Kristen

[youtube]https://youtu.be/F-MPjbKS8B8[/youtube]

Big gardening news – our best advocate, with a bigger microphone and better media coverage than Martha Stewart ever had, will be dropping in on gardens, in a very public way, all year.  From People Magazine:

To celebrate her last season with the White House Kitchen Garden she installed on the South Lawn in her first year, Mrs. Obama is visiting Washington, D.C.-area gardens and surprising fellow planters with backyard-worthy swag. Inspired by all those who have joined her in supporting healthier kids and families through Let’s Move!, Mrs. Obama will be sharing the stories of gardens – be it in backyards, at schools, or in less conventional places – throughout the year.

The campaign was also announced on the Today Show, where it’ll appear regularly.

That video of her first three garden stops is filled with fun stuff, like seeing the kids react to Obama’s surprise arrival. My favorite lines include:

Obama to kids:” I do know who Joe Biden is.”

A student talking about her school garden: “We’re keeping earthworms and we’re composting.”

Next, Obama saying: “It’s really me.  I can’t believe I’m sitting here digging out worms with you guys.” And holding up the cup: “This is my cup of worms.”

Another stop was the back yard of two gardening activists who started their garden in order to “demonstrate how to live a lifestyle that was sustainable through growing and eating nutritious and delicious food,” according to Let’s Move. “The family also welcomes community members to their garden, even hosting workshops on various gardening topics.”

So what was it like for Eriks Brolis and Linda Bilsens, who thought they were just being filmed for HGTV? Washingtonian Magazine tells the story and it’s a hoot.

“We got a call from a Home and Garden TV producer, and then last week I met her, and she brought a few people with her,” recalls Brolis. “Then the next day, she brought more people. Each time, more and more people are showing up at my house—finally it was 9, 10 people. Nobody identified themselves as Secret Service or Michelle Obama’s staff. The day of the shoot arrives, and those 9, 10 people turn into 12 then 15 then 20 people. They’re setting up four, five cameras, and still photographers. I really at this point was asking, ‘Who are you?’ I was asking each person to identify their position. And they’d say, ‘Uh, producer.’ ”

First Lady Causes

Obama’s publicity-rich campaign for growing food got me Googling “First Lady causes,” where I read about such causes as the welfare of Civil War soldiers (Lincoln), the Girl Scouts (Hoover), and in my lifetime, awareness of alcoholism and breast cancer (Ford), just saying no to drugs (Reagan), and health care (Clinton).

First Ladies have no doubt done good things that aren’t well known, but public awareness campaigns can be judged by their success at getting attention, and gardening couldn’t have a better attention-getter than Obama.

And on a local note, I’m impressed that her team researched and found the schools and gardening activists most deserving of recognition. So if she comes to your town, expect to discover some awesome people and projects.

Readers in Texas are probably annoyed by now but don’t worry – I’m getting to Lady Bird! She was our first First Lady to promote the growing of plants and did a bang-up job bringing attention to the many benefits of beautification and the unknown cause (at that time) of native plants. If you weren’t born yet, read the Lady Bird Johnson Wildflower Center‘s excellent summary of her environmental legacy.

First Lady to Drop in on Gardens Across the Country originally appeared on Garden Rant on March 11, 2016.

Do we need to ask less of women or ask more of men?

Read more Questions, Caring, And Who Gets To Be The Default at The Toast.

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I mean… the kitchen design alone is cause to squee. But then you throw in that amazing crocheted window treatment, and you have a rainbow-y halo-y light-streaming day-dream! Except it's real. And, assuming you had the crochet-ing skills, you could probably make one just like it.

Let's see some more photos…

I mean, just look how cool that this treatment includes the valance…

Want a close-up of the disc crochet pattern? You got it…

A rainbow crochet window treatment in the kitchen. Who knew that would be so awesome? Well, we ALL do now.

Recent Comments

• Lorijean: I would like to know to get this pattern want to decorate my house with it!!!!!!! [Link]
• Naomi W: Wow, this makes me want to learn how to crochet. But I'm so lazy...how about I make friends with somebody… [Link]
• Lizzy B.: I NEED THIS WHOLE KITCHEN AAAAAAAAAAAH [Link]
• Sherry: Any chance that anyone out there has this pattern. I love the window curtain! [Link]
• Bubbles: WHERE DID THOSE FANTASTIC CABINETS COME FROM? I must know! I especially love the upper ones. [Link]

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The idea for a birthday funeral came to me unexpectedly… It was my birthday, and I was fondly reading all the well-wishes posted on Facebook from friends and family — musing to myself that it's not often that people are that expressive with their affection. It seems that such displays of verbose public love are reserved for either birthdays or funerals.

Suddenly an idea hit me: wouldn't it be a thrill to host a funeral for a living person, so they could listen to all the wonderful things people had to say about them? Plus for all my goth friends, a funeral party would be the ultimate indulgence!

But who did I know who would be so morbid as to enjoy being made into a corpse?

I called my partner Chris and said in a rush, "This may be a crazy idea, but do you think we could hold a surprise funeral for Kitty's birthday?"

Chris was silent for a long moment, and I thought, 'Wow, maybe this idea is too weird.' But he replied, "That is an amazing idea. Let's do this."

Kitty is my metamour — Chris's other partner — and a passionate devotee to all things dark, grotesque, and twisted. As her birthday falls on New Year's Eve, she very rarely has a birthday party of her own. I decided to remedy this with a surprise birthday party (no, a surprise birthday funeral!) two weeks before her birthday to really catch her off-guard.

Chris and I spread word of our plans to Kitty's nearest and dearest under strict instructions of absolute secrecy. We assigned various roles to friends based off their talents — one friend was asked to play the role of the celebrant, and a few overseas friends were asked to write eulogies. All guests were asked to bring a plate of food (as is traditional in times of mourning, I reminded them) and to wear their most fabulous funeral garb.

On the day of the funeral, Chris kept Kitty occupied whilst I turned our living room into a funeral parlour… black streamers were draped around the walls, candles were lit, and I turned our coffee table into a cushioned "death-bed" for the guest of honour. Guests trickled in about an hour before Chris and Kitty were due to arrive; we poured wine, set up a playlist of Gregorian funeral chants on Youtube, and cut blocks of cheese into tiny gravestones. We were all getting comfortably tipsy when I received a text from Chris warning me that they were on their way home.

Kitty mentioned later that she suspected something was afoot, and was expecting to find a gathering of friends joyfully crying, "SURPRISE" when Chris brought her back to our apartment. But when she was faced with a black crepe rosette on the front door, Gregorian funeral chants booming loudly down the hall, and a cluster of sombre friends in mourning veils clustered around a "coffin" in the living room, she froze. Our designated usher very gently guided Kitty to her deathbed and laid her down. Two more guests pulled a black sheet over her. I let out a small wail as I laid a flower over Kitty's crossed hands.

Our celebrant James welcomed the guests and began the service. After a dramatic and completely false story of Kitty's peculiar beginnings, he introduced Chris and I as we gave our individual eulogies. I used mine as an opportunity to give Kitty a bit of a roast whilst she was in no position to argue back. As she gave a squawk of indignation from beneath the shroud, James cried out, "Pay no attention to the foul gasses escaping the corpse!" and Chris "tearfully" slipped a nip of gin under the shroud to further "embalm the corpse." Any further noises from Kitty were met with whispers of "such foul gasses" from the mourners.

After James read out the eulogies from overseas friends, our friend Alicia sang a requiem dedicated to her "bad-decision buddy." James followed up with a scripture reading… which turned out to be a biblical language version of "My Humps." My other partner Daniel snapped photos of the mourners as they attempted to contain their giggles by turning them into melodramatic sobs, and dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs.

We concluded the ceremony by burying Kitty in soft toys before allowing her to "rise from the dead" with a blood-curdling screech. She sat upright on her deathbed looking a little dazed and overwhelmed (apparently there wasn't a lot of air under her shroud) as the entire party sang "Happy death-day to you" very loudly. Once we gave her a few minutes to compose herself, we launched into a very loud and drunken "wake" for the rest of the night. Black-Eyed Peas' "My Humps" was the first song on the playlist.

There had been a few points during preparation, from the ideas' conception through to the day of the party, when Chris and I would look at each other and ask, "Are we doing the right thing? Is this too weird?" But each time, we reassured ourselves that, if there was one person who would relish the opportunity to attend her own funeral, it was Kitty. Fortunately, she loved it.

After a coffin-shaped birthday cake was served, she said the whole experience was the "loveliest, most gorgeously macabre thing that anyone has ever done" for her.

Our suspicions about Kitty being the perfect "guest of honour" were further confirmed about a week later, when Kitty ran into a friend who hadn't been able to attend. He grabbed her hand and said, "I was so sorry to miss your funeral!"

"That's okay." Kitty replied brightly. "One day, I'll have another one."

Recent Comments

• Janey: I've been to a a funeral party that was a birthday but there was no ceremony, honestly it just let… [Link]
• Ariel Meadow Stallings: If you want way more, be sure to check our archive: http://offbeathome.com/tag/polyamory :) [Link]
• M: (Ahhhhh poly posting on OBH, that makes me so happy, I was stoked to see the word metamour in the… [Link]
• Kayla: This was absolutely hilarious! [Link]
• The Freneticist: Dear Offbeat Homies; I know these three, and they are kind, funny, stylish, wonderful people with a gorgeous relationship that… [Link]

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I started my Instagram account purely as an indulgence. The whole account is almost all selfies or words of self-love and empowerment. I was shocked when, after only a few days, I had hundreds of followers. Suddenly, that doubled, and doubled again, and now my account has well over 20k followers. I have thousands more on tumblr, and my blog, Donuts & Dissent, has thousands of followers, too.

I get a lot of messages of support and kindness every day from people, both men and women, who say that seeing me, a fat babe, being so confident and at home in my skin is inspiring to them.

I also get a lot of hate messages every day from trolls who tell me to kill myself, send death threats, and tell me I'm ugly using every kind of language imaginable. Hate accounts regularly launch hate-campaigns against me, during which a lot of trolls go through all my photos at once and comment hateful things in a big wave.

I'll admit that, at first, I was shocked by how hateful people were. It used to get to me. Their cruelty made me question what I was doing and whether or not I'm beautiful enough to be putting photos of myself on the internet for everyone to see.

So, how did I get over it? How do I not let the hate get to me?

Firstly, you have to realize a few things about the trolls spewing the cruelty:

1. They're projecting

Strong, secure people don't tear others down like that. The trolls obviously have very deep-seeded self-loathing that they're projecting by calling me names and ridiculing my appearance. They're unhappy, insecure people who want everyone else to wallow in self-hatred with them.

2. They're pathetic

You have to realize that these people are literally taking time out of their day to sit on the internet, peruse body-positive hashtags, go through my account and spew hate at me. What sad lives they must lead! It's truly pathetic that anyone has the time or level of self-hatred to be that committed to trying to bring other people down. They're obviously not doing anything productive, fulfilling or worthwhile with their lives.

3. They're cowards

The people commenting hateful things on my posts are almost always doing so from behind anonymous or fake profiles. They're absolute cowards. They don't have the courage to stand up and sign their name to their actions. I realize that I'm brave for putting myself out there and open to public ridicule — realize that they're cowardly and pathetic for not fighting a fair fight by making themselves public, too.

I don't engage trolls, and I recommend that you don't, either

In the beginning of having public accounts, I used to try to fight back against the haters, and that was stupid of me — it just fueled their fire. That's what they want. The best thing to do is to report their comments and profiles, ban them from your life and move on.

You're glorious

There is so much to celebrate about ourselves and our unique diversity. There's no one, set type of beauty — we're all beautiful and lovely in our own ways, so don't waste your time trying to conform to one narrow-minded scope of someone's idea of beauty. Revel in your own uniqueness and be proud of who you are and what makes you special.

Don't let the bastards get you down

Remember points 1-3 — that trolls are just pathetic cowards with huge amounts of insecurity and self-loathing that they're trying to project on to you, because they're threatened by your beauty and confidence. Don't engage the hate — just report and block them. If you get fired up about it and fight back, they win.

Stay confident, hold your head up high, and proudly show off that beautiful selfie!

Recent Comments

• Ariel Meadow Stallings: My first serious internet troll found me in 2002, and I had a period in 2005 - 2008 where I… [Link]
• Lauren "Wingéd Elf Girl" Sparks: Doooon't feeeed the troooolls. You make me so happy in every way, Minerva - your looks, attitude… [Link]
• GraceFace: In 2012, I made a YouTube video that made its way to a 4chan board and people were . .… [Link]
• Beth K.: Thanks for such a great post! I'm not quite sure how such the internet developed into such a hate… [Link]
• K.: Exactly this. The points she laid out about internet trolls was 100% accurate. [Link]

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The unspoken dangers of polyamory… contracting your lovers’ fandoms!

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Say hello to Thomke Meyer!

Erika and I are still catching up after our San Francisco trip, so today we’ve got a wordless, short story all about body image. It’s a very different feel and vibe, a strong sobering effect when put in amidst so many of our pun-heavy comics. I think it matches the subject matter perfectly. I love it and I think we can all relate to it.

Go visit Thomke’s lovely portfolios site and check out the rest of her amazing illustrative work.

I've had two conversations in the past couple months that have set off a bit of a lightbulb in my brain.

It still isn't socially acceptable to discuss your personal financial security as a married woman. I will tell you why that's not cool. (Beware of gendered language ahead…)

Conversation A

I was sitting with three men, one of whom is my legal spouse. The other two were relatives of roughly the same age as us. I recounted a story where a woman gave me some verbal side-eye about not changing my last name, and I expected all four of us to have a good chuckle. "Why does anyone care, right?"

"Well, it's still less common for the woman to keep her last name," one of the relatives said.

Setting aside minor things like the impact it would have had on my career, and the fact that I like my damn last name, I responded with, "It was literally the easiest route. It took less work to keep my name, and oh hey, it's one less massive headache in the case of divorce."

Cue the mock gasps. I expected them, but I wished I didn't have to.

Conversation B

A routine update to a credit card I share with my husband was a mild hassle because I was listed as an authorized user, rather than a joint user. After some research, I came to the realization that an authorized user may not be growing their individual credit, whereas the primary user or a joint user would be.

I mentioned to my husband that we should probably do something about that.

"What's the difference?" he asked.

"I may not be able to use it in my credit history if we separated." I tried not to put it like that, I really did, but I couldn't think of any other way to say it. And because he's intelligent and appreciates financial responsibility, he agreed that was a good thing. But not after a, "tsk, all this separation talk."

Which made me realize…

A woman's own financial security and independence is still a taboo topic while she is married

Why is this?

Couples who have combined their finances often save emergency funds. Often we have disability insurance. We do these things even though no one's planning on getting in a car wreck or contracting a debilitating disease. But we plan for it nonetheless, and we talk about it, and no one's clutching their pearls and saying, "They must have a death wish."

But a married woman preparing for personal financial security carries a special stigma. You said "divorce," therefore you must not truly love your spouse. You said "separation," you must be planning on leaving. I can't believe you had that in the back of your mind all along, how dare you.

Some might argue that I am comparing apples to oranges. A car wreck does not equal a divorce. Okay. You can be just as caught off guard by both.

The divorce rate is common knowledge. How is it financially irresponsible to keep it in mind? In both the case of the last name and the credit card authorization, my husband has as much ownership as he would have in the case of our separation. His independence, in his identity and his finances, is the default both inside and outside of marriage. No one is fretting that he is "planning" for divorce, yet he is better prepared all the same.

It's true that I'm privileged to be able to legally make the same preparations for myself. I'd like the additional privilege of being able to do so without the one-sided stigma.

Recent Comments

• Cass: Regardless of the OP's reasons for keeping her own financial security, many cultures treat women differently in a divorce. Something… [Link]
• John Farrier: But then again, I'm a huge believer that one does not say "divorce" or "separation" in the context of one's… [Link]
• John Farrier: If both parties in the marriage keep their vows, how would a divorce just "happen"? [Link]
• meiry: So much yes to all of this! I also kept my last name, and for the most part I control… [Link]
• Tribesmaid OnTheBrink!: I'm always surprised by how people react to the idea of a pre-nup. It definitely isn't romantic but marriage… [Link]

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I haven't spent much time, aside from the minimal grooming and maintenance, paying special attention to my vagina. One might say that I have been neglectful of the spiritual needs of my own vagina, having been raised a woman in American society and all that.

I haven't spent much time talking about my vagina either, because, well, it doesn't seem appropriate to talk about the part of me that has been such a source of secret, deep-seated shame and embarrassment for my entire life.

Why a perfectly healthy, vibrant woman would be ashamed of her own perfectly healthy, vibrant vagina is a different subject all together. We will file that one under "Future bones to pick with the Patriarchy." A different story for a different day. We will just say that hiding and quieting my vagina has just sort of been a major part of my role as a female, and hiding tends to lead to shameful feelings. Am I Right?

Getting stoned with my vagina revolutionized my feelings about my own sexual body. I am still trying to figure out how to categorize the experience in the file cabinets of my mind, so bear with me as I recount the story and my feelings about it.

Here is the story…

A couple months back, a dear alchemist friend of mine gifted me some "Beaver Balm," a pink cinnamon smelling goo, made with a blend of organic oils and infused with sativa, formulated for her pleasure. I was very eager to try it out, what with the stories and testaments of the magic of the stoned yoni which have been circulating in the past few years. With all that and the words of a close friend in my head — "I discovered weed balm for my vag, and I haven't left my bed for the last week" — I had to give it a try.

It seemed appropriate to first experiment on my own, in the safety and comfort of my own bed, on a day when my husband was at work, and kids at school. Today was for me and my vagina. I applied my beaver balm, generously. It melted like butter and felt warm, with a nice tingle. I pulled my pants and undies back up and went about my business, tidying the house, made myself a cup of coffee. Usual stuff. Twenty minutes later, my vagina was stoned. As in fully heightened senses, relaxed, giggly (yes it really was), thoughtful, and with a legit case of the munchies.

The feeling was unmistakably like being high on good pot, but in my vagina instead of in my head. The rest of me felt normal, completely unimpaired. My vagina appeared to be operating as its own entity — asserting its lovely personality and sense of humor. A new awareness set in. My vagina, after all this time, wanted to be friends.

For the next twenty minutes, my vagina laughed with me at the absurdity of our cultures' obsession with the female body and shame around our sexuality. My vagina, in a friendly jab sort of way, told me to lighten up a little bit and stop acting so repressed. My vagina assured me that just because I carried the torch of generations of puritanical thoughts and beliefs, didn't mean I couldn't drop the torch at any point, and keep walking. My vagina confessed that it didn't have a good grasp on what "gender" even meant, let alone how to identify. My vagina said "I'm hungry. Got any snacks?" And I was like, what does that even mean!? How do you… I don't even know what to do with that question. Just absolutely stumped. We laughed, we cried, and then we decided to take a nap.

This experience left me absolutely struck… The discovery of the capability of my vagina to be so insightful and hold its own in a heated discussion, and of its ability to relate, and its quickness to engage with me — even after a lifetimes worth of neglect.

I realized that maybe I hadn't given my vagina the credit it deserved in the past. I hadn't tuned in and listened. I had been quieting it myself, without even realizing it. And after all of this, it forgave me! The Beaver Balm had helped us initiate communication, and begun the process of healing the rift which had divided us all these years.

I can now officially say that I have seen the light, and that I have had conversations with my vagina. What I am thrilled to report is that beyond the heightened sexual experiences that are promised by cannabis lubes, lies the experience of an honest conversation, a good laugh, and a different kind of awareness… and if you are lucky like me, a new-found vaginal kinship.

As we nodded off together, my vagina said, "Hey. Don't forget. We are in this together!" I smiled, and nodded lazily in agreement. I had to ask though If we really are in this together, then how is it that you are you stoned, and I'm not. To which it responded "You! Always analyzing and questioning! Just relax and give in to the mystery."

Which was exactly what I needed to hear.

What would your vagina say in a weed induced state? #pussytalk

Recent Comments

• Ruth: I live in a pot-legal state (Oregon), and would be interested in a product like this. Any recommendation that actually… [Link]
• Bird: I am also wondering if cannabis containing balms could be a replacement for lidocaine... [Link]
• Mouse: Roxie, This post was exactly what I needed to read. I have had a ridiculous gender-fluid-fueled on-again-off-again relationship… [Link]
• Cass: I suffer from vulvar-vaginal pain, and because of this have a terrible relationship with my lady parts. A product like… [Link]
• Fate: This article was amazing and I'm still giggling and wondering where I get some beaver balm. I definitely could use… [Link]

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1. Slytherins definitely have the best music taste.

Read more Reasons Why I Am Totally Fine And Not Freaked Out To Be A Slytherin at The Toast.

There's nothing like coming home to find the entry way blocked by five bicycles. I'm not a fan of walking sideways like a crab, but I've done it regularly because I have to to get inside my home. I'm a millennial living in the two bedroom apartment I grew up in. I do this because my beloved job — which I'm lucky to have — is part-time and pays minimum wage. I've crunched the numbers and I can't make rent, pay back my student loan, and eat too.

"But what's up with the bicycles?" you ask. Well, everyone in my family, myself included, has multiple hobbies and side projects. (Repairing and selling old bicycles on Craigslist is one the more lucrative projects, so the bikes are here to stay.) The result, when combined with our mountains of reading material and rescued furniture waiting to be repaired, is a state of constant chaos. Living surrounded by a dozen or so bikes, bike parts, repair tools, stacks of magazines, and piles of papers was normal for me until I went away for school. You can't know that your normal isn't other people's normal until you have something to compare it to.

I love possessions as much as the next person. As a nerd I'm acutely aware how much nerd culture is about stuff. You want to show the world what you love so you buy the shirt that features the game/movie/show/comic symbol on it. This year's merch will let everyone know you were at a particular festival or convention. Fashion speaks and nerd fashion does so loud and clear: This is what I love. This is who I am.

Household possessions are much the same. I like this fact: one look at my room and you know what you're dealing with. My book shelves tell you things about me. The art on my walls tells you where I've been and what I've been up to. On my shelves are a few of my favourite things.

Everything in my room says something about me. What does a cluttered house say? Far too much.

In the graphic novel Bad Houses, by Sara Ryan and Carla Speed McNeil, every item piled around the protagonists' hoarder house holds a memory. Danica struggles to hold onto the life she once had — the time when her husband was alive and when her daughter Anne was a child — and the things that remind her of happier times. Her memories physically invade the house and her hoarding reveals deep emotional pain.

Anne feels like their accumulated possessions are all speaking to her at once — whether she wants to hear them or not. This pains her, making her long for space of her own. When Danica hides some of the hoard in Anne's room, to create an illusion of order for a house guest, Anne is reduced to tears. I imagine I'd feel the same way if my personal living space were taken from me.

The millennial generation knows too well the need for a room of one's own and the ache of lacking privacy. Many of my friends have lamented over not having any truly private space while living in their family homes. But when your parents are paying the rent, they don't see an issue with walking through your space to see if you left the window open or to retrieve a sock that made its way into your drawer. Logically they have a point, but the feeling of violation is almost physically painful.

The pain of losing privacy is second only to the pain of being surrounded by too much stuff. A heavily cluttered space is exhausting to look at. Too many textures, shapes, things can all come together and overwhelm your eyes. I find I'm anxious if I'm surrounded by too many things or if I have too little room to move. Different people respond to their environments in different ways, but hoarding draws out a visceral reaction.

My physical reasons for being unhappy around clutter are pretty obvious. Reading Bad Houses made me understand the emotional reasons for my clutter-anxiety: the things that clutter the main living spaces of the apartment aren't mine and neither are the stories they tell. I worry that the stuff will creep into my room and start to influence the self-expressive space I've curated for myself. Like Anne, I hear and see more stories than I can manage whenever I'm surrounded by my family's things. I can only handle so many memories, or so much information, at a time.

I'm not alone in worrying. My Mom was thrilled when I built her a little bookshelf out of old wine boxes. I did this thinking we'd free up space elsewhere, not thinking about how a collection of books reflect on the owner. When her books were on the shelf, she said she felt like her soul was suddenly bared there in the living room – and I knew exactly what she meant. By trying to help her I accidentally stomped on her sense of privacy.

Living with my family is a work-in-progress. It won't be forever, but while I'm with my folks we'll have to take turns filling the space we live in. And if all the things get too invasive, I'll always have a book to hide in.

Recent Comments

• Danikat: I always find it fascinating when other people talk about needing private space because I've almost never had it. I… [Link]

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The first time I knew I was a top was when a girl I was dating said, "Please, hit me harder," and then, later, whispered, "I can take more than you can give me."

The post View From The Top: The First Time I Knew I Was a Top appeared first on Autostraddle.

Hello again - it's winter and that means time for a links round-up. In other words, have some stuff I've bookmarked over the last several months that you might enjoy reading too, in between ordering seeds and planning this year's garden.

If you'd like to find some new and interesting sources for your seeds, read Margaret Roach's "A Way to Garden" interview Power-Shopping the Seed Catalogs With Joseph Tychonievich.

And you might want to consider growing cauliflower this year, since it's hard to find or afford in stores right now.

While we're on brassicas, Michael Twitty has a great post on the history and culture of collards: A Letter to the Newgrorati: Of Collards and Amnesia.

This is from way back in September: Adrian Higgins on container gardening in cities.

And here's local blogger Susan Harris on Garden Rant, talking about her favorite watering tools.

Why Pumpkins and Squashes Aren't Extinct: how they became domesticated.

The UN General Assembly has declared 2016 the International Year of Pulses (leguminous crops harvested dry). I guess Grow It Eat It was just ahead of the curve with our 2015 Year of Beans and Peas! (We'll be giving you updates on our Year of Tomatoes soon.)

But other organizations do Year-Of celebrations too. The International Herb Association has picked Capsicum (or Peppers) to celebrate as Herb of the Year in 2016. And (since I just happened to find it randomly) University of Missouri Extension has declared this the Year of the Carrot.

Speaking of carrots, this is very important: Baby Carrots Are Not Baby Carrots.

How about we wind up with some beautiful things? Salad-making as performance art, vegetable portraits by Lynn Karlin, and fruit and vegetable photographic tableaus by Brittany Wright.

Enjoy and happy January!

Elven Capes on our ETSY STORE

The perfect addition to your gown to transport you into the fantasy realm!

Sweeping chiffon falls from the beaded collar. The cape elegantly drapes over your arms and back. This collared cape can we paired with both strap and strapless tops & dresses. (The single photo shows how the cape drapes when your arms are down.)

Fabrics – poly dupioni, poly chiffon, beaded lace, crystal clasp

One size fits all. Cape measures 60 inches long at the back (bottom of collar to bottom hem)

Styling your cape with broach 

The black and white capes come with a jewel broach for styling. Pinning the fabric back will allow more of your outfit underneath to be shone.

1.At the front of your cape, mid length down and about 8 inches from the inside hem grab the fabric on both sides.

2. Bring the fabric together at the back to meet.

3. Pin together.

Hi, Polly,

I have just finished reading through lots of your advice and wanted to thank you. I love your blunt style and honesty. Hoping you can give me a dose of that.

I recently fell hard for someone and was unceremoniously dumped after what should have been a romantic vacation together.

...More »

If you’ve met someone online…

…made plans to meet up for a first date

…but then after you’ve made those plans, the person says or does something creepy (or racist) that makes you reconsider…

IT IS OKAY TO JUST CANCEL.

Use a text medium (preferably the dating site itself):

“Dear (Name), I’ve changed my mind about meeting up in person and am writing to cancel our plans. So sorry for the short notice. I wish you well. Your Name.”

No further explanation needed. You don’t have to tutor them about what they did to annoy you. Send and disengage.

They will react how they react. Rejection never feels great, but a good reaction is “Wow, that’s sad but I understand & wish you well, too” + leaving you alone.

If they react with extreme anger or clinginess or “you’re just like all flakes who always cancel on me” (typecasting), or demands for a chance or for reasons, think of it not as “you making them angry and owing them a correction.” Rather, they are confirming your instincts to not meet them. You changed your mind about meeting up. THAT IS THE REASON. YOU ALREADY GAVE IT. Don’t respond, block them everywhere.

“But,” you say, “I flirted with them!”

“But they told me a lot of personal stuff/I told them some personal stuff!”

“But we’ve been texting a lot, I am worried they will think I am rude or that I led them on if I just bail”

They might think that you are rude. So, do you want to tell them you don’t like them *during* the awkward date? Or afterward? Cancel! Cancel now and risk that someone you have already decided you don’t like won’t like you anymore!

I’ll go back to regularly scheduled posting of questions, but these were piling up and some of you are on deadlines with looming weekend dates to cancel. Cancel away, my friends!

——————————

 

Winter Pledge Drive Week is in effect. Maintaining the blog takes about 30 hours weekly when you add in comment moderation and it’s a big help to have your support. If you’re able to send a few dollars, feel free to use Paypal (welcometoawkwardtown@gmail.com) or contribute via Dwolla or Cash.me. Thanks for your generosity and thank you always for reading.

 

 

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I have been getting a number of emails and phone calls about the upcoming Washington Gardener Seed Exchanges. I thought I'd put together the following FAQ. Feel free to pass it on to any fellow gardeners:

- We recommend eating lunch before coming. We will be serving a healthy, light snack break mid-way through the event -- fruit, granola bars, etc. We have filtered water - if you have a travel mug, refillable bottle, or cup you like, please bring that to fill up. We will have some plastic/paper cups on hand, but are trying to keep this event as “green” as possible.

HI!

So I know church is maybe not your milieu, but I hope this question has some broader applications and maybe deserves a broader answer.

I’m a lady in my early 30s who has been dating my wonderful boyfriend (late 20s) for a few years. We’ve been attending our church for 3 years, which we chose together. I was raised small town Protestant and my bf did the recovering Catholic/atheist thing for a number of years. We chose our church because, although it’s very formal (incense, fancy vestments, the whole bit) it’s a denomination that’s known for being really open-minded and liberal. We also liked the individual church we chose because it’s really beautiful and historic, and located downtown–so really, right in the thick of things. I wouldn’t call it a bad neighborhood per se (mostly because the idea of a neighborhood being “bad” is pretty racist) but during the crack epidemic of the ’80s and ’90s, there were a few scary incidents and membership took a nosedive.

Fast forward to today. Our church’s membership is growing, and about 2 years ago my boyfriend decided he was interested in pursing a career in the church. To that end, he created a ministry that focuses on homelessness and food insecurity, which is an issue that’s very close to his heart, as both of his parents were homeless at different points. The bulk of the work is that, once a week, he hosts a lunch for anyone who wants to attend, free of charge. The demand is great, and seeing 100 people come through in 90 min is not unusual. Most of the people who come through are either homeless or food insecure, and many of them are people of color.

This is a ministry that a lot of people are really excited about–our priest has been a total treasure throughout the whole process, and Boyfriend is quickly gaining a reputation throughout the diocese. But there are others in the congregation who are…less enthused.

Having grown up in a really small town, I’m used to the petty politics of church life. Boyfriend is really, really not. I think the thing that’s been most surprising to me is how many people we consider close friends, despite the age and income gaps (lots of older, upper middle class white people), have said some really nasty shit just out of earshot. Just this last week, I found out that at our summer kickoff street festival (which was attended by a number of Boyfriend’s lunch regulars) a woman who I considered a friend apparently said, “This isn’t the [local homeless shelter]. This is disgusting.” I ended up making the decision to not tell Boyfriend about this, as it happened several months ago, and there didn’t seem to be any point in tainting his image of this particular woman. But suffice to say, this was not a one-off comment; there are A LOT of people who overtly or covertly agree, one or two of whom have been openly hostile.

I’m just flabbergasted. I think Boyfriend’s work is really important, and I’m super-proud of him. I’m just really disgusted because I feel like he’s really trying to walk the walk, as far as the Christian message goes, and he’s supported by the administration, but markedly less so by other people (some of whom I thought were our friends and/or are very influential in the community.) I mean, Jesus KINDA TALKS A LOT about the poor and the destitute…

How should I handle this sort of malarkey when it comes up? Chalk it up to an age/income/culture divide and let it lie? Quickly slap it down and put them in their place? I worry that not saying anything at all enforces the status quo, but equally I worry that going on the warpath against a bunch of old ladies isn’t a good look, either.

Thanks,

WWCAD?

WWCAD?

Captain Awkward was raised Catholic and educated by Jesuits, and while she may no longer talk the whole theological talk, she’s pretty down with the whole “Be kind to and take care of the people at the margins of society” message of the gospels and she’s met plenty of passive-aggressive church ladies and men in her day. Additionally, Captain Awkward has zero time and zero respect for crappy racist people who think that poor people are “disgusting” and who furthermore have the terrible manners to say that out loud and/or imply that they should not be included in church events. She also was raised not to say “Something is disgusting here; pretty sure it’s you and your repulsive views and not our guests” to the faces of little old ladies at church, so she understands that your question comes with a lot of taboos and received social norms.

Captain Awkward also sincerely promises to leave this whole talking-about-herself-in-the-third-person thing behind by the next paragraph.

There is a thing that a certain kind of terrible person (often a person of a certain age and social standing) does, where they rant about something in a way that is obviously meant to be overheard by everyone around them, but if you respond to it with anything but agreement they pull the whole “Well I wasn’t even talking to you, so you are the rude one for intruding on a private conversation!” gambit. They get to spout their terrible views AND act like a victim if someone actually calls them out on what they said. Racist ranters use the same tactics as rape-joke tellers to test the waters and see if their views will be challenged or tolerated by the people around them. If you stay silent, you offer them tacit approval or, at very least, affirm that they are socially powerful enough to get away with being assholes in public.

Don’t. Fall. For. That. Bullshit. You are not overhearing this mouth-garbage by accident, you are overhearing it because they want you to overhear it. They want you to know that they don’t like the work your boyfriend is doing and they think that he & you & people like y’all are “ruining” their church, but they don’t want to confront the issue directly by say, talking to the pastor, because on some level they know it makes them look like bad Christians (Hint: It does!). Furthermore, if you can overhear it, the people they are talking about can also hear it, ergo, they must be stopped. Age is not an excuse; if you can learn to Skype with your grandkids, you can learn to keep your goddamn racist thoughts to yourself.

When you run into these comments, I think there is a great deal of value in saying something back and not just silently ignoring it. That something can be:

• “Well bless your heart.” Def. use the tone that means,”Well, fuck you very much.”
• “Wait, did I hear you correctly? Did you just say that (Name) and (Name) are ‘disgusting’?” Use their exact words and include people’s individual names if at all possible, it’s a sharp reminder that they are talking about actual human beings & community members and an indication that they aren’t gonna be able to get away with, ‘you know what I meant’ or ‘you know, those people.’
• “I hope you’ll come to lunch service sometime and help out with the other volunteers sometime. I think you’ll feel very differently once you do.” That’s right. Out Church-Lady the Church Ladies.

If you start speaking up when you overhear this stuff, you’re gonna get pursed lips and clutched pearls and “Well, I never” or “You know I didn’t mean that” reactions and a lot of side-eye and harrumphing. Nobody likes being publicly called on their bullshit, especially not people who see themselves as the chief arbiters of what is acceptable. Just know that it’s coming and ride it out. And know, too, that you probably won’t change or open anyone’s mind by speaking up. Someone horrible enough to publicly express “ugh” reactions about guests at a church event probably isn’t going to have an epiphany at your doing, you know? That’s okay, because you’re not doing it for them. You’re doing it for yourself (so they’ll stop doing it around you, and to remind yourself that you have power here, too). You’re doing it for your boyfriend and the work he does, and for the younger people who are watching you for how they should be, and you’re also doing it for the guests of your church who will hopefully continue to find both food and welcome where you gather.

You’ve got this.

P.S. You might like this fantastic short film.

 

 

We took a trip to the San Gabriel Mountains to photograph the Wisp Wraith Gown with photographer Saffels Photography and model Luna Lovely Cosplay!! 

Adella snapped this behind the scenes shot of Emily. I’m way out of practice with Photoshop but couldn’t help myself and had to shop in some magical effects around her!

Shadowy ribbons of sequin mesh wrap around her body and flurry from her sholders. Dark organza flowers are strewn throughout her gown.

FiveRings Photography captured this beautiful BTS shot of Emily posing for the camera.

 

Photographer – Mike Saffels (Saffels Photography)
Model & Makeup – Emily (Luna Lovely Cosplay)
Gown & Headdress – Firefly Path
Staff Design – Clive Barker
Special thanks to Adella Creature of Habit & FiveRings Photography

Last night I was afraid to go to sleep, because I'm still recovering from that medication switch-a-roo that had my anxiety cranked to 11, and every night for a while now I've had attacks and near-attacks and wake-up-just-in-time-to-have-one-more attacks, and there is just nothing more miserable in my admittedly sheltered little world than lying in the dark, doing breathing exercises, and teetering on that panic precipice. Nothing. Because I'm a wuss. Being scared scares me. Being scared of things no one around me is scared of isolates me.

I can be rational and understand that these feelings are lies. I know they are physical reactions caused by chemical imbalances, and that once my thyroid stabilizes the feelings will (mostly) go away again. I know it will get better.

But in the moment, when all is an unsettled, shivery blur, and fatigue chokes out the still, small, rational voice, it's hard to hang on.

So last night, I was afraid to go to sleep. More accurately, I was afraid of lying there for hours and hours while John slept peacefully beside me, even though he always tells me to wake him. Because waking John means something is wrong, which means I have to *admit* something is wrong, which means the monster is real and has huge, pointy teeth. Better to keep telling myself it's fine, I'm fine, and breathe, breathe, breathe.

I think this is why sometimes it hurts us anxiety sufferers to talk about it. Why it makes us *more* panicky to reach for the bottle of Xanax. Anxiety is as real as any virus, any cancer, but we want to believe it's something we can just will away. That if we just think enough calm thoughts, give ourselves enough pep talks, hang on to a hug from a friend just a few seconds longer, then we'll vanquish the monster.

But it doesn't work that way. You can't will away an emotional or mental problem any more than you can will away arthritis or a broken bone. It's real. It's physical. And while sometimes that reality is hard to cope with, it should give us hope. If a bone is broken, there are medical professionals who can mend it. In the same way, we have doctors and counselors who are (slowly) learning to mend our invisible breaks inside.

I'm guilty of depending far too much on will power, and saving even my ridiculously low dose tranquilizers for only real "emergencies." I've taken less than 20 pills per year. I suffer needlessly, convinced I should somehow be stronger.

And yet, these past few weeks have driven home just how much of my panic is caused by my Hashimoto's - by a real, diagnosable thing that's not me worrying too much, not me needing to "calm down" or "just relax" or any of the other ridiculous things people tend to say in panic situations. I'm more convinced than ever that the things we feel are tied directly to how our bodies are working or not working... so I need to treat it that way.

Can we agree to do that together, guys? To treat our diseases like actual diseases, take our medicine, see our doctors, and stop trying to tough something out just because there are people who don't believe we're sick? Can we agree to be proud of our doctor appointments, because it shows how hard we're fighting? And when we need a new session or a new medication, can we recognize it for what it is?: A sharper, stronger sword for slaying the monster.

"That's right, mofos, these aren't tranquilizers; they're monster-slaying swords. That you swallow. Which sounds wrong and painful, but that's just how bad-ass we are."




Last night John saw the tears as he hugged me goodnight, and after we talked, he convinced me to take a lorazepam. Then he held my hand, and stayed up all night with me. We left the light on and sat against the headboard and talked about nothing 'til nearly dawn, when we were punchy with fatigue. Only when he saw my chin start to hit my puzzle book did John allow himself to sleep - with the light still on, and the panic monster still at bay.

When I finally drifted off some time later, it was the best sleep I'd had in weeks.


Love and proper medication, you guys. Best. Combo. Ever.

I have a friend who is a transformational coach. He makes a living out of being a great
communicator and delivers life changing conversations. One day while having lunch with
him, I spotted these bright pink earplugs in his ears. I asked him about them, and he explained that he wears earplugs to filter out the background noise so that he can focus better on the conversation that is important. Up until this time, I thought earplugs were to block out all noise.

Enter Dubs Acoustic Filters. The DUBS are NOT the cheapo foam earplugs that construction workers wear that you can get for $1.99 at a gas station. The DUBS are extremely high quality, entirely mechanical earplugs that maintain acoustic quality while simply lowering the decibel level. Created by Doppler Labs, the DUBS are the modern day reinvention of earplugs.

Upon first inspection, you will notice that these are built to last and not to be disposed of. They are almost like my pair of Klipsch headsets, with just the earpieces with no cords. They fit very comfortably, which is good, because I was going to test them on an 18 hour flight to S.E. Asia.

It takes a moment to acclimatize but in a few seconds, you will immediately hear an overall hushing. It was similar to the effect of a Bose QuietComfort but with no electrical input and no batteries required. According to DUBS, the reduction in noise level is twelve decibels, which does not sound like a lot, but it is enough to reduce overall loudness yet still allow you to hear conversations.

I work in a New York City loft, beside a fire station. Putting them on makes it easier for me to focus on my task at hand, and yet I do not need to take them off when a coworker comes by to discuss something, or if the phone rings. I think these would be GREAT for concerts, sporting events, or any place where there is background noise that you want to filter out. I have a friend with tinnitus and want him to try them out. Much like athletes put on their uniforms before a game, I always put on my DUBS before going to work.

The DUBS come with a small case where you are supposed to store them, but my only wish is that the DUBS had a better system to prevent loss like an attachable cord. I have already gone through a few pairs because I’ve misplaced one.

They come in a bunch of colors, and retail for under $25 bucks. These make ideal gifts, because until someone tries them, they wouldn’t know that the needed them. Do not be surprised when they thank you and are able to have a focused conversation with you.

-- Alastair Ong

International Amazon link

Available from Amazon

This morning I saw this image, which concisely sums up something I’ve been thinking about for a while, now: self care isn’t just about self-indulgence.

I’m as aware as anyone that capitalist America isn’t nice to its residents, and that a lot of us, myself very much included, need a reminder that it is absolutely ok to comfort yourself however you need comforting. But I think there’s something that gets lost in most discussions of self care.

Self-care includes maintaining my body and mind so that I can keep healthy and keep on pursuing the things that make my life worth living. Sometimes, that means giving my tired muscles a nice couch to sit on and my overloaded brain a Bones marathon to binge on, but a lot of the time it’s tougher than that.

I, like most people, function best when I’m eating a nutritious diet, getting exercise, sleeping regularly and making other decisions that will mean future me goes on feeling ok enough to exist. Something I remind myself of frequently is that kindness and responsibility are not opposites, and that care includes routine maintenance.

There are days when I get home and I stare at my mostly-empty fridge and I bemoan my existence and order a pizza. And that’s self care. There are some days where I come home and stare at my half empty fridge and bemoan my existence and then I cut up a bunch of vegetables I don’t want to eat, cook them, go for a quick walk and then have a dinner that isn’t devoid of any nutritional value. And that’s self-care too.

This post is not an ode to Puritanism. I order takeout, take mental health days, “forget” to shower, let my cats eat directly from the cat food bag and screen calls from my doctor and bill collectors just like everyone else. But I don’t do it all the time. Sometimes, I remember that I’ll feel better in the morning if I turn my computer off and go to bed. Or turn my phone off for a few minutes and go outside. And those moments should be celebrated and supported just as hard as the moments where I have beer and doritoes for dinner.

Loving yourself is like loving anyone else you’re responsible for–sometimes you have to dish out some tough love, and that is not mutually exclusive with caring for yourself.

I Bought It Affiliate Links

My organization level varies quite a bit.

My fanfiction Evernote library? Has it’s own decimal system.

My skincare routine tracking? uhhh hhh hhh

With this being the turn of the year I thought I’d try to find some way to take more and better notes on what I’m using and what it does to my skin. I’m hoping to review more products–not just the amazingly awesome standout ones, but also the middling ones that I’ve struggled to review in the past.

I have a fabulous new daily planner, but I quickly realized that it gets filled with my research notes and stickers, leaving little space for my routine notes. I also find it hard to take [legible] notes on my routine when I’m running out of the house to make it to work or passing out at night. The ideal system would organize itself, take no more than 1 minute per routine, and could be done while standing on the train in rush hour.

Enter Google Forms.

Forms are free from Google and I’m kind of obsessed with them. They’re an easy way to create surveys, order forms, and generally collect info from lots of people in an orderly way.

The first step was to make a spreadsheet that includes everything I own and might put on my face; having to edit the form constantly due to finding new products would be something of a drag.

Here’s my spreadsheet. It has two columns: one with the product name and one with the name of the step in which it’s used. That’s it, no need for more for this project.

If you already have a spreadsheet tracking your stash, even better. This was honestly the first time I made a stash spreadsheet and it was a nightmare. Spreadsheets are not my thing. Forms are my thing.

Once I had my list I started making the questions, step by skincare step. I referred to my visual guide to the skincare routine and just made one question per step. Here’s a video that explains how to use Forms (I used the new version, but the old version–still available at the time I’m writing–seems a bit more intuitive for beginners):

I made sure to add some sections to help serve as signposts for when I quickly scroll through the massive list.

One thing to note: although I used dropdown menus at first for most of the steps in my routine I found that checkbox responses are vastly easier to use on mobile (even though they make the survey extremely long–worth it imo). Alphabetization, which not usually something I’m uptight about, is a huge help for fast scrolling and finding.

Here’s a copy of my current routine tracking survey. I’m sure it will change in the future as I get used to it and want it to do more or better things, but at least all of my current products are listed. I think. By the way–this is a copy just for the blog, so feel free to play with it and see how your own response looks in the spreadsheet that collects the answers.

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Once I (or you–seriously, play with the form!) input a routine the data automatically gets put into a Google Sheet. Here’s the Google Sheet connected to the above Form. If you make your own Form and Sheet of responses you’ll be able to edit the responses on the Sheet–very useful if you forget or need to adjust something.

The really fun twist is inspired by my desire to have an overly techy skincare workstation.

To upgrade my beauty lair I put my old iPad mini on a gooseneck adjustable arm, where it can now serve as the entry screen for my routine. Or as a way to watch EXO fancams while getting ready. Honestly, why not both.

The gooseneck clamps to my skincare workstation (which I got for free one day from a neighbor who was throwing out her desk woo!) and it’s sturdy although it does wiggle a bit when I use it as a touchpad entry system. Not perfect, but fine for $16. ahaha

So this is what I’m up to (aside from The Snailcast, the Asian Beauty podcast I’m doing with the snail unit woo!) right now. Tracking nerdily, applying skincare, and watching EXO videos while putting on makeup.

I love Forms, but I’m not a master of them and this is just a first attempt, so I’m thinking (and hoping) that other people might have ideas for how to improve on this. If you do, tag me on Twitter or Instagram and show me what you’ve come up with!

 

Disclosure: This post contains affiliate links. Clicking those links before you shop means that fan-b receives a small commission, which helps to support the blog. Please see my full disclosure for more information.

The post Tracking Skincare Use and Skin Progress with a Google Form appeared first on fan-b.

Hi, Polly,

Thank you for continuing to give thoughtful, awesome, and entertaining advice every week. I find something to help me through my own life regardless of the topic, every time! However, the column brings up a question for me each week that I hope you can answer. For every person...More »

When I’m on tour I often stop in the airport bookstores during layovers to do rogue signings.  I do them when I can and sometimes strangers stop to ask about the book.  Sometimes they buy a copy or two.  Mostly they don’t.  But last week one older woman in particular looked at Furiously Happy and told me that she would never buy it.  And I smiled and nodded as I assured her that was fine. “It’s not for everyone,” I said, because it’s not.  I thought she’d walk away but instead she said, “I guess you can pander this to all those college kids who have been convinced that depression exists by some pharmacy company that just wants you addicted to drugs.”  And then I explained that depression exists for a number of reasons, including chemical imbalances which are very, very real and that if not properly treated it can be fatal, and then she told me that mental illness was just “made up” and then I kicked her right in the lady junk.  Or, at least that’s what I did in my mind.  In real life I said that I hoped she would never have to learn how wrong she was and then I stared at her until she got uncomfortable enough to leave.

It’s not just ridiculous strangers in airports who feel comfortable publicly doubting an illness they’ve never fought, or sometimes couldn’t acknowledge they were currently fighting.  It’s sometimes family members or friends, and sometimes even we manage to convince ourselves that it’s not a real problem – and that mental illness is just a weakness rather than a medical disorder that needs treatment just as much as heart disease or diabetes or those disorders which are more easily measurable or unquestionably visible on the surface.

That night I locked myself in my hotel room and drew this to remind myself of the truth:

Because sometimes I need a reminder.  Pain is real, whether it’s from depression or anxiety or arthritis or one of the many invisible illnesses that don’t easily show themselves but still exist and have to be treated, and – more importantly – have to be believed in order to be treated.  You need to know that your struggle is a real one.  You need to know that your fight is real and your survival is something to be proud of.  Remember that you are needed.  Remember that the things you say can affect those of us who fight.  Remember that not all things are visible and provable.  Love, faith, pain, anxiety, depression, compassion…these aren’t always quantifiable.  They aren’t always measurable.  They are often invisible.  But they are real.

And so are you.

Stay real.  Stay alive.  Stay vigilant against assholes who make you question yourself.  We already get enough of that from the doubting voices in our heads and the lies depression tells us.  Listen to my voice, now.  You are real.  You are worthwhile.  You are so important both in ways you will discover, and in ways you’ll never see.  You send out needed ripples of greatness and kindness in unexpected and accidental ways.

You won’t always see wonderful ways in which you shift the world.  They may be invisible to you.  But I promise you they are real.

We've talked about sexy books before, but I don't think there was ever a sexy comic blogs round-up. Since we all need a good online porn comic from time to time, here are my favorite.

There is a metric ton of adult content out there, but I'm aiming for smut which pictures positive, consensual, fun sexy times, and stays clear of the usual pitfall of classic porn (sexism and woman degradation, I'm talking about you).

Disclaimer: these are basically porn blogs. As in, reaaally not safe for work blogs. Even if some plot pages seems fairly inconspicuous, others will make your boss raise an eyebrow or two ("Is that a giant leather-clad elven dick I just saw on your screen?").

1. Chester 5000 by Jess Fink

This is a gem. Set in Victorian times, it centers around the relationship between a lonely wife and her handy (pun intended) robot. The art is gorgeous, the steampunk robot is endearing, the smut is hot (as it must be). And it's not only about robots, as humans do shag together pretty well, too. Updates are sparse but there's already enough quantity to get you going.

It's for you if you're into: straight, bi, robot, multiplayers, steampunk

2. Forbidden Flora, by PK

Maybe my favorite when it comes to art. PK uses incredibly vibrant palettes to bring to life sexy, playful, and consensual furries who might or might not be hermaphrodites. It's not for everyone, but you have to admit there's real visual talent here.

It's for you if you're into: furries

3. Alfie, by InCase

This comics gets better by the page, and it was already quality stuff to begin with. This a smut comics for all of us who like heroic-fantasy worlds, with pretty elven boys and gorgeous halflings and of course, a decent-sized human or two. Refreshingly, the artist makes the story enthralling, funny and works as much on smut as on character development and art. Daily updates when a chapter is on, short hiatuses (couple of weeks) between chapters.

You can also check InCase's Tumblr, for work-in-progresses and hermaphrodites.

It's for you if you're into: straight, bi, light BDSM, heroic-fantasy, leather-clad elves

4. Oh Joy Sex Toy

Oh Joy Sex Toy is not a fiction comic blog, but it still features the occasional guest sexy comics amidst weekly sex toys review and sex-ed advice. I absolutely love how dedicated the author is to try every sex toy out there, from the mighty Hitachi wand to more experimental toys you've never heard about. Updates on Tuesdays.

It's for you if you're into: toys, straight, gay, bi

5. Butt Then, ReaperSun

This might be a stretch, but if you're a fan of the BBC TV show Sherlock, you already know the one, the only: ReaperSun, incredibly talented artist which brought to life many Johnlock fantasies, or fueled them. This is a shipper's heaven.

No clue what I'm talking about? Her fan-fiction art centers around Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, BBC-style. She pictures the characters played by Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman with amazing skills and stays true to the spirit of the TV show: British humor, sociopathy, murders.

Under the NSFW tag, you'll find quite a lot of sexy Star Trek stuff, too. Hmm, Spock. Guess I have a soft spot for logical, cold, insensitive alien-looking guys.

If reading porn involving real-life people (even if it's in character) isn't for you, her SFW art is amazing.

It's for you if you're into: gay, fluff, Benedict Cumberbatch

These are my favorites. Now I want to hear about your own favorite smutty, sexy comic blogs.

Recent Comments

• Alanna: I feel the same. A few years ago I was at Comic Con and attended a panel with Tom Felton… [Link]
• Nicola R. White: This is a fun post, but I'm super uncomfortable with the ReaperSun fanfic stuff. I'm fine with fanfic in general,… [Link]
• Maggie: Oh, oh, I know, I know! (I read almost all of the above mentioned ones regularly, especially Chester, Oh Joy,… [Link]
• Natalie: No Oglaf? For shame! It's basically porn-comedy set in a fantasy land, and I love that it caters for all… [Link]
• Chepkirui: Woohoo a whole new world has just opened up; Ms. luddite over here had no idea this stuff existed. Thank… [Link]

+ 4 more! Join the discussion