Friday, October 22, 2010

Things that mystify me.

My husband posed a question to me recently and as I mussed it about in my head for an answer, I realized, I could not come up with a viable reply. Not even a decent rationalization.

“Why do people wear toupees?” I couldn’t come up with even a mildly credible reason why anyone would wear what looks like a dead squirrel on their head. I can’t find a single reason to think it’s a better alternative than being bald. There is no such thing as a good toupee… a discreet toupee. They all scream: I’M WEARING A COWPAT ON MY HEAD! Toupee wearers are sort of irrational about it, really. They seem blind to the distinct separation of hair colours, the matted, wiry texture that just advertises that one would rather feed an insecurity rather than just maintain one's dignity… It’s completely inexplicable.

That's a fine hair-hat you've got there sir.
Did he really look in the mirror that morning and say to himself; "this isn't obvious at all?

Then I started to think about comb-overs. Trump has the most famous comb-over, and he’s even cavalier about it… but dude… just cut those ten-inch strands and go sexy Picard… the combover is doing you no favours. Once, I was walking down Mass Ave in Boston, and it was really cold and windy, and I saw this guy walking towards me, and for a second I thought he was wearing a tall ostrich feather on his head, but realized it was his combover lifting up in the wind. It was horrific. I was traumatized. I wanted to pull him aside, and pat his arm and say: Shave it. You’ll look so much manlier. There is NOTHING wrong with baldness. In fact, I’m of the type that finds bald men (like Patrick Stewart, Jason Statham or Vin Diesel, Bruce Willis) super hot. Nummy. Baldness is a manifestation and proof of excessive testosterone—in short, your incredible studliness is making your hair fall out. Embrace it! Don’t hide from it.

This is an image of the rare greasy 'front and center combover'.
Anyway. Here are a few other things that just puzzle me exceedingly:


..... o_O ....
Is it a girl? Is it a boy? Is it even human? Or is it one of Old Navy's mannequins?
The appeal of UGG boots:

Artificial cankles... for those who don't have real ones and really, really want them.
This look that just won’t go away…

It's like the dough that you forgot you left to rise... it's billowing out of control.
Holy crap.  Go to Wal-Mart and buy pants that frikkin’ FIT! Suck it up! You’re a 10… you’re a 12, not a 6, not an 8… Accept it, and you’ll look SO much better if you wear pants that are your actual size. OMG…

Beyond my capacity for understanding:

Okay.. this thing should have run its course when the 90s ended. Enough already.
Not getting it.

Because giant streaks of blond are hawt. I won't even bring up those glasses.

Freaky Plastic-Spider-Face:

GAHH! Imagine waking up to *that* one morning. You'd probably want
to burn your eyes out with a poker.
What the hell? If I were a man, and my wife thought that by doing this to her face that she would keep me (and my money), I’d divorce her and marry a nubile 21 year old just to reap revenge on her for turning herself into a freak-show. Seriously! I watched the Real Housewives the other night, and one of these plastic skanks (whose family owns a hotel in Vegas) looks like… Ugh… I can’t even describe what she looks like because it’s so extraterrestrial and unnatural looking. Her face slopes back from these massive alien-looking cheekbones, her eyebrows … OMG the eyebrows… her skin looks like it was made from smoothened silicone.

Madame Tussaud's best work. Look, she's emoting. Or is she?
Were her eyes always being yanked up at her temples? What the hell? There is no explanation to me as to how this is what women think is beautiful? You know what’s beautiful?

This is beautiful.

This is beautiful too.

If a woman is with a man who would leave her because she is aging gracefully, then let him leave! He's a shallow ***hole. I’d rather be *alone* the rest of my life than to be constantly living in fear of dashing unrealistic expectations with my naturally  degrading looks; and slicing my body up into something that is just wholly inhuman to keep someone whose depth could be doubled by a pasting a sheet of paper onto his forehead. I just don’t get it. I really don’t. Who are these women anyway? What is the appeal of these ridiculous, shallow, clueless creatures? It’s a train wreck.


And WTF are these? And why are they famous? Seriously? Why?

A-durrrrrrp de deeerp....
Apparently outing everyone in the universe can make you famous.
Bad taste and classlessness in one convenient tool-kit.
Proof that completely useless wastes of space do exist.
And honestly… is this really hot? Take away the silicone, wife off the makeup, cut the hair and she’d look like a 12-year-old boy. I don’t get it. Not hot.

Check it out, it's Justin Beiber with silicone implants and extensions.
What a world we live in. Seriously. Happy Friday all. I intend to sleep all weekend, and maybe see the horse. ;)

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Office Special? What's that?

The sisterly chaperone is bored.

I think a few new species might have evolved and a few stars faded since I last did an office special. It’s time! I’ve been slow on the updates of late, mostly because of the family crap that’s been heaped on hubby and I.

Current Issues and Demands:

-Satan: Mommy Dearest had a bit of a ‘paranoia break’ while she was admitted to the hospital last week. She instructed us to call the police for she believed her life was in danger, and she dialed 911 twice while she was there. She also yanked out her IVs twice, and had to have a room sitter to keep her from yanking the one they ultimately placed in her neck. She is now discharged as of Saturday and staying with her sister. Let’s hope she doesn’t get kicked out like last time for being too mean and obnoxious. I’m surprised my aunt let her come back, honestly.

-Satan’s gross dog: Currently at our house grossing it up.

-My Brother: His case-worker is thinking of moving him to another living situation, and I’m not too keen on disrupting his stability, he’s been through enough upheaval as it is. So we’re in ‘talks’. Yesterday I spent hours with his case worker, another sweet girl from the state and his caretaker completing two state needs assessments. I had the“pleasure” of taking Satan to see her doctor after that. I drove 100 miles yesterday.

-Grandmother on Hubby’s side: The process of selling and cleaning out her home continues. We skipped out on the sale this past weekend for our much-needed and all-too-brief anniversary getaway… but hubby has spent his time after work (despite a shoulder injury) helping his siblings pack up all the remaining piles of useless crap and clearing out the property.

-Satan’s House. The den of squalour. Enough said.

-Horse: Sadly neglected. Am resolved to see him tonight, maybe ride even depending on how busy the barn is. It's been hopping lately, but a lot of people have chosen riding outdoors rather in the indoor arena, which has received a new thick layer construction grade sand, which makes it pretty boggy and laborious to trudge through.  AND, what's worse, is that since 95% of the riders at the barn are Western Pleasure riders, they are all complaining to high-heaven about the sand.  You see, Western Pleasure horses move with the languid, lazy grace of Eeyore, dragging their feet in a slow, lazy, undefined gait, all of their energy (which isn't really much) poured onto the shoulders, their noses dropped so they're only a foot from the ground. It's ridiculous. So they stumble CONSTANTLY in this deep stuff.  Luckily, Tag has been whipped up into a good, energetic, impulsive, collected gait of the English style, which means he holds his energy more balanced and onto his rear, he lifts his feet with aplomb and lifts his neck fairly high (but not saddle-seat high)--he sails through the boggy sand like an ice-breaker in the arctic, doesn't even notice it.  So I get the arena to myself more often than not these days (until the rains come anyway).  ::sigh:: Sorry Western-Pleasure people... don't mean to be obnoxious, but I just don't get the appeal, and I can totally see why equine chiropractors are so frequently present at the barn. ::heh heh::

::SNORE::: You call that riding? I call it a nap. And look at the size of that huge shank bit! Seriously! LOL
What does she need all that leverage for? The horse is half-dead--it's not going to take off running anywhere.
I believe most of the audience in the bleachers have gone comatose with boredom. What is that gait anyway? Wrot? Tralk?
Okay. I'm done. LOL

Now here's some Dressage as a counterpoint:

This video has SO many things going for it. 
2) A MAN IN DRESSAGE GEAR (Oh, those tails).
That has to be the sexiest combination in the world. Yummy
. Damn that horse is beautiful. I wants one.

-Brother: Must spend $12,000 as soon as possible.  Just blew $4,000 on furniture for his bedroom. I figured IKEA furniture wouldn't hold up too well to my brother's wear and tear. This stuff is solid wood and beautifully constructed. It better be. It cost $4,000. And it took me less that 20 minutes between the assessment meetings and my mother's doctor appointment to pick it out and arrange the purchase and delivery. ::burnishes knuckles on her shirt:: Yeah, I'm good.

- Brother: Need to go and spend about $1,000 at IKEA on other sundries.  Am going to solicit S-II to come with me... maybe after work tomorrow.  I have my list... I have the card... I'm ready to attack. :)

It’s been a busy week so far. I’m already ready for the weekend. LOL.

I’m so tired of having these subjects occupy my daily existence, and it’s making for Debbie Downer style blogging. My apologies! I’ve done no cool projects lately to post about… but I will be back on the wagon soon enough, I promise. Once we square away all these outstanding worries—things will hopefully be less stressful again. Where did I find that optimism? It’s been missing for months… Heh. ;) Happy Wednesday.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

An impromptu anniversary

At this very moment, I am perched on a stylish stool, at a tall table made from what looks like a heavy wooden trap-door from a barn.  The bungalow we've gotten is tiny; about two thirds of our living room in size (and remember, I live in a small house...)... it has paneled and bead-board walls, a king sized bed  made of heavy lumbers and lag-bolts that takes up 26% of the space at least, a riverstone fireplace (that turns on with a switch) a itty bitty kitchenette with an adorable antiquated stove... We are at Long Beach Washington; one of our favourite places to go when we want to escape and escape quickly.

We were planning to spend the weekend selling more of Grandma's stuff... but I think after one of the most difficult weeks in forever... we just decided, screw this---we're going to the coast for our anniversary and that's that.  So on Wednesday, I found these little 'bungalows' and we rented #4.  After insuring mother had somewhere to go after being discharged from the hospital, and having a Friday that was to rival all Fridays (this past Friday had the distinctive reek of a Monday if you ask me...), we took the dogs and hit the road, crossed the Willamette and drove along the Columbia to Astoria, and then across that seemingly endless bridge towards Long Beach.

So here we are.  It's our 5-year anniversary.  At this very moment one year ago, we would have been just finishing up our wedding ceremony and trying to get away from the photos to join everyone else for our reception.  We got married at the Timberline Lodge... (you might recognize the exterior from 'The Shining').  Like that day, today was a sunny, bright, chilly day.  This morning, before 10, we'd already had breakfast and enjoyed our first beach walk.  Since then, we've bought some fresh crab, came back here to cook it up with linguine for a heavy lunch (blargh), walked back out to the beach to watch people fly this massive kites while lying on a fleece blanket making sand-castles and playing with dogs. The dogs are so tuckered, I've never seen them this quiet.  Flower is draped over the pillow completely sacked out.  The only reason I'm here typing and not doing other things is that my husband met someone his step-father once knew, he's out there looking at this guy's amazing 1940s hot rod...

Some man-tertainment. Gruntedy grunt.

S'up dawgs. Just chillin'.

Pitty pat of paws.

Hark! Doth I hear the voices of children?
Dan and I don't get a lot of downtime together.  We both have hellish commutes (his is 42 miles each way, mine is 35 each way)... we both work hard, are always very tired when we get home, and we both have family members who demand a great deal of our time and energy.  Getting away is always a challenge, both time wise and financially.  This was an 'irresponsible' choice, to just come up here this weekend.  We really can't afford to do it, but we also simply cannot afford not to. 

Last night I slept so deeply... I can't remember the last time I did that.  I wish I could have trailered Tag up here with us, and ridden him on the beach today, it was the perfect day to do that.  I saw some evidence of other riders out today and I was so jealous.  But we are having fun despite the lack of horses this time.  Next time, Tag comes with us! I'm resolved. :)

Simon's a digger. It's what he does.
Have a lovely weekend all.  I'm going to make a cup of warm tea and relax a bit before we go and find somewhere by the water to eat dinner and watch the sun set.

It turns out while Hubbs and I were lying on the windy beach being silly--see below:

my eldest sister was doing her deepest dive ever off the coast of Florida, and while she was down there, her boyfriend (whose birthday they were celebrating with this deep dive) wrote "Will You Marry Me" on his slate.  My sister said she just started laughing, and they thought she was suffering from narcosis for a second--and she said they were breathing helium, so she sounded like a chimpmunk laughing...) anyway... they posted this awesome video of them when they came out of the water:

Cute huh? Congratulations sis. :)

Monday, October 11, 2010

A so-called surprise & sassy shots

God I despise Mondays. :::BLARGH!:::

Last night was my hubby’s ‘surprise’ party. The reason why I put ‘surprise’ into quotes is because it was only a partial surprise. S-II and I were planning to pull together a group of friends and family to celebrate my husband’s birthday. I trawled his facebook profile for people I thought he might like to see there, and sent out the requisite invitations, including one to his mother and family. Hubby’s never had a surprise party and I thought it would be effing brilliant to have our tiny house stuffed to the seams with happy people yelling SURPRISE!

Unfortunately, his mother only set up the Facebook account so they could play something called ‘Farkle’, and then promptly disregarded the account… so they did not read the Facebook message invitation. So the weekend before last, while we toiled among estate-sale goers, my hubby got a phone call from his mom telling him what they had planned for his birthday—which was their usual combination birthday with his nephew at his sibling’s house that they do every year. I was presented with a pickle… I couldn’t say “NO! I planned something already god damnit!” to him, because it would ruin the surprise. I was pretty pissed. Then to top it off, the planned estate sale for this last weekend was put off because there were weddings and showers and other things family members needed to attend; so my built-in hubby-distracter was not there any more so S-II and I could stealth around and make preparations. I was doubly pissed.

So I invented some malarkey and told hubby “I don’t know why she’s inviting you over… I sent them an invitation to dinner at our house, which was supposed to be a surprise, which is now ruined.” He wondered why they never answered my invitation, discovered that they didn’t read their FB mail, so I eventually was able to pass the invitation along… So the plan was, combo birthday at sibling’s house at 3PM… secret party at home, 6PM… Hubby would just think mom & her significant other would just follow him up the mountain for a nice sedate dinner. It worked out pretty decently too because he was out of the house most of the afternoon, and left just as S-II and I were making preparations, so he had no idea what was in store food wise.

Of course, to throw a huge monkey wrench into everything as usual, the all-too-predictable re-admittance of my mother to the hospital occurred on Saturday as it was expected at any point. Her lack-of-taking-her-required-medication led to the inevitable, and she is now at present hospitalized until further notice and surgery. She could have had that surgery much earlier, and much more safely had she followed her doctor’s instructions about taking her medication, and followed up as requested, but the gall-bladder issue has escalated, and she is still a high-risk surgery because her heart-rate is so high, but now there is no choice. Surgery it is. Tomorrow. I asked if they could perform an EvilSelfishCrone-ectomy while they had her under… but they said not at this time since she is already high-risk for surgery. The funny and sad thing is; the Doctor, and all her nurses have made mention of her ‘bellicose’ and ‘difficult’ manners. Her doctor complained to me yesterday that she keeps getting up and moving all over the place… he is diplomatic “It’s a good sign, at least… even if she disconnected her potassium and let it pool onto the floor while she wandered the hallway… she’s active…”

Because of her being admitted, attending the ORS dance assembly that night was not an option… We both gave up that day in order to be there for her self-created crisis—and all she did was act spiteful and defensive and totally impossible the whole time we were there. “Well… if I get visits like *this* maybe they should just LET me die…” she exclaimed after I grumbled at her to stop taking off the compression things on her legs and disconnecting the IV. She kept trying to tear out her IV the whole time too… I’m like “Stop that Mom!” --- “I *have* to, look!” shows us a dangling piece of tubing taped to her arm… “they keep poking holes in me…”---“Mom, they will just poke more holes in you again if you rip off your IV… Knock it off!”—“Stop f***ing telling me what to do, god damnit!” I know this sounds evil, but I thought; I don’t care if she rips out her IV and bleeds to death tonight… I am not canceling the ‘surprise’ party for hubby. NOT happening.

Sunday morning I slept in a smidge, and then hubby and I cleaned up the tiny abode a bit in preparation for the ‘dinner’. He took off about an hour after S-II arrived, and we spent most of the early afternoon in the kitchen wearing June Cleaver aprons and stirring sauces, filling pastry puffs and popping ‘broken/ruined/extra’ things into our mouths as we went along. It was seriously fun, despite the sore feet and the phonecalls to the hospital to hear the doctor mention what a hellacious pain in the ass my mother is being to everyone there.

Raspberry Lemon tartlets. ::mmm::
Chocolate ganache cupcakes of death.
Strawberry and chocolate ganache pastry puffs of goodness.
My sideboard overfloweth with hors d'œuvres.
Come 5:50, the sideboard was overflowing with goodies… deviled eggs, stuffed ‘shrooms, raspberry and strawberry pastry confections, mini-quiches, decadent chocolate cupcakes with ganache frosting and raspberries and puffs with nummy cream-cheesy filling. PLUS we had two types of pasta sauce going for pasta and salad and S-II cracked out four loaves of fresh bread.

The best part was hubby finally coming home. He did spy an ex-work friend driving there, and so the jig was up… but when he walked in and saw his old school-friend and had a chance to spend time with old work-buddies too, he was happy. He kept saying he didn’t deserve it… LOL. S-II did a bang-up job and I’m proud to call her my friend.

Oh, and speaking of S-II, this unconventional creature has created a new blog called Sassy Shots… The premise of this blog is to post images taken to a particular theme. Each month, Sassy S-II will post the month’s daily shot theme list… challenging readers to submit their own interpretation of each daily theme. She then posts the pictures people take for that day. Check it out: You should try it. It’s fun (even though my photo-taking is pretty lame…) :). The original theme list for October is here. Today’s photo theme is HEAT… I was literal in my interpretation, since our office heating system is dead, I took a photo of the little radiant heater I have next to my desk. But poetic license is encouraged… I like my goldfish picture the best. Stephie-II’s pictures are usually very pretty, and so are Charlotte’s.

Monday, October 4, 2010

A crazy weekend and some Monday grumbles.

This past weekend, hubby and I spent both days standing alongside his little sister and brother with little 77¢ Home Depot aprons strapped to our hips, selling the bulk of Grandma’s 85-year accumulation of chachkes. I can only say it was kind of depressing. Not just the unending heaps of what is ultimately a useless crap manufactured from precious resources for no other purpose than to take up space and gather dust… but also the people who came to buy it… It was a truly astounding buffet of humanity that passed through G’s door—from hippies to toothless stretch-pant wearing moms with hoards of unruly and dirty-socked kids in tow… it was… it was… it just was.

Someone please tell me why?

Gathers dust AND murders you violently while you sleep... what a deal!
People will haggle over 25¢… people will try to steal things… people will be generous and pay more than asked because they heard that Granny is still alive and needs whatever she can get… People can be jerks, they can smell, they are loud, they are sweet, they are honest to a fault, and they are greedy and unbearable. Ugh… people. Sometimes I just can’t handle people.

OMG… people were so difficult... they’d gather up a massive pile of stuff, and try to get most of it for nothing. We’d say no, and they were completely unwilling to put anything back or compromise. I don’t go to the checkout counter at the store with two carts full of stuff and tell the teller; “Oh, I’m sorry, I only have $15 to pay for all this stuff… And I need it all. So here’s $15; bye…” No. I don’t care if this is an estate sale… it’s the same thing. Man. Honestly, those people make me so mad, I’d rather throw everything into the dump than sell it to them for peanuts. Illogical? Yes. Justified? Totally.

Some of the worst people were the after-churchers. I know this is wrong to say, but the Christian folks were the most difficult to deal with. I’m serious. They came in after services on Sunday in decently dressed hoards, and tried to swindle every one of us for every last penny we were trying to make for Grandma J. They’d come in with hoards of kids that would scatter like cockroaches the moment they crossed the threshold, and the parents kept you so distracted with mickey-mouse haggling over dimes, that you only realized the kids made off with pilfered items after the whole group has exited in a single unit.

The easiest people to deal with, the ones who were most pleasant and most affable and honest were the Mexicans … They come in and barely speak English, and are always so delighted when I reply to them in Spanish. They ask prices, add things in, and every time I happened to miss an item when totaling, they’d point it out and dutifully pay it. Their kids were infinitely better behaved (often acting as interpreters, poor things). One of them did terrify the cockatiels, but wrapping the cage solved that problem. They also did not haggle at all, they accepted our quotes, and if it was too high, they’d put it back. The after-churchers a couple of times, I caught them unilaterally ‘throwing in’ last-second items and trying to tell me that something they wanted wasn’t worth anything. If you want it... it’s worth something… so shut up and give me the damned 50¢ and then go back to church to re-evaluate that whole ‘thou shalt not swindle old ladies and try to steal items because it’s a sin’ thing.

I’m disgruntled by Christians lately. Normally, I admire them. I admire most people of faith, whatever religion they choose. I am not a person of faith; I was baptized Catholic and did once attend services as a child, but I have since grown up resolved on figuring out things for myself and resigning my soul to whatever happens to it when I bite the big one. I’ll take responsibility for my life, and if I end up in Hell if there is one, then so be it. At least I’ll be with the fun people.

Christians once seemed to me like happier people to me… they have faith, and therefore answers, and they had less conflict in their lives… but that’s not entirely true, I've learned as I've gotten older… seeing how lots of them struggle with their conflicting views and faith… and these cracks of conflict show up a lot. I have some friends and acquaintances who are Christian and who are the best people in the world—but they seem fewer and far between. Lately, there seem to be more and more of the ones who hand you their Christian card as if it’s some sort of guarantee of honesty and goodness, when it all reality they are the worst, most intolerant, horrible creatures in the world. For instance… I know one ‘Christian’ lady, who bespeaks of how she adores Jesus and his teachings and proclaims her righteousness to all, blablabla, but she is an adulteress, covets married men, meddles in marital relationships, and who, for a lack of better words, is a big nasty manipulative, disingenuous .. well... she's kind of a slut. I know another ‘Christian’ who uses the N-word in every conversation I’ve ever had with him, says without compunction that Obama should be assassinated and believes this is entirely right. There are more cases in my circle of friends and acquaintances who fall into the ‘how-can-you-really-call-yourself-a-Christian?’ category… but I’m already disgusted talking about them right now.

Thems good, Godly people they are! Are these people totally blind to how hypocritical they are?  They claim to follow the teachings of someone who proposed tolerance and kindness, and yet somehow they act the opposite and feel justified somehow. Yeah. I’m mad at them these days. Selective charity… righteous indignation and blatantly ignorant choices… Yeah, I’ll get off at the ‘Hell’ stop if that’s the case. At least Satan’s forthright about what a colossal jerk he is; and with my upbringing with his succubus, my mother, I’m already well versed on what to expect if I end up down in the fiery chasms. At least I can honestly say I’m not a bad person. I know a lot of folks who think because they go to Church every Sunday, and say they love Jesus, that they get a permanent pass from their being massive ***holes their whole lives and being righteous about it. Where’s that self-reflection people? Seriously? You're making GOOD Christians look terrible and I *know* there are lots of them out there!

This weekend was an exercise in bad people, bad attitudes, bad taste and bad teeth. At least Friday was nice. I took half a day off in order to squeeze in my first and last trail-ride of the season. We took horses up to McIver Park. I rode with the barn owner Dee and Jen, our horses crammed into Dee’s slant-load trailer. Tag filled up his partition like a loaf of horse-bread in a pan, and the trailer was low to the ground once we managed to get him aboard (he didn’t make it easy). A second trailer from our barn was driven by Carrie and her two girls Jade & Amy and their little horses. It was a nice small group, and we all get along great. Tag was perfectly fine. He had a couple of stupid moments; a little orange cone freaked him out when we crossed one of the roads… he shied at some invisible monster on the trail, but other than that, he was great. He’s comfortable following… dumb horse. He wasn’t used to going down hills… it took a little work to get it right, and by the first half-hour he was pretty comfy with down hills. He crossed a bridge no problem at the heels of Sundance.

Tag would not lead without a huge fight with me. I will work on him next year to get him to be a bit more trusting that I won’t ride him into a bottomless pit or into a hoard of monsters. I let him run a bit in the open areas. He loved that part. He was a sweaty mess at the end and we rode for a long time… so when I jumped off him at the end of the trail ride, my legs went all noodly and I fell on my butt. So graceful. The funny part was when we arrived and I unloaded him from the trailer; all the other people that were there to ride were fascinated with how huge he was. LOL. He got lots of compliments. He did proceed to be a jerk about getting back in the trailer again… but we managed. All in all, I had SO much fun.. you can hear my soul-clearing sigh in one of my little vids below. I wish I could do this every day... it is like all my worries go away when I'm out in saddle, and I always feel so good afterwards, no matter how sore I am.  I forgot how much I love trail-riding—and how 'cleansed' I feel when I am done riding.  Anyway… here are some little movies. It was hard manipulating a phone in saddle, so the movies are short…


I'm loud, I know. I love how Tag just glances back at me like: Hey, what gives? Let's go.


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