The girl you wish you were on Spotify

We've all have that friend: the one that somehow due to her semi-abusive or blessed upbringing has the ability to find brand new music that nobody else can possibly dredge up from the depths of our poor, unartistic souls. Or maybe she just had parents that smoked a bunch of weed with Jimi Hendrix.

Enter Spotify. Hey, thanks social media-based-program-that-exemplifies-my-inability-to-garner-frikin-awesome-playlists-and-instead-listen-to-Alanis-Morsett-on-repeat.

Let's face it. Spotify has taken over my life, and not in an entirely bad way. I live on a baby music island. An island where only popular country music strives and spreads. All else dies from lack of intelligent hosts. Stealing playlists from friends in Chicago and L.A. equals lifeblood. Sweet sweet nectar of the gods.

It's gotten to that point. I feel particularly guilty for just stealing, not providing my own well-groomed playlists from my best friends from the next up-and-coming band, but lets face it, I steal. Like, steel steal. Hard. At one point I tried to spend half a day at work finding new bands that were 'hip', but want to know what happened? Every song was a brother of "Banana Pancakes." Laugh. Sure. But you know how this goes. Don't pretend you've never fallen into the "oh, I really felt connected to my upper Gluteus Maximus during my Vinyasa yoga class, and I'm pretty sure Alexi Murdoch's "Orange Sky" really brought out my emotions, and I just felt so... whole. You know?"

So we download it. And then play the song over and over. And over.

We are sick of the song, so we use a search engine to find similar songs. What we really find? Frikin' "Banana Pancakes." I'm sorry, but Jack, it's just not the same. When I'm really getting into my hip flexers, you just DON'T DO THE JOB. I'm on a glutard diet, and I can't really think about banana pancakes while stretching. What I should be thinking about is why the hell I'm stretching instead of running 18 miles. After all, it's almost winter. Screw banana pancakes. If I'm breaking the pledge, I'm putting chocolate chips in my pancakes.

With that, I have nothing more to say about Spotify except that you shouldn't join it unless you have a group of 3+ friends that are tragically involved in the music industry. Otherwise, let Pandora be your sad sad consolation prize.

Peace, love, rock and roll.

 P.S. Atmosphere has something to say about pancakes too. Enjoy. (and yes, I stole this song from a friend)