Well, I'm not exactly hiding. I'm just not there.
At Chuck E. Cheese.
I'm supposed to be there because Transitions (the company that Amgen is paying to help us make friends) is hosting an event there.
Isn't that nice? That they actually hired a company to help successfully integrate us into the community?
I think it's pretty above-and-beyond. It's not just for us though—they do it for all their employees moving to Thousand Oaks from out of town. Mostly they just host little get-togethers so we can meet other families...see if we like each other, see if we have anything in common—pretty much like speed dating. Sometimes it's a movie night, sometimes a hike, and if you're a stay at home mom you totally score because you can bring your kids to a coffee gathering (all food and drinks at these things are paid for by the company) once a week.
We've only gone to one other event so far, and it was kind of embarrassing because most of the people were from other states and other countries. Michigan. Brazil. India. Florida. People who clearly have a legitimate case for needing to be integrated. I think our case is just as legit (in fact, I'd argue that Michigan may very well be more like Thousand Oaks than where we're from), but when I told them that we moved here from Northern California, “which sounds close but really is like another world,” I got a lot of eye rolling.
Whatever. They don't know.
We get to use the service for a whole year, which seems awfully generous. I suppose they figure that if you haven't made any friends after an entire year you're not going to...ever.
Anyway, I bailed tonight because I needed to go running, and so now poor Shanti is in the land of the pizza rat all by himself (well, with Zeke, but on his own socially). And I'm a little freaked because the more I think about it the more I think that C.E.C. is probably a mecca for pedophiles.
Don't you think you'd go there if you were a pedophile? I would. It's like a child supermarket.
I just called Shanti to ask him if he's keeping an eye on Zeke:
“Do you see any of the Megan's List guys?” (We memorized the faces and names of all the ones that live within a mile radius of our new home, which was actually pretty easy because there were only three and one of them used to be married to one of my best friends in high school.)
“Nope.”
“What about low-profile pervs? See any of those?”
“Nope.”
“Well how do you know? They're low profile—they're probably all around you.”
“No. All that's around me is Amgen people and screaming kids. I'm pretty sure it's a pervert-free zone.”
“OK well I'm calling again in five minutes.”
Hours later...
Fortunately they made it home safe and sound. Whew. I think we'll be sticking to the hikes and movie nights in the future. I just can't handle the pizza rat pressure. The pic is of Zeke is a state of post-Chuckie reverie.
I'm supposed to be there because Transitions (the company that Amgen is paying to help us make friends) is hosting an event there.
Isn't that nice? That they actually hired a company to help successfully integrate us into the community?
I think it's pretty above-and-beyond. It's not just for us though—they do it for all their employees moving to Thousand Oaks from out of town. Mostly they just host little get-togethers so we can meet other families...see if we like each other, see if we have anything in common—pretty much like speed dating. Sometimes it's a movie night, sometimes a hike, and if you're a stay at home mom you totally score because you can bring your kids to a coffee gathering (all food and drinks at these things are paid for by the company) once a week.
We've only gone to one other event so far, and it was kind of embarrassing because most of the people were from other states and other countries. Michigan. Brazil. India. Florida. People who clearly have a legitimate case for needing to be integrated. I think our case is just as legit (in fact, I'd argue that Michigan may very well be more like Thousand Oaks than where we're from), but when I told them that we moved here from Northern California, “which sounds close but really is like another world,” I got a lot of eye rolling.
Whatever. They don't know.
We get to use the service for a whole year, which seems awfully generous. I suppose they figure that if you haven't made any friends after an entire year you're not going to...ever.
Anyway, I bailed tonight because I needed to go running, and so now poor Shanti is in the land of the pizza rat all by himself (well, with Zeke, but on his own socially). And I'm a little freaked because the more I think about it the more I think that C.E.C. is probably a mecca for pedophiles.
Don't you think you'd go there if you were a pedophile? I would. It's like a child supermarket.
I just called Shanti to ask him if he's keeping an eye on Zeke:
“Do you see any of the Megan's List guys?” (We memorized the faces and names of all the ones that live within a mile radius of our new home, which was actually pretty easy because there were only three and one of them used to be married to one of my best friends in high school.)
“Nope.”
“What about low-profile pervs? See any of those?”
“Nope.”
“Well how do you know? They're low profile—they're probably all around you.”
“No. All that's around me is Amgen people and screaming kids. I'm pretty sure it's a pervert-free zone.”
“OK well I'm calling again in five minutes.”
Hours later...
Fortunately they made it home safe and sound. Whew. I think we'll be sticking to the hikes and movie nights in the future. I just can't handle the pizza rat pressure. The pic is of Zeke is a state of post-Chuckie reverie.
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