Monday, October 31, 2011

World's Worst Halloween Costumes Ever

I'm not a huge fan of Halloween, I'll admit it. Partly because I need someone to try and scare me right about as much as I need a pencil sticking out of my neck.  Partly because the IHPs always seem to have their six-month dental check-up right around now, which means I'm having to balance eleventy-seven pounds of chocolate deliciousness with the fact that I just spent my shoe money on having cavities filled. And, partly because the selection of costumes is so horrendous that I think I'd prefer they go out bare ass naked rather than drape themselves in the current selections.


This is what I saw when I clicked on "Girls 10-13" on a costume website. Are you freakin' kidding me? That's exactly what I want to send McGee out into the world wearing, Oh, and just right for the creepy, slightly deaf neighbor who hears "Trick FOR Treat" instead of the traditional greeting. I say yes to this outfit, I might as well just let her smoke and go bar hopping right now.


For my boys, well....just in case big sister gets away with the above costume, they can go dressed as this and come home with some extra cash. And syphillis. Yummy.



Or, even better...Whuck? This is a CHILD'S COSTUME. Is the name really necessary? What this basically says is, "I left my Douche costume at the dry cleaners..."



For a while, McGee wanted to go as a pirate. I thought, "that should be OK...right?" Ummm, no. Because it seems the goal these days is to turn everything into a red-light district. So, they either look like they fell out of a trash can, or fell out of a whore house. Or in this case, both...

 
I don't even know where to begin...a toilet? A toilet? God forbid they sit down to take a rest and someone else suddenly has a need to go.


Which is why it makes me all the happier that 2011 has provided us with this ingenious costume. Not that I have any intentions of dressing up as a box, T or otherwise. But that there are some occasions that require an amount of wine proportional to the event. And what with the hookers, pimps and toilets (oh my!) that will be haunting our sidewalks tonight, I'm gonna need to kill off as many brain cells as I can manage. Even though that spigot part is kinda creepy and wrong...and wrong.



 Happy Halloween, y'all. I hope that's wine he's drinking...


(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Red-Headed Kids...Please Ask Stupid Questions

So, we got a lot of comments recently about kids who don't look like their parents...and you parents of redheads seem to get more questions than any parent should have about how their little Ginger came to be. So, Kate enlisted the help of Guru Louise, because her little man has the most awesomest head of hair in the history of ever. It's totally en fuego. Kate tried to write this post, as Happy is a slightly reddish little kid, but he insists that his hair is the same color as daddy's. And that is...grey.

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One of the shocks of my life is that I birthed a redhead. My son’s hair is not auburn or strawberry blonde—it is straight-up flaming orange with twinges of red.  Are true redheads fairly rare? Sure, but what’s crazy about P’s hair is the utter lack of red hair in the rest of our family. I am a brunette, as are my daughter and husband so whenever I see our family photos I can’t help but hum that old Sesame Street song “One of these things is not like the other…”

P’s red hair has always received attention from strangers. I swear there is something about the fluorescent lights in stores that make P’s head light up like a freakin’ inferno…so I’m not exaggerating when I tell you that I get stopped a minimum of three times per supermarket/Target/liquor store trip by fellow shoppers who glance at him, glance at me, glance at his sister and then say “Oh my! Where did he get that red hair??” This stranger is probably a very nice person asking an innocuous question but she doesn’t know that the attention P’s hair color has gotten in the last 18 months has given me issues. (And lately I’ve been feeling unreasonably stabby as a result of said issues.) Instead of being friendly to the nice person in front of me I’m thinking: You’re putting me on the spot, in front of my kid. You’re making a big deal about how he has a different physical trait that none of us can control. And I know somewhere in my brain these nice people simply admiring his gorgeous noggin but I’m the one left pushing my shopping cart away as my son grasps his head and looks at me questioningly, “Mommy? Hair? Mommy? Hair?” I assume he’ll only be more aware of this scrutiny as he gets older.

Don’t get me wrong—I love collecting compliments about my kids—what parent doesn’t? But can we leave it at, “What lovely hair color!” and just skip the diatribe about how unusual red hair is or the inquiry into its origin? It feels invasive for a perfect stranger to ask “Does his Dad have red hair?” What kind of response would I give if I didn’t know his dad? What if P was adopted? Whose business is it where he got his hair color??? Gah! Mind your own dang business, lady, and go back to squeezing your cantaloupes!  

Can you tell this hair color thing has driven me a bit cuckoo?!

So when you’re asked the same question enough times you start to daydream about possible answers you can give the innocently curious person standing before you. I’m toying with some of these possible comebacks for my next supermarket trip when I’m asked, “Where did he get that red hair?”
  • “Well, when a man and a woman really love each other one night they create so much love that they make a baby inside the woman’s belly!”
  • “I’m not sure! I finally narrowed it down to three guys. Conclusive DNA tests come back next week. Let’s hope it’s the philanthropist and not the convicted  murderer!” 
  • “This kid? Not mine. I took him from a nice Irish family. I’m a baby-stealer.” 
  • “Oh, I’m glad you like it. It’s the new Garnier Nutrisse #67—Ginger Spice! Last week I tried #76--Hot Tamale--but that one did nothing for his complexion.” 
  • “Well, see, there are dominant genes and recessive genes. This phenotype likely occurred due to a rare combination of alleles. Gotta love those homozygotes, right? Right??” (Keep spewing nonsensical tidbits of high school biology until the person runs away or falls asleep.) 

Bottom line: People in the same family look different. Period. If you feel you must comment the next time you see a redhead child, please just give the parent a simple, “Wow, what gorgeous hair!” and move along.

xoxo Guru Louise

p.s. Do NOT touch my child’s hair. Touching it will not give you any actual, magical powers. You may, however, draw back a stump if you touch him again.

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Angry Octopusses and Other Creatures Behind the Door

See, this is why we love you. We find something totally innocent, like an innocuous metal hook behind a door, and what do we see? An angry octopus who's trying to fight us. [Editor's Note: Let's be clear. This is all Kate. SHE is the one who sees strange pugilistic animals. Lydia sees a lovely solution to putting her purse on the bathroom floor.] And then we sent you on a mission to find your own drunken, angry octopusses and elephants and other creepily phallic things that now have eyes and faces and, yes, even clothing.

You guys are ninja spymasters...

Enjoy your handiwork! We're so so so proud...we'll be sending you your next spy mission shortly.

This message will self-destruct in 3---2---


---------------------

I had a very rare date night with my husband last night & after dinner we couldn't find anything better to do than going to target. Just before leaving the premises I had to ninja pee. After walking into the stall & preparing to hang my hobo bag on the door, I was challenged! So I pulled out my little red sharpie & all I could do was turn this drunk angry octopus into a ginger! [Editor's Note: Ummm, love it. We'll call it the Prince Harry Hooker...wait. What? - Kate]



My hooker wasn't drunk yet, but it was early and by the looks of that dress she has on, chances are good.


Awesomeness...an angry, fighting PIRATE hooker octopus. Epic.


Best.mission.in.the.history.of.ever.  Had women knocking on the door all like "Whuck is she DOING in there!?"


Haha I've never been a fan of vandalism.....never had the guts to do it. But I am having a blast with this. Got the mission just before daughter#2 and I left for our pre 2nd grade mother kid trip. So I packed my sharpie and camera phone and hit the road. Haven't found any octopi yet, just these weird rhino-elephant things with a crazy soul patch.  Daughter keeps asking what is taking so long and the other grown ups look at me all crazy like wondering what I could possibly be taking pictures of in a bathroom stall.


I call this one the monocled aristocratic octopus...


I apologize for the poor picture quality today...I had a jackhole knocking on the door and my child was at sticking his hand in the toilet. [Editor's Note: The toilet hand is totally worth this. It's Lady Gaga Hooker. - Kate]



Bring it, human.


Here’s my rendition of a drunk rhino hooker. The little bubbles are supposed to be the “drunk burp” bubbles like on Tom and Jerry (which I SO let my 3 and 6 year old watch, cause it’s cool and way less annoying than Yo Gabba Gabba.) This rhino was captured in the ladies room of a Jim Beam production plant, where we make flavored vodkas (as seen in the photo that the little drunk rhino drank).


I found this one in a bar in Philadelphia, with commentary already included.  I didn't have my sharpie with me or I would have added eyebrows. [Editor's Note: Yeah, the eyebrows would have helped. Fo' shizzle. - Kate]


Coming to you all the way from Edmonton Alberta Canada, in a Wendy's. And yes I used my lipgloss to make her so lovely bc I didn't have a sharpie and my ball point wouldn't cut it. My kids were very curious about the whole process.


Taken at the bathroom at the local park. This could be an angry Pinocchio octopus. Orrrr...it could be something really really porny, you awesome ladies can be the judge. [We vote porny. Of course. K&L]



So I've been a slacker on taking pictures of hookers in bathrooms.  ;) [Editor's Note: That's probably the funniest sentence in the history of ever. -Kate] But I have one that stopped me mid-stream today. Good thing I was already in the position because I laughed till I peed, again. This is the only caption I could come up with, cause both my kids were with me and the oldest knows how to read. But feel free to let your imaginations run wild.



He's no Octopus.  But there's a new Sheriff Hooker in town.


Silver Hooker at Starbucks...[Editor's Note: YES! Because if you can't have a Gold Hooker, definitely, definitely go with the Silver. Hi Ho Hi Ho...get it? - Kate]


Elephant hookers, pre and post RFML'ing...






This happy one is actually hanging out in someone's HOUSE. That's right! And that is why he is happy. No random stranger's crap hanging on him. Just family crap. Yeah....


I didn’t have a sharpie with me while at Meijer grocery store here in Indy so I grabbed my pen and attempted SOMEthing. I think I was going for the made eyebrow and angry mouth. But it looks similar to a devil cat. Devil. Cat. [Editor's Note: I'm sending you Sharpies...you keep sending me Devil Cats. Even yesser. - Kate]


 Slightly Disgruntled Skipper, dog of Angry Drunk Fighting Octopus


I was inspired while doing my business in the local Panera bathroom.  I saw the octopus hooker and it was just calling to be a pirate.


 And, finally, the one that made Lydia a SpyMaster forever...
Tracey: This mission had to be the most silly and amazingly fun thing I've ever done. Although, hi, I'm braindead...how are you? I forgot to write RFML on the damn door so I had to go back in the bathroom. I'deven already left the stupid store! Sheesh!
Lydia: I have never seen anything so majestical and perfect. I am weeping with my love for it and you. We have never met and yet I feel certain that we could all be best friends. Because of the monocle. Because you went there with the f**king monocle.


(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Domestic Enemies of the Daycare Mom

Many of us have dealt with the wonderous world of daycare. Our new friend Julie (who leaves the most hilarious comments in the history of ever) tells all about the domestic enemies of the mom whose kids are in day care.
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Hi, my name is Julie (Hi, Julie). I write ilikebeerandbabies.com about the effects of mixing alcohol and children. I have a 21-month-old daughter, The Quiet Contemplator. I am also pregnant and due at the end of December with a son who I refer to as My Sponsor. I'mmarried to ADD Daddy and work a day job writing for a non-profit (that's where the big bucks roll in). I have no relatives who are crazy enough to deal with my child(ren) for free for nine hours a day, so I send my kid(s) to daycare. Yes, germ-filled, push-your-kid-off-the-swingset, pay-them-half-your-salary, daycare. There are myriad Domestic Enemies of the Daycare Mom. These are just the tip of the iceberg.

The First Day
Whether you are dropping your infant off for their first day ever away from the wicked awesomeness that is Mommy, or dropping your toddler off for their first day at a new daycare, the first day blows. Big time. The first time I dropped The Quite Contemplator off at daycare following maternity leave, I rocked with her in a rocker and bawled like a fat girl whose cake was stolen for about an hour. Thankfully, it was only hard on me. Newborns don't seem to even notice you are gone. Toddlers, on the other hand, add a little more drama to the situation. Cue dropping your child off for the first day at a new daycare only to have them cling to your leg screaming, "Mommy! Don't leave me!" Thanks for that, kid. As if leaving you here so I can work on TPS reports all day wasn't hard enough.

Sadly, YOU can't RSVP no.
The Germy Kid
No, it is not just an urban myth that daycares are cesspools of germs. Hand, foot and mouth, roseola, croup, you name it, daycares are full of sexy-sounding illnesses that will invade your child. Somehow, all of these illnesses seem to be traceable back to one kid: The Germy Kid. What exactly does this kid do on the weekends that he comes back every Monday with a new plague to spread upon his peers? Roll around in the Infectious Diseases lab at the hospital? Eat contaminated meat and dairy? Lick toilet seats? Come on! Spray this kid down with some Lysol and put him in quarantine already. Mommy is out of sick days.

The Thermometer Mambo
Speaking of The Germy Kid, his outbreaks of mucus- and fever-inducing bacteria lead many mamas to do what I call the Thermometer Mambo. You know what I am talking about, daycare moms: the dance we do with our friend Tylenol to keep our kid in school just a little while longer so we can finally get some schmidt done at work. 100.1 is the most dreaded number for daycare moms. That is the number that means your kid is being sent home and has to stay there for at least 24 hours. This is fine, of course, if your kid is actually sick. But most of the time it is just teething/a cold/malaria/your child trying to sap your will to live. This is when we dose our kids up with Tylenol and pray that it will get us below the magic number long enough to get to work, pour ourselves a cup of coffee and check our emails before we get The Call.

The Call
The Call is what you get when you have lost the battle with Thermometer Mambo, or worse. Every mommy dreads seeing their daycare's number come up on their caller ID. It is never them calling to let you know that your kid is a ray of sunshine and puppy dogs and that they just wanted you to know how much they love having them. It is daycare calling to let you know that the projectile vomiting has commenced or that your kid is on the way to get stitches. The Call always seems to come when you are right in the middle of something really important, like giving a huge presentation, or reading posts from Rants from Mommyland. You immediately feel guilty for having the urge to hit "ignore" on your phone. I usually answer this call in some sort of, "What now?" fashion.

The Missed Milestone
It is inevitable that since your child is at daycare so often, they will hit some sort of milestone for them and not for you. Really? My baby took his first steps/said his first word/competed his doctoral thesis today? Thanks for letting me know. Now when we see him do it, it will be so much less special.

The Mean Kid
Every daycare has a mean kid. They are the one that you just look at and can see that their tiny beady eyes are filled with mirth. This is the kid that is always pushing, hitting, saying "mine!", stealing toys, etc. You know, the one you have to fight off the urge on a daily basis to tell they are going to grow up to be an ugly janitor with no friends. Often, this kid is also The Germy Kid.

The Incident Report
Sometimes these are the results of The Mean Kid attacking your child, sometimes these are reports of your child finally having enough from The Mean Kid and going all Cujo on them. Either way they are embarrassing. You end up feeling like either your kid needs to buck up and hit back, or your kid has been watching too much Ultimate Fighting and needs to back off. Awesomeness all around.

The It's-Almost-Cheaper-to-Stay-Home Sayer
Let me cut this one off right at the knees. No, it is not almost cheaper for me to stay home with my kid(s) than to work and send them to daycare. I am not sure if you are insinuating that I make less than a McDonald's worker, but daycare costs less than I make in a year. Also, staying at home doesn't pay for insurance, or provide for retirement, or the many other frivolous needs mama has. And, since my husband is in the ├╝ber high-paying profession of being a 4th grade teacher, mama has to work. So not only are you implying that I am not good with math, but also that I don't like my kid(s) enough to want to stay home with them, even though it is obviously the more finically sound decision. Thanks for that.

The Guilt
Like all Domestic Enemies, the Daycare Mom has to deal with The Guilt. Was my kid too sick to go into daycare today? Is The Mean Kid going to make them cry again? Is it really cheaper for me to stay at home with them? Am I a bad mom for working when we could make it on Spam and cheese if I just stayed home? The Guilt sucks. But, like all Domestic Enemies, some days it only sucks a little, and some days it sucks big time.

For more booze-filled rants from a Daycare Mommy, visit ilikebeerandbabies.com.

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Monday, October 24, 2011

Whuck of the Day: Now I'm Not *That* Hungry

Maybe let's just have vanilla, OK?
We got this the other day, and -- as expected -- we died. We also realized that Julie is a much, much better person that either Kate or Lydia...because it took her YEARS to realize what we saw in about .0000007 seconds. And that is, that ANYTHING can sound really porny.

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So, this poster hangs on the wall in the chain-coffee-store cafe in the hospital I work at.  The CATHOLIC hospital, I work at.  And I've glanced at it innumerable times over the last few years.  But I've never actually stared at it over the shoulder of my co-worker for 30 minutes straight, until yesterday.  And then, it hit me. 





NUT CREME.  Eeeuuuuuwwwwww! 
Um, not sure about you, but I'm pretty sure a monkey is not the best rep to sell nut creme.  Especially not while appearing to juggle said nuts.  And why in Maude's name would nut creme need to be Macadamia-flavored?  If I'm going to creme some nuts, I think I'd prefer chocolate, or strawberry, maybe banana?  Just me?  Oh come ON!  I can't be the only perverted princess out there...
Love & T-boxes,
Julie


(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Friday, October 21, 2011

Duran Duran and EVEN YESSER. More Duran.

Except imagine that these are all moms
who drove to the show in their vans.
Last month at baseball practice, I ran into our friend Sarah. Sarah is a blogging genius. She writes here and here and here. Also here. All of it is awesome.  She also does social media for people.  So she casually mentions in our conversation, like its no big deal, that she has a new client.  The band Duran Duran.

Then I fell down crying because I love them so, so much. Or I did. When I was in middle school. Then later in college I started loving them again.  Then when I switched over from cd's to the land of the iPod - Duran Duran came with me. 

They have always been with me.

So Sarah asked if we'd be able to go the concert. OH EVEN YESSER. Free tickets in return for blogging about it? Imagine me nodding so emphatically that my head fell off. Then Kate had to travel for business for a week except for the night of the concert and she thought that maybe she should spend some time with her kids.  So I took Rebekah from Mom In a Million as my date.  We ended up sitting with some other bloggers and it was so flipping fun.

I thought the best way to capture what it was like would be to share my tweets and Facebook updates from that night.
Then: Delicious

6:10 pm: "Going to see Duran Duran tonight! Hoping I can remember to act my age!"

6:59 pm "I AM HERE!! AND I'M HUNGRY LIKE A DAMN WOLF!!"

7:10 pm "WHERE AM I?! Where do you think, ? At the bar! Waiting for the awesomeness"

7:45 pm "Neon Trees just opened and there were gold lame pants in action and it was MAGICAL."

8:00 pm "As it turns out, its pretty easy to act my age at the Duran Duran concert. Because everyone here IS MY AGE."


8:30 pm "They're on! Aaannnnd they are just as precious and adorable and searingly hawt as you remember."


Now: Ummmm... YES PLEASE.
8:40 pm "@MomIn_AMillion @mammaloves @goonsquadsarah If any of you hookers try and give John Taylor The Look, Imma cut ya!"

8:50 pm "John Taylor, I TOTALLY forgive you for not not writing me back in 1985. So how about a nice, long hug?"


8:55 pm " was all like "How old is Simon? Because that's a nice ass for like, fifty." True dat."

9:00 pm "Simon just took off his jacket and SHOWED US THE MOTHERFUNKING GUNS. Thanks dude."

9:30 pm "I smell like I sound. I'm lost and I'm found. OH EVEN YESSER."


And then at some point, my friend @GirlieMouse sent me a tweet that said this:
"@MommylandRants My BIL's there - look for a big black guy in a pirate shirt with a headband & feather"

And I was like, COULD THIS NIGHT GET ANY BETTER?! Then the lady sitting next to me looked up Simon on Wikipedia and saw that he'd been married since 1985 and I thought my wittle heart would explode with awesome I thought that was. And then the night was over and I drove home by myself in the big White Ford Tampon, happily listening to Duran Duran and feeling like I was 13 all over again. My ears are still ringing though, and its been a couple of days.

If you want to see what they look and sound like now, here's the new single.  I lurve it.  And after 25 years, I lurve them still. Sigh... Doodly hearts... What do you think?



And we're not done yet. Because this is an amazing live version of Come Undone featuring Kelis and directed by David Lynch. Featuring grilling wieners and muppets. I am so not kidding. I thought I was hallucinating. I love it so much. What the WHUCK? I want to hang out with them so much more now that I've seen this.



Don't say a prayer for me now, girls...save it for the morning after. Maybe I'll be able to hear. That is, if the ringing stops...

xoxo Lydia

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Thursday, October 20, 2011

Whuck of the Day: I'm Not *That* Thirsty

I don't think that's anatomically correct...
Just to set the scene: Lydia was frantically shuttling between her old house and her new house, trying to get everything moved before the LTSs returned from school. Kate was frantically shuttling through the airport in Atlanta, trying to make a flight.

Kate opened up the Belle email. Lydia opened up the Buzz email. We imagine that we both said WHUCK at the very same time, and then immediately texted each other.

Lydia: Uhhh...
Kate: I KNOW! Are Disney people on crack?
Lydia: I KNOW! I don't want to see any kid -- ewww -- sucking on this.
Kate: I KNOW! And, it's like, what is wrong. It's a girl.
Lydia. I KNO--what? He's not a girl.
Kate: And what's up with the covering up the boobs? Like, she's being coy?
Lydia: Seriously? What the f**k are you talking about?
Kate: The sippy cup!
Lydia: OK. Good. Buzz?
Kate: Gross. Are you making vibrator jokes again?
Lydia: NO! Boobs?
Kate: GAH! She. Has. Boobs. And a straw penis. It's just wrong.
Lydia: I'm dying.
Kate: What?
Lydia: Buzz has boobs?
Kate: What?
Kate: Why do you keep writing Buzz?
Kate: Lydia?
Lydia: DEAD.
Lydia: Buzz LIGHTYEAR has a Woody. Haha.
Kate: Now I'm dead.
Kate: And Belle has a Woody too...NOW I'M DEAD.  


(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

A New Way to Name Kid Stuff

It really, really does. WINNING.
Somewhere deep in my twisted imagination lives an advertising executive. An industry legend cloistered away high in his corner office on Madison Avenue. He is an elderly marketing oracle in a fedora and a sharkskin suit. When modern day Mad Men get stuck for a concept, they consult him. They bring gifts of Cuban cigars and single malt and Perry Cuomo records. And they are never disappointed. For this man is the (imaginary) genius behind the two most awesome and memorable ad campaigns in the history of ever.

"I Can't Believe It's Not Butter" and "Gee, Your Hair Smells Terrific".

That's right. Because naming a product with a random descriptive sentence is BRILLIANT. And as I am currently surrounded with the sticky miasma of a million children's toys and baby products, it occurs to me that they all need to be re-named by this genius of a man. Except let's pretend that he's now slightly senile and therefore brutally honest.

Here are some examples:


Current Name: The Diaper Genie
New & Improved Name: You Don't Want Your House to Smell Like S**t, Do You?


Current Name: Easy Bake Oven
New & Improved Name: Don't Touch That! It's HOT! Just Kidding - It's a Toy.


Current Name: Incredible Hulk Smash Hands
New & Improved Name: Makes Beating Up Your Sister A Lot More Fun!



Current Name: Baby Alive
New & Improved Name: To Them, It's Alive! To You, It's Possessed.


Current Name: Bratz Little Miss Muffet Halloween Costume
New & Improved Name: If You Want Your Kid To Be A "Dancer", This Is A Good Start. (Pole not included)

Current Name: Cap'n Crunch with Crunch Berries
New & Improved Name: Or You Could Just Give Them Some Uncut Cocaine


Current Name: Talking Dora Doll
New & Improved Name: Annoying in Two Languages


Current Name: Busy Ball Popper
New & Improved Name: Teach Your Parents To Fetch



Current Name: A & D Ointment
New & Improved Name: Works Like Magic, Smells Like Yonkers

Current Name: The Best of The Wiggles CD
New & Improved Name: You'll Hate it But It'll Probably Make Your Kids Shut Up for Five Minutes



Current Name: Corn Ball Popper
New & Improved Name: Now We're Even


This post was originally run by Lydia under her real name on The Huffington Post on October 2, 2011.

(c)Herding Turtles, Inc. 2009 - 2011

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