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Ellen S.
05 May 2010 @ 09:37 pm
RIP, Kenneth McKellar, the only tenor I ever loved.  (He died in April, but I just found out.)  His recording of "Ae Fond Kiss" was pretty much my Getting It On song until I reached the age where I actually Got It On (i.e., for a very, very long time).  There is nothing on youtube or iTunes for 'Ae Fond Kiss' or 'Mary Morrison', which is a travesty.

From the comments in the TimeOnline obit:  'A fine man, and a tall man.  How tall we can now never be sure.'
Ellen S.
14 August 2009 @ 11:00 pm
Dear Legs:


Three nights in a row, waking up at 6AM with a Charley Horse. Today, both legs starting to spasm as I was just walking around doing errands, necessitating a forward-leaning calf/foot-stretching stride that made me look like a reject from the Ministry of Silly Walks.

You think I can't do without you? Guess again. You have no idea how lazy I could be. I could sit on my ass for years.

What have I ever done to you? Besides that thing. Whatever, we're even.

Seriously, stop it,
Ellen S.
LJ Instructions say:
HTML editor
: Type <lj-cut text="Read more"> before the text you want to hide, replacing "Read more" with the word or phrase to link to the entire entry. If you want to start showing text again, type </lj-cut> after the text you want to cut.

I also tried the 'Rich text' way, and that did nothing.
Ellen S.
15 July 2009 @ 11:01 pm

"For tomorrow we shall die(t) / But, alas, we never do."

This time I plan to prove her Wrong, for Tonight is South Beach Eve!

In honor of the fact that I will spend the next few weeks whining about how my life is a Carb-less Wasteland and bombarding my LJ with details that manage to be both TMI and totally uninteresting, I have finally learned how to do that fancy 'behind the cut' thing:

<lj-cut text="Thus!">

Anyway, the South Beach Diet (if you don’t know it) confines you to veggies (minus carrots and some others), lean meats, fish, eggs, low-fat cheeses, nuts, and yeah that’s pretty much it.  It’s possible to eat surprisingly well if you’re a decent cook.  I am not, so I’ll be eating Dave’s Pasta’s vegetarian chili 5 times a week (which they were out of last time I went – grrr).


Immediate goal is to be able to fit into my C-cup bras and summer skirts again, but mainly the bras.  My insurance shelled out >$5K for a breast reduction, and the fact that I’m wearing D-cups after gaining 15 pounds is intensely frustrating.

I was supposed to start last Saturday, but my plans were derailed by The Death Flu That Ate My Life.  Saturday and Sunday I did eat only almonds and string cheese because I was too tired to cook and my fridge was otherwise full of only South Beach foods-needing-preparation, but I’m not counting that because I a) ate too many almonds for Phase I, and b) was too tired to complain about being on South Beach.


Many of these fridged-foods being of a spoilable nature, starting South Beach became a bit more urgent.  If there’s anything equal to my laziness and crappy eating habits, it’s that I hate loosing money, and groceries = expensive! 

Tonight I need to:  Pack snacks (turkey & swiss roll-ups, gherkins, garlic olives, almonds, peppermint tea), pack lunch (Dave’s Pasta Texas Chili w/ shredded mozzarella), Splenda for coffee.  I will not be going cold-turkey on caffeine because I value both the lives of my co-workers and my job.


Tomorrow’s Breakfast:  Eggs scrambled with dill and cheese.  Need to:  get eggs, cheese, dill together.  Put post-it on stove reminding self to put on a robe before cooking - have way too many belly burns.


Tomorrow’s Dinner:  Chicken breast (need to buy), Caprese salad (have farmer’s market tomatoes and basil, olive oil, mozzarella)

Tonight's Farewell to Carbs Meal:  Burrito (Anna's Taqueria - so good!), Carmello bar, Diet Pepsi

Current Mood: Trepidatious
Ellen S.
25 June 2009 @ 12:04 am

The weird thing about this whole Sanford affair wasn’t (obviously) the affair.  It was how the story seemed to unfold like a cross between a “Choose Your Own Adventure” and Mad Libs.


Friday, Mark Sanford, the Governor of (Humid, Backward State), disappeared.  His aides initially said he was (gerund) the (National Park Starting with ‘A’).  In fact, he had flown from (Place: Beginning with ‘A’) to (Exotic Place: Beginning with ‘A’), where he had a (Person: with bigger breasts than wife).  When he returned and was told that his (Plural Noun, hilarious electronic ramblings) to her would be published, he called a (Noun, Event) to (Verb, get ahead of news cycle).  He apologized to his (betrayed family member), his (betrayed family member), his (betrayed colleagues), his (betrayed household pets, indoor), his (betrayed household pets, outdoor), and his (Collective Noun: Idiots who Voted Him in On Family Values Platform).  He said he wanted to save his (Institution in Imminent Peril from Gays), and that in (Exotic Place Beginning with ‘A’) he had spent  “five days of (his) life (Gerund)” over the (Euphemism for Total Fuck-Up).


Of course, if it were a real Mad Libs, it would be filled in entirely with the word ‘penis’ (or ‘penising’ if a gerund were required).  In which case it would read about the same, I guess.

Ellen S.
07 June 2009 @ 12:20 am
Can anyone speaking of the Spanish translate? This was written on the bag of my bi-weekly burrito. WordReference.com gives me no joy since I can only guess at the spelling from the hand-writing.

I'm assuming it does not say, "Help! I am being held captive - forced to make delicious, delicious burritos."

Ellen S.
21 April 2009 @ 11:13 pm
I'm thinking of buying this auction lot just for the creep factor.

Damn that's creepy.

I'm always having to log in to stuff I don't have usually have to log in to (c.f. Google home page, LJ, everything else). Am worried I have a virus, but 'always logged out of everything virus' doesn't turn up anything on Google. Nor does, 'doctor, do I have Conficker?' I wonder if there's a term yet for Computer Hypochondria.
Ellen S.
So, I've been trolling craigslist for apartments recently in a half-hearted way. I love my current place, but it gets absolutely no direct sunlight (raised first floor facing the courtyard of a three story building) and the possibility that this might have exacerbated the Wallowing in a Pit of Black Despair Thing this winter has turned my thoughts to moving.

The Listing: An apartment in Beacon Hill, described as a 'large studio' with a 'large eat-in kitchen' for $1,000/mo. (Slightly less than my current place.) The street address is a very good one. I call the realtor.

Realtor: It's pretty small - how big you looking for?
Me: Well - not huge. My current place is just over 300SF. It is described as 'large' - how big is it?
Realtor: Let me put it this way - do you look like Gisele Bundchen?
Me: No. No I do not.
Realtor: So, I just put in what these apartment owners say. They'll say whatever.
Me: So you are saying the apartment is very small.
Realtor: Yeah.

Also in the course of apartment-hunting, a Nigerian scam and a phishing attempt.

On the whole, I preferred the Nigerian scammer. As he ('Sir Kenneth Ford'/'Allen Francis' - the salutation and email address did not match) said "I know that out there in the world of evil doers there are still God fearing individuals and i hope that you will turn out to be one of them since i am trusting you not to let me down." Indeed.
Ellen S.
12 March 2009 @ 08:44 pm
I finally looked up “what to do in event of gas leak” online. Everyone, including other gas companies, safety organizations, and universities (including Nipissing University!), says to open the windows and doors to disperse the gas if you can.

How can you not take the advice of Nipissing University* (or Piss U, as its fond alums say).

I hope that I have not inadvertently caused any harm to either of my readers!

*It's in Canada. Canadians can probably even say it with a straight face.
Ellen S.
11 March 2009 @ 12:03 am
(or, 'How Chocolate Chip Cookies Saved My Life')

So, back at my apartment after a hard day at work, I settled down for a hard night of making up excuses for not going to the gym, which, as the clock pushed 11PM, turned into making up reasons that having chocolate chip cookies instead of dinner + cookies was basically the same thing as one aerobics session. Five minutes after turning on the oven there was no heat, and the faint gas smell I'd semi-noticed earlier was considerably stronger. So I called my super (not home), and then my mother, who told me to call my gas utility company.

The nice NStar man came and fixed the gas. He was very evangelist about gas-leak education and said to never never NEVER open the windows when you smell a gas leak. (I'd opened the windows.) The greater flow of oxygen increases your chances of blowing up by a LOT. Also no fans for same reason. If it's your oven pilot light that goes off, open up the broiler (or wherever the pilot light is) and let it air out for about a half hour, then light the pilot light. (If there's a lot of gas or you're freaked out, leave and call the gas company.)

Anyway, he said that there weren't any educational efforts like there were for sexier things-that-kill-you like fire and asbestos and carbon monoxide, and that if every person he saved from exploding told one other person, then maybe someday we could beat Gas Explosions forever. (He was pretty fired up about it.) He was also pretty uncomplimentary about oxygen - nowhere near as pure as cooking gas!

He said from the amount of gas in the apartment, the pilot must have been off since at least this morning. Yikes!

Anyway, good night, and bake yourself a chocolate chip cookie. The life you save may be your own.