cranky pixels

(Bonus points to anyone who gets the titular song stuck in their head. Congratulations: you’re old like me!)

Oh, I’ve been busy, and by “busy” I mean, of course, “compulsively signing up for every new service I run across like the addict I am.” It’s kind of funny, because in real life I’m not exactly a social butterfly, but online? Oh, online.

We’ve got, of course, the Facebook and the MySpace (which, despite its recent spate of updates, still makes me feel dirty), the Virb and the Plaxo and the Pownce. There’s the obligatory Tumblr, the lesser-known (but somewhat cooler) Swurl, Twitter and Jaiku for snippets of thought (updated, of course, through Ping.fm) and things like BrightKite, which I never use. But then there’s bookmarking (Ma.gnolia, and, coming in a distant second, the newly revamped Delicious) and event planning (Upcoming and Sonic Living to find stuff to do, Pingg for invites, because I hate evite with the heat of a thousand suns) and calendar syncing with the newly-free Calgoo. I keep my books on Shelfari and my crochet projects on Ravelry. There’s even a place called Mon.thly.info where you can chart your menstrual cycle online (…don’t worry, it’s not a “social” site & that link just brings you to the front page…although the idea with connecting with other women on my same cycle = SO VERY FUNNY TO ME).

And that’s just the online stuff. Don’t get me started – seriously, don’t – on the apps I’ve downloaded in the last week.

The point of this post is I’m back, people. Developers, lock up your betas: Cranky Mama is on the loose.

And hey, if any of you are on any of those, feel free to friend me.

I always imagined that once I had kids I’d morph smoothly into some sort of calm, Earth Mother-y type. You know the type, right? The sort of mom who always has a story or a song and knows just the right thing to say, both to little ones and their parents. (In retrospect, this should have sent up a warning flag, because since when do I know the right thing to say to anyone?)

I was well on my way pre-baby, actually. I’ve always wanted kids, so I jumped at any opportunity to hang out with my friends with little ones. I was always volunteering to babysit, hanging out with the toddler set at parties, what have you. Back then, it was the easiest thing in the world for me to gauge a toddler’s emotional state and figure out what they needed to be happy.

And then I had my kid. I get my kid. I get his moods, his needs, his sleepy face and his fake cry. I know how long he needs to sit with me when we go to a new place before he’s ready to run in and play with the other kids. I can tell when he’s refusing food because he’s not hungry and when it’s just out of frustration with something else.

But other people’s kids? Forget about it. I feel like I’ve suddenly become one of those people who think kids (while cute and charming) are baffling, inscrutable creatures. You there! Why are you crying? What’s the – oh. Right. That’s just how you react to loud noises. Fine then, maybe you want – no? Okay. Tell you what, I’ll just be in the other room.

It’s like having a kid of my own ruined me for other people’s children. It’s sad, really.

I promised to report back on the nailpolish, didn’t I? Well, it’s a good thing I’m so prompt and not, like, almost a month late on that. Or anything.

Anyway, yes, nailpolish. I luuuurve it. The colors are fab, it’s super shiny, and it lasted forever on my toes. (Fingers = another story, but that’s mostly because once the polish chips at all I start worrying at it and the whole thing goes to hell. Yay, OCD!)

One weird thing: it’s darker on the nails than in the bottle. Which I guess makes sense, seeing as it is essentially paint, and they say that about paint, right? Although it’s never quite made sense to me. It seems like it should be the opposite, and I can’t figure out why I think that but I do. So the Tramp Stamp color (pictured) is somewhat more gothy than I’d intended, which figures, since all my nailpolish is pretty gothy. I thought I was taking baby steps in another direction, but as it turns out I was wrong. Oh well.

So the verdict is that the butter LONDON 3 Free polish is a win, and I would totally buy it again if it wasn’t $12 a bottle. Or if I wasn’t so broke.