#ps: ginger magazine

[theycallmeimperfection]

Sunday Morning Routine

7:00 AM

Wake up

I usually don't stay in bed for too long, I jumpstart my day by going straight to the bathroom, brushing my teeth and giving my face a warm wash and then I put some oil to hydrate it.

7:15 AM

I make a cup of hot water with lemon and ginger and a large 4 shots oat iced late (I know, a lot of caffeine🤫).

7:20 AM

As I sip my coffee I sit down and spend a few minutes meditating. I like to think about what I am grateful for this day and what I am excited about. I finish it by making a To-Do list for the day.

I open Duolingo and spend the next 15/20 minutes learning a new language.

7:50 AM

I hate gyms so I exercise at home. I'm also not a huge fan of long workouts so I usually do 20-30 minutes of training. As it is Sunday and my rest day, I decided to do 18 minutes of stretching exercises with Blogilates (Amazing!!!) followed by 10 minutes morning yoga stretch.

8:25 AM

Shower time!!!

8:35 AM

I prepared some breakfast. Today it was seasonal fruits (Basically, all the fruit that I had in my fridge and I had to save from going bad) peaches, strawberries and blueberries with coconut yoghurt, bran sticks and a teaspoon of mixed seeds.

In the meantime, I also managed to put the laundry in! (Yay!!!)

8:50 AM

While I'm eating I like to check the daily news and read a few articles from the magazines that I subscribe to. I also finished a chapter of 'Laws' by Plato (I do like philosophy.)

9:30 AM

I cleaned after breakfast, hung the first laundry, and put in another one.

10:00 AM

I run to the shop as I run out of ice. And no ice means no iced coffee😢.

10:30 AM

Came back and while the laundry was finishing I was a book on self-esteem.

11:00

With laundry done and hung, I went out for a walk in the park. The weather is very pleasant today. It's sunny and warm.

12:00

I sat down on the bench near the university and continued reading '12 Rules for Life' by Jordan B. Peterson (I hope I can write about this book in one of my next posts) and then I spend some time studying and planning the upcoming week.

15:00

Went home and cooked a 'junk soup', literally all the veggies that I wanted to get rid of, but it turned out really good and very nutritious as I added some fish and egg for an extra protein.

I write this post while eating it 😊.

Hopefully, you've been having an equally peaceful Sunday too. Take care of yourself. Lots of love from (Im)perfectionist ❤️❤️❤️

Ps. Here are some photos I took when I was reading.

#morning routine #peaceful morning #(Im)Perfectionist #(Im)Perfect #Morning #Productive

[nctnews]

210527 | GINGER’s Twitter update with Yuta

#nct #nct 127 #yuta #210527 #photoshoot #ps: ginger magazine #sns: twitter #era: loveholic #beautiful boy

[acaseforpencils]

Jason Chatfield.

Bio: I grew up in the far flung suburbs of Perth, in Western Australia, and used to spend my paper route money on MAD Magazines (I cheaped-out and stole my dentist’s waiting room issues of the New Yorker. I think I was the only kid who looked forward to going to the dentist).

I moved to New York in 2014 and started pitching to the mag in person. I’m not sure Bob liked me, so I went back to pitching via email. Then I went in on his last day and finally sold my first piece. I feel like it was his final f—k you to the magazine. “Here! Have a Chatfield!”��

Find this print here!

The cartoon was a goofy play on Vlad the Impaler. 

I didn’t sell to the magazine again until last month, but I’ve had a handful sold as dailies. And I’m published in MAD often, so they’ve clearly done away with any of their standards.

When I’m not drawing gag cartoons I write and draw a syndicated legacy strip called Ginger Meggs which I took over 10 years ago. It’s been around since 1921 and now appears daily in 34 countries. He’s kind of an Australian version of Dennis the Menace, except he predates him by about 30 years.

Tools of choice: For drawing/roughs, I use a Prismacolor Turquoise clutch pencil with a red lead and try to find some paper with a little bit of tooth. The mixed media pads at Blick do the trick nicely.

I ink using a Uni-ball Vision Elite Stick Roller Ball Pen… or a Pigma Micron 03. 

DO NOT use the Uni-Ball Vision Rollerball Pens, Fine Point (0.7mm) if you’re traveling. They explode on planes. And ruin your copy of The New Yorker.

For a wash, I just use watercolor and whatever brush is lying around. Nothing fancy. There’s a scanning app on my phone called “Adobe Scan” which does a nice job of scanning line-art into a PDF when I’m out of the studio and need to email in a quick rough.

I use a Wacom Mobilestudio Pro for finished artwork. I like to get out of the studio and work from a bar or restaurant, so it helps that I can take that with me. I use a little glove that I got on Amazon so I don’t grease up the screen, and the felt-tip nib that comes in the pen-holder makes the friction between the stylus and the screen more like pencil on paper. Unfortunately, they’re not waterproof, as I found on a recent vacation…

My wife plays piano and sings at bars around the city so I’ll often sit at the bar during her sets and draw. Digital/Traditional depends on what deadlines are most pressing. (She has a weekly residency in Astoria —if anyone’s interested in going, let me know!)

A lot of people email me for advice about tablets —I’ve been trialling/demo-ing Wacom products for 15 years— I think they’re great. If you’re married to doing stuff by hand but want to colour digitally, you can get a decent tablet without going broke. Depends on your workflow.

Writing Desk: My wife and I were living upstairs in 5A when my neighbour in 4B died. He was a brilliant poet and had an incredible old writing desk. It’s the only thing that was left in the apartment, so I’m looking after it ’til his grandson moves in at the end of our lease. I work for countless hours at this old thing. It’s beat up, but I’ve patched it together enough that it won’t collapse and bury me mid-brushstroke. I’ve stuck a few of my favourite toons on the top of it.

Tool I wish I could use better: My brain. It really is a sack of cats. Whenever I want to sit and do work, it clocks off. Then it comes up with a pearler of an idea at 3 in the morning when I’m trying to sleep. I write it down in my phone, but autocorrect makes it indecipherable by morning.

I like working with my writer friend, Scott. We both do comedy at night and have developed a nice short-hand. We also seem to have the same library of references and can build on each others’ premises, which tames my sack-of-cats.

Tool I wish existed: The Deadline Extender.® I’ve never missed a deadline, but that said… an extra 3 or 4 minutes to allow for a terrible wifi connection, or a errant scanner wouldn’t go astray.

Also: The Deadline Extender® PREMIUM: Let’s you go back in time to when you were procrastinating and slap yourself in the face. $30 p/month.

Tricks: Ok, well. This is going to sound a bit Dalton Trumbo, but bear with me: I do my best work…in the bath.The most productive 3 hours of my week are during Scotchbath Sunday; an immoveable chunk of time on Sunday evening whereby I lock myself in the bathroom, run a bath, lug my drawing stuff onto a bit of wood that sits over the bath, and just write and draw. Nothing else. I write weeks worth of my syndicated comic strip (Ginger Meggs), I write New Yorker cartoons, scribble up roughs for dailies— and when I feel like I’ve earned it (usually 2 hours in) I tap the side of the bath three times, and my wife peels herself from her piano and I unlock the door to a nice big glass of scotch. It’s a hell of a carrot on a stick to work towards when you’re stuck. (PS. Lest you think I’m some kind of Don Draper-era misogynist; the scotch reward part was her idea. I think she realized it keeps me in the bath and out of her way.)

Anyway. It’s a great way to switch gears creatively. It’s like being on an aeroplane. No wifi, no phones — just the work you need to get done. Get involved. #ScotchBathSunday.

Oh! And if I get my deadlines done for the week, I have a small budget for a solo lunch somewhere where I can eat cheese and draw. I really didn’t know cheese ’til I moved to America. (And yes, I’ve already been to Wisconsin. Good Lord.)

Tips? I always tell younger artists to not even think about touching a drawing tablet until they’ve learned to draw by hand first. Otherwise they’ll always be drawing away, knowing they have the insurance of the CTRL+Z key at their disposal if they screw up a line. That’s not a good habit to have when you’re working to a deadline. But, once you do know how to draw, by all means dive head-first into the digital realm. It’s incredible. Procreate, Sketchbook or Photoshop are all great.

Misc: One of the hangovers from working in advertising illustration is that I’ve had to be a bit of a chameleon style-wise for the last 15 years and haven’t allowed myself to just settle into one style. Lately, I’ve just decided to say “Bugger it!” and try and find a loose, consistent style that I’m comfortable with, that’s an apt conduit to my silly ideas.

I always loved George Booth’s line, and his ability to create a scene with so much movement but just at the right moment in time. Also Sam Gross’ dark, hilarious cartoons with perfect line-economy. And I’d give my left arm (I draw with my right) to know how Barry Blitt has so much control with his washes…

Chatfield’s portrait of Sam Gross

While I’m geeking out, I love seeing younger cartoonists find their feet and thrive in a style that just feels like they’re speaking to you— Ellis J. Rosen, Sofia Warren, Hilary Fitzgerald Campbell, Jason Katzenstein, Amy Kurzweil, and a seemingly endless list of talented younger artists who are putting in the work are a big inspiration. 

I know it should be Steig or Thurber or Addams, but my favourite cartoonist is Sergio Aragones.

I was always so enamoured of MAD growing up and studied the lines of Jack Davis, Mort Drucker, Al Jaffee and the Usual Gang of Idiots. I remember being so frustrated I couldn’t even come close to getting my work to look like theirs, but I think I found a style somewhere in between when I fell short. 

I think Wil McPhail’s poses are masterful, and I wish I knew how how the hell he did that. One day I’ll trudge up to England and knock on his door to ask him. I find myself doubled-over at John Cuneo’s Instagram, and Ed Steed’s absurdly funny gags. I have a slew of toons I’ve torn out of years’ worth of magazines and taped to my studio wall, or my zillion year-old writing desk. I’m constantly humbled by how generous and welcoming the existing crop of New Yorker cartoonists have been to a goofy Aussie immigrant — Joe Dator, Matt Diffee and Pat Byrnes, Mort Gerberg and an ever-growing list of prolific, talented cartoonists who make the 99% weekly rejection tolerable.

I’ve made some of my closest friends and have been lucky enough to meet my cartooning heroes through the National Cartoonists Society. I got to spend a lot of time with Sergio at the Lakes International Comic Art Festival in the UK last year which made my year. We were signing together for a whole afternoon and I spent more time geeking out with him than signing.

Okay. Enough drooling. Sorry.

I’m a fan of cartoonists.

Website, etc. I have a weekly podcast where I throw around ideas for New Yorker cartoons with a fellow comedian and writer, Scott Dooley. It’s called “Is There Something In This?” It’s a bit of fun. We don’t take ourselves too seriously, but we do take the art of writing gags very seriously. It’s an extremely difficult skill to master, and we’re virtually zygotes at it. We have lots of listeners now, which is bewildering. Talking about drawing is like dancing about architecture, but here we are. Anyway you can find it on iTunes or wherever you waste time listening to podcasts.

My website is jasonchatfield.com and my comedy stuff is up at jasonchatfieldcomedy.com  ( I’ve been doing stand-up comedy for 11 years. If anyone wants to come see a show, hit me up! I’ll put you on the door). My instagram is @jasonchatfield. I’m still trolling the British chap who has the @jasonchatfield handle on Twitter to no avail. To that end, I’m @jason_chatfield on Twitter.

If you want more art supplies in your life, A Case for Pencils is on Instagram and Twitter.  You can also find me, Jane (the person who created/edits this blog), on Twitter here, which is where I stick the paintings that I’ve been doing instead of interviewing people consistently (I needed to balance working on other people’s work and my own work!). Oh, and If you’d like to support this blog, which is always very appreciated, there are many different ways to do so, which you can find here!

#Jason chatfield #how to draw New Yorker cartoons #artists on tumblr #art supplies #drawing process #artist interview

[artificialqueens]

Glow 3/4 (Biadore/Trixya) - Houdini

A/N: Told y'all I would be back soon! This chapter is probably the longest so far and if you thought the plan was complicated before, just you wait. Thank you so so SO much for everyone that’s kept reading this, there’s only one more part left to go and I’ll be continuing Hey Stranger after that! If you have any requests/feedback/wanna chat, I’ll be over at princess-banana-lady, but for now, enjoy and lemme know where you think this is going. xoxo Houdini

PS: for those of you who are new, this is a soulmate AU where after you and your soulmate exchange I love you’s for the first time, you glow with an aura for a couple seconds.

Adore tilted her head back as the last drops of her third-or was it fourth?- fruity cocktail drained down her throat. Beside her, Trixie shifted anxiously. “Why aren’t they looking?” she hissed under her breath.

Adore took a deep breath and fished the maraschino cherry out of her glass. “Shut the fuck up and go with it,” she replied, pasting a grin onto her face. She waited until Bianca’s head turned towards her before lowering the cherry into Trixie’s mouth, focusing on Trixie’s brown eyes the whole time.

“Get a room!” hollered Kim Chi from across the spacious living room. Courtney nodded and mimed gagging, before tossing a wink at the duo, clearly onto their plan. Bianca merely glanced at Adore before turning her attention back to Raven, who was retelling the story of her and Martin’s fucking yellow light for about the hundredth time. Shit. The night was not going as planned.

Dozens of queens had gathered in Alaska’s sprawling Los Angeles home to celebrate her moving in. The house was something out of a magazine, with high ceilings, windows that took up entire walls, and massive pieces of art everywhere.

Despite seeing her sisters again, and even though they had indulged in the mouth watering canapés and endless cocktails, Adore couldn’t shake her sour mood. After weeks of hinting at a budding relationship between her and Trixie, they had gotten reactions from everyone to Timbuktu and back. Except from the two people that mattered.

No, instead, Katya and Bianca had breezed in together (albeit followed by a grumbling Alyssa), and had stuck together the whole night. Warm hugs and greetings were exchanged, but neither queen had alluded to the newly born #Mattelano.

Trixie let out a sigh, staring at Katya forlornly. “Are you fucking kidding me?” she griped, twisting the hem of her lavender gown anxiously. Green eyes met brown for a moment. “We’ve been here what, an hour? She hasn’t even tried to kiss me yet!”

Adore let out a laugh at Trixie’s whining. She would’ve never thought she would be spending Alaska’s housewarming pining over soulmates with fucking Bambi in drag. She wet her lips and turned to Trixie. “Baby, Katya’s watching you.”

The blonde queen opened her mouth to protest but was stopped by Adore’s raised eyebrow. “She’s being subtle, that’s all. Have you not noticed how she’s been standing by the mirrored column this whole time? How fucking convenient.”

Trixie closed her mouth, a slow smile spreading over her face. Adore leaned towards the blonde conspiratorially. “Maybe we should give her something to look at…”

Trixie let out a squeak and her warm brown eyes widened in alarm as Adore slowly leant in. Adore’s eyes fluttered shut and her heart pounded as she lightly touched her lips to-

“Trixie.”

Hiding a smirk, Adore opened her eyes and snapped her head back. “Katya, hey girl!”

The crimson clad queen shot her a questionable look before turning back to the stammering blonde in front of her. “Trixie, I need to talk to you.”

Trixie’s mouth opened and closed, goldfish style. “Yeah, sure,” she croaked, her voice nearly cracking. Adore put every ounce of effort she had into keeping a straight face as Katya pulled Trixie into one of the hallways. About time.

Rolling back her shoulders, she approached the rest of the queens. Ignoring Fame’s waggling eyebrows, she tapped Bianca on the shoulder.

Every planned word she had flew out of her mouth as she looked into the warm amber eyes in front of her. “Um,”

Um? You’re in front of your fucking soulmate and the only thing you can say is Um? Congrats. Fucking great.

Bianca let out a raspy chuckle as she took in the bundle of nerves that was Adore Delano. “Hey. How’ve you been?”

Adore tried not to tackle Bianca then and there, opting to flick her hair over her shoulders. “I’ve been alright.”

And after a beat

“I really missed you,” she confessed, all bravado she once had now completely gone. Bianca’s eyes crinkled at the corners and the little dimples Adore loved so much appeared yet again. “I missed you too, bitch.”

“ATTENTION BITCHES” boomed Willam from atop a table. “Gather round, gather round.”

Used to Willam’s antics, the other queens congregated around the table. Willam looked over the group before continuing. “So, it’s Alaska’s first night in her new place,” she yelled, pausing for cheers. “And as such, we’re gonna play her favourite game.”

The room filled with cheers, groans, and in Laganja’s case, perky “yes gawds!” as they realized what Willam meant. Alaska grinned devilishly and widened her arms. “Truth or Dare!” she confirmed, drawing out the short phrase.

If Adore had been paying attention to anyone other than Bianca in that moment, she would’ve noticed multiple sets of eyes glancing at her. Perhaps she would’ve seen the long look Alaska exchanged with Alyssa, and the nod Alyssa gave to Detox and Phi Phi. But alas, she didn’t.

Adore ignored the sudden wave of nausea that rolled over her and nabbed a seat beside Courtney. She made eye contact with Bianca, who was seated between Phi Phi, dressed in a beautiful silver gown, and a pink haired Detox, who was clad in some sort of weird white muumuu contraption.

Courtney leaned towards Adore. “You gonna tell Bianca?” she murmured, her lips moving imperceptibly. Adore rolled her eyes and elbowed the Aussie. “Maybe.” she mused. She sat back as the lights dimmed. It was going to be a long night.

**

Meanwhile, Trixie and Katya continued to sit in silence, the only noise in the room being the rustling of Trixie’s dress against Katya’s red cape. Trixie let out a sigh and turned towards Katya.

“Kat-”

“Are you?” Katya blurted. Trixie furrowed her eyebrows. “Am I what?”

Katya let out a sigh. “Adore.” she clarified, staring at the younger queen.

Trixie paused before resting her hand on beside Katya’s. “No,” she replied softly. Katya nodded and looked away. Trixie blinked as she heard Katya doing the deep breaths she had learned in her yoga classes.

She reached out to touch Katya’s shoulder but froze as her friend turned back to her, her eyes steely and resolved.

“Trixie.”  

“Yeah?”

“You know what I’m going to say”

And the longer Trixie gazed into Katya’s eyes, she knew. Whatever had been unsaid between them for months after drag race had stretched out into years. Years of stolen looks and drunken mumbles. They weren’t the same people that had walked into the werk room so long ago. Trixie could finally say she was proud of herself, and Katya, once fragile and doubting, was finally at some sort of peace.

Katya tenderly brushed her hand across Trixie’s face, smiling. Not the perfectly white smile, but the small, secret smile reserved only for her. Trixie’s chest warmed at the thought. For me.

The warmth in her chest faded abruptly as Trixie’s head cleared. Guilt wracked in her chest as the memories of her antics these past weeks flooded her head. Taking a shuddering breath, she squeezed Katya’s hand.

“Wait.”

**

Adore slumped back on the couch, watching Violet shove her tongue down Tatianna’s throat as the group cheered. They had exhausted all the classic questions, making a blushing Fame admit she’d kai kai with Raja and watched with glee as Laganja gave a peturbed Ginger Minj a lap dance.

Violet and Tatianna pulled apart with a horrendous slurping noise and turned their attention to Jinx. Jinx paused for a moment before looking up in defeat. “I’ve got nothing.”

The queens tossed out ideas, all of which were deemed too boring. A throat clearing got their attention. “I have one,” Roxxxy announced smugly. Turning to Willam, she grinned. “I dare you to tell Naomi you love her.”

Eyebrows arched as Willam pondered for a moment. The blonde raised her head. “Hell no.”

Adore let out a tiny sigh of relief. Thank god.

“I think we should all do it.”

WHAT THE FUCK?

Willam tossed her hair and spoke over the murmurs. “We’re not getting older, and at the fucking order this circle’s in it’ll be a goddamn miracle if anyone gets a light.”

She let the group think before letting out a chuckle, eyes sparkling. “Live a little.”

“I’m in.” Jinx conceded.

Raven smirked. “Well I don’t need to-”

“Shut the fuck up,” Manila interrupted. “I’m in”

Adore’s heart leapt to her throat as slowly, each queen agreed.

“Bianca, you in?” Courtney asked, eyebrows raised.

Bianca paused before briefly glancing at Adore. “I’m not getting any younger.”

“Adore?” Jinx asked. Adore took a deep breath, praying she wasn’t blushing. “Party!” she quipped, even though internally, she wanted to be swallowed up by Alaska’s marble floor.

The queens went around the circle exchanging I love you’s. Some were definitely not going to see the light. Others, like Naomi to Kim, were worth waiting a bit after for.

Courtney turned to Adore, expression unreadable.

“I love you.”

Adore swallowed, her heart pounding.

“I love you too.”

Nothing.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned to Jinx. “I love you.”

Bianca shifted in her seat across from Adore, fuming. She thought the worst she would ever feel was after Katrina came along and essentially ruined her entire life. She was wrong. Watching her soulmate say those three magical, painful words to people that weren’t her fucking killed. She didn’t know if she wanted to cry or to break something. Possibly both.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Phi Phi turning towards her.

“I love you.”

At least this was mildly funny. There was no way she’d live in My Little Pony matrimony with Phi Phi.

“I love you too.” she rasped, trying not to notice the way Adore’s fists clenched in the corner of her eye.

“I was rooting for that,” deadpanned Kim.

Bianca rolled her eyes and turned towards Detox, trying to ignore Alyssa’s eyes boring a hole into her.

Squinting the dim light, she made eye contact with Detox and let the foreign words roll off her tongue.

“I love you.”

Thank god that’s over.

Exhaling, she glanced back at Adore as Detox replied.

“I love you too.”

There was a brief pause as Bianca saw Adore’s eyes widen and her mouth drop open.

Whipping her head back to Detox amidst gasps, Bianca’s heart stopped and her body went completely numb in horror as she and Detox were surrounded by a bright green light.

#houdini #glow #soulmate au #biadore #trixya #bianca del rio #adore delano #trixie mattel #katya zamolodchikova #jealousy #multiship #rpdr fanfiction #canon compliant

[idiopath-fic-smile]

Oh my goddd I was scrolling back through your blog and the 1950s lesbian exr is a thing that just could not conceivably be any further up my alley (I realise what this sounds like and I apologise), so I was wondering if we could get another little snippet? No pressure ofc. PS I love your writing and even if we never get any more of tscosi it's still probably my favourite podcast of all time

Hi!

Thank you so much. There will definitely be more Starship Iris eventually, but I really appreciate that.

Re: the fic, I was simultaneously trying to write a historically accurate-ish look at 1950′s American lesbian identity and activism, and give it a bit of a noir feel, which in theory I think you could do because holy shit these women were risking so much, and they had to basically be spies anyway because the FBI was legit trying to keep tabs on them and their meetings. I don’t really know if I’m the person to do it, though; this feels pretty damn far out of my lane, to be honest.

I really wish there was more historical fiction about this cause in this period; you can find some fascinating shit just doing a cursory wikipedia crawl. Like, the first lesbian periodical was created in 1947 by a 25-year-old who was working as a receptionist at RKO Studios; her boss was like ‘just look busy so people think I’m a big deal’ and so she was secretly using company equipment to type and format a zine about lesbianism, like 25 years before the APA stopped calling homosexuality a mental illness.

Anyway, I only wrote about three pages; I stopped when I realized how long it would need to be, and how much work would be involved, and also frankly it’s a lot easier to situate Enjolras in a fic about queer activism post-Stonewall, because the D.O.B.-era organizing tended to be pretty assimilationist. Like, I think their work was important and has been unfairly neglected, but I still think Enjolras in any era would chafe at their gradualism. 

Enjolras isn’t even mentioned by name in this, but uh I think you’ll be able to find her. 

(Head’s up: this is the very opening of the story, it’s from Grantaire’s POV, and she has not begun to work through her issues yet, so quick content warning for period-typical internalized homophobia and self-loathing, as well as period-typical sexism. Also, historical note: from what I can tell, “lesbian” had negative connotations even within the community at the time.)

“Grantaire, are you alright?” said Murray. He didn’t try that hard to hide his laughter. “You look a little pale.”

“I’m fine,” she said, too quickly.

“You’ll need to set aside your small-town attitudes if you want to succeed in the big city,” Chester added. “There’s all sorts here, as you can see.”

Grantaire nodded. There was nothing more dangerous than someone desperate to prove they were more Bohemian than you, she thought. She wondered if they were only doing this because she had corrected Chester about Rothko. Maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut. She could have just let him be wrong and avoided the whole adventure, or prank, or byzantine office hazing ritual–whatever had inspired them to take her here, of all places.

The Musain. Run by the mob, of course, but that wasn’t what made the place so notorious. There wasn’t exactly a neon sign screaming gay bar! But even if Grantaire was as naive as Chester and Murray seemed to assume, she probably could’ve put the clues together herself from the clientele, men mingling with men and women mingling with women. 

How much looking was too much looking? It all felt like too much. She tried focusing on the grimy wall of bottles behind the bar, except one of the bartenders had hung a poster of a pin-up girl back there, naked but for a strategically-placed ukulele, grinning a slick, lipsticky grin. There was no safe real estate to rest your eyes on. Every inch was dangerous, an admission of something.

“I’ll be right back,” she croaked. “Ladies’ room.”

“If you can tell which one it is,” laughed–Chester? Murray?–who even cared, she thought, ducking into the crowd.

The water did not help like she’d hoped. Grantaire switched off the tap and wiped at her face, badly wanting a cigarette. She wondered how much longer she could hide in here before it got suspicious. Two or three minutes, she figured, but when she stepped back into the bar she’d need to be perfectly composed.

Then again, neither of her new colleagues seemed too perceptive. Case in point: this present stunt, designed to unnerve her in an entirely different direction. Even now, she could at least detect a certain sick humor about the whole affair. She was still half-smirking when a woman walked in. Grantaire looked away on instinct, but foolishly, right into the mirror, to be pinned instead by the stranger’s reflection. There was just no catching a break tonight.

Grantaire had seen the stranger already from the other side of the bar, would have noticed her from a hundred paces. She was tall and athletic-looking, dressed like a man in a button-down shirt and trousers. Normally a girl of that stature slouched, pulled in her shoulders as if apologizing for taking up the space, but every line of this woman’s body was utterly assured, self-possessed. Her hair was cropped short, and there was a stark beauty in her strong brows and sharp cheekbones, feminine without a trace of softness.

Her eyes slid to Grantaire and away again: registered and dismissed in a single motion.

Grantaire dried her hands—slowly, because she still did not really want to go back. Anything was preferable, maybe including this.

In a way, it was almost a relief to see that nothing had changed. Seasons came and went but Grantaire was still Grantaire: a bundle of too-tight nerves and awkward elbows, scratchy throat, furtive gaze bouncing everywhere it shouldn’t. Still nursing a fascination with the most dangerous-looking female in the area. A puppy dog panting after a wolf.

Grantaire snorted, echoing in the cramped space. The woman looked back at her.

“Sorry,” Grantaire mumbled.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Your friends seem to be having a good time,” she said. Her voice was cold and dry as the Arctic Desert. Searing sun, powdery snow.

Chester and Murray weren’t friends by any stretch of the imagination. They were barely co-workers; Grantaire had only been at the magazine for five days, had only arrived in the city three days before that, had been hired sight unseen by the eccentric editor-in-chief on the strength of a portfolio sent by mail and a first name that could pass as a man’s. It was even odds that once the bossman returned from his honeymoon and discovered his brand-new cartoonist was a she, Grantaire would be right out the door again, no chance to slip a single drawing into the lineup. As it was, her presence at the office had the air of a lingering typo.

Best-case scenario, her new employer would turn out to be one of those awful tyrants who refused to acknowledge any degree of fallibility, and he’d keep her on out of sheer hardheadedness. Perhaps after a year or two, she’d fade from a novelty to a background detail, and she’d finally grow up enough to stop trying to prove herself when it mattered the least.

None of it was worth explaining.

“They’re harmless,” said Grantaire instead. “That new intellectual type. They like modern art and smoking marijuana and pretending to understand poetry. They’re not here to gawk, not really.” She could not make herself shut her mouth. It was like having a fit. “They only brought me by to try to get a rise out of the girl from Skokie,” she was saying. “They’ve got nothing against your kind.”

“My kind,” the woman repeated, and Grantaire gave a helpless inward flinch. Was it rude to imply someone was a homosexual simply because she was wearing trousers at a gay bar? It didn’t look like a costume; she wore it with too much grace. “Don’t you mean ‘our kind’?” the woman said.

Grantaire froze, still clutching a wad of paper towel. She hadn’t expected to feel caught out. She had almost hoped for it, maybe, some slight terrified swoop of the stomach, but one foot inside the Musain, one glance at the flesh-and-blood patrons flirting under threat of police raid, had put it to rest.

(“Welcome to city life,” Chester had said, with a chuckle. “Meet your new neighbors!”)

Grantaire could only stand there, in the drab skirt and blouse she had picked specifically to blend in at the office, and measure the distance in miles, in light years.

She threw the paper towel in the trash, made herself meet the woman’s eyes. Grantaire was a head shorter, but somehow it was her spine that craned down, her shoulder blades that pulled together, her posture that begged forgiveness for the sheer fact of her blood and muscle and skin.

“I’m nothing like you,” said Grantaire.

“Really?” came the reply, unimpressed. “Because I could’ve sworn I saw you in here last week. Minus your friends.”

It had to be a bluff, thought Grantaire. Without two rowdy men at her back to make the whole thing a joke, she had barely managed to step in before she’d hightailed it back out.

It had to be a bluff, unless it wasn’t.

First Chester and Murray, and now this. Grantaire had just about had it with people trying to shock her by telling her things she already knew. Sex perverts exist, Grantaire, on one hand. You’re one of them, Grantaire, on the other.

At some point, a girl reached her limit.

“Oh,” said Grantaire, “I’m a lesbian, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

The woman blinked at her, not expecting—what? The directness? The word? The slightest illusion of a backbone?

Grantaire bared her teeth in a grin: another illusion. Nothing but well-honed reflex at this point; every bone in her body knew how to lie.

“And that’s the beginning and end of what we have in common,” Grantaire said. It had been a long day; she gave herself the petty satisfaction of slamming the door on her way out.

“Feeling better?” Chester asked, all mock-sympathy, when she returned. “Maybe a ginger-ale to settle your stomach?” It had the shape of an offer but the taste of a dare: can you stay long enough to drink it.

“Throw in some whiskey and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she said. Murray laughed. Her head hurt.

“Don’t look now, but there’s a woman, if you can call it that, watching us,” said Murray in a low, amused voice. “Think she’s got her eye on you, Grantaire.”

For once in her life, she wouldn’t rise to take the bait. “You’re hilarious,” said Grantaire without looking up. “A regular Bob Hope.”

“They still laughing at Bob Hope out in Skokie?” Chester said.

“It’s Illinois,” she snapped, “not the Mesozoic Era.”

“Mesozoic,” said Murray, as though he’d never heard anything so ridiculous. “Big word for a little lady.”

Mesozoic. Eight letters. But it didn’t matter how you contorted yourself; somebody would always find a way to be sore at you for being too much of one thing or another.

Grantaire hunched down on the stool, away from the sweep of those imagined eyes, and forced herself to smile.

#fic #anyway i swear this does have a happy ending #don't worry i am still a huge sap #octarine-ash #eXr DOB

[kimberlyscharf]

Taking Me Back...Arroz Caldo (Translation: Rice Porridge with Chicken and Ginger)

This recipe totally takes me back when I traveled to Thailand.  I stayed for about a week on the island of Koh Samui.  Truly, it was paradise.  I stayed in a tiny hut, right on the beach.  During the day, vendors would walk by offering food, fresh fruit, massages, manicures and pedicures. Lets be clear....I was pretty broke at the time!  So it wasn’t fancy.  But it was clean, beautiful, and just incredibly memorable. (PS..Thailand is a great country to travel if you 

The hotel served meals, and breakfast was one of the best.  It was congee, or at least the Thai version of it.  It was one of the best meals of my life.  

Thailand is an amazing country, and bar none, out of all the places I’ve visited out of the US, the food was just simply the best.  

Last night I made this recipe.  This was cribbed from Food and Wine magazine, a recipe courtesy of Dale Talde.  It’s supposedly the Phillipino version of Chinese Congee.  It really is two steps, and the hardest part is removing the skin and bones from the simmered chicken. Lets just say the smell of simmering garlic, ginger and chicken is heavenly.  And remember this recipe the next time you have a cold...

Arroz Caldo

2 tbsp. vegetable oil

5 garlic cloves, minced

1 bunch scallions, thinly sliced

1 tbsp. kosher salt1 

3-to-4-lb. chicken

1 4-inch piece ginger (about 3 oz.), peeled and thinly sliced

1 1⁄2 cups white rice

3 tbsp. fish sauce

Chile oil, for garnish

Heat oil in a large saucepan over medium-high; add garlic and white parts of scallion and cook until fragrant, about 2 minutes. Add salt, chicken, ginger, and 10 cups water and bring to a boil. Reduce heat and simmer until chicken is tender and the meat is falling off the bone, about 1 hour.

Remove the chicken from the stock and cool slightly. Pull the meat off the bones, discarding the skin and bones. Strain the stock, discarding solids. You should have 9 cups of stock; place it with the rice in a large saucepan over high heat. Bring to a boil, then reduce heat to a simmer and cook until the rice is creamy and overcooked, about 25–30 minutes. Add reserved meat and the fish sauce and stir to combine. Garnish with scallion greens and chile oil.

[allanfoo4u-blog]

Ten horrible foods cause cancer

I come across the article in the internet

*Please share the message, the more you help people for good karma*

     Hot foods such as curry, chili, ginger, etc. let the body's cancer cells go to sleep more*

In an international seminar, one of Dr. Dai, who is currently at the American Cancer Center, shared his findings on the growth kinetics of cancer cells with "Is Cancer Curable?" What is scared is metastasis.

Primary cancer does not kill the patient, and once the cancer cells metastasize, the wind and waves in other tissues and organs allow the patient to gradually (or quickly) die. But why do some patients with metastatic cancer have not continued to deteriorate?

Japan has dissected dozens of 90-103-year-olds who have no pain and naturally survived, and found that each of them has many cancer cells in their bodies. But why are their cancer cells not causing physical pain?

Dr. Dai and several cancer research scholars have found that cancer cells enter a "dormant period" after a period of activity, and they become active again after a period of sleep, making waves. The longer the "dormancy period," the longer the patient can live, without even fearful "transfer."

The medical community is now actively researching ways to delay the "dormant phase" of cancer cells, including the use of drugs and diet. "Effectively Preventing Cell Carcinogenesis," the paper mentions several natural products that can help cancer cells enter a "dormancy period" by controlling the pathway of signal transduction in cancer cells. The ingredients of the food, let the cancer cells in the body go to sleep more.

1. Curry (anti-cancer ingredient is curcumin)

2. Chili (anti-cancer ingredient is capsaicin)

3. Ginger (anti-cancer ingredient is curcumin)

4. Green tea (anti-cancer ingredient is catechin)

5. Soybean (anti-cancer ingredient is isoflavones)

6. Tomato (anticancer ingredient is lycopene)

7. Grape (anti-cancer ingredient is resveratrol)

8. Garlic (anti-cancer ingredients are sulfides)

9. Korean cabbage (anti-cancer ingredient is Indole 吲哚)

10. Cauliflower (anti-cancer ingredients are sulphides)

 PS. * A pharmacist raises the following:

     This article was passed to everyone for merit. easy to understand. Because of the recent medical longevity drugs

Contains the following four types:

Curcumin, Resveratrol, Silymarin, and Astragalus (four components), the first two of which appeared in the above text, mentioned above: Curcumin and Ginger have anti-cancer properties of "curcumin."

  Look at the following [first, third, sixth, eight, nine items], it is terrible!

      Wei Fu Department announced that the main cause of colorectal cancer comes from

Ten horror foods...

*China News Magazine*

Beware! Cancer is eaten.

1. hamburger fries + cola

2. Pork ribs rice + Zhen milk

3. Pot Sticker + Soy Milk

4. Roasted Italian pasta + pastry soup

5. Korean fried chicken + beer

6. Fried Rice + Meatball Soup

7. Ramen + Frost Cream

8. Braised Pork Rice + Fish Ball Soup

9. Braised beef noodles + sauerkraut

10. Fried meat round + Oden

⋯👆🏻😷⋯👆🏻😷⋯👆🏻😷⋯👆🏻😷

     Yuzhong Research Institute has worked hard for 8 years to complete the most detoxified food...

* Release date: June 20, 2018 *

1. Sweet potato

2. Mung bean

3. Oats

4. Coron

5. Xiaomi

6. Brown rice

7. Red Beans

8. Carrots

9. Yam

10. Burdock

11. Asparagus

12. Onions

13. Lotus root

14. White radish

15. Artemisia halodendron

16. Sweet potato leaves

17. Radish leaves

18. Chuanqi

19. Yogurt

20. Vinegar

🆘 🆘🆘🆘🆘

*Please share it to your friends and family!!*

[noliprof]

Japan

Artist：

松任谷由実、桃井かおり、草笛光子、中谷美紀、大政絢、Nanao、河北麻友子、前田美波里、波瑠、

大塚千弘、早見優、香坂みゆき、中越典子、蛯原友里、沢尻エリカ、映美くらら、秋元才加、ゆきぽよ、

檀蜜、岩佐真悠子、桃生亜希子、山本美憂、高橋尚子、村主章枝、川澄 奈穂美、三浦葵、大屋夏南、北山詩織、

井村空美、落合恭子、松本莉緒、若槻千夏、さとう珠緒、橋本志穂、山本モナ、星井七瀬、佐藤寛子、

松居直美、中村綾乃、江口ヒロミ、クリス智子、加賀美セイラ、梅田彩佳、相沢真紀、内藤未映、葛岡碧

河瀬直美、樹里咲穂、マルシア、秋野暢子、Shaula、ほのかりん、Mie、平松愛理、菅原紗由理、ACO、

RSP、Rie-fu、高橋瞳、 Miss Monday、桜組、dream、Keiko Lee、エリアンナ、

三上博史、伊藤健太郎、大野拓朗、阿部力、ハリー杉山、魔裟斗、松下優也、Micro、中河内雅貴、松下優也

大野幸人、ガダルカナルタカ、安崎求、リリー・フランキー、BOSE、ベンガル、桐島優介、ハライチ、 etc 

Politician：

小泉純一郎、谷垣貞一、川崎二郎、中馬こうき、北側 一雄、小坂憲次、二階 俊博、沓掛哲男、

額賀福志郎、与謝野 馨

Magazine :

VOGUE Japan, WWD, White, 25ans, 25ansウェディング, GLITTER, 美st, クロワッサンPremium,

GINGER, VERY, BEAUTY CLUB, PS, CanCam, JJ, Ray, ViVi, non-no, BAILA, SPUR, MORE,

with, Style, FRaU, Cawaii, GISELe, mina, Natiful, クロワッサン,  AERA English, etc

CM :　

TOYOTA, SANYO, HITACHI, ABC Mart, Nintendo(TV GAME), SUNTORY, NTT DoCoMo, Willcom,

UFJ銀行, Nestle, Yoshinoya, Pachinko, Asahikasei, House, 花王, DERBY WEEK, ASBee etc

Advertising :

伊勢丹, 明治記念館、LION, UNiQULO, DRESSCAMP, Willcom, FUGAHUM, Soareak,TOYOTA,

TOSHIBA, HITACHI, KDDI, SONY, ellesse, NTT DoCoMo, Bridal of Ritz-Carlton Hotel, 大塚製薬,

明治製薬, 大正製薬, Little New York,  三愛, DERBY WEEK、KINO, ma cherie, YANUK, AHKAH,

JINS, ARTISAN&ARTIST, ADMJ, ジョンソン＆ジョンソン, ABARTH アバルト, 尚和不動産, etc

Music Video :

avex, SONY music, UNIVERSAL music,OR LIFE MUSIC ENTERTAINMENT, EMI etc

Event :

CHANEL、 Dior、キャノン、日本建築家学会、松屋銀座、ユニクロ、アバハウス、華都飯店、レジーナロマンティコ、

Studio Beaura

Celebrities :

Chopard社長キャロライン•ショイフレ、Skype社長夫人 キャサリン、

駐日アメリカ大使夫人 クリッシー・ハガティー （ Chrissy Hagerty ）、

Wendy Lewis、Isabel Lewis、Vivian Tam

テレビ出演 :

日テレ　ビューティープライド

#cate000

[clubpheiyngphxn]

Reflex Homme Magazine published WILD WEST Cowboy School 2nd Part. ๑ Teams. Photographer:) Horacio Hamlet. Styling:) Charles Ward and Lara Glassman. Grooming:) Mandisa Duperval. Styling assistant:) Keisha. Talent:) Corey Baptiste represented by VNY Models. Attires;) Vivienne Westwood, Dior Homme, Gucci, Jil Sanders, Versace, Raf Simons, Bottega Veneta, PS by Paul Smith, Burberry Prorsum, Cerruti Paris 1881, Dries Van Noten, Calvin Klein Collection and Kolor to name a few. #Magazine #Book #PrintedCopy #CofeeTableBook #Editorial #Edition #Blog #Blogger #FashionBlog #Online #Webzine #Webmagazine #JC的工作室 #XCLUSIV4eJC #XCLUSIV4eJC2560 #estudi_jChiyarumupon #selected_by_eJC #promoted_by_eJC #recommended_by_eJC #updated_by_eJC #FashionPhotography #StalkWithCaution #ผู้ชาย #บุรุษ #สุภาพบุรุษ #男 #男人 #男子 #人44XY #Male #Man #Men #Gentleman #Gentlemen #Model #Mannequin #Muse #Talent #Sensation #Stunner #Ginger #Uomini #Guapo #Viril #Virile #Bombshell #Portrait #Polaroids #Digiroids #Gallery #Showcase

[mylifesocks-blog1]

Non Coffee Scene in Auckland

Hey you guys, we are still in New Zealand, enjoying the extended holidays for a few more days. I look forward to sharing more travel stories here, but for now, please enjoy this previously published post (circa 2014) about 4 alternatives to coffee in Auckland.

Unlike when we were in Australia, even though the weather was considerably colder, I didn't crave much for a cup of joe in Auckland. Instead, I kept asking for the alternatives while Hulk tried various types of caffeine. No, this wasn't a complaint. I had the best times satisfying my sweet tooth. Among our pit stops, I want to share with you my favorite ones. I had:

1. HONEY+LEMON+GINGER AT REMEDY COFFEE

The Central Perk of Auckland. This little coffee shop was an awesome find tucked in the CBD area. It has everything required for a perfect coffee shop; coziness, interesting crowd, decent menu, friendly staff, lots of books and games, sofa, window seats and outdoor seating. If I was an expat, working as a sheep photographer, and living in Auckland, you could definitely find me here at least three times a week, with my own sets of F.R.I.E.N.D.S.

When you visit Remedy please participate in their #mirrorselfie challenge. It's a lot of fun and only a little embarrassing.

2. CHOCOLATE DUNKED INTO MILK AT MOUSTACHE

Tell me, when was the last time you had a chocolate chip dunked into a bowl of milk? My guess, it must have been a long time ago. Me? I had it for the first time in my life here!

When I was young, Mama Geek showed me how to do it, but I found it yucky. Even after seeing all those OREO types of ad on TV, I was never tempted. So when we came here after seeing a gazillion of them, I only ordered a hot cocoa while Hulk ordered it. He offered me to try it. Knowing he wouldn't stop before I did, I figured I'd bite the bullet and had a small bite. OMG!! The cookie was crunchy with lots of warm gooey chocolate chips and the milk was cold. It was an ORGASMIC combination. No other way to describe it. We then proceeded to order two more cookies and came back the next day and the next day after that.

3. GIAPO

Walking up and down Queen Street for the hundredth times, we kept seeing a crowd in front of Giapo, the haute ice cream parlor. It was a cold day, so I wasn't sure I wanted to eat ice cream, but that was only before I saw two girls walking past us while carrying gold ice cream in cups. I went in immediately (yes, I am very easily attracted by shiny stuff). Before this, whenever I saw the word haute in a magazine or on TV, I'd flip the paper or change the channel because I found the word, well, pretentious. But after having the gold ice cream, I had to admit that I was being prejudiced.

4. IT'S 5PM SOMEWHERE: WINE AT IMPERIAL LANE

We found Imperial Lane by mistake. It was a late night (late night in Auckland means 8pm) and we heard music coming from a dark alley. When we approached it, there were a few groups of people sitting in a dimly lit garage. A mafia meet up place in New Zealand? Naaah, it couldn't be. We got closer and we saw a stall and coffee machines. Also, there was a B&W movie screen on the wall. It was a bar. We ordered our drinks of choice and stayed up the whole night (10pm Auckland time). The next day we walked past that area again, this time we saw the board (above pic). Hulk was intrigued by "the best coffee in town" coffee, while I ordered a generous glass of wine because it's 5 pm somewhere, no?

How about you, what's your favorite drink other than coffee? When you visit Auckland do stop by at these joints for a yummy fix. I promise you will like it. Cheers, clink, or whatever it is that people say when they eat dessert together. Thank you for reading.

Ps. Don't put too much emphasis on online reviewers. We spent a good hour to find cafe Melba in between small lanes on Victoria Street. The waitress was nice (as reviewed) but I didn't see the IT factor of this place. It's just a regular Joe type of coffee shop. We should have gone to Moustache for the fourth time instead. Enjoy the non coffee scene in Auckland.

#Auckland #Coffee shop #Coffeeshop #Coffee #New Zealand #Essay

[nctnews]

210730 | dooyoonjong’s Instagram update with Yuta

#nct #nct 127 #yuta #210730 #sns: instagram #photoshoot #ps: ginger magazine #era: save

[nctnews]

210531 | ginger_magazine’s Instagram update Yuta

#nct #nct 127 #yuta #210531 #sns: instagram #photoshoot #ps: ginger magazine #era: save #video

[nctnews]

210614 | Yuta for the July issue GINGER Magazine

Source

#nct #nct 127 #yuta #210614 #photoshoot #ps: ginger magazine #era: save