The Sonia Show

Warning: This show contains nerdy humor, cartoon violence and foul language.


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Star Wars Day

Yeah, so, every season the San Francisco Giants have “Star Wars Day” at the ballpark.

Obviously, I go to this game. I mean, I kinda have to, right? The main things I’m geeky about are “Star Wars” and the San Francisco Giants. This is my day.

This year was a crazy good giveaway: an R2-D2 beanie. They were giving them out to the first 10,000 fans, and I needed to make sure I was one of the 10,000. So, my mom, because she is the nicest lady in the world, hopped on BART and was at our house a little after 10 a.m., so that mighty, mighty good man David and I could get to the ballpark early.

We were at the ballpark about 90 minutes before the game started, because we are dorks. We weren’t the only dorks, though. There were A LOT of people in line before us. Still, I am happy to report that we got our beanies. David is giving his to our son, because David is a grownup, whereas I’m a selfish dick dork.

r2d2beanie

R2-D2 beanie achievement unlocked!

David and I didn’t dress up in “Star Wars” costumes; however, we did wear our “Star Wars” T-shirts. We even dressed up The Kid in a “Star Wars” shirt, even though he wasn’t going to the game.

Using The Force to play Endless Alphabet.

Using The Force to play Endless Alphabet.

We saw a lot of folks in costumes at the ballpark. One of the things that kinda bums me out about “Star Wars” is — for ladies — there’s pretty much only Princess Leia (or Queen Amidala if you are into those lame prequels that I have had Eternal Sunshine-d from my mind.) I was glad to see a few ladies dressed as R2-D2 and some random jedi knights. I hope we get a little more variety in the new “Star Wars” sequels. There must be more than one or two women in a galaxy far, far away.

So anyway, we saw a lot of costumes. I felt particularly bad for the people that dressed up as ewoks or Chewbecca, because — in a San Francisco rarity — it was actually warm that day. Seriously, we left the house without sweatshirts, you guys! We saw a few people wearing the full-on Darth Vader costume, and I kept thinking, “They must be sweating like crazy in that costume, and it must smell terrible in there.”

An amazing view of AT&T Park ... and my Star Wars shoes.

An amazing view of AT&T Park … and my Star Wars shoes.

Sadly, this was the only Giants game we have been to this season. It’s shameful, really. We are going to an A’s game on Saturday, and I’m hoping we can squeeze in another Giants game before the regular season is over. Obviously, the Giants will make to the playoffs, but playoff and World Series tickets are really expensive.

David and I at the 2010 World Series.

David and I at the 2010 World Series.


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The Curious Case of Curious George

Yeah, so, The Boy is really into “Curious George” right now, and by “really into” I mean “REALLY INTO.” He won’t watch anything else. You put on “Thomas the Tank Engine,” which he was REALLY INTO a month ago, and he immediately starts pointing at the TV. “George. George. George.”

“Curious George” is fine. It’s an adorable PBS cartoon about a man who dresses weird and lives with a monkey that he is raising like it’s his own son. Michael Jackson did that, and we all thought he was weird, but apparently we’re all fine with making a cartoon for children about it. That’s cool.

Calvin is so into “Curious George” I thought it was a good idea to buy the first book for him. I hadn’t read it since I was a child. It doesn’t hold up very well, if you ask me. Just in case you don’t remember the story, allow me to share it with you:

George1

Once upon a time there was a happy, little monkey named George, who lived in the jungle.

George2

Then some asshole in yellow hat came along and decided to kidnap George and take him from the jungle. There is no mention of George’s family, but I’m sure they are wondering where he is, hanging missing person posters all over the jungle and going on the local news pleading for his return.

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 The Asshole in the Yellow Hat brings George on to a boat bound for New York, where George tries to escape by flying, because he is a monkey and doesn’t know any better. He falls into the ocean and almost drowns.

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In New York City, George gets into all kinds of mishaps and ends up in jail because he is not white. The Asshole in the Yellow Hat bails him out and takes him to his new home.

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George goes to live in the zoo, because all animals love to live in the zoo. The end.

I don’t want to talk shit about the zoo. I love taking The Boy to the zoo. BUT, have you ever seen a chimpanzee that was stoked to be living in a zoo? I haven’t. They always look horribly depressed. We don’t stop by the chimpanzees when we are at the zoo, because it totally bums us out.

So, yeah, I don’t remember the “Curious George” book being such a bummer. I’m sure the other books in the series are way more fun. And the cartoon, like I said, is cute. Calvin loves it. He dances to the theme song and laughs out loud when he watches it. Fine. I’ll admit it, even I have laughed a few times watching it. I’m not made of stone, people. As far as kid-friendly programming goes, “Curious George” is pretty non-offensive. It’s no “Barney” or “Caillou” is what I’m saying.

So, while everyone else is binge watching “Orange Is The New Black” and “House of Cards,” we are binge watching “Curious George” on Netflix. We have watched six seasons of “Curious George.” According to Wikipedia, there are two more seasons, but they are not on Netflix yet, so no spoilers, you guys! We don’t want the end ruined for us, but mighty, mighty good man David has a theory that it will turn out the entire series was a dream, and George will wake up in the zoo. I, on the other hand, think it will end with George waking up in bed with Michael Jackson.


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It’s a pirate party in Canada

Yeah, so, mighty, mighty good man David was in Vancouver last week for work, so you know what that means, right?

If you guessed, “You watched a documentary about the hunt for Osama bin Laden and some depressing crime shows” you would be technically correct, but that’s not what I was going to say. It means Calvin’s pirate, Sebastian, was also in Vancouver.

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pirate2

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Meanwhile, in San Francisco, Sebastian’s friend, Bruce, was having a less glamorous time, eating pasta and watching “Curious George.”

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Just in case you don’t know the history, allow me to explain. Whenever David travels, he brings Sebastian with him. You can follow Sebastian’s European adventures riiight here.

Next month, Sebastian is going to Amsterdam. Prediction: That pirate is going to get fucked up and never come home.


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‘Prime’ time

Yeah, so, while David is away on his work trips, I usually watch depressing documentaries that he has no interest in watching.

David: “So what did you watch while I was gone?”
Sonia: “A documentary about AIDS, and then another one about how all the food we eat is killing us.”
David: “That sounds fun.”

I also binge watch TV shows that he’s not into. I finished the “Fargo” miniseries on Saturday night, which I loved. I highly recommend it. There is almost no connection to the Coen Brothers movie, but that’s cool, and probably the smart way to go, because the movie is damn near perfect.

Sunday night, I was ready to dig into something else. I thought about “Orange Is The New Black.” I’ve only watched the first four episodes and I enjoyed it. But then I discovered that the 1990s BBC miniseries “Prime Suspect,” starring Helen Mirren, is on Netflix, so I’ll pretty much be watching that all week. I love a good cop show — emphasis on the word “good.” I have no interest in the CSI: NCIS: Bones brand of cop shows. I like cop shows like “Homicide: Life on the Street” and “The Shield.” “Prime Suspect” is in my sweet spot.

David is traveling again in September. Maybe I’ll watch “Orange” then.

When I’m not watching “Prime Suspect,” it will most likely be baseball. It will look something like this:

sharing


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Dadvent calendar

Yeah, so, mighty, mighty good man David is traveling again for work. He’s going to Vancouver for the week for a trade show, and he’s leaving Saturday morning.

David travels quite a bit for work. We all miss David when he is gone, but it’s tough on Calvin. He really misses David. The first few days Calvin puts up a brave front, but after that, well, he’s ready for Dad to come home.

In the past, when David has traveled for work, we didn’t really tell Calvin about it. Calvin just woke up that morning and Daddy wasn’t there, and then I say, “Daddy will be home later.” It’s kind of a dick move on our part. He’s almost 3 years old. He understands a lot more than we think.

We’ve been having positive results with telling Calvin what to expect. “After ‘Curious George’ were going to take bath.” “After your bath we’re going to read a book and go to bed.” If you give him a heads up, he’s pretty agreeable. So, for David’s weeklong trip we told in advance and we’ve come up with the Dadvent calendar.

dadvent calendar

Ta-dah! A Dadvent calendar is like an advent calendar but about dads.

Every day Calvin and I are going to mark a day off the Dadvent calendar until David gets back. I thought about making a Dadvent calender involving stickers or a pie shape with removal pieces of paper, but I don’t think we need all that. Also, I’m not even remotely crafty. The Kid is kinda obsessed with counting and numbers right now, so I think this will work. … I hope it works. I will report back.

Also, the usual “David is traveling” warning applies: Be on the lookout for excessive tweeting. I have thoughts, and when there is no one in the house to listen to my shit, I tweet it out. My apologies in advance.


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Share a Coke with someone you hate

Yeah, so, have you seen these stupid Coke and Diet Coke cans with the names on them?

dietcoke
They say “Share a Coke With …” and then it has a wide selection of names. The same names that you will find those little novelty license plates for, but never your name.

First of all, I’m not sure understand the idea behind marketing plan. Is the idea that I would walk up to the cooler in a store to buy something and see my name on a soda can and immediately buy it?

“Well, I was going to be healthy, thirst-quenching water, but then I saw my name on this soda can and I just had to buy it.”

I assume this was to create some social media buzz, and I’m sure it’s working, because we’re all ridiculous. I post photos of my beer on Instagram. I’m not superior.

My office buddy Paul drinks so much Diet Coke it should be illegal. No, seriously. There should be a law, because I’m sure that much Diet Coke causes cancer. I don’t want him to get cancer, because then he will take a bunch of time off of work, and I’ll have to do his work, and I’m lazy. I know I will have to do his work, because Paul and Jennifer covered for me and did all my work when I had breast cancer … that maybe I got from diet sodas. Dun dun DUN!

So, some of the Coke and Diet Coke cans have names on them, but some of them are a little more generic, too. They say “Share a Coke With Your Pal” or “Your buddy,” or “A star.”

Boring! Here are a few suggestions for you, Coke.

Share a Coke with …

Your turn. Who should we be sharing a Coke with?


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Random stuff: Mascot racing, sour beer and more

Yeah, so, I accidentally took more than two weeks off from my blog. That’s not like me. I apologize. Let me make it up to you by writing a blog post filled with random crap. Cool? Cool!

At the end of June, the company I work for laid off my office buddy Jennifer, who was not only my office buddy, but she was the only other person on the content team. So, yeah, I’ve been swamped at work, and when I get home I’m not exactly aching to turn on the computer, which is most likely the reason for the lack of blogging. Ugh. I hate working at work. That shit is so lame. Let’s talk about something else …

Speaking of talking, The Kid is starting to talk a lot. There’s still some babbling, but we are hearing a lot of sentences, too. The other day he handed me my phone and said, “Take a picture of me.” So I did.

bunnyears

Bunny ears.

I posted this photo on Facebook, explaining that Calvin asked me to, and good buddy Katie commented, “See? He knows what a phone is for.” Suck on that, speech therapist.

On Sunday, mighty, mighty good man David and I finally got to go to our first game of the baseball season. I know, right? That’s so sad. We went to the A’s game with good buddies Corso and Kate, and once again the baseball gods were smiling on me at the Oakland Coliseum because David was able to snap this photo.

bigheads

Big heads!

For those of you who don’t give a shit about baseball because you care about other cooler stuff, that’s Dennis Eckersley, Rollie Fingers and Rickey Henderson. They race on the field during the 7th inning. I think all ballparks need to do mascot racing. Where’s the Kickstarter to make that happen? I’ll contribute. Hey, San Francisco Giants: You have a organic garden in centerfield (seriously), but you don’t have mascot racing. Priorities! We’re going to the game on August 31 (it’s the Star Wars game), and I want to see some goddamn mascots racing. Make it happen.

I’ve had really good luck at the Coliseum lately. Last season, I got my photo taken with the A’s mascot Stomper and some “Star Wars” folks.

stomper

Yes, I’m more of a Giants fan, but still … Take this, haters!

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You: “I’m jealous of your Han Solo shirt.” Me: “I know.”

Speaking of awesome things that happened, Almanac released a Dark Pumpkin Sour beer. I repeat, Dark Pumpkin Sour beer. Those are my four favorite words: Dark Pumpkin Sour BEER!

pumpkinsour

Dark. Pumpkin. SOUR!

I read about this beer a few weeks ago, and I tweeted to my local bottle shop. “Do you have the Almanac Dark Pumpkin Sour?” And they replied they would have it later the following week. Last Thursday, I walked in, and the owner said, “It’s back there.” This was cool for two reasons:

1) Dark Pumpkin Sour beer.

2) The bottle shop owner knows who I am.

Actually, that second one might be a sign of a problem.

So anyway, the Dark Pumpkin Sour was everything I dreamed it would be. If you like sour beer, I recommend it. If you don’t like sour beer, well … more for me.

Speaking of things I’m addicted to, David served me a bowl of Peanut Butter Fudge Swirl ice cream from Bi-Rite tonight. After one bite …

requiem

 

Oh man. That ice cream is going to be a problem. Now I understand why people are lining up around the block for it all the time. I get it now, you guys. I get it.


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Want to make me disappear from your party? Invite a magician

Yeah, so, magicians are creepy.

OK, fine. Maybe not all magicians, but most magicians are creepy. I mean, if David wanted to go see David Copperfield or Penn & Teller something I would laugh at him, and then I would go with him because I’m a good sport. Also, because the magician would be up on a stage and far away from me. So, yeah, basically, it has to do with proximity. I don’t want a magician near me. I don’t want to talk to someone who wants to trick me. Pass.

Also, please take note, magicians are not to be confused with wizards. Wizards are cool.

Maybe 14 or 15 years ago, I was single. I was single for a long time, and one of the few remaining singles in my group of friends. I went to a party at a friend’s house, and there was another single man at the party. Everyone kept saying, “Sonia, have you met Barry yet? He’s single.” This was clearly a set up. Awkward. Eventually, Barry made his way over to me and he said, “Pick a card,” and he had a deck of cards.

Seriously.

I couldn’t leave that party fast enough. The next day I told my friends they were assholes, who clearly didn’t know me at all, or they would have never tried to set me up with a magician. A magician!

OK, so, on Saturday The Kid’s preschool had a little party. There was a bouncy house and food. We showed up, and The Kid immediately clings to David. Parties are not his thing. I think he was a little overwhelmed, and also afraid that we were dropping him off at preschool on a Saturday.

We made our way through the party, and The Kid made a straight shot to the popcorn machine like it was an open bar at a wedding. He truly is his mother’s son. I am a popcorn fiend. Also, I like open bars.

We got our bags of popcorn and found a comfortable spot to stuff our faces, kinda off to the side of the party. We chatted with a few parents. It was a little awkward. Their kids are jumping in the bouncy house, and our kid just wants to sit on the steps, eat popcorn and give people dirty looks. We’re different.

Playhouse and popcorn!

Playhouse and popcorn!

So, we were sitting on a bench attached to a little playhouse off to the side of the party, when an older gentleman walked up and asked David to help him set up a big suitcase, which David did. “Are you a musician?” David asked. “No, I’m a magician.”

NO. ONE. TOLD. ME. THERE. WAS. GOING. TO. BE. A. MAGICIAN.

At that point, the party was pretty much over for me. No amount of delicious popcorn was worth it … but I felt we should stay for Calvin. Maybe he would like it.

Ugh. Sometimes parenting sucks.

The magician left our secluded area and spoke with the preschool administrator, and then she came over to us, asking us to leave this area so the magician could set up. He didn’t want us to see him setting up his tricks. Oh brother.

We went to another secluded area until showtime. David and Calvin took a seat at the far end of the “stage” and I stayed on the other side, closest to the exit. Also, there were pillars I could hide behind.

The magician started his “act,” and the kids were into it. Calvin could care less. He was wandering back and forth and chatting with David. After a few minutes, David motioned for me to join them. I shook my head. He motioned again. Ugh. I ran across in front of the “stage.” This got the magician’s attention. “Excuse me, miss. How many times should I tap the box?”

Nightmare.

He asked me again.

“Four,” I replied quickly and gave David the crazy eyes.

“And what’s your name?

I don’t want to engage with him at all. There are 50 kids here, all begging to feel special and be called on by the magician. Leave me out of it.

“Sonia,” I sighed.

“Well, Sonia, let’s tap the box four times.”

He asked me something else but I don’t remember what, I just shook my head like, “Stop talking to me.”

After a few more minutes, Calvin was clearly not interested. He was running back and forth, and he wanted to sit on the little bench attached to the playhouse which is off to the side of the stage, and a little behind the magician. Calvin proudly took his seat on the bench and the magician told us to return him to his seat in the audience.

Seriously, weirdo. He’s 2.5 years old with a speech delay. He’s not going to give away your “secrets.” Also, if you are looking for an attentive audience, might I suggest not performing for toddlers? They are not exactly known for their sitting still and paying attention skills. Also, stop being a magician. Magicians are creepy.

Now you see us, and now you don’t! Right after that, we scooped up Calvin and left the party. As we were walking to the car, David said, “Ha ha! The magician talked to you. This is going to be a blog post.”


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Sir Hugs A Lot

Yeah, so, the other day one of The Kid’s preschool teachers pulled me aside and asked how we handle timeouts at home — like does he have a chair he sits in or does he go to his room, etc. Immediately, I was thinking, “Oh god! He hit a kid or a bit a kid or something.”

Turns out it’s the opposite of that. The teacher explained that Calvin has a friend at school who is smaller than him, and Calvin will hug him too hard to the point where they have to break it up.

That’s right, you guys. My son loves too much.

I told her that we have a similar problem with Calvin and the dog: “Not that I’m comparing someone’s child to our dog, but …” But, I totally was.

Check out this hipster.

Check out this fuckin’ hipster. He used to watch “Thomas the Tank Engine” before it was cool.


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David is more prime rib than man now

Yeah, so, on Sunday, mighty, mighty good man David and I got dressed up and met good buddies Jess and Jeff for dinner at the House of Prime Rib.

I know. We’re so fancy.

I know. We’re so fancy.

That place is so awesome. They carve the meat right at your table, and it comes with creamed spinach and a loaded baked potato. They also make the salad right at your table, and you have your choice of dressing, and by “choice” I mean Thousand Island or Thousand Island.

David ordered the biggest piece of meat I’ve ever seen. It’s like the meat Fred Flintstone orders and it tips over his car. See?

meat

MEAT!

That’s a lot of meat, right? Well, here’s the thing … he ate all of it. AND THEN, the waitress offered him a complimentary extra slice, and he ate that, too!

David is more prime rib than man now.

Funny story: David was a vegetarian for seven years.

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