The Sonia Show

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



Yeah, so, it’s my birthday.

I’m not going to bullshit you and say, “I’m 29 … again. Haw haw.” I’m 42. That’s right. I’m 42, and I’m wearing that age like a badge of honor.

I earned the right to be 42.  I’m 42, dammit.

I don’t want to be 29 again, because 29-year-old Sonia wasn’t nearly as happy as 42-year-old Sonia.

Check it and see:

The Spawn and I riding the train at Pixieland in Concord, because we’re rad.


Author: The Sonia Show

I'm a writer/podcaster/mother/goober in San Francisco who likes to drink beer, shop, laugh and make other people laugh, watch old movies, feed my unhealthy obsession with pop culture, kick breast cancer's ass, go on adventures with my mighty, mighty good man David and my awesome autistic son, Calvin, 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.

6 thoughts on “42

  1. You look beautiful!

  2. I kept thinking to myself, “Pixieland, Pixieland, where is Pixieland?” Berkeley? No, that’s Tilden Park. Oakland? No, that’s Fairyland. And I know I’ve been to Pixieland, but where the f*@k is it? Got it now thanks to your informative photo caption.

    More importantly, I love seeing you and Calvin on the train. W00t w00t!

  3. Happy birthday! Now I want to be 42 too!

  4. Happy Birthday! That red hair looks fabulous!

  5. belated happy happy, joy joy!

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