Riding on the Metro

The Metro was crowded. Hot. Humid. Stinky. I was over it. A woman shoved her way past me, separating me and my husband. I watched as Todd had no choice but to move about 15 feet away from me, grateful for the silent “You okay?” he shot me with his eyes across the train packed with Parisians. 

“I’m fine,” I wordlessly nodded back. But I wasn’t fine. I wanted off this damn train. I wanted the smelly man across from me to stop leering at me. I wanted the other smelly man next to me to stop brushing my hand with his as he pretended to just be adjusting his position on the pole. I wanted to lean against my husband instead of this sweat-slicked pole. I wanted to reach our stop and escape to the perfect summer afternoon above ground. 

As we approached the next stop, I hoped enough people would exit that I could breathe again. Instead, twenty more boarded.

We now return you to my regularly scheduled existential crisis...

Remember when I was good at blogging? Yeah, me either. It's been five months since I last posted. Five. Months.

Remember this post? One of the last before I virtually shut the hell up? The one where I was all fulfilled and excited about new beginnings? Remember when I thought I finally had it all figured out? Yeah. Me either.

I thought I'd found it, that I'd finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up. But here am I, looking 32 in the face, still wondering what I'm going to do with my life. Sure, my new (okay I guess it's not so new anymore) bakery life has its perks. I love getting all OCD on chocolate dipping cookies. I adore many of my customers. I've learned a TON. But if I'm really honest with myself...if I really quiet all the rambling questions and to-do lists in my brain and allow myself the luxury of self-reflection...this isn't it. I thought it was. But it's not.

Thank you...

My Sweet Husband,

I went to the store to find you a card this morning. I spent an hour reading and re-reading every anniversary card available. And you know what? They sucked. None of them came even the slightest bit close to expressing how truly and deeply I love you. Not a single one could properly convey just how much being your wife means to me. No card could really say how thrilling, comforting, and awe-inspiring the past three years have been.

Letter to a Stranger

Dear Old Man,

You've come into the bakery almost every morning since I started. I hear it's been years. You order a cup of coffee and you sit. For hours.

And you're dying.

Every morning, I see less life in you than the morning before. When I first served you, you were able to mutter shakily, "Small coffee." Now, you can only shake. Luckily, I know.

Livin' the Dream

You guys. Seriously.

It's happened.

About a year and a half ago, I came home from work exhausted, weary, and on the verge of a complete meltdown. Every. Night. I told The Hubs, "All I want to do is frost cupcakes and write."

I wanted a life in which I made people, and myself, happy. I wanted something pure, something nourishing, something sweet, something filled with love. I wanted to actually have the time to do the things I loved. I wanted to love what I do. I wanted people to feel loved by what I do. I wanted to feed people. And write about it. Operation Frost Cupcakes became the dream.

Over time Operation Frost Cupcakes became our code for, "When Andrea finally gets to work in a bakery, write, move to a kick-ass part of town, and completely love her life." The Hubs and I talked about it all the time. I dreamed about it constantly. I told anyone that would listen that someday, someday. I put it out into the universe. It got me through the days. I wanted that new adventure so bad I could taste it.

It's been a tough journey. Really tough. Twists and turns and doubts and so many unexpected curve-balls made me come thisclose to giving up the dream. Almost daily I seriously questioned just what the hell I thought I was doing. Each hurdle made the dream seem further and further away.

But then it started getting closer. The Hubs, my friends, my family, YOU held my hand, dragged me kicking and screaming, and cheered so damn loud as the finish line got closer and closer. I wanted to give up. You all wouldn't let me. So I ran faster, dreamed bigger.

And then it happened. I crossed the finish line.

I'm here. Living the dream.

Working in a bakery. Freelance writing. Loving my new town. Drafting a book. Blogging. Laughing. Dreaming. Loving.

Living.

I love you. Thank you.

The Nice Fight

Have you ever niced your way into an epic fight? Does that question make any sense at all to you? Lemme 'splain.

The Hubs and I have this amazing habit of getting into arguments because we are being TOO NICE to each other. I know. It sounds completely stupid. And it probably is.

This fight almost always starts over snoring. Not in the way you think. I don't get mad when he snores. I don't see red when it sounds like I'm laying next to a wild boar making love to a chain saw. I don't get upset when the bed is literally shaking from his log sawing.

I get nice.

Rather than kick him and push him out of the bed (though it's sometimes it's very, very tempting), I simply grab a blanket and my pillow and move to the couch. Inevitably, he will wake up an hour or two later to discover my absense, wander into the living room to find me asleep on the couch or the floor, and then it starts...

The nice fight.

"Why are you out here? Come back to bed."

"You were snoring. I'm fine here. Go back to bed."

"No, I'll take the couch. You have a bad back. Go to bed."

"No, you have to work in the morning. You go to bed."

"No, no. I don't feel comfortable with you out here. You take the bed."

"No. Really. You're the breadwinner. I don't feel right kicking you out of bed. You take the bed."

"No, babe. TAKE THE BED."

"No, really sweetheart. I'M GOOD HERE. GO BACK TO BED!"

"But I love you and I don't want you to be uncomfortable. TAKE THE DAMN BED!"

"I love you, too. SO, TAKE THE EFFING BED!"

"What the hell is wrong with you? GO THE FUCK TO BED!"

"Why are you being an ass? GO! TO! BED!"

"How's it feel up on that cross? TAKE THE BED!"

"Cross? CROSS?!?! Ah HELLNO! I'M SO TAKING THIS COUCH! GO TO BED!!!!"

And then we're in a huge fight.

What is wrong with us? Who in their right mind gets into arguments because they are trying to out-nice each other? Does anyone else do this or are The Hubs and I certifiably insane?

And it doesn't end there. We get in the nice fight more than any other fight. We've got conflicting events on the same day? Watch us battle over who will cancel their plans to accommodate the other. An unappealing errand to run? We'll go ten rounds over who gets to do it so the other doesn't have to. A mess to clean up? Literally clawing our way to said mess to get to it before the other person can. And the best part? Neither of us even necessarily WANTS to do the nice thing. We just can't stand the thought of the other being put out so we'll gladly play the martyr card in order to feel nice.

What the hell is that about? Does anyone else have nice fights?

Lady B's in Love

 It finally sunk in the other night. The first couple of weeks were a SERIOUS adjustment, but it really and truly hit me this weekend, standing in front of the Kibitz Room at Canter's Deli as a light rain drizzled down on The Hubs and I, making the Hollywood lights glow a welcoming orange in the night sky. Hit me like a ton of happy, fluffy, warm and fuzzy rainbows and unicorns. And maybe a little Jack Daniels.

My new home is RAD.

Seriously, you guys? I wasn't sure if I'd get used to living over the hill. I know it sounds dramatic but this was a GINORMOUS change for Lady B. I left my safe Valley bubble for the frenetic, crazy energy that is Hollywood. And I downsized from a sprawling house to an apartment. I have to admit that the first week left me feeling overwhelmed, exhausted, out of place and scared to come out from under my covers. And then a list of awesomeness started to write itself:

• I have not moved my car in over two weeks, yet I've gone out multiple times every single day. 
• I've lost ten pounds from all the walking, jogging and exploring I've done in my new 'hood.
• The Hubs and I now unwind by sitting in our rooftop jacuzzi, looking out over the entire damn city.
• That's the same rooftop my bestie and I gossiped, ate stupid-delicious Crumbs Bake Shop cupcakes, and were treated to a surprise fireworks show from Dodger Stadium last Friday night.
• We live across the street from the historic El Royale, former home of Clark Gable and other legends. I'm obsessed with its Art Deco architecture and it's green neon sign shines down into our pool in the sexiest film noir kinda way.

•  Speaking of which, I feel the need to speak like a 40's dame living here. "That's the way it's gonna be, see." "Come 'ere, kid, and let Mama make a man outta ya." Know what I mean? Very Mae West.
• Oh yeah. I also look out over the historic Ravenswood Apartments, where Mae West lived for close to 50 years.
• The Farmer's Market is ridiculous and fantastic. There is a GOURMET SALT GUY, people! Fancy salt!!! Y'all know how much I love me some fancy-pants salt! 
• I have a GAS OVEN AND STOVE again! We're cooking with gas, folks! Oh fire, how I missed you.
• The Village Pizzeria is now our second home. A delicious, warm, cheesy home.
• Everything we own really does fit into this apartment! No need for a storage space as we'd feared! Boo to the YAH!
• There's a book store! A real, honest-to-goodness, not-a-giant-chain book store!!!!
• Our neighbors are NEIGHBORLY! Was totally not expecting that.
• The amount of eye candy in Larchmont Village is bananas. Sexy, scruffy dads getting ice cream with the kids your kinda thing? Tight spandex-clad butts walking to yoga? Down to earth, yet painfully gorgeous celebs? Salt-n-pepper Clooney types? Get. Down. Here. Now.

I could go on for days but I don't want hit the world record for exclamation points in a single blog post.You get it though, right?

THIS PLACE IS HOME! AND HOME IS FREAKING AMAZE-BALLS!!!!!!!

I'm, Like, Totally Gonna Miss The Valley

Why has the idea of leaving The Valley shaken me to my very core? Why is moving a measly 12 miles making me feel like I'm moving away?

I'm a Valley girl, through and through. Except for that awful 6-month stint in Arizona, I've lived here my entire life. It's all I know. And I love it. And I'm going to miss the holy shit out of it.

Don't get me wrong, I'm stoked for our new adventure over the hill. I can't wait to explore our new 'hood. The Hubs and I have always wanted to live exactly where our new place is and I keep pinching myself to make sure our dream is really coming true. But there's something absolutely terrifying about your dreams coming true. What if your dream was wrong? What if once you have it, you discover that you don't really want it after all? What if it just plain sucks?

Then again, what if it doesn't?

Still. I'm gonna miss the good ol' SFV. The 818. My stomping grounds. The smell of night jasmine in the air. Jogging along the Balboa path. October at the Tapia Bros. pumpkin patch. A frozen lemonade at The Sherman Oaks Street Fair. A movie at The Galleria. A Twain's pancake and a Dupar's pie. Orange and purple sunsets over the 101. A memory tied to each and every corner. My roots.

I've got 37 days left (Crap, it's still that far away? Is this not the longest waiting game ever?) as a San Fernando Valley resident. As a true Valley girl. And I'm going to make the most of it. I know I'll be back. It's only twelve freaking miles. My family and friends are still here. But there's something so bittersweet about leaving and I feel the need to respect that. So I'm going to spend the next five weeks indulging in some of my all-time Valley favorite pastimes. Want to join me?

Spring time at Lake Balboa

A Bob's Big Boy combo in Burbank

People watching over coffee at La Reina on Ventura Blvd.

Pool and darts with the gang at the Sweep.

Wholesome goodness at the Studio City Farmer's Market

Oh Valley, you're so pretty.

Lady B’s New Life

Well, helllooo! Welcome to my brand-spankin’-new blog! Thanks to those of you that read the old blog (which has actually since been moved back here to its original home. Don't ask), but there have been a lot of changes in my life lately. A LOT. I figured this just seemed logical.

New life. New blog.

So what’s new in the life of Lady B?

I don’t have a job anymore. Yup. Long story. I’ll spare you the details, but I’m no longer “Astro Andrea”. Though I was sad to leave my stellar slimey scientists, I’m really excited for the new opportunities that are opening up.

Like Lady B’s Sweet Shoppe. Uh-huh. That’s all I’m going to say about that for now.

Sans 9-5 gig, my days are now filled with job hunting, house cleaning, house hunting, crafting, baking, cooking, jogging, errand running, holiday elfing, sweet shoppe scheming, and WRITING! Lots and lots of writing. Get ready to be annoyed with too-frequent blog posts. It’s crazy having time to pursue all the things I want and STILL not having enough hours in the day to do it all! But I’m loving every second of it. Well, except for those seconds filled with momentary panic over not having a freaking job.

My new life as a job-seeker and housewife is equal parts panic-inducing terrifying and sky’s-the-limit exciting. And despite my fear of heights, I’ve always wanted to fly.

Here we go…


{actually written on 12/12/11 as seen here}

Two Years Ago Today...

Two years ago today, I did the absolute greatest thing I've ever done in my life. 

I married The Hubs. 

 ~  Best. Day. Ever.  ~

 I've been reminiscing over wedding pics all morning and my face hurts from smiling and laughing at all the perfect memories. Not only was the day magical, filled with love and pure blissful romance, it was freaking hilarious. Thought I'd share some of the "outtake" pics that make me giggle...

Beauchamp sibs can't resist singin' along with Bon Jovi

Inebriated sister Nicole, Uncle Vinnie, and Cammron

Mia does the robot

Ladies and gentleman, may I present ~ The Lippincooties.

A family tradition ~ "Goodbye Earl"

Lady B ruins a perfectly lovely family portrait

Sisters. All class all the time.

The most kick-ass wedding party EVER.

The Hubs was kind enough to NOT smash cake in my face. My bestie, Cody? Not so much.

Male Nales make the same Limoncello shot face.

Silly Mommy! I would never ACTUALLY eat a baby-makin' Medici almond!

Chris and Amy. That's a whole lotta sexy.

Ms. Devine gets to get second base.

Things that make you go, huh?

Shades of Rat Pack, The Hubs

We rock. Hard.

The moment we discovered the cake was the wrong flavor.

Singin' with Leland

I love our friends.

The Macs!!

My MOH and bestie, Yvette. Always protecting her bride.

Leland read from Dr. Seuss' "Oh the Places You'll Go" during our ceremony. Michael got himself ordained and married us. And I married the one in the middle. Love. These. Men.

On my way to the ceremony with my folks. Equal parts terrified and kid-on-Christmas excited.

These men are my first loves. My dad and Michael. Making my bouquet. Love.

The moment we realized the poster didn't exactly fit in the marquee. Hey nervous brides-to-be? Don't sweat the small stuff. All the little things that went amiss (like the too-narrow aisle my parents and I giggled our way down. And getting dressed the morning of and realizing I'd forgotten to pack underwear - don't worry, I didn't go commando. The Hubs came to my rescue and delivered a bag of chonies to my parents' house while I hid in the bathroom.), are actually some of my fave funny memories of our big day.

Consoling my sister, who adorably burst into happy tears after the ceremony.

Mom will probably kill me for this one. But I love it.

Y'all? Watch out for these ones. They will out-party the hardest of partiers. And look damn good doing it.

 Mother and son moment.

Aunt Jeannie lovin', making sure I don't look like a hot mess.

My Spacey Susan. So happy, dance-y, and in love.

Yep, that's me stepping on my dress and about to fall face-first at the altar. And there's The Hubs, catching my fall, as he always does. I love you, T. Forever and always. More than the moon, and the sky, and all of the stars. You are the awesomist.

How to Land a Spot in the Unemployment Line

This ACTUALLY happened this week.

Office phone rings. I answer.

JOB APPLICANT: Um..hi...I called the other day...but they said I had to talk to someone else...cuz...uh...she wasn't there...um...cuz I need to reschedule...uh...what happened was...uh....cuz I couldn't make it to the interview the other day so I  need a new one.

ME: Oh you missed the group interview? Yes, you set that up with me, Andrea. Your name?

APPLICANT: (name is withheld to protect the clueless) So when can I have the new interview?

ME: I see that we set up a time but you didn't show up. Or call.

A: Yeah, but I couldn't call. There was a...um, a family thing.

ME: The interview was last Friday. (people, this call was on the following THURSDAY)

A: Yeah, well, I didn't know if I could call you on the weekend...and whatever I called Monday night but you were like gone already or something. So when can I come in?

ME: I'm sorry but you failed to show up for our appointment without any notice. I'm really looking for candidates that are reliable and have great communication skills.

A: Yeah...*annoyed grunt* but...I had like a FAMILY EMERGENCY so I couldn't come. And I KNOW my friend is coming to the interview you have tomorrow. (oh yippy)

ME: Since you did not come to your scheduled interview nor did you call to say you could not make it, I really don't see it working out. But thanks for applying.

A: *exasperated sigh* Yeaaahhhh, but I said already that I could come toMORROW.

ME: Thanks, but no.


ARE YOU FREAKING KIDDING ME??!?!?!?

No. No, I'm not. Sadly, I encounter this kind of stuff far too often. I do a lot of hiring. A LOT. Thousands of potential employees have crossed my path. Sadly, only dozens have been GREAT. Sadder still, thousands more have been AWFUL. I mean really awful, people. Make you shake yo' head in shame and despair kind of horrible. Beloved interwebs, I ask you, where has all the common sense gone?? The pride? The grammar, spelling, basic grasp of the English language? Manners? Tact? Plain ol' smarts??

Out of sheer frustration (yes, it's hiring season and I'm being inundated with beyond infuriating redunkulousness. I'm mad as hell and I'm not going to take this anymore!), may I present...DRUMROLL PLEASE...

Lady B's Top 10 List of Completely Obvious, But All Based on True Stories,  Job Hunting Shiz You Should Really Know By Now 

1.If you can't make an interview, CALL AHEAD. Better yet, just make the interview.

2. Do not ever, EVER, list your "mommy," "BFF," or "roommate and one helluva guy" as references.

3. Learn to capitalize. Correctly. If I see one more "i" instead of "I", I may go postal. And what's up with this new trend of randomly capitalizing words that shouldn't be? "i'd like to apply for the Job." *shudder* "i'm very Detail-Orientated." *blacks out phone number on application to stop myself from calling and screaming at applicant* Unsure of proper grammar and punctuation etiquette? Go take a refresher course. Seriously.

4. LOL, :-) , ur, TTYL. STOP IT. Stop it right now.

5. Applying for a bunch of jobs at once? That's fine. But please, for the love of all that is good, tailor your cover letters and objectives to each individual submission. I work with kids. The cover letter that read, "My extensive background in the gay adult entertainment industry makes me the perfect candidate for this position"? Not appropriate. Yeah, that guy probably should have been more "Detail-Orientated."

6. And speaking of cover letters? WRITE THEM! Every time! When I receive nothing but a resume, I get no real feel for the person. Sure, I can clearly see job history but that tells me about 5% of what I need to know. It also takes about zero effort to hit FWD on that generic resume email you're blasting around town. Show me why you're applying for THIS job. Show me you give a crap. Write a cover letter. 

7. Discretion is your friend. I  don't need to know EV-ER-Y-THING. You've been job hunting for a year and no one will hire you? Probably shouldn't tell me that. You're a topless housekeeper on the side? Not my business. When asked about your hobbies, prospective employers actually DON'T want to hear that you "toke mad bong hits", "dabble in past life regression," or "love drinkin' and shootin'." And I never thought I'd need to say this, but one should never share that they "just went through a nasty breakup so I packed up and moved here two weeks ago." Discretion. Use it.

8. Don't include a link to your Facebook page unless it's a gajillion percent professional. In fact, don't let your social networking persona ever exemplify anything you wouldn't want your Nona to see. But that's a whole other I-could-go-on-for-days kinda blog entry. But in the meantime, go. Fix that ish right now.

9. When completing an online application, actually COMPLETE it. The number of blank applications I receive with just a resume attached is maddening. Those questions on that application page you just tabbed through? Yeah, we ask you those questions FOR A REASON. Leave those blank and you'll know exactly why your phone isn't ringing.

10. Dress the part! Proper interview attire should never include strapless dresses, flip flops, dirty overalls (or any overalls for that matter. Unless it's a mechanic gig, I guess.), a Cottonmouth Kings t-shirt, or a Juicy Couture bag holding your teacup chihuahua. Oh, and if you need to call to ask the prospective employer what the dress code is for your interview? Yeah, don't make that call.

Job hunt wisely, folks! Contrary to popular media hype, there ARE quality jobs to be had out there. We just need quality candidates to come and get 'em!