Amusing things my Dad has said recently...
...part one in a new series
"If we can shoot rabbits in rabbit season, and we can shoot ducks in duck season, then why can't we shoot tourists in tourist season?"
Tuesday, March 29, 2005
Sunday, March 27, 2005
Death and the kitten.
Neow, in all her kitteny cuteness, is a vicious murderer. Yep, I saw it with my own blue eyes.
I'm sitting here with my laptop set up on the kitchen bench, pretending to do work (reading blogs and checking emails) and the little monster was playing outside in the sun. I'd look out occasionally and see her flying through the air or hear thumps as she'd launch herself at the playhouse on the lawn and forget to land before she made contact (not the sharpest knife in the drawer). So anyway, all sorts of kitten fun going on there.
Then, she trots inside looking all pleased with herself, comes and sits under my chair. I look closer and theres a couple of black insect legs hanging out of her mouth. OK. Then the little sadist proceeds to open her mouth, let a cicada out, and maul the bloody thing to death, right in front of me. Nice.
So the cicadas doing its chirpy thing, and then the chirps start to get a little drawn out, and rather erratic, until finally, no more. It is an ex-cicada, who shall chirp no more, thanks to my wee niece's wee kitten. Then, she eats it. Whole. Crunchy exoskeleton and all.
The other day when Tash was over and we were talking about cats, we wondered if these cats know just how good they've got it. They play for a few hours, sleep, get cuddles and pats from their people, and then play some more, and eat. But after watching Neow and the cicada, I'm beginning to lose my envy of the cat way of life.
Yay for opposable thumbs.
UPDATE: I've just rescued a beautiful butterfly from the jaws of death, and she's out there again, with another cicada this time I think. The door is now closed, cos theres some presents you just don't want.
Neow, in all her kitteny cuteness, is a vicious murderer. Yep, I saw it with my own blue eyes.
I'm sitting here with my laptop set up on the kitchen bench, pretending to do work (reading blogs and checking emails) and the little monster was playing outside in the sun. I'd look out occasionally and see her flying through the air or hear thumps as she'd launch herself at the playhouse on the lawn and forget to land before she made contact (not the sharpest knife in the drawer). So anyway, all sorts of kitten fun going on there.
Then, she trots inside looking all pleased with herself, comes and sits under my chair. I look closer and theres a couple of black insect legs hanging out of her mouth. OK. Then the little sadist proceeds to open her mouth, let a cicada out, and maul the bloody thing to death, right in front of me. Nice.
So the cicadas doing its chirpy thing, and then the chirps start to get a little drawn out, and rather erratic, until finally, no more. It is an ex-cicada, who shall chirp no more, thanks to my wee niece's wee kitten. Then, she eats it. Whole. Crunchy exoskeleton and all.
The other day when Tash was over and we were talking about cats, we wondered if these cats know just how good they've got it. They play for a few hours, sleep, get cuddles and pats from their people, and then play some more, and eat. But after watching Neow and the cicada, I'm beginning to lose my envy of the cat way of life.
Yay for opposable thumbs.
UPDATE: I've just rescued a beautiful butterfly from the jaws of death, and she's out there again, with another cicada this time I think. The door is now closed, cos theres some presents you just don't want.
Saturday, March 26, 2005
Catch up on your sleep girl, when you wear that bodyglove...
Or: Fun with Kittens, the Easter Special
Yes I'm kitten-sitting again, while my sister, her husband and their offspring are off holidaying. The plus side is, they have Sky. The down side is, I don't know how to work it. Its ok though, I figured it out, using a cunning combination of foot-stomping, pouting, yelling at the telly and texting my sister to ask her.
So yay for Sky movies, who are playing an Alien marathon, three times over this weekend. Also, at 6.35 this evening we have the joy that is "The making of Return Of The King". Yay Viggo.
Hopefully I'll have finished this bloody conference paper by then. I'm doing it on Powerpoint, so it looks really flash, so hopefully nobody will notice that I'm talking shit. No, not nervous at all...
In other news, I woke up this morning with a fat lip. Just fat on one side, which is most odd, and not a little funny to look at. I could understand it if I was out last night getting horribly drunk and partying up large, cos thats when all sorts of random injuries occur. But last night me and my mum went to the movies and then out for dinner. Hmm. Go figure.
There is a plague of spiders in this house. Well, if two makes a plague, then we definately have one. Normally two spiders wouldn't concern me, but these are some big fuck-off bastards. Put the tips of your thumb and forefinger together, they were almost that big. And they were jet black too. Scary Shelob styles. Needless to say the little fuckers got the business end of one of my brother-in-law's shoes. Whats really gross is that after I killed the first one I went to bed, and got up the next morning to find Strawberry and Neow mauling its corpse. There were disembodied spider legs all over the place. Ewww.
There is a most inconsiderate fly buzzing around this room. He won't sit still long enough for me to take him out with my combo newspaper/flykiller. Now I need those spiders back.
I have managed to make it to Easter Sunday without eating a single piece of chocolate. Yay for me. I have been eating like a complete bitch recently, and strangely enough, am feeling very fat. Maybe I should finish up this presentation and get my fat arse up and down the hill a few times.
Damn, now I want chocolate.
Shit.
More news as it comes to hand.
And maybe a better post next time.
Or: Fun with Kittens, the Easter Special
Yes I'm kitten-sitting again, while my sister, her husband and their offspring are off holidaying. The plus side is, they have Sky. The down side is, I don't know how to work it. Its ok though, I figured it out, using a cunning combination of foot-stomping, pouting, yelling at the telly and texting my sister to ask her.
So yay for Sky movies, who are playing an Alien marathon, three times over this weekend. Also, at 6.35 this evening we have the joy that is "The making of Return Of The King". Yay Viggo.
Hopefully I'll have finished this bloody conference paper by then. I'm doing it on Powerpoint, so it looks really flash, so hopefully nobody will notice that I'm talking shit. No, not nervous at all...
In other news, I woke up this morning with a fat lip. Just fat on one side, which is most odd, and not a little funny to look at. I could understand it if I was out last night getting horribly drunk and partying up large, cos thats when all sorts of random injuries occur. But last night me and my mum went to the movies and then out for dinner. Hmm. Go figure.
There is a plague of spiders in this house. Well, if two makes a plague, then we definately have one. Normally two spiders wouldn't concern me, but these are some big fuck-off bastards. Put the tips of your thumb and forefinger together, they were almost that big. And they were jet black too. Scary Shelob styles. Needless to say the little fuckers got the business end of one of my brother-in-law's shoes. Whats really gross is that after I killed the first one I went to bed, and got up the next morning to find Strawberry and Neow mauling its corpse. There were disembodied spider legs all over the place. Ewww.
There is a most inconsiderate fly buzzing around this room. He won't sit still long enough for me to take him out with my combo newspaper/flykiller. Now I need those spiders back.
I have managed to make it to Easter Sunday without eating a single piece of chocolate. Yay for me. I have been eating like a complete bitch recently, and strangely enough, am feeling very fat. Maybe I should finish up this presentation and get my fat arse up and down the hill a few times.
Damn, now I want chocolate.
Shit.
More news as it comes to hand.
And maybe a better post next time.
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Its the smiling on the package, its the faces in the sand....
Oh yeah. I am feeling pretty good.
Not like over-the-top peeing my pants good, but a fuck of a lot better than I did a couple of hours ago.
You see, I went to a chiropractor.
I've had a headache, on and off, for about ten years, and its caused by my sore neck (took me a while to figure that out. Not too smart). Sore necks, in fact fucked up necks in general are part of the tribal curse, along with ridiculously long legs, great teeth and being a bit bonkers. So I left it alone, thinking that I'd just have to learn to live with it. Then I realised that was a dumb idea, and that I needed to fix it. I figure, if your necks sore then its probably related to your spine, given that it is, well, your spine.
So I got a referral to a chiropractor, and went to see her today, and after some prodding and bending and poking (not as filthy as it sounds) she concluded that my spine is twisted, both at the top and the bottom.
Which pretty much explains everything that has ever been wrong with me. Physically, that is. It still doesn't explain why I am not Viggo Mortensen's love slave, but we'll just take things one day at a time shall we?
In other news, Spooks was quite sad last night. Zoe got shipped off to Chile cos she got done for killing an undercover cop while on the job, and the government were being all "lets lay the smackdown on MI5" and it was quite sad, especially when Danny had to say goodbye to her, cos hes completely in love with her.
But according to the Spooks site, Danny is about to shuffle off this mortal coil, which is a shame cos hes not to hard to look at.
Anyway, its time to go off to the supermarket now and buy some more tomatoes.
I lead such an interesting life.
Oh yeah. I am feeling pretty good.
Not like over-the-top peeing my pants good, but a fuck of a lot better than I did a couple of hours ago.
You see, I went to a chiropractor.
I've had a headache, on and off, for about ten years, and its caused by my sore neck (took me a while to figure that out. Not too smart). Sore necks, in fact fucked up necks in general are part of the tribal curse, along with ridiculously long legs, great teeth and being a bit bonkers. So I left it alone, thinking that I'd just have to learn to live with it. Then I realised that was a dumb idea, and that I needed to fix it. I figure, if your necks sore then its probably related to your spine, given that it is, well, your spine.
So I got a referral to a chiropractor, and went to see her today, and after some prodding and bending and poking (not as filthy as it sounds) she concluded that my spine is twisted, both at the top and the bottom.
Which pretty much explains everything that has ever been wrong with me. Physically, that is. It still doesn't explain why I am not Viggo Mortensen's love slave, but we'll just take things one day at a time shall we?
In other news, Spooks was quite sad last night. Zoe got shipped off to Chile cos she got done for killing an undercover cop while on the job, and the government were being all "lets lay the smackdown on MI5" and it was quite sad, especially when Danny had to say goodbye to her, cos hes completely in love with her.
But according to the Spooks site, Danny is about to shuffle off this mortal coil, which is a shame cos hes not to hard to look at.
Anyway, its time to go off to the supermarket now and buy some more tomatoes.
I lead such an interesting life.
Monday, March 21, 2005
My Random ain't so very Random
Hmmm. Sounds a bit like the title of a crap country song. I am in fact referring to dirty ol' Windows Media Player, that on this wee blue friend (my 'pooter) contains a little over one thousand songs, yet seems to play the same one hundred songs. Over and over. So the other day I spent about half an hour skipping forward to the next song. Do you think it helped? Ok, maybe a little bit, but not a whole bunch.
I don't really have too much to blog about.
It could be that I'm just really dull. Lets test this theory. What did I do this weekend?
Well I tidied my bedroom, and mounted some of my photos on some nice black card, and went to my mum's 60th birthday party and was all responsible and sober, and went to my nephews cricket game (auntie of the fucking century, pardon the cricket pun) and yes, I am an old nana.
In my defence, I did go out and get quite drunk on Friday night, and then when I got home from cricket on Saturday I had a wee puke thanks to my hangover. But then, I cleaned the toilet. Dull, but necessary.
Thats a sure-fire way to check the cleanliness of your toilet, to have a ralph in it. And there has been a lot of vomiting in our toilet in the last while, what with drunkeness and hangovers and nasty pukey stomach bugs.
Fascinating, a blog about puke.
I was going to write a list of things that I can do, but I'm a little absentminded recently, so perhaps this can be the first installment in a continuing saga...
Things Claire Can Do.
1) Put my toes in my mouth, should the need arise.
2) Tie a knot in a cherry stalk with my tongue.
3) Cook. I am awesome in the kitchen.
4) Drink scotch
5) Quote entire poems from memory
6) Read ridiculously fast
The flipside being...
Things Claire Can't Do
1) Keep secrets. Most of the time.
2) Shut up.
3) Drink gin.
4) Do number stuff. Like count. Or mathematics.
5) Read music
6) Maintain a solitary train of thought for more than a few minutes.
Stay tuned for updates as they come to hand...
Sorry.
Hmmm. Sounds a bit like the title of a crap country song. I am in fact referring to dirty ol' Windows Media Player, that on this wee blue friend (my 'pooter) contains a little over one thousand songs, yet seems to play the same one hundred songs. Over and over. So the other day I spent about half an hour skipping forward to the next song. Do you think it helped? Ok, maybe a little bit, but not a whole bunch.
I don't really have too much to blog about.
It could be that I'm just really dull. Lets test this theory. What did I do this weekend?
Well I tidied my bedroom, and mounted some of my photos on some nice black card, and went to my mum's 60th birthday party and was all responsible and sober, and went to my nephews cricket game (auntie of the fucking century, pardon the cricket pun) and yes, I am an old nana.
In my defence, I did go out and get quite drunk on Friday night, and then when I got home from cricket on Saturday I had a wee puke thanks to my hangover. But then, I cleaned the toilet. Dull, but necessary.
Thats a sure-fire way to check the cleanliness of your toilet, to have a ralph in it. And there has been a lot of vomiting in our toilet in the last while, what with drunkeness and hangovers and nasty pukey stomach bugs.
Fascinating, a blog about puke.
I was going to write a list of things that I can do, but I'm a little absentminded recently, so perhaps this can be the first installment in a continuing saga...
Things Claire Can Do.
1) Put my toes in my mouth, should the need arise.
2) Tie a knot in a cherry stalk with my tongue.
3) Cook. I am awesome in the kitchen.
4) Drink scotch
5) Quote entire poems from memory
6) Read ridiculously fast
The flipside being...
Things Claire Can't Do
1) Keep secrets. Most of the time.
2) Shut up.
3) Drink gin.
4) Do number stuff. Like count. Or mathematics.
5) Read music
6) Maintain a solitary train of thought for more than a few minutes.
Stay tuned for updates as they come to hand...
Sorry.
Monday, March 14, 2005
On this day in 1995....
Ten years. I really can't believe it.
Ten years ago today, the most perfect little boy was born. His name was Alexander (funny, still is) and he is my bright beautiful nephew.
So, happy birthday to you Fred, and may your days each be better than the one before.
I would also like to bring to your attention that I am a freaking legend.
Last night Miche came over (albeit an hour or so late) and there was drinking, and gossiping, and mocking, and needless to say, the dirty old Poacher made an appearance. You've really got to love 24 hour pubs, don't you. Theres nothing quite like getting thoroughly boozy on a Monday night, getting to bed at 2.30am, getting up again at 8 and actually MAKING IT TO WORK!!! Hence me being a legend.
It is currently 5.23pm, I am still going strong, and am about to join the whanau for a slap-up dinner in honour of angel-boy's birthday, and today I have taken a class, done buckets of stuff and not thrown up. Not once.
This is a big thing for me, not that I am in the habit of puking, but I really do get the worst hangovers. Back when I was a lass I could drink all night and be fine, and now its payback time. How rude.
Other than that, I got nothing.
Except that you all must run out and purchase the following CDs.
The Veils: "The Runaway Found"
Steve Burns: "Songs for Dustmites"
The Killers: "Hot Fuss"
Interpol: "Turn on the Bright Lights" (and indeed, "Antics")
The Pixies: "Doolittle"
Rammstein: "Sehnsucht" (Ok its old, but fuck its good)
And just like that, shes gone.
Ten years. I really can't believe it.
Ten years ago today, the most perfect little boy was born. His name was Alexander (funny, still is) and he is my bright beautiful nephew.
So, happy birthday to you Fred, and may your days each be better than the one before.
I would also like to bring to your attention that I am a freaking legend.
Last night Miche came over (albeit an hour or so late) and there was drinking, and gossiping, and mocking, and needless to say, the dirty old Poacher made an appearance. You've really got to love 24 hour pubs, don't you. Theres nothing quite like getting thoroughly boozy on a Monday night, getting to bed at 2.30am, getting up again at 8 and actually MAKING IT TO WORK!!! Hence me being a legend.
It is currently 5.23pm, I am still going strong, and am about to join the whanau for a slap-up dinner in honour of angel-boy's birthday, and today I have taken a class, done buckets of stuff and not thrown up. Not once.
This is a big thing for me, not that I am in the habit of puking, but I really do get the worst hangovers. Back when I was a lass I could drink all night and be fine, and now its payback time. How rude.
Other than that, I got nothing.
Except that you all must run out and purchase the following CDs.
The Veils: "The Runaway Found"
Steve Burns: "Songs for Dustmites"
The Killers: "Hot Fuss"
Interpol: "Turn on the Bright Lights" (and indeed, "Antics")
The Pixies: "Doolittle"
Rammstein: "Sehnsucht" (Ok its old, but fuck its good)
And just like that, shes gone.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
And if you're feeling lucky... come and take me home
I bought these kick-arse headphones today, and if you crank up the Deftones it sounds FUCKING AWESOME. Wait, so does the Chemical Brothers! And Shihad! Hmmm. I wonder....
So, what have I been up to?
Gracie, you'll be pleased to know that I did get off the sofa before Wednesday, unfortunately it was to be a bit sick on Tuesday and Wednesday, but I'm much better now. Although I do still have slightly sore stomach muscles.
I have moved offices. Now that I am technically no longer a student I have been banished from the student end of the building and now I get to play with the big kids. Yep, I'm officially staff now, my office is with all the other staff, and even my new ID card says so. Yay for me. Unfortunately, this new status doesn't come with obscene amounts of money, but you can't have everything. Much as you might want everything.
Anna, I will be in Brisbane from March 31st to April 4th. I'll be busy doing conference stuff from 1st-3rd, but as of the end of Sunday (3rd) I am all yours. Also, I think I might need a place to stay that night, so if you know anyone... The university will only book my hotel for the time the conference is on. How rude.
I fly out at 6pm on Monday 4th, so we can hang out and do stuff that day. Are there big parks in Brisbane? Like, Dreamworld styles? Cos that could be cool. Although I see on my itinerary that I have to check in at the airport 2 & 1/2 hours before my flight. TWO AND A HALF HOURS!! Who are they kidding. Thats valuable Anna-catch-up-time they're busting in to. Bastards.
Apparently The Bounty is to be invaded tonight by well-meaning friends armed with booze. So, I must away and prepare our humble home for its guests. A quiet night has been decreed, but we'll have to let you know how that goes.
*ignores sideline shouts of "QUIET NIGHT MY ARSE!!"*
Wizzo, and indeed, Bing bing bang a bang a bang bing bong bing a bing bang a bong Binga bing a bang a bong bong bing bong bing banga bong*
*Prize for who guesses the lyric? No way, too fucking easy.
**Last night, both Luke and Owen Wilson were in my dream. Oh yeah.
***Bowie's Aladdin Sane is a truly mental song. Not quite Laughing Gnome mental, but still. I know you're hearing me.
TTFN
I bought these kick-arse headphones today, and if you crank up the Deftones it sounds FUCKING AWESOME. Wait, so does the Chemical Brothers! And Shihad! Hmmm. I wonder....
So, what have I been up to?
Gracie, you'll be pleased to know that I did get off the sofa before Wednesday, unfortunately it was to be a bit sick on Tuesday and Wednesday, but I'm much better now. Although I do still have slightly sore stomach muscles.
I have moved offices. Now that I am technically no longer a student I have been banished from the student end of the building and now I get to play with the big kids. Yep, I'm officially staff now, my office is with all the other staff, and even my new ID card says so. Yay for me. Unfortunately, this new status doesn't come with obscene amounts of money, but you can't have everything. Much as you might want everything.
Anna, I will be in Brisbane from March 31st to April 4th. I'll be busy doing conference stuff from 1st-3rd, but as of the end of Sunday (3rd) I am all yours. Also, I think I might need a place to stay that night, so if you know anyone... The university will only book my hotel for the time the conference is on. How rude.
I fly out at 6pm on Monday 4th, so we can hang out and do stuff that day. Are there big parks in Brisbane? Like, Dreamworld styles? Cos that could be cool. Although I see on my itinerary that I have to check in at the airport 2 & 1/2 hours before my flight. TWO AND A HALF HOURS!! Who are they kidding. Thats valuable Anna-catch-up-time they're busting in to. Bastards.
Apparently The Bounty is to be invaded tonight by well-meaning friends armed with booze. So, I must away and prepare our humble home for its guests. A quiet night has been decreed, but we'll have to let you know how that goes.
*ignores sideline shouts of "QUIET NIGHT MY ARSE!!"*
Wizzo, and indeed, Bing bing bang a bang a bang bing bong bing a bing bang a bong Binga bing a bang a bong bong bing bong bing banga bong*
*Prize for who guesses the lyric? No way, too fucking easy.
**Last night, both Luke and Owen Wilson were in my dream. Oh yeah.
***Bowie's Aladdin Sane is a truly mental song. Not quite Laughing Gnome mental, but still. I know you're hearing me.
TTFN
Friday, March 04, 2005
Days like this are sweet...
(I think I may have already used that for a post title, but really, who cares?)
Things I have to do today:
...........
ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!
Last night was the completion of a three year stint at one of the busiest and maddest restaurants in Christchurch, and an eleven year career in hospitality. Phew.
I had grand plans to get horribly drunk and pass out in a pool of my own vomit, but sheer exhaustion limited me to reasonably pissed, and home in bed by 4am. Not too bad, considering how out of practice I am.
This week has been mad.
Finished thesis, people having brain surgery, me finishing work.
The best of all possible outcomes regarding the second, will have to wait for a few months regarding outcome of the first, and I think the third went pretty well, considering.
My ex-boss, the restaurant owner, often used to put on drinks for staff leaving, usually he'd put on $100 and the staff would share it out amongst themselves. Nice, cos it was a way of saying thanks for loyalty, hard work etc.
After three years, what do I get? A handshake, and "thanks Claire, good luck". Perhaps I should wait until I have a reference in my hand before I go dissing people, but still. Thats a bit fucking average.
However, my awesome friends there all got together and bought me a cool present and a beautiful card that says "Smile, you're amongst friends". They got me a really flash bottle of wine, and two beautiful crystal wine glasses, and a shiny silver wine cooler thing. They all wrote on the wooden box the wine and glasses came in, really nice things like "We'll miss you" and "keep in touch" and "get fucked". Wizzo.
So that makes up for the other. Yay for my friends, they rule.
So today, I'm doing as little as possible. I might go and get a bunch of movies and make a Claire shaped indentation in the sofa. I might go and buy some coke to replace Tim's coke that I'm currently drinking. I might have a nap. Who knows?
The most awesome thing is, I don't have to be anywhere or do anything. I am conditioned to think that I have to work tonight, and I have this wee niggle in my brain that I have to run off to work at 6 o'clock, and I'm loving the fact that I'm continually going "Ha! I don't have to go!".
I'm like the goldfish that swims around its tank and goes "Hey look! A plastic castle! Cool!" and then two minutes later swims around again: "Hey look! A plastic castle! Cool!"
First things though, I'd better go and retrieve my car from town.
Right.
Bye now.
(I think I may have already used that for a post title, but really, who cares?)
Things I have to do today:
...........
ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING!!!!!!!!!!!
Last night was the completion of a three year stint at one of the busiest and maddest restaurants in Christchurch, and an eleven year career in hospitality. Phew.
I had grand plans to get horribly drunk and pass out in a pool of my own vomit, but sheer exhaustion limited me to reasonably pissed, and home in bed by 4am. Not too bad, considering how out of practice I am.
This week has been mad.
Finished thesis, people having brain surgery, me finishing work.
The best of all possible outcomes regarding the second, will have to wait for a few months regarding outcome of the first, and I think the third went pretty well, considering.
My ex-boss, the restaurant owner, often used to put on drinks for staff leaving, usually he'd put on $100 and the staff would share it out amongst themselves. Nice, cos it was a way of saying thanks for loyalty, hard work etc.
After three years, what do I get? A handshake, and "thanks Claire, good luck". Perhaps I should wait until I have a reference in my hand before I go dissing people, but still. Thats a bit fucking average.
However, my awesome friends there all got together and bought me a cool present and a beautiful card that says "Smile, you're amongst friends". They got me a really flash bottle of wine, and two beautiful crystal wine glasses, and a shiny silver wine cooler thing. They all wrote on the wooden box the wine and glasses came in, really nice things like "We'll miss you" and "keep in touch" and "get fucked". Wizzo.
So that makes up for the other. Yay for my friends, they rule.
So today, I'm doing as little as possible. I might go and get a bunch of movies and make a Claire shaped indentation in the sofa. I might go and buy some coke to replace Tim's coke that I'm currently drinking. I might have a nap. Who knows?
The most awesome thing is, I don't have to be anywhere or do anything. I am conditioned to think that I have to work tonight, and I have this wee niggle in my brain that I have to run off to work at 6 o'clock, and I'm loving the fact that I'm continually going "Ha! I don't have to go!".
I'm like the goldfish that swims around its tank and goes "Hey look! A plastic castle! Cool!" and then two minutes later swims around again: "Hey look! A plastic castle! Cool!"
First things though, I'd better go and retrieve my car from town.
Right.
Bye now.
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