The Sonia Show

Writer. Mocker. Beer drinker. Old movie watcher. Mother. Goober.

‘Why aren’t you dressed up?’ ‘I am.’

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Yeah, so, mighty, mighty good man David and I dressed up as Scott Pilgrim and Ramona Flowers for Halloween. See?

Just in case you don’t know who that is … “Scott Pilgrim” is a graphic novel series, which was made into the movie, “Scott Pilgrim vs. The World.” Oh, and yes, we are total dorks.

We wore the costumes Friday night at my office buddy Paul’s Halloween party and then again on Saturday night at the Gorillaz concert in Oakland. At the concert (awesome show!), multiple people stopped us and asked to take our photo. It was a little like being famous. A police officer thought I was a Bakesale Betty. I’m not sure if he thought I was dressed up as Bakesale Betty or if I actually was Bakesale Betty. Either way, I’m just glad he didn’t frisk me and discover all the things I sneak into concerts.

On the flip side, I opted not to wear this costume to work on Friday, and instead donned my old standby, Velma from Scooby-Doo. Not that anyone noticed.

Seriously. No one noticed. In fact, some coworkers asked me why I didn’t dress up to which I responded, “Hello! I’m wearing orange knee-high socks, people!”

I guess Velma isn’t much of a stretch.

By the time Halloween rolled around, I was over wearing costumes. David and I put on our Giants gear and watched the game at Bloom’s with good buddy Kate. We had some drinks and some delicious Goat Hill Pizza and watched the Giants kick some ass. Win!

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Author: The Sonia Show

I'm a writer/mocker/goober/mother in San Francisco who likes to drink beer, shop, laugh and make other people laugh, podcast, watch old movies, feed my unhealthy obsession with pop culture, kick breast cancer's ass, wear orange and root for the San Francisco Giants, participate in general jackass-ery, talk about TV, eavesdrop on strangers' conversations, make nerdy “Star Wars” and “Simpsons” references, and post personal things about myself on the web for all to read, which makes me some sort of literary exhibitionist.

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