給自己一個微笑

內衣與露肩外套的搭配

No Name Ninja — 2019-07-23T16:46:26+09:00

　　說到內衣與露肩外套的搭配，最常見的事情應該是如何隱藏內衣肩帶，普通內衣肩帶在外面並不是一件優雅的衣服。隱藏肩帶的方法主要有四種，一種是選擇隱形矽膠內衣，一種是買肩帶內衣，另一種是穿胸衣，當然也可以去掉普通的胸罩肩帶等等。這裏有一個小櫃子，用來分享穿肩部衣服和內衣的四個不同之處。

　　1，對胸型要求的對比

　　無論是無肩帶內衣還是胸帶，都是沒有肩帶的內衣。與內衣搭配時，它們非常適合搭配露肩。然而，這是因為肩帶沒有提升力。更好地增強胸部形狀和抗下垂效果，因此它們不適合身材濃鬱的女性，但更適合胸部或胸部較小的女孩。

　　然而，盡管它們都適用於小胸圍，胸罩櫃認為無肩帶內衣和胸部包紮對胸部尺寸的要求有所不同。相對而言，無胸罩內衣比裹胸罩內衣更適合人們。胸罩包裹內衣更適合AB罩杯下豐胸好的女孩，CD罩杯無胸罩內衣也適合人。

　　2，穿著穩定性的對比

　　當你穿著無肩帶內衣或胸罩時，你應該最擔心它們的穩定性，也就是說，不管是否。如果一件無肩帶內衣不進行特殊的防滑設計，布拉亭認為每個人都還穿著一件胸衣比較穩定，畢竟，包在胸前的材料很柔軟很好，只要穿緊點就不會很容易出現胸部下垂的情況。

　　2，穿著效果的對比

　　穿內衣時，穿著無肩帶內衣是好還是裹胸。在穿著效果方面，它大致相同，即沒有露出帶子。然而，Bra胸部認為他們仍然有一個非常微妙和非常重要的區別。每個人都知道有很多種露肩外衣。其中，有不同的外領款式，有些露肩外衣在胸前有字體。杯子的形狀是彎曲的。此時，穿無肩帶內衣或裹著乳房之間存在差異，因為無肩內衣大多是半杯內衣，並且杯子的外形是彎曲的，並且包裹的胸部也被擦拭。胸部緊身胸衣，如果穿著彎曲的外套，將暴露內衣。

很多女生都受副乳問題困擾，其實只要配戴合適的矯型內衣便可以矯正副乳，擁有健康的美體線條。BodiBra的美體功能內衣取得外觀設計專利，由人手剪裁及縫製，加上備有齊全的罩杯款式和尺碼，令所有身形的客人都能選到最合適的矯型內衣。

　　4，內衣尺碼的對比

　　大家都知道無肩帶內衣的尺寸和普通文胸一樣。他們都有確切的罩杯尺寸和較低的胸罩尺寸來決定。當胸罩包裹的胸罩有罩杯尺寸時，一些胸罩包裹的胸罩有罩杯尺寸，但它只是一個可拆卸的胸罩襯墊插入物。胸罩的尺寸不影響無胸罩襯墊的胸罩的尺寸。它基本上是尺寸或者甚至是尺寸，所以胸罩包裝在尺寸選擇上可能更容易混淆。

淨化器中純陰離子的cadr值是多少?

No Name Ninja — 2019-06-26T16:57:21+09:00

　　實際上，負離子可以減少空氣中的汙染，那么為什么不直接購買純負離子發生器呢?

　　如前所述，如果只有純負離子發生器…

　　粒子不僅會形成，而且會由重量沉積，然後沉澱，然後沉澱。

　　購買空氣淨化器是一個關鍵指標 - CADR值也是每個人都很好奇的價值。

AQ消毒噴霧及AQ空氣殺菌淨化機採用天然草本植物成份，结合現代嶄新生物科技技術，破解細菌病毒的精密結構鏈，並進行分解裂變，化成無害物，不產生抗藥性及變種。天然內發酵“植物醇”，含量高低視乎產品不同型號的配方而定。

　　事實是，沒有足夠的證據來揭示它。

　　如果這部分有機會，我將來會向你解釋。

　　但我猜不會太高。

　　因此，仍然需要達到清潔空氣的目的。

　　作為輔助負離子功能，不能說它不是，但是在沉降過程中被空氣淨化器吸入和淨化的可能性並非不可能，但是只能說是最小的。

　　這也解釋了為什么市場上沒有純負離子空氣濾清器，因為大多數空氣濾清器仍然需要物理方法。

　　順便說一下，這個氧氣碎片是一個附件，一個附加的功能，旨在使空氣聞起來更新鮮。

　　負離子的缺點

　　淺談負離子在空氣淨化器中的應用

　　互聯網上的許多文章使人們過度放大臭氧的產生。

　　是的，除顫器產生的磁場可能產生臭氧，基本上，程度有多高

　　當臭氧達到0.05ppm時，可以進行滅菌，濃度低於0.05ppm對人體沒有影響。

嬰兒消毒抗菌噴霧除咗用嚟殺菌之外，其實有濕疹嘅患者都可以使用！如果BB有濕疹，都可以噴喺患處上，噴霧幫助對抗真菌同預防濕疹蔓延，如果皮膚乾配合埋保濕霜效果會更加好架！而且口服無害，噴於食物、食具上都無問題，唔怕BB會食落口！

　　臭氧，一種能傷害人體的物質，完全取決於它的濃度。

　　如果這個清潔的空氣機器沒有額外的力量來殺死臭氧，

　　我相信不可能免費升級到可消毒的水平。畢竟，世界可以在空中賣錢。

　　所以不用過度擔心

　　如果你真的不擔心，有辦法購買臭氧探測器

　　但需要一個臭氧探測器是兩個。

　　小兒說的不多，只需要30張小藍紙幣。

　　這個數字或多或少，它的值是由個別的服務員單獨測量的。

　　空氣是新鮮的使用字淨化(p.的新鮮味道可能是臭氧)，而且灰燼也增加了。

其實AQ Bio推出嘅產品都好全面！除咗嬰兒消毒抗菌噴霧，由皮膚、寵物、新居裝修等都有包辦！可以揀一款有需要嘅使用，例如AQ迷你空氣殺菌淨化機，可以淨化空氣、殺菌、除臭、抗敏感等功用。

　　老實說，小兒認為這是一個有爭議且未經證實的功能。

　　最好買一台純空氣淨化器。

　　別擔心臭氧，別擔心未來。

　　負離子花費更多嗎?

　　然而，負離子並不是無用的。目前，有一種應用廣泛的家用電器產品，它也非常有效。

　　就是吹風機

　　通過充電使頭發直發的技術在風機中越來越受歡迎

They were a delight

No Name Ninja — 2016-03-24T14:31:37+09:00

My weekend was filled with long walks, frigid wind, taking my trike out for the inaugural ride of 2015(!), eating far too many Cadbury mini eggs, and matzo brei. A typical Easter/Passover weekend. My mom converted to Judaism when she married my dad, so growing up, we had a fairly normal, suburban, Jewish home, filled with dreidels and shabbos candles. The only bit of cross-pollination that remained from my mother’s Catholic upbringing was the Easter basket. On Easter morning, my sister and I would wake up to a pastel basket, overflowing with multicolored straw, and egg-shaped chocolates nestled throughout. They were a delight!

And you know what else is a delight, but for different reasons? Matzo brei! It’s one of the many dishes that Jews will eat during the week after Passover (this year it’s right around Easter) when eating anything leavened is forbidden.

MatzoBrei2 Typically, matzo brei is matzo, crushed then softened in hot water, and scrambled in eggs– very simple, and very quick. It can be eaten on the savory side (fry some caramelized onion with the eggs and serve with sour cream), or the sweet (sprinkled with cinnamon-sugar with a side of apple sauce). Some people say that matzo brei is the sort of food that one has to grow up with in order to truly like. It’s true that it doesn’t sound like much– and that’s because it’s not. Like a bowl of rice (another forbidden Passover food), it is perfectly bland, subtle, and could be mistaken for baby food.

The kind of matzo brei that I most prefer, uses the same ingredients, it is how they are handled that differs. I make a sort of pancake from the batter, not the typical hard scramble. The matzo is soft and swollen, and the egg acts as a binder. Fried in oil and butter, the brei gets golden around the edges with a casual chew. You can have this matzo brei either sweet or savory. I had a tired basket of strawberries in the fridge so I made a compote from them. Waste not, want not!

I made matzo brei to celebrate Passover, but this dish one of those meals that’s made year round at my house.

my head to make my own instead

No Name Ninja — 2015-04-14T18:15:52+09:00

I am a big fan of falafel, and every once in a while I get a craving for a good falafel sandwich, either from our local Lebanese hole-in-the-wall, or from the ever-thronged l’As du Fallafel on rue des Rosiers.

Seduced by the idea of an easy, ready-made dinner item, I have on occasion bought falafel from the organic store, in little plastic trays of fifteen, and they were quite tasty. But they cost a small fortune — a little over 4€ ($5.5) for fifteen two-bite falafel — for something so cheap to produce, so I got it in my head to make my own instead.

I certainly don’t object to fried foods on principle, but I do avoid frying anything in my own (open) kitchen, as I balk at the inherent prospect of scrubbing the stove, and having my entire apartment smell of hot grease. So frying wasn’t an option, but baking in the oven was.

As it turns out, making falafel couldn’t be easier: you’ll soak dried chickpeas overnight, then grind them with some onion, garlic, spices, and parsley if you like. You’ll shape this crumbly mixture into balls or patties, and fry or bake, as prefered.

I was also delighted that this gave me the perfect opportunity to use the grinder attachment a friend gave me for my KitchenAid mixer a few years ago, and which had been sitting untouched in one of my kitchen cabinets since then. But if that’s not part of your kitchen arsenal, fret not: a mixer or blender will do just fine.

And a more rewarding kitchen venture you’ll seldom encounter: the baked falafel turned out crisp and flavorful, and when assembled into pita sandwiches with my simple tahini sauce and lots of crudités, they made for a wonderful treat of a weeknight dinner.

And for the cost-conscious among us, I got forty falafel balls out of this recipe, at an (all-organic) ingredient cost of roughly 2€ ($2.75), which makes them out to be about five times cheaper than the store-bought option. Check my homemade hummus recipe for more chickpea money-saving tips.

has never been my favorite holiday

No Name Ninja — 2014-07-25T11:28:37+09:00

Cupid’s arrow often points me in the direction of Valentine’s Day catastrophe. I will spare you the gory details of my many V-day disasters, but think messy break-ups, dislocated knees, stomach viruses, and an overwhelming heap of steaming disappointment, and you won’t be surprised to hear that Valentine’s Day has never been my favorite holiday.

However, this year I have high hopes for Valentine’s Day, because I’ll make no frills about it besides using it as an excuse to indulge in far too much food, wine, and Netflix movies. The saying goes “the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach,” and I have no problem with that. As long as I get a plate piled up with goodness, too, I can boost your affections through food. You’ll bump yourself up a few notches in my book if you volunteer to do the dishes afterward.

One thing that I find really romantic in the food department is breakfast in bed. While I’ll never turn down bacon and eggs, Valentine’s Day is all about sweets, so breakfast on that day, in my opinion, should be a special treat to the sugar-lover.

Ladies and gentlemen, without further adieu, meet Red Velvet Pancakes with Cream Cheese Frosting Syrup. This sweet treat really puts the cake in pancake, but who would complain about that? The pancakes are great on their own, but the cream cheese frosting syrup is really what puts it over the edge on the delicious scale. You can bet I’ll be making these for Valentine’s Day to start my morning off right!

Best of all, I’ve tried making this recipe the quick way and the hard way, and I have to admit, they yield the same results. I’m going to give you the quick recipe, and hopefully that will save you some sleeping and/or cuddling time in the AM!

there’s never enough

No Name Ninja — 2014-06-13T14:37:10+09:00

You guys know that I like pesto right? Are you sure? Ok. Because if you don’t already know, I’ll be glad to tell you again. I love it. I mentioned last week elyze, when I posted my recipe for Smoked Turkey Pesto Pasta Salad, that I would share my recipe for my favorite pesto sauce, spinach basil pesto, and now I am elyze . It really is my favorite. It’s my favorite because it’s the best. It’s the best because it’s adding the spinach makes the basil go a lot farther, and basil can be expensive. Even when I grow my own, there’s never enough.

This recipe makes it easy for you to enjoy any of your favorite pesto-based meals for a lot cheaper. It’s a 2:1 ratio of spinach to basil, so whatever you make will be extra green. I also opted to skip the pine nuts – although you’re more than welcome to use them yourself if you want – and I went for sliced almonds this time. In the past, I’ve used walnuts and even mixed cocktail nuts in a pinch. You really can’t go wrong, but I would steer clear of straight up peanuts since the flavor is so overwhelming.

Next up for my pesto crazy self? Pesto fries inspired by the ones I just had at a local restaurant elyze!

baked in muffin molds

No Name Ninja — 2014-05-13T15:48:54+09:00

My French host mother was tall, trim, and proper, with a sing-song voice and a name that skipped and chimed and rang off the tongue. She moved through the house as though on pointe—softly but decisively—and she wore silver bracelets that clicked delicately against each other when she lifted her hand to secure the barrettes in her long brown hair. She was also very Catholic, with four children, ages 9 to 17; a Labrador puppy; and a husband who’d gone—or rather, all but moved—to Canada to find work. It was complicated and exhausting. She did an admirable job, and she often fell asleep in the bathtub after dinner. But most importantly, dear reader, my host mother was the French equivalent of a Tupperware saleswoman. She tested, cooked in, and sold Flexipan and Silpat products, those fantastic (and fantastically expensive) silicone baking pans, molds, and sheets. I was lucky enough to live under her roof—and within close proximity to her kitchen—for six months. You can well imagine the glory that might have been, had I not taken down the crucifix she’d hung on my bedroom wall.

I arrived that fall, barely twenty-one, deep in my smoky-black eye makeup phase—an era that hasn’t yet ended, actually—and with the short, spiky hair I wore throughout college. I was also a pseudo vegetarian, which threw more than a few grains of sand into the gears of her well-oiled kitchen routine. But she sensed that I was only slightly heretical and very eager to please—still my greatest weakness, I’ll freely admit—and so she took me on, gently correcting my French, delivering clean sheets to my door with admirable regularity, and teaching me how to eat. I arrived a somewhat calculating eater, well-schooled in nutrition and suspecting that butterfat was the devil’s work, and I left smuggling aged chèvres and mimolette in my suitcase.

Each weeknight at eight I’d climb the stairs to the second-floor kitchen and join my squealing pre-teen host brothers (Ta gueule! Casse-toi! (Shut up! Get the hell out of here!)) and catty teenage host sisters (Ta jupe est moche, tu sais? (Your skirt is ugly, you know?)) at the table. We’d begin with a simple grated carrot or beet salad, or half a grapefruit. The boys might argue over the warm steamed leeks with vinaigrette, each wanting the sweet white part closest to the root. Then, depending on the season, we’d move on to a gruyère soufflé; pasta with a sauce of tuna, chopped tomatoes, and sautéed onions; or tartiflette, a wintery baked casserole of potatoes, lardons (absent from my half of the dish, merci), and rich Reblochon cheese from Savoie. It was at that table that I first ate sauerkraut and learned of the nightly cheese plate, stinky and irresistible, with hunks of baguette from the boulangerie next door. And of course there was always dessert: homemade applesauce, a grandmother-style apple or pear cake, or in January, a galette des rois.

At least one night each week we’d have a “Flexipan dinner,” a meal centered on a recipe that my host mother was testing in her silicone molds. Her individual tartlets of caramelized endive with goat cheese were staggeringly good, as was the almost-flourless chocolate cake, which quickly became a staple. But my favorite were the squatty, ugly, and completely delicious bouchons au thon (literally, tuna corks), a mixture of canned tuna, tomato paste, crème fraîche, gruyère, and eggs, baked in muffin molds.

With a texture somewhere between the filling of a quiche and freshly-made country paté, the bouchons tamed the flat, fishy pungency of canned tuna with the smooth richness of dairy and the sweetness of tomato. I gave thanks daily for all that Flexipan brought to my life, but mainly for bouchons au thon.

And as luck would have it, that spring, when my host mother went to visit her husband in Canada, she left me and my youngest host sister alone with a freezer blessedly full of bouchons. Seizing the opportunity, I invited my brand-new French boyfriend over for a dinner of the little tuna corks, roasted vegetables, carefully selected cheeses, crispy-crusted baguettes, and oatmeal chocolate-chip cookies. It was a pure, starry-eyed triumph all around, right through to the next morning, and frankly, I credit the bouchons. I also credit them with earning me, upon my host mother’s return, my first and only “Molly, ce n’est pas un hôtel!” (Molly, this is not a hotel!) speech. I was almost as horrified as she was; apparently I was more heretical than even I’d known.

pistachio-apricot oatmeal cookies

No Name Ninja — 2014-05-13T15:47:55+09:00

I’m a sucker for social theory. Really, there's nothing sexier than the name “Michel Foucault,” and that's a non-debatable point. A close second goes to a man I once knew who, between sips of beer, spoke the words “Baudrillard” and “simulacra” so suggestively that I blushed, broke a sweat, and nearly passed out. He didn’t stick around for long, but by god, social theory did. In fact, the two of us have just begun the arduous process of writing a Master’s thesis Dr Max.

Unfortunately, I’m not sure we’ll make it through.
Despite its smart, sexy, and enticingly knotty qualities, social theory is a fickle partner. At best, we together produce only somewhat incoherent jargon, such as this cloudy gem from a recent session at the keyboard: “The concept of solidarity operates today to cloak the market—and market-based policy—in a familiar, collectivizing discourse, even as French society is atomized and its citizens are increasingly individualized and responsibilized.” [Oof. I'm so sorry, dear reader
And at worst, social theory abuses me with page upon page of impossible, heart-shriveling nonsense, such as the following (courtesy of a misguided soul named Timothy W. Luke, not me): “Multitorialities are incipient polyarchical fields, contragovernmentalizing spaces giving free rein to the post-jurisdictive.” [Even sorrier, dear reader.]

As I said, I’m not sure we’ll make it, social theory and me. The highs are high, and the lows are excruciating. It’s enough to drive a girl to bake. Such times call for drastic measures, and pistachio-apricot oatmeal cookies coffee machine.

I made these lovelies last week for the final meeting of my neoliberal governmentality seminar, and we washed them down with an enormous bottle of cheap red—a better combination than you’d think—while sitting around the conference table at three in the afternoon. Through my sleepy sugar-and-wine-haze, social theory actually started to look sexy again. I think it even winked at me.

We’re giving it another go. I’m a total pushover, at least until the thesis is done hotel hk.

layered with starchy potatoes

No Name Ninja — 2014-05-09T17:48:31+09:00

But then I opened the tin, took a look inside, and…”bleech!”

Ever the optimist, I dumped my fancy feast in my mortar and pestle anyways.

But the bottom looked even worse than the top—which you’ll just have to trust me on since I felt uneasy subjecting you to photos of both. It was a real Mediterranean bummer and certainly not Nice…or even niçoise-ian by any definition (unless Nice is full of stinky fish sludge, with chunks of greasy vegetables mixed in Alexander Hera.)

The tuna on top looked relatively decent but the bottom was layered with starchy potatoes, flaccid green beans, and Lord knows what else. And when I took a tiny nibble, the whole thing had the appeal of eating an acidulated, well-used tennis sock soaked in oil you wouldn’t even put in your car, then packed up in a can and foisted off on some unsuspecting American to write about on his blog.

Which explains how they sold one. But what are they going to do with all the rest?

So I scraped it out and dumped it all, sterilized my mortar and pestle in the autoclave, burned some sage to clear out the bad spirits from my kitchen, and ran to the store to get more tuna valentino sale.

(I know, I could’ve opened my other two tins, but I think I had enough tuna-tinged excitement for one day.)

But unlike the salad-in-a-can concept…and as you can see above, France has some much more appealing versions of tuna-in-a-can…I did take a shine to the book Mediterranean Summer. It’s the story of a self-professed, slightly-cocky American restaurant chef who goes to Europe to learn about cooking, but ends up getting an education far exceeding what he originally bargained for while cooking on a private yacht in the Côte d’Azur and cruising Italy’s Costa Bella over the series of a few summers alexander hera wedding.

So at least I have an excuse

No Name Ninja — 2014-05-09T17:46:52+09:00

When I was a newbie, someone in the cookbook biz once told me that if a cookbook has one great recipe in it, it’s totally worth it. And I agree with that. I have a mountain of cookbooks, and most have plenty of tempting recipes but I’ve only made one thing from many of them. But those that do make the cut become standards—or what we call “go to” recipes.

One such cookbook was the Joy of Cooking, which was re-published with great fanfare (and some undeserved derision) in 1997. I remember a blurb on the book jacket from a previous edition, by a bride who swore she toted the book along when she moved abroad. Which I didn’t, although I was hardly a blushing bride. So at least I have an excuse cheap designer sunglasses.

My “go to” recipe from that book was the Feta Dressing. I think it was promoted as ‘healthy’, which certainly has some appeal. But what I liked most about it was that it had lots and lots of feta in it, one of my very favorite cheeses, and one of the most versatile. Feta is the cheese I go to when I want to crumble something over hot pasta, since the strong flavor holds up really well and as it warms up, the cheese turns into soft, salty cubes that play off whole wheat pasta particularly well. I like the pasta with stewed greens, garlic, and a heavy hand of chopped olives tossed in. Or even crumbled over pasta with pesto. Try it Teeth whitening!
thyme

I’m also a big, big fan of winter greens, like frisée, Belgian endive, and escarole. And this dressing is thick enough to stand up to those tougher, slightly-bitter salads that I crave when the temperature drops.

I didn’t jot down this recipe when I did my transatlantic split, but it was pretty easy to re-create. The original had oregano in it, but I used thyme. The dressing includes a good dose of red wine vinegar, but resist the temptation to use another one: the abrupt acidity of red wine vinegar gives the dressing its kick Office Interior Design.