Tag Archives: coffee bean

Flo-Jo and Froyo – Bingo!

21 May

Today was my triumphant return to the gym. Shockingly, I was not greeted with balloons, whistles and high fives.
Don’t they know what it took to get myself here today?!

It’s been months since I set foot in the place. That seems to be my shtick, I go religiously, buy new workout pants, a fancy water bottle, and start feeling fantastic….

Then – BAM! – I’m done. I skip a day and the next and the next and the next thing I know I haven’t seen the gym in 4 months.
Since I sucumbed to my sloth tendencies 4 months ago, I truly haven’t really seen that much of a difference in the way I look. (Those who have, have kindly kept it to themselves) My weight has stayed the same. I still wear the same size clothing.

What I absolutely DO recognize is a total change in the way I feel. I’m not as happy. I’m not as confident or energetic. I am a better version of me when I’m making my body sweat for an hour, four or five times a week.

How can I get myself to remember how much better I feel about myself and life in general when I’m working out? It’s only one hour out of my entire day. Target and my comfy little writing chair at Coffee Bean will still be there after my gym time.

Maybe my gym could start serving froyo and install a self serve candy bar! That would get me there everyday for sure!

Yes, these types of thoughts actually cross my mind. Frequently.

xoxo

20140521-133153.jpg

Big Pimpin’ Loud Talkin’

19 May

Loud talkers have got to be the most annoying people on the planet. I’m sitting here at my local Coffee Bean on Beverly Drive trying to write, key word – trying. I am seated next to the loudest of all loud talkers ever.

He’s mid to late 60’s, faded New York accent, shades on, decent looking guy. Still has his hair and a young mans shape. He’s sitting with a group of about four other men his age and they are currently discussing sex. Yuck.

Now, if there is anything worse than a loud talker, it’s a loud talker that talk about inappropriate subject matter in front of children. My kids are all spoken for and signed into their classrooms.
The woman sitting next to me is not so lucky. She is with her daughter who looks to be about 8 years old. I want to warn the mother that she should probably just leave now. I’ve been sitting next to this guy for 20 minutes and she should take her daughter and leave before she hears something that can’t be unheard.

Loud talker: I mean come on guys, we aren’t fu**ing gorgeous women like we used to and we should be. We are good looking guys! I looked like Tom Selleck in the 70’s.

His Friend: I love you man. Let me show you pictures of me from the 80’s, I was a handsome son of a bitch. Like a young Jerry Seinfeld, but funnier.

Loud Talker: I was a Hair Stylist, I could make you look 10 years younger. You could get some real tail with my help. Isn’t this weather amazing?! I don’t have to worry that I will come home and my cat will be dead!

It was after this strange cat statement that the Mother sitting next to me decided to get up with her daughter and leave. I wonder what the final straw was for her. Was it when he said, f**cking gorgeous women or was it when he talked about his possibly dead cat?

Today’s post is dedicated to you Mr. Loud Talker. Not only are you loud and disruptive, you are offensive and totally odd all at the same time. People are right, L.A. Is full of untapped talent.

xoxo

20140519-133051.jpg

Knee Deep in Cheerios and Chocolate Milk – But Not Alone

7 Feb

I ran into one of my good friends L.M. today at Coffee Bean. I had the twins with me and as they spilled $20 worth of chocolate milk on the ground, she asked me a question that I’ve been getting a lot of lately, “Why haven’t you written anything on your blog?”
My hair stylist, the pharmacist, the UPS guy, my Dad and now my friends all want to know why I haven’t posted anything here for a few weeks. My friend said to me, “You may not know this, but your writing makes me happy, I look forward to reading it.”

It’s interesting, I never seriously thought about it that way. That by sharing my ridiculous tales about the twins and the mini-diva, that I might be making someone else feel better. When I first started publishing this blog I really had no clue who would actually read it. I did know that it was therapeutic for me and I enjoyed writing again. When I actually started to have followers and subscribers, I wanted to be flattered, but I was also sure that it was a mistake. Now, when I look at my numbers and statistics, I get it, people are actually reading my blog. Crazy!

When L.M. told me that my writing makes her happy I realized why most people read my blog (besides my parents, they have no choice) it’s because they can see that they are not alone.
I might be writing from Beverly Hills but I may as well be in Boise or Birmingham. The feelings that a Mother of small children seems to experience runs true no matter what your geographical locale might be.

I know what you’re thinking, In Boise they don’t hang out with celebrities and attend catered 1st birthday parties for 400 of the toddlers closest friends. Maybe not, but what is the same is the desire to do right by your kids. The desperate need to make them feel safe and loved. The exhaustion and frustration at the end of a tough day alone with them. The fear that everyone else got an instruction manual on parenting except you.

I haven’t written in awhile because I’ve been waiting for the perfect subject to come to mind so I could publish a witty yet heartfelt post. Despite getting to that point, I’m posting anyways. Because I’m not perfect, my writing is far from it, and it makes my friend L.M. happy.

It’s nice to be back. I missed you guys too.

xoxo

20130207-135552.jpg

I Love You, I Hate You, Now Take My Picture!

13 Aug

Paparazzi are an interesting phenomenon.
As a typical Beverly Hills resident trying to get normal everyday things done, they are occasionally a pain in my ass. There are definitely thrills and perks to living in a town full of celebrities. Hordes of photographers blocking the sidewalk and scaring my kids is not one of them. It can be fun to stand in line at Coffee Bean with Heidi Klum or hang at the park with Gwen Stefani. Almost getting run over by tourist filled double-decker TMZ tour buses, not so fun.
Celebrities absolutely realize that they depend on these photographers for their livelihood. They need them to take their picture, publish it in a gossip magazine and keep that celeb in the public eye for another day. Every star knows that there are a million people waiting to take their place on the cover of the magazines and the second the Paps stop taking your picture, you are done. Despite this reality, the typical Hollywood A or B-lister runs from the Paparazzi as If they were wild dogs. Most of these guys are pretty friendly if they aren’t actively taking someone’s picture. I’ve had incidents where they have helped me lift my stroller into my trunk or hand me my coffee when my hands are full of kids.
But the moment they smell celebrity blood, the niceties go out the window. These vampires would knock my stroller into oncoming traffic trying to grab their photo op. I’m not just talking a shot of Brad Pitt or Jennifer Aniston. I’m talking trampling small children to get a picture of Tara Reid or Kathy Griffin.
It’s a game. The celebrities need their picture taken, but they run away and create a frenzy. the photographers know that in the end the person will give them at least one good printable shot. The locals pretend that we don’t see the 5 guys standing on the sidewalk with cameras pointing at us. We obviously see them and the kids most definitely spot them. By 3 years old HB knew that the group of strangers pointing cameras at her were just waiting for the actress coming out of the store right behind her.
For the most part, you get used to it. I ignore the celebrities, the Paparazzi and everything else that comes along with it.
Unless of course, Mark Ruffalo gets in line next to me at Coffee Bean, that’s a whole different story.

Xoxo

All comments welcome, don’t be shy.

20120812-215804.jpg

Peet’s Coffee on Beverly Drive – You Suck.

26 Jun

A week ago my Monday morning playdate and I decided to stray from our usual Coffee Bean and try Peet’s Coffee instead. I know, living on the wild side. Things starting going terribly wrong from the moment we stepped inside: First, my mega double stroller barely fit through the door and slammed into the glass. Everyone in the place turned and glared at us as if we has just interrupted the Bar Exam. Then my friend jammed her son’s arm in the doorway as she’s trying to squeeze in. We should have called it quits at that point but we were determined to make it to the counter. As approaching the counter I heard one cashier say to the other cashier, “Oh boy, get the mop.” so, that’s what it’s come to? people see my kids coming and immediately predict a catastrophe. Then, right on cue the twins start screaming, “Chocolate milk! CHOCOLATE MILK!!!!!” there must be something in those Horizon milk boxes that flips the crazy switch in my children. If I don’t get the little frickin’ straws in fast enough they start acting like I’m cutting off their oxygen flow.
I order my green iced tea (coffee makes me act like I’m on crack) and I proceed to spill it on the floor just as the lady hands it to me. Apparently at Peets they don’t believe in lids. The cashier snaps, “don’t worry, I’ll clean it up!” Gee thanks lady, it’s iced tea not a dead body.

Within the next 30 seconds, everything that could have gone wrong, did –
JH starts squeezing his milk box and pouring all of its contents onto the floor, just as TR starts hysterically screaming, “Out Mommy! Stroller no no out out out!” I then dropped my credit card, and as I bent over to get it smashed the stroller into the counter. At that very moment an employee that looked beyond miserable decided it would be a good time to try to squeeze by my big rig stroller. As I tried to maneuver out of her way (while JH is still spraying milk onto the floor and TR is hollering) I ran over the woman’s foot. This lady starts jumping up and down, does a 360 degree spin and starts screaming, “My foot! My foot!” for God’s sake woman, it was an accident and it’s a stroller not a Hummer. Before, I could apologize she snaps at me, “Don’t worry, I’ll clean the mess up!”
As I turned the stroller around to make a B-line for the exit, I notice that the line is 20 people deep and they are all staring at me and my catastrophe on wheels.
When my girlfriend and I finally made it out of Peet’s alive, we looked at each other and burst into hysterical laughter. The only way that coffee run could have gone worse was if we set off the fire alarm and sprinklers.
To say that Peet’s coffee is not kid friendly would be a huge understatement. Between the snappy employees and gawking patrons, this place might as well put a sign out front that says, KIDS NOT WELCOME HERE, GO TO COFFEE BEAN.
Well Peet’s coffee, guess what? My crazy caravan won’t be back. And I might have to mention to a few people here and there to not patronize Peet’s on Beverly Drive. Either that or I’ll invite every set of twins I know to meet me at Peet’s for breakfast every morning this week.

xoxo

Should I boycott Peet’s? or tell everyone with little kids to start hanging out there?

%d bloggers like this: