Wednesday, June 1, 2011 at 10:58AM Tony Robbins, You've got some competish. Hey y'all, whenever I'm being a big baby about not being automatically awesome at everything, just start yelling at me with a slight speech impediment and while wearing a bike helmet and I will totally snap out of it and get back to work. Risk. Fail. Risk again. I feel happy of myself!!!
Friday, May 27, 2011 at 11:51AM A video post...
It's been three months of no walking or driving. Let's just say I've been spending a lot of time at home.
Monday, May 23, 2011 at 12:30PM I'd like to thank Woody Allen for diagnosing the root of my health problems, my hubby for not evicting me after overhearing this song too many times while I was editing, my docs for finding my tumor and extracting it, and my destructive tumor for being so darn cute.
Monday, May 23, 2011 at 8:43AM 
In high school, the jocks are on crutches; in college, it's the drunk freshman who slipped on ice; and in the rest of America, grown ups get hurt in hockey leagues, or on ski trips, or they just have bad knees; but, in Los Angeles, I'm telling you: nobody is on crutches. I know because I've been looking for three months.
Friday night was the very first time I spotted someone else on crutches in L.A. I begged this stranger to take a picture with me outside the movie theater. We had a moment. He tore his ACL; I had a tumor; kindred spirits.
Oh, and if you ever need a hug, wait near a valet stand on Hollywood Blvd. with crutches. The more vulnerable you look, the better. Some drunk nut bag is sure to wrap his arms around you. Or maybe I'm just special.
Saturday, May 21, 2011 at 8:07PM Lots of dudes try to hit on me by asking: What'd you do to yourself? This makes things awkward cause...
a) we both know they really just want an excuse to talk about their old skiing/football/soccer injuries.
b) they never want to hear the truth.
CHILI COOK OFF RICHARD
I'm at a best friend's 30th birthday chili cook off. I'm standing on crutches, teetering over the chips and salsa. I'm buzzed on cilantro mojitos and whiskey. I'm wearing my Don't Mess with Texas t-shirt. A stranger, we'll call him Richard, sidles up next to me.
Richard:What did you do to yourself?
EllieinLA : I had surgery (nibble, nibble, nibble).
Richard: What for?
EllieinLA : Ummm...(slurp, slurp, slurp).
[This is when I should have lied, but I thought I was on home territory, amongst friends...]
EllieinLA (cont'd): I had a tumor. BUT, I'm TOTALLY fine now. (Grin wide!) I'm great. Totally awesome. Yeah, it's nothing to worry about.
Richard: (deadpan) You should probably make something interesting up. Like a motorcycle accident.
EllieinLA: (guffaws) You don't think a tumor is INTERESTING enough? I need to make something up?
Richard: No, it's just--ugh--a tumor---ugh---is REALLY HEAVY.
EllieinLA: Yeah, cause a motorcycle accident isn't?
Friday, May 20, 2011 at 2:35PM 
For the past couple of months I’ve been laid up from surgery, so I’ve had ample time to ponder Life’s big questions like: When will everything go horribly wrong?
The cable news channels hold the answer: Soon. And not in a land far far away. Here. In our own backyards.
Images of last month’s deadly tornados in the South were heartbreaking. Hurricane season is just around the corner. And it seems like every other day, a seismologist is on air predicting the massive earthquake that’s sure to hit my city: Los Angeles.
More than once I've thought to myself: I can’t walk or drive. If there’s a natural disaster, I’m getting left behind! These moments remind me to be extra nice to my husband.
I raised my concerns over dinner last week. My girlfriend Bridget has mod bangs and reads the New Yorker cover to cover. She’s wise beyond her years and still manages to smile often. She stated calmly, “Don’t worry. No one's leaving you. If an earthquake hits L.A., the freeways’ll be gridlocked.” She added, nodding her head reassuringly, “We’ll all be stuck here.” That made me feel a little better. I started thinking about the provisions I have at home: a few cans of garbanzo beans, organic dog food, the water left in our Brita pitcher. Bridget leaned over her bowl of steaming Pho soup and whispered, “But, Ellie, what should really concern you is…the Zombie Apocalypse.”
Apparently, the Zombie Apocalypse hasn’t only been on Bridget’s mind. This week the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) launched the Preparedness 101: Zombie Apocalypse campaign to raise awareness for emergency preparation. The blog was so popular, the site crashed.
(And I'm sure you already have plans for the weekend, but don't forget the Rapture is Saturday. From what I gather, God will scoop up all the good Christians, and all the sinners left on Earth will be in major trouble. An Emergency Preparedness kit couldn't hurt.)
It was high time I stopped procrastinating. Where’s the best place to stock up? Costco. The membership warehouse sells everything, including caskets, so I wasn’t surprised to see they offer a readymade Emergency Preparedness kit online. It includes everything: finger splints…a 50-foot rope…a coloring book with crayons.
What? I couldn’t order a disaster kit with crayons. That’s so sad. Why do bad things happen to kids? I crutched away from my laptop and stress-snacked on a bag of almonds (a protein source I will wish I had saved if an earthquake hits before our next trip to the grocery store).
So, I compiled a kit on my own, sans crayons. It's fairly simple to put one together, but it is tedious. I found a detailed list online and ordered most of the Boy Scout stuff a-la-carte on Amazon. I’ll be thankful if it all goes unused. But, it’s reassuring to know it’s coming in the mail. I just hope it arrives in time. Now, it's your turn. Get it done!
A list for your emergency kit:
Thursday, May 19, 2011 at 10:00AM This is what I woke up next to this morning...
I'm calling a family meeting. We're breaking it to Chubs that he's adopted. And a dog. And that he can't always hog the feather pillow.
Friday, May 13, 2011 at 9:27AM I've been driving my husband absolutely bonkers. Over the past few months, as my sole caretaker, he's had a glimpse of what I'll be like in fifty years and he doesn't like it one bit. I'm crochety and cranky. I shuffle when I walk. I can't drive. And yet, I've still maintained impossibly high standards for Us.
He jokes that he feels sorry for our future children who will be left to take care of me when I'm really old.
This makes me burst into tears--not because he's calling me a pain in the ass (which I know full well I am), but because I can't be left to the wolves/our children who I will no doubt screw up in raising.
I have to be with my husband. For the rest of my life. Just cause he was born in the '70's (and I wasn't), and he has a y chromosome (and I don't), that doesn't mean that he gets to bow out early. I bawl my eyes out over mortality and the guarantee of separateness, regardless of who goes first...thus proving his point that:a) I ruin all his jokes and b) I'm an emotional basket case.
But despite my transformation into a cantankerous old broad, I know he still loves me. How? He stocked the fridge with Trader Joe's delicious rice pudding today! It's like a love sonnet sitting in the fridge. And, let me tell you: rice pudding is such a delight. Oh God, maybe I have become an old lady.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011 at 10:30AM 
I'm trying to regain lower body strength at the pool. I tried the kickboard yesterday, and it literally went in reverse. I didn't know that was possible. I have my work cut out for me. On the plus side, I have Herculean strength in my upper body thanks to crutches and one-legged push ups. My biceps are bulging. I'd probably win in a fight, as long as my opponent was stationary.
While researching cardio water aerobics, I found this little treasure. I may have discovered one of the best unintentional comedic shorts of all time. I'll let you know how my "Bongo Drums" and "Power Mogul" moves go over at the club. You must watch this video!
Sunday, May 8, 2011 at 10:36AM As is the mother, so is her daughter. Ezekiel 16:44
I could only wish.
