"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