Shameless Self-Promotion

Last night I took a flurry of pictures off my phone (which in turn had scores of photos from my last phone), so I submitted several pictures to some of my favorite blogs: Apostrophe Abuse, The "Blog" of "Unnecessary" Quotation Marks, and lowercase L.

Overnight my photo of RMP's Policy's to Live (And Die) By was accepted! Yay! Check it out here.

How I Discovered the Impact of Beckham's Voice on Marriage

I've grown to love magazines in my post-education days. They're simple reading that requires no investment of my time, and half the time, I really only like looking at the 50 or so ads that precede the table of contents. It's perfect before-bed reading.

I have a subscription to Health; it was cheap, and I bought a copy for my Jackson Hole plane ride. I thought that I would be good at keeping up my health, but right now I'm enjoying cheesecake from Metrotainment Bakery's Sugar Shack and swearing that my reduced carbohydrate induction will reconvene tomorrow. (A weekend of posh wine tasting and drinking around a campfire gave way to a cold that could only be cured by carb-filled soups with grilled cheese.) However, Health can't fulfill all of my monthly needs.

I also love Real Simple, as all white chicks should cherish. I can't help it! I finally outgrew my legendary Cosmo collection when I decided to donate my 2000s-era US and UK editions via Craigslist. The Czech one from my time in Prague remains along with the stored and still-in-plastic-wrap 60s-era issue. One day I'll open it up for cultural exploration. That was the original point of a trunkful of magazines. But until then, I'm more interested in building a home than a why we love mama's boys. (Mamas'?)

My need for magazines currently came from recently finishing the magnificent Suite Francaise and refusing to read another novel or otherwise committing piece of literature until I finish sorting my life out.

(Sorting my life out = updating a blog or two for portfolio purposes and/or finishing editing the debut novel by this guy while he's out of the country.)

So when PYT went with his brother and girlfriend-in-law to Cleveland, Georgia, on my first camping expedition this weekend, I knew I needed new, mind-numbing reading material. I learned that when looking for quality monthly publications in Wal-Mart, you should go to the front checkouts, not the back for selections. (I'll be matronly enough for Good Housekeeping when I reach my self-deemed child-rearing age.) I picked up this month's Vanity Fair for when I wanted to read thought-provoking essays and Marie Claire for the cover story: Victoria Beckham. It was mere coincidence that I recently bought her book and revealed my love on the WWW upon the premiere of her cover story.

I can't help but love her. You can read the first part of the cover story and access the photo shoot and side interview here: http://www.marieclaire.com/celebrity-lifestyle/celebrities/exclusives/victoria-beckham-interview

My favorite part of the interview is not in the web copy. Please read below and note the bold:

There's just one more question about the marriage that I'm dying to ask. "Did you have to get used to his voice when you first met him?" I ask. "It is a bit disconcerting when you first hear it, coming, as it does, out of the mouth of such a strapping athlete. It's a bit pip-squeaky."

Beckham knowingly smiles. This time no smirk needs to be disguised. "I don't really notice that he's got a high-pitched voice. I just think he's so goddamn perfect that people have to find something wrong with him. We were about to go out somewhere the next day, and he was sending an e-mail. He was sitting at the end of the bed, and he had no clothes on whatsoever. I was getting out of the shower, and I just stood there looking at him. He was all tan. Has all those tattoos -- which I love. Hadn't done his hair. He just naturally looks good all the time. He never looks like shit in the morning. Never. So he's sitting there sending his e-mails, all ripped. Not an ounce of fat on him. And I thought, You done good, girl. I sure wasn't thinking of his high-pitched voice."

I am so glad to have read an article expressing what I have always found fault with Mr. Becks, aside from his questionable fidelity, and knowing how the Mrs. reacts and prioritizes her man.

Hell, she probably just tells him to shut up so that she can just look at him. Tell me you can't blame her.

Guilty Pleasures: Posh and Becks

I have a confession: I love the Beckhams.

Yes, he might possibly have been caught cheating on his wife (again) and has the worst English accent I have ever heard, and she was the most boring Spice Girl, but I don't care. I have her two first perfumes and now, the newest addition to my library, That Extra Half an Inch. I wanted to buy that book back when I first thought it was a diet guide but couldn't bring myself to spend $20 when I knew I could never actually look like Mrs. Beckham. (You say that you don't want to be that skinny, but really, given the choice, yes, you really do like it. And I don't discount Kate Winslet one bit for no longer being plus-sized.) You can imagine my surprise to have found it for less than $2 at Goodwill this past Saturday.

Actually I was surprised to find that That Extra Half an Inch is a fashion guide (where the extra length corresponds to the confidence from taller heels). It even credits the ghost writer! (You know Posh was too busy with children and travels to write the whole thing.) I haven't had the opportunity to learn anything except that the famous Gucci dress was actually Miss Selfridge (and even now, I have my doubts that she didn't just buy a fancier dress once the label picked up the Spice Girls). I look forward to learning exactly what pants or skirts look best to flatter my wide thighs and butt. She might not have the experience or claim to be an expert, but the rest of my life lies in the pages of her book.

Say she fails at flattering my booty -- I will at least smell delicious and . . . Intimately Beckham (both Day and Night).

I do also want to note that any female reading this should not purchase any of the colognes for her man; while Mrs. Beckham has fabulous scents, the Mr. most certainly lacks that sense. He is someone for visual pleasure, not someone to please your ears or nose. (He was blessed with a set of $150 million legs, if you will remember.)

Yes, I can't help but love Victoria Beckham so much that, had I the spare change, I would own this t-shirt as well.

Memories of Saturday Morning Cartoons

Listening to Nitrate 88 last Saturday, I heard a classic, classic song: the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles' theme! I've been jamming to the song ever since -- a coworker walked in on me singing and dancing to it while making the morning coffee.

To my amazement and later dismay, I decided to watch the previously Saturday-now-Sunday morning cartoons on the CW. After about five minutes of the new TMNT show, I was done. April got married. I mean, I guess it makes sense, but really? I can't help but still find Usagi Yojimbo's appearances as strange and the mecha suits as even odder. (It wasn't even for a brain needing a body.) Shredder is no longer a proper noun; he is now The Shredder. After a Wikipedia investigation, I have learned that The Shredder is a title "used for four separate, yet connected villians." So the villain could be an ancient demon from ancient Japan, our most recognized and beloved non-mutant alien, the adopted daughter of the alien, or a cyber version that eventually becomes human.

In my investigation, I did learn that Nickelodeon is in the process of creating a new CGI version due to debut in 2012. Not only are kids today being poisoned by bad renditions of our beloved 80s hit, but it seems the prophecies of imminent doom might just hold true.

Summer Gin?

I learned something new today. Gin (in America) doesn't have to be juniper. It can have hibiscus, elderflower, and best of all, blackcurrant. There are great and tasty alternatives to Hendrick's. While this Summer Gin is wonderful in my diet tonic, I think that the lime is just redundant. And I'm not even drinking "high quality tonic water."

The point is, you should seek out this summer delight. Props to Beefeater for making gin a little more fun. If you aren't as eager as I was for a new variety, you may read a bit about the new brand here.

Lifelong Studentry

Let me tell you, I'm incredibly excited. My eternal quest for knowledge (but more recently, for work-related skills) has taken me to Kennesaw State University's Continuing Education Department. I'm not quite ready for a full-on master's, as I still am still too unsure about the MBA path suiting me. I like KSU's professional writing master's, but honestly, if I move to Decatur next spring, I sure as hell am not going to commute to Kennesaw, especially if I still have a full-time job.

There's also the fact that I have neither taken nor studied for the GRE.

Thus, online technical writing classes! I could have searched for a cheaper/better/thematically different class, but I decided that for now I need the highest return on my investment. While my classes will overlap, I'm going to take a new 6-week course each month until I finish the writing courses. So first is the Fundamentals class. I'm skipping the grammar refresher because, well, I could probably teach it.

I'm hoping that, in addition to providing me with more confidence, it'll help me freelance or get a part-time job! (And help me get to editing!)

But now I'm upset: All excited to start on last week's lesson, and I can't seem to log in. KSU doesn't recognize my password nor does it even email me a new password. I'm sure it's a glitch, but all I want to do is learn, learn, learn.

Thanks, Chester.

For the past month, I've been prescribing to a nutritional plan made popular by one Dr. Atkins, and today I have made an amazing discovery: Cheeto Puffs have one carb per puff.

What does this mean? If I don't steal your ice cream or fruit, I can still have Cheetos!

(And it is beside the point that fruit is bad and Cheetos are okay. This is a diet where bacon can be encouraged and I still lose weight.)

The Great American Moose Hunt, Day 3: Sunrise Safari

Bright and early all six of us rose to reconvene the Hunt on a sunrise safari.

Unawares, I stole Kevin's warm shower water for my amazing bath then scrambled together for the 6AM departure. Although I was staring at the mountains at 5:48, I didn't see the sun rise over the Tetons. Life is so hard.

5:59, Stepdad walked into the house, ready to go. 6:04, everyone piled in the respective van and SUV then commenced on the Sunrise Safari caravan.

By 6:10, Emily spotted the three elk on the hill. This is one of them:

Before 7 we spotted a group of people along the river. We saw the Sleeping Indian and an alleged moose. I think I saw an antler, but I was directed by a fellow moosehunter: "Look at the mountain, look down between the U in the bush" [note: it was a giant area of sage brush] "and see its antlers." Mind you, there is only so much that one can see against the blinding daybreak light, especially the differences between green-brown and moose antler brown. See my dilemma below with shadow, twigs, and sage as I label the "moose:"

Fanchon took us down a gravel road through a meadow called Antelope Flats (she, Kevin, and the GPS knew where we were -- I trusted it). We saw two herds of bison! Later we saw three lone buffalo roaming where the pika played along the most-photographed farm.

We were unsuccessful in finding wildlife in the Flats after that, so we deep into Grand Teton National Park in hopes of late rising moose and bears. We stopped by a lily pond, a favorite haunt of the moose for its delicious and tasty lily pads, but no avail.

Later, in a field of mule deer, we saw a cow, the female moose:

Although the moose were still quite elusive and too shy to model, we have proven ourselves great Hunters as having seen two of the most evasive animals of the Tetons. We will continue to affirm our worth as we anticipate many more along our Yellowstone adventure.

The Great American Moose Hunt, Day 2

Everyone arrived safely yesterday evening for the weeklong moosehunt. It was quite worrisome because the descent curved over the mountains and into the valley.

Navigating our way across the smallest airport in America took quite a moment (due to construction), but we found grounded plumbing and then our respective rental cars to find the beautiful mountain villa. There was a bit of a mixup at the check in where Boyfriend's mom and stepdad got the keys to the other upgraded villa and we had to reorganize. Three adult couples couldn't functionally stay in the four bedrooms consisting of king, queen, two twins, and one single bed, although the rustic antler and moose-shaped cabinet knobs were amazing. The three bedrooms with queen beds were much more suitable for the three brothers and the respective girlfriends. The sixteen-year-old stepbrother is currently crashing with us; we don't know how long it will last until he's back with bloodfamily, but I hope for good stepbrotherly bonding time. Also, the hot tub and big screen TVs don't hurt.

All we did yesterday was prepare for the jet lag and buy provisions.

Today, Day 2, the anniversary of our Independence from Britain, I woke up early, made bacon and eggs, bathed in my Euro-style bath, then ventured off with the oldest brother, respective girlfriend, and Boyfriend to Grand Teton National Park. We saw the Snake River, Jenny Lake, and of course, more views of the Tetons (as if the view from our backyard isn't enough). I saw my first glacier; although, I'm not sure what part was glacier and was mountain.

The most exciting part might have been the mink (or fisher, whichever weasel family it was) we saw along Jenny Lake. A real mink! With real fur! And it wasn't an accessory -- it was running along the rocks.

Despite the mink, the Least Chipmunks, and the pikas, there have still been no moose sightings for me. However, Fanchon and her boyfriend were successful in seeing a female moose chomping on trees along their crack-of-dawn safari. Since they are the experts, they will lead us as we wake up at 5AM to watch the sunrise along the Tetons then reconvene our hunt.

Tomorrow, expect a good result.

First, Miss A takes on Wyoming

Life adventures. That's what this is all about, and tomorrow, I'm going to Wyoming for a whole week with my amazing boyfriend and his family. We are going to hunt moose in Jackson Hole. Or, even better, hopefully we will ride the moose for the hunt: