…please eat a bag of dicks.
We interrupt the current rational posts with one from the perspective of a person who has been dealing with a wee bit of PTSD over the past three or four weeks. A person who does not care to have her cheese moved before 08.00 in the morning. A person who wants to listen to her music when she wants to listen to it and will not be denied.
This morning, I needed (yes, needed) to listen to the Purple Rain soundtrack – the songs Computer Blue and Baby I’m a Star, to be precise. Yet, being the addle-minded, drooling idiot I have become lately, I stupidly updated my music player the other day without much thought. I put on my DJ P0n-3 headphones, pulled up the horrifying menu and started hyperventilating. Where is my fucking Prince??? No, not that one. We all know that notion is a giant, fucking joke. I mean PRINCE. The Purple One.
So, after one panic attack averted, I finally locate the album and the required songs only to be rewarded with Computer Blue on infinite loop.
Look, Apple, I get it. You’re trying to play catch up. You’re slightly out-moded in this particular arena. That’s fine. Progress is pain. No, seriously, I get it. I’m in the middle of a corporate re-org. I KNOW PAIN. Change is a significant emotional event for all of us. That said, why must you monkey with my little island of sanity? Why tamper with what is of paramount importance to me? When this bitch needs to listen to Nine Inch Nails to scare teachers, she needs to listen to Nine Inch Nails. When she needs to listen to Prince to get revved up for her five mile walk, she needs her Prince. When you deny her this – tantrums will be thrown. And, as I mentioned earlier, in the throes of PTSD flashbacks, denial and upset is not something graciously accepted.
Sort the shit out, asshats.