Confusion reigns in the house of Jad!! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else

Dear readers…when I began writing this blog I had just recently embarked on a journey of incredible discovery…the discovery that chocolate is NOT better than sex. My goal has always been to provide an open, honest, witty, lighthearted insight into what goes on in the mind of a slightly quirky, fun loving, batshit crazy, sexually tense woman who just […]

via Confusion reigns in the house of Jad!! — Sensuality, Sex & Something else


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Alice – 2012 to Present – Brunch

I wait by the door and after a few minutes, a dainty hand reaches out the door and hands me her dress.

I was already having a good weekend. My friend Alice texted me and asked if I wanted to join her for brunch on Saturday. (See: Alice – 2012 to Present – The Cute Recruiter) I was basically rolling out of bed and her timing couldn’t have been more perfect.

Can I just say that I’m honored at 55 to be texted by an attractive 25 year old girl to go hang out and have brunch. She was making six figs in her early twenties as an IT recruiter for several companies. She got me my job at the liquor magazine to sell advertising. She made money from my hire. Alice is a deadly recruiter. That’s why she owns her own company now at 25.  She’s got the investors and they are seriously growing. She’s a good human being. She’s taken her licks and learned some lessons but she continues to go forward and kill it. I love and admire her for that. So like I said, I’m honored to have drinks with her at Locust Rendezvous and play quizzo, and eat wings and drink beer, or have brunch with this wonderful young lady.

Seriously, what 55-year-old single man is THE choice to have brunch with a beautiful 25-year-old girl?

Be an honorable man and a father and you’ll reap what you sow in this life with all of the people in your life. Young and old, male and female.


I’m just happy to be surrounded by good hard-working stable people who are building businesses like myself and going forth in their lives.

Thank you Alice, for your continued friendship. You’re keeping me young!

Oh… One more thing. Did I mention Alice has gotten an apartment in the city. She’s broken away from the suburbs and moved downtown. She can walk to work! She’s in the city! I love it. She isn’t so good at navigating Philly yet, but we’ll help her. She’s been great at navigating everything else in her life so far, so I know she’ll be fine.

We met at Marathon on 19th and Spruce. Basically two blocks from my house. It wasn’t raining at the time so of course I left my umbrella home. The place wasn’t crowded or too noisy so I was happy. I forgot that Alice had broken her foot playing softball and watched as she hobbled in walking on her air cast.

Service was on point and the food was good. Alice went on about her latest relationships. For a girl who is CEO of a recruitment firm she sure meets a lot of men. Her latest is an artist that is pretty well-known in the city. From what she’s told me, he seems very nice. She did tell me that she recently learned that he has a 7-year-old son. She also told me this guy she’s seeing smokes cigarettes. Normally, that’s a deal breaker for Alice, but she really likes him, and he says he wants to quit.

They all say that.

“You know how much I hate smoking!”

“Yes, Alice. You’ve made it abundantly clear to me on many, many occasions.” I groan.

We also discuss how her former friend and employee, Keila has been a piece of shit to her. Alice says that in their last exchange, Keila was so mean. I told her to block her on all social media and on her phone. Keila is a crazy asshole that karma is going to eventually come back around and get her for the evil she has committed against Alice. Fucking ungrateful whelps! She’s get hers. (See: Keila – 2012 to 2017 – The Gaza Stripper)

Alice says that she already has cut her off for good.

After brunch Alice tells me she wants to go tanning. We start walking towards the salon, but it starts raining. We stop at the restaurant, Parc to stand under one of their awnings. I ask one of the servers if he has a plastic bag. Alice is worried her cast will get wet and she doesn’t want that to happen.

They guy hands me a big trash bag. I rip it in half and fashion a little booty out of the lower part of the bag. I wrap it around the cast and then tuck it into it. Now she looks like a homeless cripple in a blue dress.

We make it over to the salon, and she slowly climbs the steps. (There are 30 steps to the salon) When she finally get there I introduce her to Achilles, who is working today. Her dress is soaked. I send her back to one of the lay down beds in the back. I wait by the door and after a few minutes, a dainty hand reaches out the door and hands me the wet dress. The door closes and I walk to the laundry room and throw it in the dryer.

I know when her session will finish. (12 minutes later) Which is just long enough time for her blue dress to be completely dry. I grab it from the dryer and walk back to her room.

“Alice. I got your dress. It’s all dry.”

“Awesome. Thanks!” The little hand pops out from around the door and grabs the garment.

After that she went her way and I had to get to Suburban Station to meet up with a Cherie.



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Sun Stories -Achilles – 2016 to Present – 50th Birthday

What do you buy for the man who has everything and wants for nothing?

Achilles 50th birthday was happening. What do you get a guy that doesn’t want anything? Let’s review. He owns a tanning salon. He’s super fit and works out 6 days a week, and we’re opening our own fitness center. He has a cool sports car. He has a brand new motorcycle. He has a nice house. He has a truck. He hardly ever goes out to eat and when he does he likes chain restaurants. He also has a hot young fiancée.

That’s a dude that’s hard to shop for. At Christmas Trish and I got him a card and a gift card to GNC Vitamin Store and another one for Red Lobster. Perfect for the man who has everything.

But this is his 50th birthday! That’s a milestone in a man’s life. What can I get him? I have to get him something! I wrack my brain for weeks leading up to the day. He likes to eat and enjoys the occasional sweet. What if I get him a little birthday cake? No.

I can’t do the gift cards again, that’s too impersonal. I need to really think hard about this.

And then it hits me. He loves all kinds of health and muscle building supplements. I remember him scooping out some of that stuff out of a plastic container and putting it in his morning oatmeal. I think back to a brief exchange we had some time ago.

“It’s a sad day, W”. (That’s what he calls me)

“Why is it a sad day?”

“Cause I’m nearly out of this stuff and I love it. I eat it every day.”

I had nearly forgotten this exchange until I really started thinking about his birthday and what the man who is impossible to buy for would like.

I tried to remember what the product was and where I could get it. Then I remember he used to go to the GNC on the corner of 17th and Chestnut. I decided to start there. I went in and talked to one of the clerks. I explained my plight and he asked me if I had Achilles phone number.

“We’re not gonna call him!”

“No. We’ll look him up in the system and see what he’s purchased in the past.”

“Genius. Yes!”

He looks it up and sure enough we see a photo of the exact product he likes. I make sure we get him the vanilla flavor because that’s his favorite.

A drum of that stuff costs $50! That’s some expensive protein powder. I thank the clerk profusely and off I go to the Rite Aid across the street. I pick out a funny 50th birthday card that plays music. He’ll get a kick out of it. I grab a big red gift bag and some red and white tissue paper.

I head over to the hotel Sofitel, because there’s space where I can put my present together.

I’m so excited!

I walk through the lobby and go towards the back where there are a couple soft chairs. I put the gift in the bag and then stuff all the tissue paper in and around it and over it. I sign the birthday card and that goes in too.

I’m all set.

I head for the salon to work my shift. I know Achilles has been watching his diet and working out really hard leading up to this birthday. But I know he loves soft pretzels so I make a pit stop at Philly Soft Pretzels and buy a bag.

When I get to the salon I leave the bag just outside the door.

“Hey Achilles, what’s with the bag in the hallway?”

He gets up and walks to the entrance.

“I don’t know anything about a bag in the hallway.”

He looks at it and I’m pretty sure he knows I put it there. I pick it up and bring it in.

“Happy Birthday!”

He sits down and starts pulling out the tissue paper. He gets to the bag of pretzels first.

“What did you get me? ten pounds of pretzels?”

He pulls them out and then finds the card. It’s noisy in the salon so he can’t hear the little song that’s playing. I tell him he can check it out later and keep digging to get his gift.

Then he pulls it out.

“Aww W! You da man!!! This is perfect. It’s really the only thing I wanted for my birthday! Sharon (fiancée) asked me the other day what I wanted for my birthday and I told her protein powder! And she was like, I know but what ELSE do you want?”

I was so happy. You really can’t do anything for this man. But I found the exact thing he really wanted for his birthday and I didn’t have to ask a single question. This proves I truly know Achilles.

“Now I’ll have one at home and one for work!”

I can actually say I don’t think I’ve seen him this happy ever before. So remember folks, when trying to figure out what to get a person as a present, think about what they’re into, and go big on that. Like, if somebody handed me a bottle of vodka I’d be delighted.

It’s that simple.


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Zoey – Yours are Black…

I now know every cost approximation of at least 12 different clothing pieces from 3 designers I have never heard of.

I had been texting this lovely woman I had met on Tinder last winter, who could actually hold a conversation really well, so we decide to meet up. She resembles the stock photo I have provided. I’m just going to say, ‘In her twenties’ for the age. 5’6″. Long chocolate tresses, olive skin, and dark sultry eyes. She told me she works as a model here in Philly at Reinhardt. I have a history with a certain former Reinhardt model, (See: Michelle – A Brand New Day) so I know the talent. Plus, I’ve been described as a modelizer. (Sex in the City)

I’ve only written a blow-by-blow like this once before, (See: Marisa – 2017 to Present – Where the Hell are You? – Part II) but I feel this tale warrants it.

7:00 p.m. – Show up at her place, she isn’t 50 lbs heavier than her picture, doesn’t have a beard or Adam’s apple, and hasn’t tried to ax murder me yet. She’s actually really hot. Chemistry is great, and we actually start making out before our UBER pulls away from the curb. So far so good, Tinder.

7:15 – In the car, things are fine, she’s talking a lot about her modeling job, which is cool.

7:30 – Arrive at ice rink at City Hall and race each other to the ice. This is fun.

7:35 – So we’re there and she’s still going about her local modeling career and all the free things the vendors and designers give her. Thrifty, cool.

8:45 – Been skating for a while, I now know about the process of applying “runway makeup”, the time constraints and approximations of changing outfits depending on the number of pieces, and how to adjust hip tilt and swing, during a catwalk if your clothing piece is top-heavy vs. a long train. I now know every cost approximation of at least 12 different clothing pieces from 3 designers I have never heard of.

8:50 – She can’t talk if she’s eating, so I suggest we get food.

9:00 – We arrive at the place she suggested. It has 40ft high wooden vaulted ceilings with hanging sheer fabric for ambiance and the swankiest fucking bar I’ve ever seen.

9:03 – Sitting down. She’s been bragging for a bit, that despite being a model, she has never done cocaine. Fuck, the prices are steep, I’ll just have a soda and a salad. She knows everything on the menu by name and what it should be paired with.

9:30 – I’m gritting my teeth at this point and exhaling. (I once did this for two hours when I was dragged to see the Sex in the City 2 movie, which is an absolute piece of shit by the way) I would really like some cocaine. (I’ve never done cocaine)

10:20 – Michael Kors ain’t got shit on me for knowledge of the fashion industry.

10:30 – I have no idea what she ordered but the bill is $105 plus tip. She asks if we should go and I say yes. She makes no attempt to pull out her wallet, so I bite the tab, trying to conceal my rage.

10:40 – I’m not too impressed with the date, but being the gentleman I am, walk her to the door. She asks if I want to come in.

10:41 – I meet her mother, in a bathrobe, completely unfazed by my presence. She asks if I know how to fix a light socket. What the fuck?

10:47 – Light socket is fixed.

10:50 – In her room, score!


11:10 – She has taken me through every lotion and perfume and tin of makeup and brush on her vanity and told me the brand, the list price, and how much she actually got it for.

11:20 – She’s almost finished telling me the brand, location of purchase, and price of every shirt, skirt, pair of pants, and jacket in her closet. She is upset that her friend “stole” a bracelet from her 2 weeks ago, she wonders if I would help her look for it.

11:35 – She is literally crying, with tears down her cheeks, because I could not find the “stolen” bracelet behind, under, in her dresser/vanity/bathroom/bed/closet/night stand/carpet. (If it was stolen why did she ask me to look for it in her room?)

11:40 – She has stopped crying and suggests we watch a movie.

11:45 – Pay-Per-View, or something, Evil Cabin Zombies in the Woods Dead #17?

12:00am – Extensive commentary on the superior quality of acting begins, and ensues for the duration of the movie but she says she has a knot in her back and wants me to massage it out.


12:30 – Her shirt is off and she is dead set on me massaging out a very specific knot on her left shoulder which does not exist. (Whatever. Her shirt is off)

1:00 – Movie ends, my arms are getting sore, been kissing her neck and shoulders for a while, have not been able to get her to:

A) shut up.

B) turn over.

C) actively engage said kisses.

1:03 – Sequel to movie begins.

2:00 – She starts participating in the making out stuff, and politely tells me that for religious reasons she is saving her virginity until marriage. I completely understand, when it comes to faith beliefs like that, I respect whatever choices you make, cool, no hassle, and we start fooling around. I respect other peoples fairy tales.

2:30 – She lets me go down on her. I’m excited, I’ve finished her off about 2 or 3 times, I feel like a champ, but I’m still completely clothed and have not been touched in any way, shape, or form. As I’m still being all sexy-like, I casually say, “What about me?”

2:31 – She informs me that the bathroom is right over there, and tells me I can take care of myself in the shower. I think I’ll just hold it. (WTF?)

2:45 – We’ve been silent, cuddling. Hey, this is nice, I love cuddling, she is comfy, and she’s not talking, this is good.

2:50 – Out of silence, she whispers, “I see demons. Yours are black.”

2:52 – I shit myself. (Not literally) Maybe I could make it out that window.

3:00 – I learn that my demons are angry, and she is scared of them. She tells me that she has been exorcised on two occasions and it’s helped a lot. I don’t inquire as to how much, precisely.

3:05 – I try to be supportive because this doesn’t seem like the kind of thing you just go around telling everybody, and more or less keep my mouth shut. God I want to try cocaine.

3:10 – Sleep for her, another hour of being stiff as a board, and scared before I pass out.

9:00am – Her mother knocks and I, all 5’10 170 lbs of me, attempts to hide under the blankets. Mother comes in and nonchalantly tells her that they are going to a friend’s house for dinner. Asks her if the older gentleman under the blanket wants to come.  I decline. I tell her I have to go return some overdue books at the library.

9:15am – I leave to return some overdue library books.



Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish everyday at 8am EST.

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Cherie – Chapter 4 – Ribbons

Cherie is coming around the corner of one of the display racks. She is very close to me. I kiss her. She smiles and keeps going.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you today.”

“I know.”

Cherie and I had been keeping in touch through text since our 1st date. She’s just been busy working and going to school. I have been meaning to send her some scary movie ideas, but there isn’t much out there right now. Her favorite is John Carpenter’s Halloween. I made the theme her ringtone in my phone. So every time I get a text from her it plays. It’s weird and fun.

One of my texts was asking when I could see her again. She asked what my schedule looked like and I provided it to her. She said Saturdays were perfect, but she wanted to see if we could schedule something sooner. I liked that she said that. We decided on an early lunch on Tuesday. We were to meet at 11am for Taco Tuesday at El Rey. She had to be at class up at Temple by 2pm so that gave us plenty of time.

We had been in touch up until the day. I sent her pics from my weekend at the shore. I saw this amazing moonrise and sent her a photo. She asked if I was trying to make her jealous. I was secretly trying to get her to think about how great it was there. Maybe I can take her there sometime if things work out.

So Tuesday arrives and I head up to El Rey. I get there at 11am and they’re not open. I sit down on the bench outside. I go on my phone and look up their hours. They don’t open until 11:30. I text Cherie to let her know that I’ve arrived. She arrives at 11:15. She looks great. I’ll get to her outfit in a minute. She apologizes for being late. I laugh and tell her that El Rey doesn’t open until 11:30, so technically she is 15 minutes early!

She asks me what I want to do. I tell her there’s another place about a block away that also celebrates Taco Tuesday and I’m sure they’re open. She’s fine with that. We walk down to Drinkers Pub at 20th and Chestnut. I pull on the door. Locked. How is Drinkers not open yet either? I tell her we could wait or just walk back to El Rey, because if I have to choose I’d like to take her to the better place for lunch. She’s fine with that too. I again notice how laid back this California born beauty is. She’s always so chill and agreeable all the time. I love that. I have been around enough high-strung, crazy, hyperactive women for one lifetime. It’s truly refreshing.

We get back to El Rey and go in. I announce that we’re first. I love being first. Oh, let me get back her outfit. Black shoes with a nice solid heel. She’s 5’5″ so it makes her  almost my height. She has tight olive slacks, and is wearing a dark green and burgundy colored light jacket. But here is the amazing part that I didn’t initially notice. She’s wearing a long sleeve black shirt that has a deep V neck. It’s cut all the way down to her mid belly. There are criss-cross pieces of fabric all the way down.

Exactly like this:

Image result for low cut black v neck with criss cross


Fantastic. Sexy as hell. I can clearly see the swell of her breasts, and there is no way she’s wearing a bra. You can’t wear a bra with this top. I love it.

“You’re wearing that to class today, young lady?” She smiles. I try not stare but I do occasionally steal a little glance during lunch. The weather has been unseasonably warm lately. She says she was outside with her son the night before and the mosquitos apparently love her. I tell her it’s probably because she’s so sweet. She says that’s what her mom used to say to her. She always gets bitten up and they leave itchy welts all over her. She shows me one near her eyebrow. She says she was going to wear a skirt today but her legs are covered in little mosquito bites. Damn those pesky insects for denying me a view of those legs. I remember her telling me about how she played basketball and ran track in high school. Her pants are tight and I can clearly see that her landing gear is solid.

Lunch was great. The restaurant was ours for about a half hour until the lunch crowd kicked in. It got a little noisy, but not that bad. The staff was attentive and the food was good. We drank only sparkling water, but I did have one mango margarita. It wasn’t frozen but not bad. It tasted like there was hardly any alcohol in it. I let her taste it. She said she really doesn’t drink that much. Normally she sticks to beer. Two drinks and she’s tipsy, she claims. Noted. But when she was younger she says she smoked a lot of marijuana. Nothing special with pipes or bongs, just joints. I told her like coffee, I could take or leave weed. If I never had it again I wouldn’t care. I don’t mention my love for booze.

The conversation flows about what we’ve been up to for the last two weeks. Her work and school. She spends most of her waking hours working or studying. I tell her about my weekend at the shore with my siblings. Cleaning out the attic of the shore house, and getting Sam’s Pizza on the Wildwood boardwalk. About how my sister’s dog got out of the yard Saturday night, and how he was missing for two hours until we finally caught him. I toss out the idea that maybe we could go to the movies this Saturday. She seems interested.

It was a beautiful day in October so we decide after lunch to take a walk around the park in Rittenhouse Square. Notice I didn’t mention the bill? Oh… I just mentioned it. Damn. Let me put it this way. Valerie (Valerie – Love me Tinder) is 55 years old. She has her own apartment. She is CFO at a music school. She owns a rental property in Swarthmore, PA. Cherie is 26. Mother of a 6-year-old. Works two jobs, and goes to school for Neuroscience at Temple. There’s a difference! A BIG difference. I happily paid the damn bill!

We walk around Rittenhouse for a while and then wander down Walnut Street. We go into the Halloween store to look at all of the stuff. As I walk through the store and look at all of the costumes I think of what a good couples costume would be for us. Could I dress up as Bowie and she could be Iman? Could Cherie be the Sally Hemmings to my Thomas Jefferson?

We both notice that most of the costumes for girls are all sexy. I know everybody has covered that but it’s so true. I say something about a plaid skirt and she asks if I like that. I laugh and say who doesn’t? It’s if she knows something about me and our obvious age difference. I mean, her last guy of 8 years was way older than she was and my last two girlfriends were younger than I was, so it firmly stands to reason that it’s the case.  She smiles and continues to browse. She looks at a couple of costumes. Pausing at Nile Princess and Cleopatra, which I obviously approve. She says maybe she’ll be an Indian this year. Now I’m thinking of Pocahontas and John Smith. That would totally work. Much better than Plantation Owner and… well, I’ll stop there with the horrible jokes.

She is coming around the corner of one of the display racks. She is very close to me. I kiss her. She smiles and keeps going.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you today.”

“I know.”

I don’t know how I feel about that. Her knowing my thoughts and intentions? She’s smarter than I thought. We wander around the store a bit more and then leave. It’s getting to be time for her to go to class.

We stroll back through Rittenhouse. This time she remembers where she parked her Saab. We walk over to 20th and Locust. The car is out front of the Catholic Church there. She’s standing close to me and I’m looking at her. She’s checking her GPS in her phone to see how long it will take her to get to Temple. I lean in and kiss her neck. Twice. Her skin is so soft. I really like her.

“I have to go.” she says. “So Saturday?”

“Umm.. Yes! I’ll see what’s playing at the movies and find out if anything that we’d like is showing.”

She says that sounds good as she kisses me on the lips. I hold her for a moment and steal a second kiss. She smiles, gets in her car and off she goes to school.

I light a cig. (I don’t smoke around non-smoking girls I want to kiss) I head over to work at the salon. I figure I’ll wait until tonight to thank her for making time with me today. Don’t want to seem to urgent. I work at the spa from 3 to 8pm. I get this text from her at 5pm. “Guess who dissected a pig today?”

“You’re awesome! Good thing you didn’t order pork at lunch today!”

“Lol that’s true!” she says. “I felt bad for the poor piggy, but my partner made me do all of the cutting. You’re awesome too.”

I liked that last part. The next day, I told her I had found a potential scary movie we could go see. I sent it to her. She responded that it looked okay and we could go to that. Then she says: “I don’t get scared easily lol but it seems okay to me. You’ll probably hold on to me during the scary parts, lol.”

“Then I hope it’s really scary.”

So we’ll see how it goes on our 3rd date on Saturday. I really like this girl and I hope she sticks around.



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Tales of Rock – Britney Spears

Comedian Neil Hamburger once joked, “Why did Britney Spears get so addicted to cocaine? Because Kevin Fed-Her-Lines!” This is, perhaps, unfair, but it’s hard to deny that Spears becoming Mrs. Kevin Federline coincided with her sad descent into drug addiction, mental illness and a near total career flame-out.

It once seemed impossible or at least extremely unlikely. When Spears burst onto MTV’s Total Request Live in fall 1998, her appeal was obvious. She may not have been possessed of Mariah Carey’s pipes but—like Madonna before her—worked well with what she had. More importantly, she was mesmerizingly charismatic; a formidable presence on camera. In short, she was a product, and as such seemed unlikely to start donning trucker hats and wife-beaters and marrying every mistake in sight. This sweet southern gal was straddling two audiences early in her career. Young girls and dirty old men. One dude offered her a million dollars to relive her of her virginity. Fucking slob!

A decade later, all that and worse had happened. In January 2008, recently divorced from Federline and fresh off of publicly shaving her head and bashing a paparazzi’s car with an umbrella, she became uncooperative during a routine turnover of her sons to Federline’s representatives and ended up hospitalized when police were summoned and concluded she was on drugs. The following day, she lost custody of her children entirely and was committed to a psychiatric ward. A February 2008 Rolling Stone cover story on Spears’ decline lamented, “Even Michael Jackson never deteriorated to the point where he was strapped to a gurney, his madness chronicled by news choppers’ spotlights.”

In the five years since, Spears has mounted an impressive comeback, but this has meant her father placing her finances in conservator-ship and retaining this control long after the singer began behaving herself. As for her art; her music is still fun but she’s now lost in a sea of imitators. Her once assured rule over pop music has long since been abdicated to the likes of Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus and Katy Perry.

If she’s still playing at Caesar’s Casino when my daughter Lorelei turns 21, I will send her and her friends to Las Vegas to see her childhood hero in concert.

I ma proud that Britney has survived showbiz and super stardom. She wrote this song. It is heartbreaking and beautiful. Leave Britney alone!!!


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Was it just a booty call, what does that even mean?? — Sensuality, Sex & Something else


Instead of putting on the dress I wore to the restaurant I throw on another dress which is super short and could probably be mistaken for a top. I jump in my car and head over to M’s. Whilst I was still sexually tense I was not in the same frantic state of passion that I was […]

via Was it just a booty call, what does that even mean?? — Sensuality, Sex & Something else


Thank you for reading my blog. Please read, like, comment, and most of all follow Phicklephilly. I publish Monday through Friday at 8am EST.

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