This is Snark Week

Good to see everyone! How's your August? I was planning on keeping my mouth shut until I had something REALLY important to say, but then I remembered that in social media, "important" is a relative term. (See: no less than 2 home videos of children's toilet activities uploaded to Facebook this week. Gross, people. Unacceptable. SOME of us are still enjoying our twenties here, and don't appreciate the reminder that we will someday get excited by kids peeing in toilets.) 

There has been some ridiculousness going on out there. I don't know if the lack of a hurricane is causing people to do weird stuff in order to compensate, but I'm almost thinking that a few days of a power outage might actually do everyone some good. I didn't post last week for some very valid reasons (1.decided to microwave some pizza bagels instead, and 2. forgot) but recent activity has forced me to out my opinion. 

Here's what's irking me this month: 

1. TLC's "Here Comes Morbidly Obese Redneck Family"

OK Guys, this has gone on long enough. We MUST put a stop to the train wreck white-trash obsession. I know why you watch the show; you watch it ironically, right? You would just as soon see this entire family get hit by a food truck than compete in a beauty pageant. I get it. But what happens when America gets hungry for even MORE trash TV? We will keep pushing the envelope of 'awful.' Here's what I propose: STOP WATCHING IT. Don't watch it ironically. Don't watch it to make fun of it. Don't talk about it, post about it, joke about it... NYET. Every time you make fun of their "pregnantest" 17 year old, that's like another $10 in their plus-size pocket. In terms of the media, negative attention is almost always better than positive attention. Stop giving them attention and they will go away, much like stray cats. Do it for the next generation...if we don't put a stop to this, they could be watching TLC's "X-Treme Celebrity Toilet Cam" or "Are You Smarter than a Sex Criminal?" End it now. 

ALSO...what the hell are we "Learning" from TLC, anymore?! Back in the days before I had to get a summer job, I remember waking up around the crack of noon and gagging/dry-heaving my way through "A Baby Story." This show was stupid, dramatic and gross...all placentas and blood and whatnot... but at LEAST it was semi-educational. I've known I wanted a "pitocin-free water birth" since before I was old enough to know the anatomically correct terms for sex organs. For THAT, I thank you TLC. 

2. Paul Ryan. 
Republicans, I just don't know what to do with you anymore. Obama has done EVERYTHING for you, and you just can't deliver a decent campaign; IT'S YOURS TO LOSE!! Even I know this! Thank God for the Olympics, or we'd really have a morale issue in this country. All you had to do, G.O.P., was NOT pick 2 wieners for the conservative nomination, and you couldn't even do that. You had 4 YEARS to scour every diner, drive-in, and dive and you came up with Mittens and this other dude? Unacceptable. Let me tell you why this dynamic duo is going to have a hard time: social issues. In honor of Shark Week, consider the following metaphor: Obama's campaign has smelled the blood in the water concerning the contraception and Planned Parenthood issue, and they've come out with several scary ads essentially depicting Mittens as a sex-ed (*"family life", for those of you raised in the South) teacher from the 1950's. "I don't like no Planned Parenthood" is not going to sit well with the ladies, and with any dude savvy enough to know that this is an important service for men AND women. Oh and Paul Ryan, I know all about you and your anti-choice, homophobic ways. You've buried it for now, but you're on drugs if you think Tom Brokaw isn't going to transvaginal-ultrasound you with uncomfortable questions during the debates. The average American doesn't know much about the economy; they see gas prices go up and say "this is bad", but that's about it. What they DO know about is social issues. You don't have to have a college degree (or even a high school diploma) to speak intelligently about people not being treated fairly. I'm interested to see how this plays out in November. You should be too, because you will be affected. 


3. Out-Of-Control Names for Children. 
I kid you not, there was a "BreyLeigh" sighting last week. We are all so proud that your phonetics skills are at the top of their game; you know how to make "-ly" sounds out of different letters! SWELL JOB. Don't use your kid as a test-dummy for a name that will sound absolutely ridiculous when she is 35. Oh, I'm looking at you too "Macksimus." And don't say "We used it because we've never seen it before!" People have been naming things since the stone age. If nothing has been called that name before, it's probably for good reason. We don't bake "broughnies" in an "ovynne." Keep it simple, keep it classy. Your kid's elementary school teachers will thank you. 


4. Shark Week. 
Yes, everyone loves a shark. I don't hate shark week. I love the word "shark." What I don't get is how there is ANY differentiation between these shows whatsoever. 
Tonight at 8: "Extreme Sharks Jumping out of the Water."
Later at 9: "Extreme Sharks Eating People"
Then new at 10: "Extreme Sharks eating MORE People in the Water."
Followed by: "Sharks: Misunderstood Creatures of the Sea." 
So I guess basically, I just don't know how to feel about sharks because the Discovery Channel keeps confusing me. That's the point I'm trying to make. Also, do people realize that they can watch shark-related things on YouTube all year? Just something to keep in mind. 

5. Gratuitous Party Overload
Gender- Reveal Party. Baby Shower #3. Engagement Brunch. Wedding Dress 2nd Breakfast. Bachelorette PARTY, Bachelorette WEEKEND, Bachelorette UNDERWEAR Party... 
We get it. You like to party. I like to party, too. But if someone invites me to a "Pregnancy Test Reveal Party", I am not going. I won't even respond to the RSVP in the shape of a pee stick. If you have something to celebrate, FANTASTIC!! Tell me which bar you're going to, and we can go nuts. Just don't make it some weird thing where I feel like I have to buy you an occasion-appropriate present. What do you even buy someone for a pregnancy-reveal party? Dramamine? Stretchy pants? 


So there we have it. What's bugging you this month? Tell me maybe. 

Elyse Tries her Hand at Recipe Blogging; Poor Results

I'd like to say right from the get-go that I blame Pinterest for this crap. I tried to make an interesting step-by-step guide to cooking a recipe and it just didn't work out. Below is an account of what I SHOULD have done. 




Attempted Recipe: Pasta with Sausage 
Repurposed Pinterest-Approved Female-Friendly Recipe Because All Girls are (or should be) Trying to Get Skinny by Eating Food Pictured on the Internet : Skinny Whole-Wheat Pasta with Low-Fat Free-Range Chicken Sausage (Cruelty-Free! Gluten-Free! No MSG!)

"I'm so happy to be cooking this food, I can't stand it." -not me

Scene: The kitch. 7:00 p.m., post work-day. 


Step One: Take pictures of all of your kitchen tools that you will be using, as well as pictures of the ingredients. Everybody needs to know what a Rubbermaid teaspoon and a box of pasta looks like. Cluster them all together so it looks like a little pre-cooked food family portrait. If you have a potted plant of fresh herbs, use that as a backdrop. 




Step Two:  Give a backstory on this recipe. It was passed down from generation to generation, undergoing revisions for decade diet-crazes and paranoias (bird flu, swine flu, olive oil malaria, pasta tuberculosis, etc.) Now we're ready to begin...


Step Three: Make sure you take a picture of oil in a Calphalon frying pan. This is very important because college students in their dorms, familiar only with microwave cooking, don't know how this works. (This step sponsored by Calphalon.)


Step Four:  Cut up all the vegetables. In this step, be sure to say something about how playing classical music enhances the cooking process. Bonus points awarded for obscure composers and undertones of douchiness. 


Step Five:  Get your iPhone out, because it's INSTAGRAM TIME!! Capture those frying vegetables in a nice sepia tone, or make it black-and-white, like a newspaper headline. "PEPPERS HAVING AN AFFAIR WITH HOT OIL!" Post, upload, read comments. Move phone away from oil pan. 


Step Six:  Make a comment about your choice of Ragu over Prego. Don't say "because it was cheaper" or "because it was in the pantry. By the way, does pasta sauce expire?" 


Step Seven:  Obligatory comment about how the men in your life like the recipe. "My hubs LOOOVES this sausage dish b/c he also adds bacon, LOL!" Men hungry. Men eat bacon. Bacon good. ((If I ever refer to the future Mr. Elyse Granger as "hubs" please press my face into a pan of hot oil.))


Step Eight: Cook the sausage, or whatever meat your dish will include. You MUST include an alternative for non-meat eaters, or you'll get angry backlash in your comments. ("Shut up, tofu-breath" is not an acceptable response to these comments.) Humor the vegos and pretend for a second that mung beans and sausage taste exactly the same. 


Step Nine:  Toss everything together in one pot. Decide that it looks borderline-inedible. Google some stock photos of the recipe and post that instead. 


Step Ten: MOST IMPORTANT STEP: Posting the nutrition facts. We're all nothing if not registered dietitians, right? We all know the exact number of calories in food that we just throw together. In case you don't, here's what they are (applies to every recipe, everywhere, always.) 


(copy & paste) 
Calories: 175
Serving size: 4 ounces (we all know what this looks like, obviously.)
Sodium: 100 mg
Carbs: 6 g
Fat: *0-6 g (*depending on mung bean usage.) 






You're done!!!! Now enjoy, and keep refreshing your post to read all the glowing comments and SPAM. Pretend to care about what substitutions people would make, and their various food allergies. ("Little Tommy is deathly allergic to salt, so we substituted granulated agave extract and it tasted great!") It didn't, probably. 






Sorry to disappoint everyone who thought this was going to be a real recipe post. Takeout exists for a reason. 

The Best Kind of Blackout: Reflections from a Camp Weekend Devoid of Technology

In this thrilling installment, we find our heroine once again gearing up for a 4-day summer camp in the wild, unpredictable suburb wilderness of Hanover, VA. For those of you unfamiliar with my story on why I go to camp, you should probably stop stalking me. Or keep stalking me and read the abbreviated Twitter-approved version: 


- My best friend lost her mom to breast cancer while we were both in college at #Elon. I found this summer camp for children who have had a parent or sibling loss. We volunteered together and have been doing it ever since. #longstoryshort 



You should know up-front that I had a really deprived childhood; I never went to a summer sleepaway camp. My negligent parents made us do things like go to the beach and take family vacations to Yellowstone National Park. We had chores to do in the morning. CHORES! And we couldn't even ride our bikes to the pool until they were done. While that's not exactly the kind of depravity that would make for a mopey Eminem song, best believe that a part of me always felt like I should have gone to camp. I love the 'ruggedly self-reliant' thrill of it all. It's daring and safe all at the same time. The fact that I was probably 14 years old before I could spend the night at a friend's house without calling my mom to pick me up is irrelevant; I missed out on camp and I love that I have a second-chance to drink the bug juice now that I'm 26. 


At Comfort Zone Camp, the volunteers are matched 1-1 with a "Little Buddy" camper; mine this year was the same one from last year. I'll call her Z. She's phenomenal and after camp I really had to suppress the urge to throw her in the back of my Jeep Liberty, take her to get Slushees at 7-11 and be BFF's with her every day. From last Thursday afternoon until Sunday evening, I silenced my Droid with the stroke of a finger and prepared for a weekend without feeling the pervasive 'buzz, buzz, PING!' of my phone. (That's the sound it makes when real people call me, I bet.) 

"It's 'I Hope We Never Part', now get it right or pay the price!!!" 

 Here are some things (for better or worse) That I got to skip out on this past weekend: 


- Since I didn't go to work on Friday, I didn't get to play my favorite 10:30 game "Am I Bored, or Am I Hungry?" (Spoiler alert: I'm usually both. The cure seems to be Diet Coke. Which I also didn't have this past weekend.) 


- Literally 196,209 important news stories happened and I missed all of them. At the top of MY news desk was "Saturday Night Dinner: Will this taco meat cause me and my entire cabin indigestion, or will it be the 5 boxes of stale, damp Oreos that I parceled out as a snack? Find out at 11." 


- The only Super-Pac I was concerned with was my backpack, which WAS super in every sense of the word: it held my waterproof Uno cards, lanyard craft string, giant scissors, stale damp Oreos, a Buzz Lightyear flashlight, band-aids, 6 tee shirts, a sticky roll of lifesavers from LAST camp, bug spray, hand sanitizer, and 5-Hour Energy (which BTW kills spiders. Take that for what it's worth.) 


- Saturday night came and went, and I didn't get to play my OTHER favorite game: "Is This Shockoe Party Girl Wearing a Skirt, a Tube Top, or a Really Stretchy Bracelet?"  


- For four days, I didn't once look at or inquire what ingredients went into the food/beverages I consumed. I told myself that SOMEWHERE in nature there had to be a berry that would produce electric- blue, lemon-flavored juice and just drank it. 


- I got all hot & bothered last weekend, but it had nothing to do with vodka, losing my debit card, or crying in the bathroom of Cha-Cha's; I was putting everything I had into coming up with the perfect skit for "silent charades." Oh, and it had to include 16 people, 8 of them kids. And it couldn't be inappropriate. 


- No ice. I had no ice in my drinks all weekend. So...


- A trillion cute/memorable/life-affirming moments happened over the course of 4 days, but nary one tweet was twit about them. But I know they happened, and I remember them. They're as real to me as anything Facebooker T. Overshare would Instagram. 




So, to "debrief" (a new buzzword I learned that means "quietly hand your Little a handful of Chex Mix so they don't fall asleep, get restless, or ask what time it is") I LOVED taking some time off from adult life. Turns out, I don't have to be Buzz-Fed every day in order to survive. I had the most generous, happy, engaging people boosting me up every second of every day. Maybe if EVERYONE had that, we wouldn't need as much battery-powered crap. #pointstoponder. [sent from my iPad]


To everyone out there who thinks that a 4-day camping trip might be just the thing you need, may I suggest a giant group excursion to the wilderness, maybe around the Election weekend? We can bring our own Super-Pacs, maybe some vodka, and since it's also the weekend of my birthday, I'll even chip in for some stale, damp Oreos. 






Think about it and get back to me. 

Blow the Whistle, re: This Whole Week.

The last week in June, 2012.
PERFECT week for every lame and bothersome event in the world to occur.
Below you will find a list of things.


These are things that I am blowing the "lame whistle" for. Judgment-free. No whining allowed. Keep your hands to yourself. Ready, set here we go...


- Magic Mike, which I am renaming what it should really be called: Magic Penis.
For the PAST. THREE. WEEKS. I have endured every cheesy commercial, every radio plug, every woman in my life getting their Lululemons in a bind over this alleged film that is (according to many credible sources) devoid of actual penis much like Tom Cruise. Now I'm not saying I'm above the fray here, and everyone knows that I LOVE to love my friends who are jazzed about it, but a stripper movie without full-frontal nudity but chock-full of cuddling, abs, and a sweet redeeming message; You know what that sounds like? A porno made by a woman. Now before you electrocute me with your vibrator charger, know that I have plans to see this movie with my girlfriends next week. (Yes, you read that correctly.) Will I enjoy it? Oh surely. Will I get up and dance at the inevitable credits sequence when the aisles fill with the 40+ frumpytown crowd flapping their bingo-wings to Maroon-5's "Moves Like Jagger"? (How terrible is THAT song, by the way) Sure. But just know that I'm keeping things in perspective and probably drinking beforehand.

                                        "I've NEVER seen anything this sexy!!" - Woman who doesn't get HBO

- Health Care zealots. I don't care what side of the aisle your legs part for, this hasn't even been a real thing for 48 hours and already I'm seeing broken homes, SHOUTING IN ALL CAPS, musket-bearing inquisition, tears, bed-wetting, home foreclosure, and divorce. Not really, but I did literally have someone un-follow me on Pinterest for the first time over my political views. PINTEREST. How I know this is not important...the important thing is, all is fair in love and Facebook, but don't deprive me of seeing your 89th re-pin of "Oh, The Places You'll Go!" It's just such an original message that few people have seen before and everyone needs to hear. Again. Anything but that harsh punishment...I beg you. 


- People complaining about the heat. A good friend of mine  was very pregnant at this time last year and she didn't turn into Scarlet O'Hara withering on her front porch. She and her studmuffin baby boy are still here, doing fine. Drink some water, find a friend with a pool, and only leave your dog in the car for 4 hours, tops. This is not Somalia; we have air-conditioning. And regarding the screen-shot iPhone Facebook updates...keep them coming. I'm creating a virtual weather map of all my friends with smart phones and I need a temperature pic from everyone. No exceptions. 


- The FroYo craze. I'm ready to go back to cupcakes now.


- People who can't take a joke. I sarcastically made a comment the other day that I support the aborting of all babies in every circumstance. 6 seconds later I got a tersely-worded message in my Facebook inbox (because apparently that's still a thing) chiding me for my insensitivity. Don't create drama where there is none. Laugh at stuff and go on about your day. And for the love of blog, don't send me a Facebook message. I mean, really. We're adults now...text me.


- The European quasi-thong bikini bottom craze (abbreviated to "EQITBBC".) Do you think you're on the French riviera right now? No. You're in a Shockoe Bottom parking lot with a concrete pool surrounded by former frat boys and Bank of America employees. I don't know where you bought it and I don't care, but for the love of Daily's frozen margarita pouches, can you please exercise an ounce of self-control and cover both cheeks?


That's all. I've aired my grievances. Who else has things to share?

"It's Fine" Thursday (Inspired by my BlogCrush.)

Before I even begin this post that is mostly a thinly-veiled list of weird stuff that I do in hopes that I'm maybe not the only one...I must give credit to my inspiration, the best female blogger in the blogiverse, MKWonderland (Her post is authentic Kate Spade. Mine is the cheap NYC Coach knockoff, the one where the "C"s are facing the wrong way. Here is her's .)

So. Today is Thursday. The sun is sorta shining, the morning news was mundane to the point where I flipped on VH-1 Classic Videos, and about half of the country is disappointed that our new American Idol looks like he's between classes at the local Community College. Today, I'm saying..."It's Fine."

It's Fine that...

You're reusing old excuses not to attend people's home sale parties. Is there anything more awkward than telling someone, "Not only do I not want to buy your overpriced pyramid stuff, but I don't even want to sit in your house and eat free food while you sell it to other people"? I've actually never been to these parties, but I imagine it's kind of like going to the Book Fair in elementary school, only it's in someone's living room and there's booze there (Unless it's the Jesus 31 Canvas Monogram Bags; Those 'wine coolers'...they're really Pellegrino holders, right?) You're going to feel awkward if you're the only person not buying something, so at the Book Fair you buy a few Arthur bookmarks and then hide in the bathroom. I make it a policy not to hide in bathrooms at my friends' houses unless I'm secretly borrowing their tweezers so PLEASE accept my excuse when I say, "I'm sorry, I have a thing." Go with it. I'm too cheap to buy anything you're selling anyway. 

"Buy this, or we're not friends anymore...LOL!"

You touched up your makeup before going to the gym. To the people who scoff, "It's not a beauty contest" I say "well CLEARLY it's not", flip my hair and get back on the treadmill. (I went to Elon. Old habits.)

Your room is spotless. Your car is a disaster. 

You pat yourself on the back for not over-buying at the grocery store when you shopped while hungry, then open a bag of Cheddar Bugles and eat them at a red light. Nobody's perfect. 

You smiled to yourself when America collectively "disliked" the status of Facebook's I.P.O. A million dollars isn't cool. You know what's cool? A lawsuit. 

You think that the new 7-11 Slurpee Lite is a gift. A gift right from baby Jesus. 

Scrolling through your phone photo gallery goes like this: Cat. Cat. Cats in a pose. Cat. Myself with cat. Myself with other cat. Out-of-focus sunset. Cat. Cat with out-of-focus sunset. Picture of inside of my purse. Cat. Cat in purse... 

People's statuses about hockey and baseball look like this to you "I can't believe that...blah blah, person, statistic, !!, number, numbers, person, other team." 

The Maroon 5 song "Payphone" is already bugging the crap out of you. Who uses payphones anymore?! Are you in a prison?? I hope this isn't the next "Hey, Soul Sister." The good news is, not a lot of opportunities for use in commercials unless the company's expressing how much easier it is to have a cell phone than find a phone booth. ("Collect call from 'Bob Wehadababyitzaboy?'")

So whatchu got? What are you doing today that's "fine"? Lay it on me. 

Things that Would Occur in my Perfect World

Come, sit next to me here.

It's been a tough week huh, buddy? We've got rainstorms, morbidly obese cat deaths, fashion disasters at the Met Gala, socially conservative relatives who are confused by how Netflix works yet somehow figured out how to "unfollow" someone on Twitter, and US citizens now fighting a 4-front war in Iraq, Afghanistan, Yemen, and Facebook newsfeeds. Times are tough, and I feel like we're all just waiting for the next political world event to just come along and take a crap on us. (They never did catch that Anthrax guy, right?)

In an effort to make myself feel better, I'd like to present for your procrastinating pleasure...Things That Would Occur in My Perfect World. Sorry if I seem stabby... I have a major attitude right  now, and not "attitude" in the RuPaul sense.

- I could stand to have about 80% less Instagram on my newsfeed.
Wait. Did you take a bathroom picture of yourself in the 1940's? ZOMFG!!1! Do you have a time machine?! They didn't even have smartphones back then!
Oh, it's a 99-cent app you downloaded on the toilet? Ahhh, you trickster.

- To the next person who publically declares childbirth to be "A beautiful, wonderful, MAGICAL experience" and attaches National Geographic-esque pictures: I hereby sentence you to no less than 1 hour of explaining Tumblr to my parents. Bring a snack.

- No more overly-symbolic ornate wedding crap. I just don't care. Even though you inlayed your Save-The-Date card with real cork from the bottle of wine you drank on the night of your engagement, it's going where the rest of the Save-The-Date cards go. On my refrigerator. The SIDE of the refrigerator. Behind the Dominos and Merry Maids coupons. Held up by a lewd Stewie Griffin magnet.

- Anytime a socially-conservative buffoon appears on a late-nite talk show, we would get what we actually want to see: the host heckling and making fun of them for an hour while the audience claps and throws things. No more politeness. Jay Leno, I don't care what Rick Santorum thinks about the new Avengers movie. But I WOULD like to see a pro-choice, pink-haired lesbian mom from The Bronx impale him with a 2x4.

- Someone should just come out with a "Stoned Hippies with Acoustic Guitars: The Immaculate Collection" album so I know what to get all these kids for college graduation.

- In the iPhone 4s commercial featuring Zooey Deschanel, when she looks out her window at the rain and asks her phone, "Is it raining?" the phone would answer,"No, God is taking a pee." And then say "I've found a list of juvenile sight loss specialists fairly close to you."

- The formula: 50 Shades of Grey + Mean Girls + The Notebook. Regina George gets smacked around in a dungeon, Lindsay Lohan is hot again, and Ryan Gosling....watches, I guess...

- Anyone who "bravely defended their faith" by supporting Amendment 1 would be forced to take a Community Chest card: It might say "Go Directly to Heaven" or it might say "Move Forward 10 Years. Explain to your Homosexual Son/Daughter Why You Think They Are Inferior to Society. Pay $1,200 Annually in Therapy Bills."




Who's got one they want to share??

- Elyse

...and When Nobody Was Looking, Religion and Politics Went to Make Out

Today, the state of North Carolina has a big decision to make.

I've spent a respectable amount of time over the past few days shooting down any arguments for Amendment 1 that I could find on my newsfeed or among my peers. If you're a "Pro- Am. 1" person and I have not gotten to you yet, be patient and I will address you shortly. And eviscerate you in a public forum.

Oh, you're coming in here using religion as a weapon? 

Someone just brought a hot glue gun to a gun fight. With this guy ^. 

Unlike two-sided debates such as taxation, government intervention, and American Idol vs. The Voice, I don't see how this issue is debatable at all. As in, I see NO valid argument for this amendment whatsoever.


[Also, American Idol trumps.]


I completely understand that people want to hold tight to their religious beliefs. Kind, educated people use the Bible as their G.P.S., their reference book, and their emotional rock. I am 100% serious when I say that's great and I admire those people. I don't think that having religious convictions makes people less intelligent. It takes a strong, resolute person to believe and argue for something that they can't see. Christianity in particular has done MANY, many wonderful things for the world in terms of poverty aid, health resources for poor countries, and encouraging people to help others and love one another.

Unfortunately these merits are often obscured--buried under a dog-pile of Pat Robertsons, Jerry Falwells, money-laundering pastors, and zealots who preach messages of intolerance. What the Religious Right hasn't quiiiite figured out is that the media LOVES to see them flounder almost as much as they love doing stories on talking pets. The instant a high-profile pastor makes a polarizing comment or gets caught leaving an adult bookstore, the media is all over it faster than you can say "4-year old in a tanning bed."


Religious Right-ers, you are not doing yourselves any favors by coming out big (forgive the pun) against gay marriage. Look at history: society moves TOWARD inclusion. TOWARD rights for everyone. TOWARD equality for American citizens. Social Conservatives might as well be swimming against the undertow on the Carolina coast; feeling as though they're making progress but in the long run getting swept out to sea.

The only...THE ONLY argument I have seen from "pro-am"ers is the Biblical one. Come on, Christians...you're smarter than this! You know what the Bible is great for? A personal moral compass. You know what the Bible is NOT great for? Political legislation. This is not the Middle East, and we do not have a Theocracy up in here (spoiler alert: it's not working out super-great in the Middle East either, See: every news story ever.) A large percentage of this country sees the Bible as a brilliant religious text (one of many) and not much more. Why should I have to follow the "rules" of a club that I don't belong to? Maybe I specifically didn't join that club because of the rules. Or maybe I'm about the "Buffet System", whereby a go to a club meeting and take what I want from the message, and leave the rest. Why people are suddenly jumping to define marriage as "Man + Woman because of THE BIBLE!!1" while we have REAL political, humanitarian, and economic crap to sort out is simply beyond me. Religion and politics cannot and should not hook up, ever. They can flirt, wave, and sit next to each other but it need go no further. The Bible is chock-full of metaphors and (not to marginalize), but we as 21st-century Americans tend to do better when things are spelled out for us in plain English and we don't have to interpret too much.

I hope that if you're an NC resident and you have a chance to get out and vote today, you do so AGAINST Amendment 1. I won't oversimplify my argument with anecdotes about my gay and lesbian friends who are in loving, committed relationships but I want those guys and gals out there to know that my family and I stand with them. I can't make a good argument for having less love in the world.


Vote NO on 1. Unless you decide to hit an adult bookstore with a high-profile pastor on your way home from the polls, I promise your own marriage will be fine.

- Elyse

Elyse Goes to Traffic Court

I'd like to take a moment to make sure I place blame on the REAL cause of my traffic incident; namely the song "You Don't Know You're Beautiful" by OneDirection. It was playing really, really loudly on the perfect Spring day when I was driving home from work and found myself accidentally going several miles over the "maximum suggested speed."

I saw the flashing lights. My body sort of went into shock, and I did what any other reasonable romantic-comedy-watching female would do: I cried. Oh man, I cried. By the time I had moved on to the side of the road, I already looked like an extra during the funeral scene in "My Girl." Mascara down the face, wetness everywhere, stuffy nose. Though I could have impressed any Lifetime TV producer, this was not for dramatic effect; I was legitimately upset. But remembering tales of my fellow women who had managed to get out of speeding tickets using their delicateness and feminine wiles, I soldiered on with the roadside catharsis. The officer who stopped me looked young (!) and not ugly (!!) so for a split-second I thought "Oh, I've GOT this." But no such luck.

"Ma'am, are you aware that you are listening to OneDirection and you're 26?"

Because at this point I was COMPLETELY inconsolable at the injustice of it all, I was thankful that the questions he asked me were very easy: Did I realize how fast I was going? Nope. Did I realize that the posted speed was 55 mph? No. Am I aware that "x" amount of miles over the speed limit is considered reckless driving? Yep. Can I give him my license and registration? Yes, let me wipe the mascara off of that for you...

He walked back to his motorcycle (yes) and took about 15 minutes to do I-don't-know-what. The guy didn't even have a glove compartment! "Are you filling out my loan application back there, or what?!" I wanted to say. But I remembered some anecdote about people getting reduced fines for "being polite" or something so I held back.

"Ma'am this is a speeding tick- ma'am? Stop crying so you can hear me."
"Oh-oh-oooohkay" (still crying)
"This shows a court date of May 3, 9:30. Sign here."
**blows nose into Quiznos napkin**
"I'll be more careful from now on"
"You're getting snot all over the steering wheel. Drive safe."

So there went my demeanor for the rest of the weekend. Actually, for only about 15 minutes because that's my average rebound rate. M tried to ameliorate the situation by explaining to me the ins and outs of traffic court (while employing a heavy-handed dose of "why-were-you-driving-so-fast-you-silly-leadfooted-woman") and I started to feel a little better. Much like Scarlet O'Hara, I penciled my court date into my planner and resolved to ONLY start worrying about it at 5:00 p.m. on the night before my court date.






This morning, I woke up with the sun. I showered AND washed my hair. I picked out a killer outfit. I put on earrings, pearls, and high-heels. Urban Decay doesn't make an "Innocent Eyes" eyeshadow palate but I tried my best to draw out the "innocence" in them with a little eyeliner and double mascara. Waterproof. Just in case. Unlike my boyfriend who's day-to-day involves dressing up and hanging out at the court house, the thought of what was about to transpire made me extremely nervous. In my head, I thought: Fines. Jail time. Death penalty. Prison food. Taking away the keys to my precious PEEPERZ Jeep. Child support. Orange jumpsuit. For the first time since my bout of Fifth's Disease, I declined any morning coffee. My stomach had turned into the filming site for "Project X." I drove to the court house, contemplating the pro's and con's of vomiting into my cup holders. I actually dry-heaved into my hands at a red light, looked over to see a woman in a Suburban looking at me, horrified. "Oh I'm not pregnant...it's just traffic court!" I gave her a thumbs-up.

I arrived at court extra-early, to give myself enough time to marvel at the great justice center which I support with my tax dollars. To be honest though, I arrived early on accident because I thought I had to be there at 9. After walking through the metal-detectors, I was dismayed to find out that there was no giant sign with flashing lights that said "TRAFFIC COURT OVER HERE. PAGING ELYSE GRANGER" so instead I stood there bewildered like a naked mole rat seeing the sun for the first time, hoping someone would look at the yellow ticket in my outstretched hand, put their hands on my shoulders and steer me toward the right room. "Are you lost, sweetheart?" FINALLY a bailiff noticed me standing there confused and scared like a man in a Sephora store and pointed me in the right direction. Pacing the hallway with Henrico County's assortment of murderers, rapists, parking offenders, and serial killers (not really though, I think they put them somewhere different), I waited for my fate. They cattle-called us in, and I walked in behind a mother who was literally breastfeeding a baby in one arm, and pushing a baby in a stroller with the other. "NO FAIR, I didn't know we could bring props to this thing!" 

I mentally ran Michael's advice through my head, and reminded myself sternly to say "your Honor" instead of ma'am. No big deal, I thought, just pretend you're at Formal Chapter and you're addressing the sorority president with her special title. I activated "innocent-face" and chose a seat next to a man with platform Chuck Taylors and a ponytail. The next 15 minutes went by very fast, like a courtroom montage on SVU. I didn't have to say "OBJECTION!" or submit evidence in the form of a OneDirection CD or anything like that. I got off with a lesser charge, owing to being "extremely polite and cooperative during the stop." Snot notwithstanding. Thank you, Officer Motorcycle!

I emerged from the building triumphant, happy to have experienced the justice process in action. I rewarded myself with some coffee, feeling smug.

I didn't even have to use my prepared statement detailing my traumatic childhood of being forced to wear horrible outfits and walk my younger sister to every public bathroom.

Sometimes I love the law.

- Elyse

Girl Just Wants to Have Fun: How I Spent my Tax Day Holiday

Much like Opening Day of baseball season, Opening Day of Accountant Party Season always begins with high hopes, warm weather, and withdrawal. But unlike baseball season, the high hopes are for finding ways to spend 5-11 p.m., the warm weather becomes anything over 70 degrees, and withdrawal has nothing to do with drugs, steroids, or growth hormones. Yesterday I had the WHOLE DAY to do whatever I wanted, provided it wasn't illegal, immoral, or involved using more than 1/4 tank of gas. The sky (and roughly eastern Henrico County) was my limit.

I kicked off Accountingstock 2012 in true Elyse style... sleeping in until 8:00 and being woken up by my coffee dependency. There I was, chilling in bed with my coffee and the cast of The Today show, which may as well change it's name to "The US Weekly Morning Show, plus Irrelevant National Weather in a Place where you Don't Live." That show is to "news" what "The Lizzie McGuire Movie" is to classical cinema. Crap news on TV, crap literature in my Kindle, partially-hydrogenated palm oil coagulate crap in my coffee (don't ever, EVER look on the indredients list for Almond Joy coffee creamer); I thought to myself, This is what the people on the Edward Jones retirement commercials must feel like EVERY DAY!

I watched M get dressed for work, kiss my forehead and head out to protect 'Merica. His parting words: "If you decide to straighten your hair in bed again, please don't fall asleep before you finish. Don't drink the whole pot of coffee by yourself. Whatever cardigan you decide on will be fine. Yes Kathy Lee Gifford looks like a Teddy Graham. Keys are on the counter. Have fun today. Love you, bye."

With him gone, I felt a lot less indulgent than before. 60% of the pleasure from indulgence comes from gloating about it. I decided to counter-balance the morning's lack of productivity with a run. Several non-fast miles later I opted for a quick shower, mostly out of respect for the person about to cut my hair. I allow my "1/4 tank of gas" radius to expand to Midlothian where I plan to sit and read mindless trashy mags while someone attends to my hair needs...namely the 5-inch thick rough patch where I fell asleep during the aforementioned straightener fiasco. I make the required general announcement to the mostly-empty hair salon about how  I'm just off today for tax day and everyone nods beatifically. I sweep the lobby, collecting every trashy mag in sight. My only requirement is that it be < intelligent and mind-expanding than People Magazine. Meeting these qualifications: Us Weekly, Star and Cosmo. (Side note, Kim Karcrashian is on 3 different magazine covers; one for her butt, one for her face, and one for Most Influential Feminist.) One of those is a lie.

...seems that I've missed quite a lot.


I take my stack on SmutBibles and thumb through them for the next 2 hours (yes really) while my crispy hair is brought back to life. I switch to '50 Shades of Pray Nobody Sees me Reading This' and ponder the need for a Kindle privacy screen. By the time this process is over, it's about 2 p.m. and I still need to hit the mall (a.k.a. the non-working person's Mothership) to procure some 80's clothes for a concert this Saturday night. The lack of having a set schedule has messed up my meal times and I decide to make food a priority before the 80's wear. Nothing says "I'm celebrating being a life winner" quite like eating Chik-Fil-A alone in an empty food court at 3 p.m. Nuggets, by the way, not even a sandwich. And I got ketchup on my cardigan.

Since pretty much everything there either looks like something that could be worn on Halloween or Lady Gaga's leisurewear, I head to H&M. I encounter my typical "Ohmygod I am so overwhelmed by the clothes choices" panic attack and  I summon my friend Julia to come help me with the process. I decide on a tulle ballet skirt and a cropped tank top that will never see the light of day after Saturday because it is neon Mickey Mouse. Julia and I remind ourselves that--truth be told--we were wearing onesies and diapers in the 80's so this is a good compromise. I managed to also get M a birthday present.

40 miles, one cardigan, and approximately $983,657 dollars later I am ready to get my obligatory "sip in the car" Starbucks drink and head out. I technically only have 2 bags, and I calmly remind myself that even though my debit card took a flogging, I got a lot accomplished today. Maybe bank karma will decide to throw a couple of credit dollars on there for 'good self-control.'

It was a day full of frivolity and triumph. I did exactly what I'd set out to do, while taking the time to pause and reflect on the road behind me. Sure I have plenty of vacation days to look forward to, but somehow it's just not the same as having an entire day to yourself while everyone else works. You can keep your President's Day, Columbus Day, 4:20, and so on... I'll take my middle-of-the-week Tax Day anytime.


- Elyse

Tax Season: A Memoir

As tax season draws to a close and I prepare to vasectomize the inflow of tax returns stacked on my shelf, I've found myself reflecting on how I've managed to prioritize and even more notably NOT prioritize my life in the past few weeks when I've been working 12+ hour days and weekends.

We've all been there; the crunch-time phase. Whether it's an exam to study for, a newborn child to take care of (I mean, how different are they?) or the busy time of year in your adult job, you've had to vote certain things, people, and activities off of the Biggest Loser Survivor Island of your life. (I intentionally mixed up TV shows there to show everyone how little time I've had to watch TV. Also, to be snide.)

Here are some things that I have elected to NOT give a rose to during Taxelorette Season:

- Washing my hair has gone completely by the wayside. I'm so sorry. It's probably gross. People in my office now go out of their way to compliment me on my hair on days that I've washed it. "Did you do something to your hair?! It looks good today!" Yep. I actually washed 3 days of hair-product buildup, bobby pins and sweat out of it. Because I'm worth it...every third day.

- Laundry. It has gotten completely out of hand. A cardigan covers all manner of sins, but as for the rest of it, I've gotten into the habit of rounding up an entire load of "essential underthings", washing them, and leaving the rest in the laundry basket which is mostly the floor. I also now put things on the floor when I've THOUGHT about wearing them but never did. Because I am too lazy to hang them up.

- I'm going to get away from the personal-hygiene bullets because I'm starting to sound like a coherent version of Ke$ha.


- I don't remember the last time I put more than $20 of gas in my car at a time. It takes forever to fill up my tank and frankly, I can't be bothered. I like to think that I'm 'hedging' fuel prices by doing this; hoping that when I need to fill up again, gas prices will have gone down. But to most everyone else filling up their tanks at the gas station, I just look poor.

- Those who know me know that one of my great, great passions in life involves giving my opinion to people I disagree with, especially on Facebook where if nothing else I can attack their punctuation and grammar for the whole world to see. I've seen a lot of ridiculousness recently that I've let slide because I don't have time to do my typical "type out a coherent argument on a Word document, spell-check and paste it into the comment window" charade. Not enough hours in the day. I miss this simple frivolity. So just so we're clear, the Internet is not safe anymore. I will be giving my opinions out on everything.

- I haven't read anything longer than a Facebook status in about 3 months. How I've managed to keep running yet not read anything that wouldn't fit in a Pinterest comment window is beyond me, but that's the way things have shaken out. Last night I downloaded "50 Shades of Did-She-Just-Say-What-I-Think-She-Just-Said" and was up until 3 a.m. reading it and by reading it I mean skipping to the interesting parts and neglecting the horrendous storyline. Why don't we just call this book what it really is: X-Rated Lit for Women who Read But Wish They Could Just Watch Dirty Movies? I mean, really. And if I were the title character, I'd be borderline-choke holding the protagonist female too. She's obnoxious.

- I'm pretty sure they're now showing The Hunger Games on ABC Family at 2 p.m. nowadays and everyone from the Duggar children to indigenous tribesmen in Mongolia have seen it at least twice, with bootlegged copies of "Child Lovers Hungry Death Game" arriving by alpaca every day. I still haven't seen the damn thing.

"I VOLUNTEER!!!! I volunteer to come in on Saturday!!!!"

- My temper has been occasionally snippy. Example: I crawled in to work on Sunday afternoon after an evening/morning of frolicking around Shockoe bottom. I really didn't NEED to come in, but I knew it would help my boss out a lot if I did. I was only vaguely aware of what I was wearing, certain only that I'd covered the Hustler Magazine parts. My dear, dear coworker made the unfortunate mistake of giving me a genuine compliment. "What a cute tee shirt!!! Where is that from? I love it!" I look down, reminded that I pulled a men's size L V-neck white tee shirt out of what I'd presumed to be the clean laundry pile and threw it over some gym shorts. Oh, and I added a necklace to cover what I hoped was latent coffee stains. Anyway, she was being honest and yet I responded by sorta biting her head off and telling her that it was nothing special, I'd gotten it from WalMart. So then I had a bad-attitude hangover as well as a real hangover. That plus the coffee stains= not a good look.

The good news is, tax season is over. I can go back to being overly involved in the lives of my friends and spending my time irresponsibly. And blogging. I've missed the blogging.

With that, everyone have a fantastic tax day, and may the I.R.S. be ever in your favor. We'll chat again soon!

Death of a Taxwoman: Sike, I'm Still Here

So it's been too long since I've last bloggen. I know. I've missed you all, too.

But like a book club member who shows up to the "Bring Your Own Wine" event after having missed the last 4 discussions, let me be irrationally defensive & embarrassed and say (while avoiding everyone's eyes) that I've had a lot going on, and tax season, and warm weather and downtown Richmond and my boyfriend and working out and daylight savings and Pawn Stars marathons and... ::waves hand in front of face:: ...just trust me, I know I've been neglectful. I'll be better about posting from now on. Now, where's the wine...?

But seriously. I've been a busy lady. Seeing as I am still holding down the role as auditor/tax savant (not really) I'm spending a lot of quality time at my desk. Also, doing office-appropriate yoga poses BESIDE my desk (Try it. Seriously, try it.) I'm here sometimes 7 days a week, but I'm keeping a good attitude and focusing on the fact that after tax day (April 17th), "zero" will be the approximate number of damns I will give about hanging around my office after normal business hours.

Let's open my mail bag and answer some questions from my friends:

Q: Why are you still in public accounting?
- Lo Bosworth, 26. Los Angeles

A. The more I do, the more I understand. The more I understand, the more I can "own" my job. Doesn't everyone dream of being an "expert" at something? I'm about 85 years off from being an expert at accounting, but the more time I put in, the more some of this stuff comes naturally to me and I can provide more value. I could have quit or changed careers by now, but that would be like filling up a 7-11 Slurpee without putting the dome lid on first; I'd have only about 3/4 of what I wanted to learn. Maybe I'll never fill it completely. Maybe I'll fill it too full and have it explode over the top and get my hands sticky. But I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. For now...I'm pretty happy.

Q: Doesn't Busy Season suck?
Zach Braff, 30. Canada

A: This question was really put into perspective for me during a discussion with Michael (who is in law enforcement.) Early on in our relationship I started talking about the dark cloud that falls over my life from January until April. Once I assured him that I was not referring to hormones or birth control, he said, "but that's when you add the most value. Saying that you hate tax season would be like me saying that I hate when I have to arrest people." I tell ya, leave it to law-enforcement guys to turn a garden hose on any work pity-party you may want to throw. When worst comes to worst, they can always throw the "well MY job is more dangerous" card, and then you might as well fold-- your argument is invalid. And I mean, rightfully so... my job involves very little personal safety risk (thumb-stapling, nonwithstanding) and I'm in constant admiration of him and his coworkers because they are all terrific. But getting back to the question, yes it sucks but there is a definitive end and I know that I will reach it just in time for summer. Plus, coffee exists, so that's nice.


Q: Will you do my taxes?
Nick Cage, 43. Miami

A: I'm a nerd. I'd love to help you with your taxes! To achieve maximum results, file an extension on that sucker and let's talk in July after I've evaluated the H&M Fall clothing line, purchased enough cheap sunglasses to tide me over until October, and achieved my ideal tan darkness. And for maximum MAXIMUM results, let's talk over 7-11 Slurpees. I really want one now.

I'll just have one. Or like, six.

Q: What's on your Pandora playlist?
- Sean Parker, 34. California

A: West Side Story, Avenue Q, Motown Hits, Les Miserables, Dave Matthews, Summer Hits of the 90's, Martina McBride (...Stop it.)

Q: What do you do for fun when you're not dealing with W-2's and 1099's?
- Ryan Seacrest, Los Angeles

(Those are tax forms. #vocabulary.)

A: Running outside, playing softball (whereby Michael throws the ball in my general direction and I take the next 20 seconds to explain to him why I didn't catch it), watching movies, dinner dates with my gentleman, dinner dates with friends, and reading books that remind me of summer/other times of year. Also, making CDs to listen to in the car on my way to work.

Q: Are you stressed?
- Oprah Winfrey, Chicago

A: Yes. And I either handle stress extremely well, or I don't handle it at all and suddenly I'm sending random 3-page long messages Facebook friends telling them how much I miss them and wish I had their lives. Or I cry loudly, unabashedly in the car on the way home (Pro: nobody can hear me. Con: I look like a domestic abuse victim when I emerge from the car.) Or I can't sleep and end up watching Mob Wives at 2 a.m. (I hate myself.) And sometimes I end up face-down on Michael's couch with my head in his lap crying because [direct quote] "I keep doing taxes and MORE. JUST. KEEP. COMING. IN."

But really, who hasn't been there?

Q: Since you're a woman, shouldn't you be staying in the home with an aspirin between your legs?
- Rick Santorum, 46. La-la Land

A: I'm not clear on where to put the aspirin... could you please elaborate? Also, you are a deplorable human being.
Well that's all the mail we have for today. This has been fun. Let's maybe not wait 3 months before doing this again!

Love to all,
Elyse