ms.ashleynicole writes

Main St. Ice Cream and Coffee

msashleynicolewrites — Mon, 12 Jul 2010 06:19:21 +0000

So here is my little disclaimer…I am going to change the names of the places I have worked at as well as my co-workers, just because it seems to be the right thing to do.

simplydailyreciepes.com

I believe I had the best first job ever. I was almost 16 years old and decided I needed to work, so I went where any 15-year-old would…where everyone hangs out and that is where I found Main St Ice Cream and Coffee*. My one and only co-worker was Mike* an oh so cool one year older than me ice cream scooping pro…and he was a total babe, thick glasses, band shirts… the whole package.
Things were great. It was summer our boss paid us under that table, we rounded up our tips and basically owned the place.
But when summer ended..so did our fun. Mike totaled his car and found a new job. And I was left alone. No more dangerous car rides home and closing up early to catch the hardcore bands playing down the street.
By this time our boss had us on pay roll and I was no longer a 16year old receiving $200 cash every week. Also it was 70degrees and under, and in San Diego that means everyone is cold…and they want something hot.
Up until this point NO ONE had ever ordered coffee at Main St Ice Cream and Coffee. Until one day when I was alone and asked to pull a shot of espresso to place on some ice cream.
Now, I had seen it done once or twice down the street where we’d go watch bands play, and I simply just acted like I knew what I was doing…but really had no clue …at all.
I tamped it too hard and the shot came dribbling out, I poured it onto the ice cream and hurried to take the next customers order. After a few more weeks, more coffee was being ordered and I was still serving dribbled shots paired with burned milk that was steamed with such a high screeching noise I am most likely hard of hearing because of it.
They usually didn’t come back for more.
The few weeks turned into a month or so and I decided my ice cream scooping, coffee-making days were over.
Until I applied to the first cafe I saw 6months later.

My name is Ashley and Im a professional button pusher.

msashleynicolewrites — Sat, 10 Jul 2010 03:15:52 +0000

I have been a slave of the “man” for over 7 years. And that slave isn’t Uncle Sam…it is coffee. I’ve been working as a “barista” since a little before I turned 16, and I am officially a 20something now(which is kinda depressing in itself) and I can make a mean dry cappuccino. However, I think the term barista should be used pretty loosely nowadays. Up until about 4 years ago I only worked mom and pop jobs. I had the ice cream/ coffee job, the “my-boss-is-crazy-and-has-hidden-cameras-every-where-but-I-love-my-co-workers-and-the-coffee-is-great-and-free cafe, and the random place I worked at in front of the local hospital.
And for the next couple days Im going to share the short journey on how I sold out of becoming a cool kid barista and into an underpaid, hating my job, franchise working, over glorified button pusher.

A little bit of perfect

msashleynicolewrites — Mon, 14 Jun 2010 07:27:48 +0000

Click to view slideshow.

In my opinion…this could be the best ad campaign ever. And yes that is a little biased because (besides the fact that this is my blog) I have been to Bisbee. Its this small, weird, little town outside of where my grandparents lived.
I remember opening this Vogue (March 2006) and being so in awe that Kate Spade had heard of it. I remember sitting down with my late grandmother and gawking over ever part of this spread. May be another reason why I love it so.

There is really no more to this post then that.

So lets recap…
1. This is awesome.
2. Bisbee is weird.
3. I looked at this with my grandma.

Now that were all caught up…have a good day!

A Poem…

msashleynicolewrites — Sun, 23 May 2010 03:44:39 +0000

Daivd LaChapelle

Ive decided this shouldn’t go into my porfolio….but its still funny and worth sharing.

Easy Tiger

Tiger Woods was feeling all alone,
So he decided to go ahead and pick up his phone
He sent a sexy text message
To the girl that takes off all the dresses.

It was getting pretty late,
But he had already ate
So he just took a little drive
And found a nice little dive.

Tiger had all the sexy chicks
Hopefully he wouldn’t act too quick…
It could be a mean, nasty trick
He had the whole litter from which would take his pick
Angela, Missy, Julie, Joy
Oh boy?!

Maybe he’s gone too far
We all knew him as the big golf star,
But now he’s in hiding
Scared of all his wife’s fighting.

He was oh so sure,
He’d win the next PGA Tour.
Too bad all his glory
Could be a special on Maury.

The End.

empty nester

msashleynicolewrites — Sun, 30 Aug 2009 04:45:39 +0000

Craig McDean

I moved out over a month ago, and today when I went through all the messages on the answering machine, the majority of them sounded like this.
“Hi Ash, its mom. are you there?….” and that is when i skipped onto the next five.
Although, there were two from my dad saying, “Hi Chris this is Greg.”
I know who you are.

And that brings up the saying “leaving the nest”.
Unless you have had a traumatic childhood and are no longer on speaking terms with your family, the saying doesn’t really apply.
No one never really “leaves the nest”.
They just happen to build a new one.

Whether or not its because momma and papa bird don’t let you, or you just cant seem to fly all the way on your own, family’s always there.
Your parents are always there.
Even if you’re 22 years old and have proclaimed your self as independent.
You’re not.
Down and out, you know you can always come to the nest and pick up some sticks, to fix the holes that have formed. Or just money.

I think that until you turn into the momma and papa bird, your first nest is where you go whenever you need something. They may have pushed you off the to help you “spread your wings” but they also caught you when that didn’t work.

I have an unhealthy love for James Dean.

msashleynicolewrites — Mon, 24 Aug 2009 07:48:48 +0000

Ive read a couple James Dean books, and one of my favorites is the one by William Bast, titled Surviving James Dean.
William is an ex room mate of James Dean’s when he first moved to LA.
Anyways,
For those who dont know, James Dean was bi.
And according to William Bast, James Dean would climb into bed and cuddle with him, thinking William is asleep.
James Dean apparently also use to leave in the middle of the night and come back in the wee mornings.
William Bast once followed him.
He followed him to a bus stop on, if I remember right, Hollywood Blvd.
I guess James Dean would just sit there and wait for someone to pull up and ask him to get in.
Kinda like a prostitute.
James Dean would go up to the car and then pull a knife out on them!
He would just mess with them.
But secertly, he wanted it.
The point of the story, tonight on my way home from work…well past midnight, so buses are not running.

There was a man at a bus stop.
And I wonder if he has a knife in his pocket.

hey hey

msashleynicolewrites — Tue, 24 Feb 2009 18:12:22 +0000

sometimes i get this very happy feeling, cause i know i am here and someone cares about me as much as i care about him. its mushy. and gross. but true and i never have felt like this. and its funny how it makes you think about other people, and how much they care about you, or dont. and you start weighing out the things you like and need to take care of.

Sølve Sundsbø