Post-orgamisic chill
Don’t worry, I’m not about to go into a convo about what myself and my partner get up to. The phrase sent me into all sorts of shocked and horrified expressions when I encountered it. Let me explain. As a result of some bad PMT, the apartment has never looked tidier. I’ve ran out of clothes to wash so it was only natural the itunes library would beckon to me. I am slightly anal about organising things. All albums have to be ordered according to name and track number and they all have to have associated art work. Sharing an itunes library with your partner can border on dangerous. Sharing an itunes library with your kid is suicidal. One of the main reasons for the tidying up was shuffle was killing me. Ever since the old pc went belly up and the new one politely inquired if I wanted to add all the music from my external HD to the library things have been strange. I could be relaxing to Mary Chapin Cartpenter one minute when aural sodomoy will commence with the murderdolls announcing they like to insert bad word here. It went on like this so I decided a clean up was in order. Its easy to find her stuff. She was everything in various playlists like Shameful pop mix, Sluttly mix, My angry choones and so on. So when I came across Post-orgamisic Bliss I nearly spewed my tea everywhere. I felt it was an overshare.
This is the reason I don’t log onto her bebo profile or do I go anywhere near her deviant art account or whatever social networking site she is a part of. I reckon she feels the same way as she’s avoided Facebook like the plague cause myself and the sister in Holland and the brother are all on it. I digress. I was horrifed. I shared with mammy2. She did spew tea all over the place. I didn’t like to dwell on the fact that she had taken the time out from whatever to create a playlist to chill to. I refused to think about it and went back to adding images to my albums. It sat at the back of my head and eventually Mammy2, obviously in the same boat as myself, said that perhaps it was an album from some artist we had never heard. I raised a dubious eyebrow but nonetheless googled the title. Sure enough, there it was. Skunk Anansie. I nearly kissed the monitor. I was so happy. Its the little things really. I don’t think I’ll bring it up in convo when I see her next.
