The Sonia Show

Dogs and cats, living together! Mass hysteria!

Tue, 18 Jun 2013 11:15:25 -0400

Dogs and cats, living together! Mass hysteria!:

Yeah, so, last week our office manager quit. My initial reaction was, “She got mugged parking her car here, right? No? Oh, did she catch an infectious disease from all the illegal dumping?”

It turns out it was something boring like she got another job. Yawn.

So anyway, I’m not entirely sure of all the things our office manager did, but I know some of her tasks included stocking up the kitchen and restrooms, which are super important tasks to me. Yesterday was our first day without an office manager, and already there was a roll of paper towels just sitting in the kitchen that no one bothered to put into the towel dispenser. I assume no one replaced them because: a) they haven’t figured the towel dispenser; or b) they don’t care. I fall squarely into the “b” category. Also, all the tea, sugar, half and half, etc., were starting to look a little low.

Things are headed downhill rather quickly. My prediction: I will be buying my own toilet paper and hoarding it in my cube by next week.

I’m worried that without an office manager, this place is going to turn into “Lord of the Flies.” Wait and see. In a few weeks we will all be fighting over the conch.

The movies people are shocked to learn you've never seen

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 12:03:37 -0400

The movies people are shocked to learn you've never seen:

Yeah, so, there was a time in my life when if you named a movie, I’d probably seen it.

A cheesy romantic comedy? Saw it. The sci-fi action flick? Saw it twice. That Oscar-bait drama? Yep. The foreign movie with the guy who stars in the thing you watch on PBS? I saw that one, too.

When I was growing up, my mom and I went to the movies every Sunday. In high school, while other teenagers were drinking and partying, I was renting movies about teenagers that drink and party. At 17 I got a job at a movie theater to support my movie-watching obsession. In my 30s, I worked as an entertainment editor for a daily newspaper, which meant every Thursday I spent my day reading movie reviews for the Friday paper. This meant that even if I hadn’t seen a movie, I could still tell you when it was coming out, who was in it, who directed it and the running time.

I used to see every movie. Now? Not so much.

I know what you are thinking, “This is the Spawn’s fault.” It isn’t. Thanks to expensive movie tickets and rude people who talk or take calls or text in the theater, my movie-going had already slowed down.

Nowadays, I tend to read about movies more often than I see them. I go to the movies maybe once or twice a year (not including trips to the Castro Theatre for the film noir and silent film festivals). Instead, I usually wait for movies to come On Demand or Netflix. Plus, I’m way more selective about what I watch than I used to be, relying on positive reviews, Oscar nominations or my friends telling me it’s really good. There was a time I would have seen every summer blockbuster, reviews be damned.

So anyway, it doesn’t surprise anyone to learn that I haven’t seen a recent new release. But, last week, a friend revealed on Facebook that she had never seen “Ghostbusters.” This blew my mind. “Ghostbusters” is one of my favorite comedies. How could she not have seen “Ghostbusters?” This started an entire conversation about what movies people have not seen that other people find shocking.

Another friend revealed that she hasn’t seen “Top Gun” or “The Goonies.” My mighty, mighty good man David has never seen “Footloose.” I feel like “Footloose” was always on in my house when I was growing up. If it was playing on TBS, it was probably playing in my house. David has also never seen “Pretty in Pink,” which surprises me but shouldn’t because it’s kind of a chick movie, right? My sister-in-law has never seen “Star Wars.” I know, right?! Personally, I wouldn’t marry someone that hadn’t seen “Star Wars,” but I guess my brother really loves her or something.

It’s not shocking to anyone that I haven’t seen any of the “Transformers” movies, but it is surprising to people that up until this past Christmas I had never seen “It’s a Wonderful Life.” Also, a few months ago I saw “To Kill a Mockingbird” for the first time. But there is one other movie that I haven’t seen that when I tell people I haven’t seen it, they cock their heads to the side like a dog hearing a strange noise and say, “You’ve never seen that?!” It’s “Mary Poppins.”

Yes, yes. It’s true. I have not seen “Mary Poppins.” We even own it on DVD, and I still haven’t seen it.

So, now it’s your turn. What movies are people shocked to learn you’ve never seen?

No parking zone

Wed, 12 Jun 2013 12:14:25 -0400

No parking zone:

Yeah, so, the parking situation at my office leaves a lot to be desired.

We don’t have a parking lot. We have to park on the street. Now, some people in the office (the executives) park their cars on the main street and acquire parking tickets on a weekly basis. I guess they make a lot of money and don’t care. The rest of us park our cars on the side streets because we don’t make executive money.

I feel like the side streets are fine. I’ve never felt unsafe or anything like that, but there is a huge creep factor, especially when it gets dark earlier. The main problem with where we park is it is basically a dump now. People are just dumping stuff there all the time now, and it’s pretty gross. I’ve actually seen a pile of needles out there. I’ve written about the illegal dumping here and here and here and here and here.

Lookin’ good, Oakland.

Now, there is someone living in the area where we park our cars. There’s a little trailer — and I mean little, they can’t stand up in the trailer — and there is a couple living in it. Surrounding their trailer are a ton of shopping carts and a few baby strollers filled with random crap, including board games.

That’s valuable parking real estate.

They’ve been there for a few weeks now. Around the corner from this trailer, a cop sits at a four-way stop sign and busts people so not coming to a complete stop. He’s there a few times a week. Also, as I mentioned at the beginning of this post, the executives are getting parking tickets on a weekly basis. This means that most likely the police know these people are living here and they are not doing anything about it.

I have yet to see this couple, but a few coworkers have. I feel bad for the couple. There is a homeless encampment down the street from us, under a freeway overpass. There are several tents set up. Maybe this couple is not welcome there, or maybe they feel it is not safe, and have set up by our office? I’m curious about what has happened to them. According to the office rumor mill, these folks have smashed a few car windows and stolen things. This has not happened to me, because there is jack shit in my car. If they break in, they will be disappointed.

“Dammit! We went through all this trouble for a baby seat, a Herbie Hancock CD and a yoga mat.”

Parenting fails

Tue, 11 Jun 2013 01:01:49 -0400

Parenting fails:

Yeah, so, I had a few parenting fails this weekend.

OK, let’s start at the beginning … A few weeks ago, mighty, mighty good man David and I took the Spawn to a toddler-friendly playground near AT&T Park, home of the World Series champs San Francisco Giants (Go Giants!). It’s a nice playground. It’s on the small side, which means The Boy can run wild, but no matter where were are sitting in the playground we can see him. We don’t have to run around chasing him, and he can play freely. And by toddler-friendly, I mean, there isn’t anything too crazy for him to hurt himself on. There is no giant play structure designed for older kids, etc. There’s some low cement walls at the center of the park that he can climb, and they are wide enough for him to walk on or push his trucks, but they’re not so high that I have a panic attack when he climbs them. Also, there’s a sandbox and one of those little roundabouts that kids love, but always make me want to throw up.

Wheeeeeeee!

We love going to this little playground. The Boy tires himself out and usually falls asleep in his stroller, and then we walk to nearby Java House and get a hot dog and beer and sit outside. It’s awesome.

So anyway, a few weeks ago we were at this park, and we were walking back to the car when I noticed that some folks were leaving AT&T Park. There was no game going on, so I was confused. I walked a little closer, and I saw a sign saying that the children’s play area in the ballpark is open to the public FOR FREE when the Giants are playing elsewhere.

WTF?! If I had known that I would have been going to this little play area all the time. I love being in the ballpark.

OK, so, cut to this past weekend, the Giants are playing in Arizona, so we decided to check out the children’s play area. It only takes us a few minutes to drive to the ballpark. As we got closer we could tell that some sort of event was going on. It turns out that it was some benefit concert for Genentech, and it featured the musical stylings of popular artists such as Train, Demi Lovato and Nickelback. Oh good. It’s everything I hate.

We went to our little nearby playground instead, where – sadly – we could still hear the music. So, there we were, feeling terrible that The Boy (and me!) got denied the ballpark, and he was being forced to listen to Train. THEN, The Boy fell off the low cement wall on his face! He’s a tough little guy and only cried for a minute or so. It was a scary-looking fall, and we’re all lucky it wasn’t much worse. He ended up with a few little scrapes around his left eye.

Parenting fail #1: Subjected the kid to Train and he fell on his face.

But wait, there’s more.

Saturday evening, we decided to be brave and take Calvin out to dinner with some friends. He was fine for about 45 minutes. Then the whining and squirming started. David and I took turns walking around with him. Eventually, this ended with shrieking and The Boy knocking over my beer. We were those parents. We were so embarrassed. I apologized profusely to the waiter, who – without me asking – brought me another beer. He could probably tell I needed a drink.

As we packed up our stuff to leave, humiliated, another set of parents walked by us. They were also leaving with a boy probably a little older than Calvin. He wasn’t wearing any pants. I said to our friends, “Well, at least our boy still has his pants on. So, we’ve got that going for us.”

Parenting fail #2: Attempted to take kid to dinner in a restaurant 90 minutes before his usual bedtime.

But wait, there’s still more.

On Sunday, we took Calvin to the Oakland Zoo with my sister and her family. We had a really great time at the zoo. He loved looking at the goats in the petting zoo, but what he really wanted to do was just run around. We came to the zoo for him, so if he wants to spend his time running around the grass and digging in the dirt instead of looking at animals, that’s cool. Go for it, kid. We sat in this open grassy area and ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, while The Boy ran wild, scooped up dirt and brought it to us by the handful.

I’m surrounded by amazing animals, but instead I’m going to sit in the grass and play with dirt. Cool?

Eventually, we caught up with our group and decided we wanted to ride the train (It’s an actual little train that goes around the zoo, not the band Train. We’re not monsters.). As we were walking to the little amusement park area, we could see the train. David pointed it out, “There’s the train, Calvin.” The Boy got really excited and started running … down a hill. Then he fell on his face. SMACK! It sounded awful. There was a little blood, but it stopped bleeding quickly. Then, it appeared: A fat lip. His first fat lip, but considering he is such a daredevil, it probably won’t be his last. We got in line for the train with my sister, her husband, Tony, my mom and my nieces.

Tony: “What happened to his lip?”
Me: “I punched him.”

Parenting fail #3: [See photo below]

A fat lip and scrapes by his eye: Awesome.

So, here’s what we learned this weekend: We are probably not taking The Boy to a restaurant again until he’s 4 (does not apply to taquerias). Also, I would like to wrap him in bubblewrap.

Subway thinks you don't know what a 'badonkadonk' is

Mon, 10 Jun 2013 17:41:25 -0400

Subway thinks you don't know what a 'badonkadonk' is:

Yeah, so, watching TV with me isn’t as awesome as you think.

I know, I know. You probably think watching TV with me is amazing; that I sit here and spout amazing, thoughtful insights. The truth is … well, not so much.

Tonight, mighty, mighty good man David and I were watching the San Francisco Giants vs. Colorado Rockies game. The Rockies have a pitcher named Josh Outman. The following conversation actually happened.

Me: Do you think when he strikes someone out he says, “You’re out, man,” and then gives them the finger guns? *gives David the finger guns*

David: Maybe.

Me: It seems like a missed opportunity to me.

David: It is.

[silence]

Me: Don’t you love watching sports with me?

David: I really do.

Also, while watching Giants games, we constantly see the same commercials. Most of them are only mildly annoying, but one of them makes me so angry. It’s a commercial for Subway.

Subway wants us to think their crappy sandwiches are good for you, so this commercial is set in a fast food joint that is trying to sell really fattening meals. One of those meals is called, “the Badonkadonk Butt.” The reason I get some mad about this commercial is because a badonkadonk is a butt. So the meal is called a “butt butt.”

Go to hell, Subway.

Let’s forget for a second your lame attempt to use “hip” slang, and by “hip” I mean “totally not hip.” Obviously, you think people won’t know what a badonkadonk is so you added “butt” to make it crystal clear. Seriously, it’s insulting as one of your “sandwiches.” People know what a badonkadonk is. How dare you, Subway!

(via Better put a ringtone on it)

Thu, 06 Jun 2013 13:03:20 -0400

(via Better put a ringtone on it)

'Now I'm lucky to find half an hour a week in which to get funky'

Mon, 20 May 2013 13:27:22 -0400

'Now I'm lucky to find half an hour a week in which to get funky':

Yeah, so, I would never say that I was cool when it came to music. I was always pretty lame.

Now, I’m even more lame. I am almost completely clueless when it comes to new music. I know the bands/singers by name, because I readgossipentertainment sites and magazines, but I don’t actually know their music.

Of course, being completely ignorant of new music has its benefits. Remember that song “Call Me Maybe” that everyone was obsessed with last year? I heard that song about six months after it was a thing, and that’s only because it was on “So You Think You Can Dance.” I don’t think I have ever heard a Justin Beiber song. It’s OK to be jealous.

I hardly ever buy music. The last album I bought was Adele’s “21″ and that was – what? – two years ago. I know, I know. Don’t laugh at me. I’m a 42-year-old white lady. I’m genetically predisposed to love Adele.

I have satellite radio in the car, but I spend most of the time listening to the 80s station, the old school rap station or the news. I rarely put it on a station that will introduce me to new music. Mighty, mighty good man David is way cooler than me when it comes to music. He listens to the college radio station in the car. He listens to cool people such as Santigold and TV on the Radio and other bands that I only know of because he mentioned them to me.

Like a lot of things in my life, this reminds me of an episode of “The Simpsons” — in particular this exchange between Homer and Marge in the “Homerpalooza” episode.

Homer: I was in a record store, and they were playing all these bands I’d never heard of. It was like the store had gone crazy.

Marge: Record stores have always seemed crazy to me. Music is none of my business.

Homer: That’s all well and good for you, but I used to rock and roll all night and party every day. Then it was every other day… now I’m lucky to find half an hour a week in which to get funky. I’ve got to get out of this rut and back into the groove.

In this conversation I’m both Homer and Marge. I used to be Homer, but I’ve turned into Marge. “Music is none of my business.” How sad is that.

When I was a kid, we always had the radio on. And then when MTV launched, we switched from the stereo always being on to MTV always being on. There was always music on in the house, and music was a big part of my childhood. My mom and my sister love to dance, and they are good. Me? Well, I dance like this:

I don’t want you to think we don’t play music for The Spawn. We play music in our house. We have a “Schoolhouse Rock” station on Pandora that The Boy seems to really like. I also play a lot of classic R&B and soul like Wilson Pickett, or we listen to the Beastie Boys, because I’m trying to raise my son right, while David plays bands like The Kinks.

But this is all music we already know. It’s old stuff. I don’t have a lot of new music in my life. Basically, when it comes to music, I’m not trying hard enough.

Everyone is talking about the new Daft Punk album, so I’m streaming it right now while I write this. (It’s funky as hell. I’m really enjoying it. I suspect “Get Lucky” is going to be stuck in my head for a while.) Every time I hear a Vampire Weekend song I think, “This is a good song.” Vampire Weekend just released a new album, and I’m going to listen to it, dammit!

There’s a lot of music out there, and I don’t know where to start. I need your help, you guys. What should I be listening to? What do you like? Help a sister out!

(via Spoiler alert! Our nanny is way smarter than me)

Thu, 16 May 2013 12:34:35 -0400

(via Spoiler alert! Our nanny is way smarter than me)

(via Stomp the yard)

Thu, 16 May 2013 12:34:16 -0400

(via Stomp the yard)

I still don't have cancer, you guys

Thu, 09 May 2013 12:18:13 -0400

I still don't have cancer, you guys:

Yeah, so, I found out today that I don’t have cancer again.

Yesterday, I wasn’t so sure. In fact, for the past several days I believed that I might have cancer again.

Let me start at the beginning. In 2009, I was diagnosed with breast cancer. (You can read all about my adventures in breast cancer riiight here.) I had a few surgeries, including a mastectomy of my left breast and reconstructive surgery in 2010. Starting in 2010, I began taking tamoxifen, because I had an estrogen-positive cancer and tamoxifen blocks estrogen in your body. I took it for about 9 months, then I got knocked up, and after I evicted the Spawn from my uterus, I went back on the tamoxifen like a good little breast cancer survivor. I think it’s sucks that the drug I’m taking to decrease my risk of breast cancer slightly increases my chances of endometrial cancer. But my oncologist says it’s a risk worth taking, and he went to school for this stuff and is really smart, so I do what he says.

[Warning: This blog post will involve the words “period,” “uterus” and other words that make me snicker when I play them in Words with Friends. To reward you, I will end this post with cute photos. Deal?]

Cut to last Friday, when it occurs to me that I have been on my period for two weeks. I emailed my doctor, and what I expected her to say is, “Oh, that happens sometimes. Don’t worry about it.” Instead she said, “I think you should make an appointment for Monday, and we should a biopsy of the endometrial lining in your uterus since you are on tamoxifen and it increase your cancer risk.”

Immediately, I went into panic mode. Even though she said that I’m sure the test will be normal, all I kept thinking about was how I probably have cancer again. When I found the lump in my left breast in 2009, I was told that it was probably nothing, but it wasn’t nothing. It was cancer. It’s happening again, I thought.

I called to make my appointment, and Kaiser made me talk to an advice nurse first. She tried to calm my anxiety. “Welcome to your 40s,” she said. “I get this same call every day from women over 40.” She was able to calm my anxiety for about 15 minutes. Then I started freaking out again.

All weekend long, I had a horrible feeling in my gut. I had cancer again. I would rock with Calvin in his chair at night, but him to bed, and then walk out of his room and cry. Calvin needs me. I need to not have cancer again. It’s not fair. I put in my cancer time.

On Monday, I went to my appointment and the doctor assured me once again that I was probably fine. She just wanted to be cautious. I nodded and said, “I’ve been told that before.” She said that my anxiety was normal given the circumstances, and she would call me the second the test results come in, but it might take a week.

Ugh. A week. A week of walking around thinking I might have cancer.

Then she sent me to the Kaiser lab to get blood drawn. Thanks, doc. You know just how to cheer a girl up. If you haven’t been to the lab at Kaiser in San Francisco, well, it’s pretty much just like Disneyland in that you wait in a really long line except at the end of it they stab you with a needle and suck out your blood. There was almost a riot at the lab once. True story.

So, after god knows how long, they finally call my number, which means I get to check in and move to the other area to waste my time and wait to have my blood drawn. Oh goodie. As I was reading my Entertainment Weekly review of “Iron Man 3″ a pregnant woman sits next to me. She asks me how long I’ve been waiting, because she has an appointment upstairs and she was supposed to get her blood work before and she doesn’t think she’s going to have time.

I was insanely jealous of her. I desperately wished I was getting pregnancy blood work instead of cancer blood work. I’m pretty sure that’s the first time since having my baby that I wished I was pregnant again. Things that make you go hmmm.

I offered to switch numbers with the pregnant lady, because what’s additional 20-minute wait for me at this point, and we should all be very nice to pregnant ladies. She turned me down, but I could tell that she was thankful for the offer, and she left before her number was called.

Since Monday afternoon I’ve been a nervous wreck with that horrible pit in my stomach. I kept crying off and on. Even though I was really busy at work, I kept thinking that I have cancer and this is not how I want to spend my time. In other words, I was barely keeping it together.

Then late yesterday, the bleeding stopped, and I started to feel like maybe I was going to be OK, but I needed the test to confirm that for me. Until then, the horrible feeling wasn’t going away.

This afternoon, my phone rang. I could see it was Kaiser and that nervous feeling took over my entire body. The doctor told me the results would arrive in a week. They’re early. That can’t be good. I picked up my phone and ran out of the office. I work in a cube, and there’s nowhere for me to have a private conversation. The last thing I need is for the office busybody to hear my phone conversation: “So, you thought you had cancer, Sonia. That’s funny. What are you having for lunch?”

Then my doctor told me that everything came back normal. “What’s going on is just a side effect of the tamoxifen. It’s normal.”

“I don’t have cancer?” I blurted out.

“No. You don’t have cancer. The test came back normal.”

“I’m so relieved!” I started to cry.

“I’m relieved, too,” the doctor said.

I called David. I texted my Mom and Michelle. I told my office buddies Paul and Jennifer: “So I totally don’t have cancer after all, you guys.”

Then I rushed home to pick up my baby and hug him, and kiss him 500 times on the forehead and read him “Goodnight, Gorilla” six times in a row before putting him to bed.

To celebrate, mighty, mighty good man David ordered Indian food delivery from one of my favorite places in San Francisco, Shalimar. No easy feat considering they don’t deliver. David used Task Rabbit to get it delivered. Smart and handsome: Sorry, everyone, he’s taken! Then we stuffed our faces and watched “The Simpsons,” which is pretty much my idea of heaven.

I would say that on a day-to-day basis I’m a grateful person. Every day I realize how lucky I am. I hug my friends and family. I tell people that I love them. I’m happy. Today, I am super grateful and super happy.

But what I have to learn to accept about myself is that even though I don’t have cancer anymore, I will never get over the fact that I had cancer.

And now the part of the post you’ve been waiting for: Cute photos!

Once again, everyone is sitting on David.

Homer stakes out his spot in the Spawn’s bedroom, and it’s in the footstool, because why not?

Yoda hats: They’re not just for May the Fourth anymore.

My Mother’s Day gift from The Boy arrived early. It’s Crazy Crab. If you don’t know about Crazy Crab, you’re welcome: http://www.rehabthecrab.com/

I'm starting to think my baby doesn't like me

Wed, 01 May 2013 01:05:47 -0400

I'm starting to think my baby doesn't like me:

Yeah, so, the Spawn hates me.

OK, maybe “hate” is too strong a word. Let’s just say I’m not his favorite. Mighty, mighty good man David is his favorite. I’ve written before about how he is a daddy’s boy. But he’s taking his indifference to me to a whole new level.

Last week, The Boy was sick. He had roseola, which means he had a fever for three days followed by a rash. Poor kid. Considering he had a fever of 102, he was in pretty good spirits. He just wanted to lay around on the couch and watch TV. Toddlers: They’re just like us!

We were sitting on the couch together, watching a Baby Einstein DVD for the 10,000th time. I went into the kitchen to fill up his water cup, and when I returned The Boy had decided that I needed to sit somewhere else. The couch was taken.

(By the way, is there a support group I can join for parents who have seen the Baby Einstein DVDs too many times? The Boy is obsessed with Baby Newton, which contains a song about crayons and drawing a clown and it makes me want to hit myself in the head with a frying pan. Seriously, I’m hearing the song in my sleep. It’s awful.)

The other day, David was holding The Boy, and the kid gave David a kiss. I leaned in: “Do you have a kiss for me?” Then he stuck his hand in my face as if to say, “Oh hell no, Mom.” Shortly after that, David put The Boy down, and the kid bent down and gave the dog a kiss on his back, near his butt.

I know, right?

He would rather kiss the dog’s ass than give me a kiss.

Gee, no, that doesn’t hurt my feeling at all, why do you ask? Don’t mind me, kid, I’m just the lady who ruined her body to create you. I’m the lady that makes your food and does your laundry. But that’s cool. Go ahead and love the dog more than me.

Homer, David and The Boy are all at one end of the couch, and I’m at the other.

I hear that kids go through phases; that they go back and forth on which parents are their favorite. But the Spawn’s favoritism of David has been going on for quite some time now. Mommy is never his favorite. I won’t lie: Sometimes it hurts my feelings. I think I’m a pretty OK mom. I’m fun. I get down on the ground and push cars around and build things with blocks. I start tickle fights. I play music and get short-lived dance parties going in the kitchen. Sure, I’m not perfect, but I’m doing OK. I sew up his ripped stuff animals and what not. He should at least kinda like me.

David is going to be traveling for work in a few weeks. I’m a little worried that it’s going to be four days of The Boy being pissed at me not being his Dad: “Why are you here? Where’s Dad? … Thanks for the food. When does Dad get home again? … You know who’s awesome? Dad! I love that guy. When does Dad get home again?”

Maybe The Boy can sense it. He can tell that I want him to love me. I’m desperate. He can smell it. Maybe I need to read “He’s Just Not That Into You” again. Maybe I need to play hard to get? Or maybe offer a bribe? “Listen, kid. Here’s a box of cheddar bunnies, now love me, dammit!”

Let's all launch a Kickstarter campaign!

Fri, 26 Apr 2013 16:48:07 -0400

Let's all launch a Kickstarter campaign!:

Yeah, so, I’m thinking about launching a Kickstarter campaign to pay off my credit card debt.

Other people who don’t really need the money are using Kickstarter to fund their projects, and I consider paying off my debt a project, so why shouldn’t I launch a Kickstarter campaign? All the cool kids are doing it.

It’s a totally worthy cause, you guys, and you won’t just be throwing your money away. If you donate to my Kickstarter will get something in return, because that’s the thing about Kickstarter, right? Here what you can get:

I will add you to the Supporting Cast on my blog.
You can come over and play David’s board games anytime you want.
I’ll follow you on Twitter and retweet you.
I’ll give you a cool-sounding nickname and do everything in my power to make that nickname happen for you.
We have a really fancy cable package, including Cinemax (wink wink, nudge nudge). You can come over and watch whatever you want.
I’ll cook dinner for you. (I hope you like cereal.)
Do you like cute things? You can come over and babysit the Spawn and Homer.
I will like all your Facebook posts, even your posts about God and Jesus and shit like that.
I’ll be your best friend.

Lunch dates with the office busybody

Tue, 23 Apr 2013 13:49:50 -0400

Lunch dates with the office busybody:

Yeah, so, there are a lot of things I don’t like about working in a cubicle.

I don’t like that everyone can hear my personal phone conversations, which means I have to finding a hiding spot in the building to make calls about all my various medical issues. I don’t think everyone should have to listen to me schedule a mammogram. “So, you’re getting your boob squished on Monday. That’s cool.”

I don’t like that everyone walking by can see into my cube, which really affects my ability to screw around on the internet and watch cute cat videos.

But my No. 1 complaint is there is no way for me to hide from the office busybody.

I have written about our office busybody before here. She is obsessed with everyone’s lunch. One time, she even bought my lunch off me. True story.

Most people in the office loathe lunchtime, because they know they are going to be quizzed about their lunch. If she hears the microwave running, she comes running. My office buddy Paul told me that one time he saw her go into the restroom and he ran to put his food in the microwave, hoping it would be finished before she came out. It was a noble effort that failed.

Think you can get away with eating your lunch in peace by not warming it up? False. Even when I’m eating vegetables and hummus for lunch, she will wander into my cube: “Is that your lunch, Sonia?”

Yesterday, I ate my lunch early. Somehow I managed to eat under the office busybody’s radar. I ate my lunch without being pestered. It was awesome. I was living the dream. Then, around lunchtime, I was filling up my water cup in the kitchen area, when the office busybody wandered in.

Office busybody: “Where’s your lunch, Sonia?”

Me: [sighs] “I already ate it.”

Office busybody: “Oh, you already ate it. Ha ha ha. I was wondering where your lunch was.”

Me: “Well, I didn’t mean to make you worry. You shouldn’t worry. I’m getting enough vitamins and nutrients.”

Office busybody: “?”

Me: “?” [goes back to my cube]