, muttering at the stars.

To sum up: my brain is on permanent hiatus and my temper has apparently shortened to that of a water buffalo chained to a hot poker, and it will be a miracle if I make it through the next week without being fired.

Put the Bone on Break

Welcome to Needlessly Graphic Monday, y'all!

In absence of actually dating, I'm reading a lot ABOUT dating, and in my various clicks around the internet I ran across this post by Ne-Yo, of all people. NE-YO.

For those of you over 25: he's a popular R&B singer. I'm not a super big fan, but I like a few of his songs, in particular this one:



Anyway. It turns out that not only can the boy sing (sort of) and dance (quite well) and look pretty (hubba, hubba) but he also has a few things to say on the subject of ladies.

In particular this gem, slightly censored:

"Appreciate if she’s doing you a favorite...Don’t be lazy. And when you're giving a massage, put the bone on break."

LOVE IT. Who knew that songwriters would have such excellent turns of phrase? It's like they're paid for it, or something.

Oh? They are?

I discovered this phrase last week and since then have been trying to work it into conversation every chance I get, slightly difficult as this does not actually apply to me, AND it's mind-stoppingly graphic, but I haven't let that slow me down. My boys and I used it three times while skiing last weekend, and just today I got the opportunity to shoot down a friend of mine who was complaining about women.

"Women are so NEEDY," he was complaining, never mind that he currently has two in the hand and one in the bush.

"You wouldn't be having so many woman problems if you could just lay off them for a bit," I pointed out. "Sometimes you just have to put the bone on break."

Love is in the air. Or not.

1. Confessions time: I had fully three hours of free time yesterday and I did NOT use it to post pictures from Paris. (Say that three times fast.) You know what? Forget you.

2. They’re coming, OKAY?

3. My uterus is a little overactive today. And by “a little overactive”, I mean, “I’m thinking of sending it to Cambodia.” I hear torture is well-practiced there.

4. I am thinking of building a shrine to ibuprofen. Ibuprofen is my new god. Ibuprofen has made it possible for me to stand upright today. I even feel hunger.

5. I might write a post in the future about birth control and why I went off the pill. (Sorry, Dad.) It's an interesting choice for any woman, and it seriously affects your life. Some days, I think the pill should be outlawed like steroids. Other days, I merely tolerate its existence.

6. I am on a dating break. For a month. So far I’m on day 9. There has been only slight back-sliding.

7. I am really trying to embrace the power of long-term gratification.

8. Did I mention I was on day 9? And tomorrow I will be on day 10? Only 20 days from the end?

9. Long-term gratification, dammit.