2005
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My mama, God rest her, used to say "Pretty is as pretty does and you are <em>always</em> judged by the persona you project and the company you keep." Now, if you were to look at me on any given day, you would assume that I was a a pretty tough bitch who kept company with some pretty rough customers (<em>so to speak</em>). I tend to wear my hair loose and unruly, and it's Lucille Ball on crack red with a Cruella deVille streak. My nose is pierced, my ears as well - a total of ten times. I lean toward water filled push up bras, skinny strapped tanks and tight, low-slung jeans (<em>despite my low-sling belly, lol</em>), the rattier the better. Thanks to my very high arches I walk very well in three inch spike heels.
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Dressing up on a Friday night means piling on every piece of tacky, bangly, dangly jewelry I have, the longest, sparkliest earrings I own and spraying enough product in my hair that I'm always a minute away from going up in flames ala Michael Jackeson in a Pepsi commercial. Add Alice Cooper rings around my eyes and just a bit of slick on my lips and there you have it.
I also swear like a sailor, with "cocksuckin' <strong>BITCH</strong>" being my favorite oath; on a good night I shoot stick better than most men, I snap gum roughly once a second and prefer my nails long and blood red or black with silver sparkles. I also have a very large back tattoo, as well as several others, all of which are <strong>VERY</strong> visibly placed on my body. I can honestly say I was one of the first women in this part of the state to have a tattoo on my forearm, when other woman preferred to have delicate, discreetly placed tattoos and it was <strong>LONG</strong> before Cher's decorated ass paraded across the deck of that aircraft carrier. Before my age caught up with me, I could wrestled a keg of beer up a basement steps and spend eight hours in the woods - in January - cutting and piling firewood. I can and have changed my own oil, rotated my own tires and I've installed an over the range hood from scratch.
If you're picturing a broad that would be perfectly at home in a crowd of long-haired bearded bikers, you'd be right on the money. Because that's who I <strong>AM</strong>.
However ...
I also designed and maintained a website for a local Christian based attorney for three years. Even though his offices were a little over six miles from my home, we did all business by phone and e-mail, so when we finally met at his office, just my delicate diamond nose stud and feminine rose tattoo kind of flustered him. He admitted to having a totally different picture of me in his mind.
For three years I did the nails of one of our local "ladies of distinction", you know the type: her husband has some cushy office job and is on the city board. She has her nails and hair done once a week, is tanned to perfection and does charity work instead of working a "real" job. She thought the stud and tattoos were "quirky and fun" and called me "odd, in a cute sort of way". I held her hands for an hour every week and she shared some of her deepest, darkest secrets with me. We ran into each other at a wedding several summers ago; the groom was a running buddy of ours and had grown up next to her and her husband. When she saw the <strong>REAL</strong> me, tight black jeans, pointy-toed spike boots, leather vest and the girls peering prettily over the top of a see-through lace bodysuit, her mouth <strong>LITERALLY</strong> fell open and she was struck speechless. It was several minutes before she could bring herself to speak to me, and I swear she <strong>NEVER</strong> brought it up at my job.
So ... I tell you those stories to tell you <strong>THIS</strong> story:
In the past month or so there has been a great deal of drama on a certain Internet advertising venue involving providers, clients, the law and in some places God himself. There are horror stories of stings being conducted by ladies and clients both, nights spent in jailcells, threats and promises of eternal damnation and the whole mess seems to be spiraling into bedlam, complete with name calling, nasty personal emails and panic in the streets, especially in the Chicago area.
I compare the whole situation to McDonald's and a really great local Italian restaurant. Both are offering the same thing, there are people who prefer one over the other and there's room enough for both of them; the guy who eats regularly at McD's will occasionally splurge for a full course meal at Luigi's, the gentleman who <strong>NEVER</strong> eats a meal at a table without a linen tablecloth and a good bottle of chianti will pass those Golden Arches and find himself craving a Big Mac. Then there's the guy who don't give a shit one way or another because his ol' lady makes the best fucking meatloaf in town.
Smell what I'm cooking here?
If you can't take the heat - literally - spend a little more <em>lira</em> and get out of the <em>cucina</em>.
Or like my dear departed mama said: You are judged by the company you keep.
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Added on: 12/07/05 09:59
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<EM>How can you tell when a redhead has PMS?</EM> You <STRONG>CAN'T</STRONG>
Red ...
Traffic lights and brake lights announce danger. Some animals use the color to announce the mating season or to issue a warning. Red in advertising is used to evoke erotic feeling ...
Blondes may have more fun, but redheads are fiery, unpredictable, hot-tempered and highly sexed creatures who leave more scratchmarks on your back. Redheads have had an unfortunate history - from being burned as witches, sacrificed to the gods, feared as demons and condemned as unlucky or downright mad - but they have also been worshipped, idealized and fetishized, leaving their flaming mark on the world at large. Recorded history is full of such puzzling contradictions: redheads are goddesses and god damned, royalty and rapists. Red hair has also historically signified social and cultural deprivation, promiscuity, witchcraft and even prostitution.
<EM>What do you call a redhead with an attitude?</EM> <STRONG>Normal </STRONG>
Aristotle wrote: "The reddish are of bad character" and redheads were burnt as witches in medieval Poland and valued at twice the going rate on the slave block in Normandy. Greek mythology tells of redheads becoming vampires after they die, flame-haired females were burned as witches during the Inquisition and Hitler forbade marrying redheads for fear of producing "deviant offspring". In the nineteenth century, according to Marion Roach, author of The Roots of Desire: The Myth, Meaning and Power of Red Hair, it was believed that redheads were the strongest scented of all women, exuding the aroma of amber and violets.
Old sayings such as "red hair, evil hair" and "red beard - devil's way" still exist in some rural areas of Europe. In some times and places, that stigma was a death sentence. Even today, Sicilian children cross themselves at the sight of a redhead in order to guard against the mark of the devil. In the Bible, red is connected with Satan, lust and betrayal; biblical fear of red hair may stem from the belief that Judas Iscariot was a redhead.
<EM>How can you tell when a redhead has been using a finicky computer?</EM> <STRONG>There's an ax in the center of the monitor</STRONG>
Redheads are theoretically the result of pillaging Viking rapists, and their reputation for a temper as scorching as their tresses has captivated mankind since they first materialized upon the earth (<EM>Oxford University scientists think the "ginger gene" - which is responsible for red hair, fair skin and freckles - could be up to 100,000 years old</EM>).
<STRONG>Frothy Redhead</STRONG>
Ingredients:
<UL>
<LI>3 scoops Vanilla ice-cream</LI>
<LI>1/2 glass Club soda (or Sprite)</LI>
<LI>1/2 glass Red wine</LI>
<LI>Granulated Sugar</LI>
</UL>
Mixing instructions: Add in listed order. Do not shake. Garnish with 2-3 grapes and sprinkle with
sugar.
Uh can I get a yuck? I'd rather have a:
Red Headed Slut
<STRONG>Ingredients:</STRONG>
<UL>
<LI>1 oz peach schnapps</LI>
<LI>1 oz Jagermeister® herbal liqueur</LI>
<LI>cranberry juice</LI>
</UL>
Mixing instructions: Chill and serve in a shot glass.
Less than one percent of the human race may be redheads; depending on estimates and definitions, between 2-6% percent of the U.S. population has red hair. True coppertops are more rare than lefthanders or gays, almost as scarce as hens' teeth, sometimes making them feared, ridiculed and/or revered.
Daniel Sessler, University of Louisville anesthesiology researcher, states there's evidence that redheads are more sensitive to certain types of pain. "After a previous study we received more than 100 communications from redheads who claimed that anesthesia often failed or that unusually high doses of local anesthetics were required to achieve adequate analgesia," he says.
I don't know about that, but I <STRONG>do</STRONG> know that I'm always cold and that my threshold for pain is practically non-existent. And dental work? Fuhgeddaboudit. My dentist has to either knock my ass completely out or give me enough gas to float me off into la-la land.
<EM>Why aren't there more redhead jokes?</EM> <STRONG>Someone made the mistake of telling them to a redhead.</STRONG>
"It's taken over ten years of research to find the facts and information that I present in this book - information that defines the redhead culture - without really identifying it. [...] More interesting to me were the surveys and studies that show how redheads are perceived by others, and how they perceive themselves. I was also fascinated to find all the strange historical data concerning redheads, with contradicting folklore and fables. I'm proud to be a redhead [...] " The Redhead Encyclopedia by Stephen Douglas
"Redheads do what blondes dream of." ~ Nicola Phillips
The Realm of Redheads is an online community of nothing but redheads, but be warned: the Realm is not a personals site or a dating service most of the members are already married or involved with a significant other, and have no interest in being propositioned.
My husband's all-time favorite joke: What's the difference between a blonde and a redhead? A blonde's a redhead that's had the fire fucked out of her.
Helen of Troy was a redhead. Cleopatra was a redhead. The ancient goddess of love, Aphrodite, was a redhead. Botticelli's "Birth of Venus" shows a redhead. Titian painted so many redheads, his name became a label for a particular shade of red. Columbus was a redhead. As was Isabella of Spain. Leif Erickson found the continent ahead of them, and Thomas Jefferson shaped up America afterward. Alexander the Great, Leonardo da Vinci, Catherine the Great, Charlemagne, Napoleon Bonaparte, Winston Churchill, Hernando Cortez, Oliver Cromwell, Ponce de Leon, the Marquis de Sade, Queen Elizabeth I, Galileo, Vladimir Lenin, Mary, Queen of Scots, kings of Sweden, France, Germany, Bavaria, Austria, Scotland, Ireland and Persia, and eight kings of England, including Henry VIII and William the Conqueror were all redheads.
"It takes a redheaded woman To get a dirty job done" ~ Bruce Springsteen
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Added on: 11/19/05 00:30
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Having always been a big fan of words I found myself following a recent thread on a friend's mailing list with great interest. The heart of the thread was the unflattering euphemisms that have been tacked onto providers and the business in general and whether or not there were, or could be, something more descriptive and less demeaning.
<em>One poster wrote:
[...]what terms could possibly be of use? I think the word tryst has a very good sound and is very descriptive. So, providers could be called trysters. If however, you wanted to intensify it by the type of provider, "tryster" could refer to a GFE, tryxter to a PSE, and tryxxter to a very wild PSE.</em>
Ha! "Tryxter" makes me think of an 80's hair band. In fact, I think ... hang on ... yup: <a href="http://www.vh1.com/artists/az/id_18039/artist.jhtml " target="_blank">Trixter</a> - "Give It To Me Good", circa 1990. More a "Baby Metal" band than a hair band, I guess, but the song fits, lol.
There are/have been quite a few labels for providers and the profession over the years. Some of them don't make any sense to me and some of them seem to refer more to women who give it away rather than those who make a living doing it, but they're all colorful and descriptive:
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<em>Adventuress, asphalt angel, B-girl, bag, bangtail (<em>apparently 19th century slang for whore</em>), bawd, bimbo, blower, 'bo, Brass Flute (<em>British rhyming slang for prostitute</em>), broad, call girl, camp follower, cat, chicken, chippie, comfort woman (<em>Japanese</em>), companion, concubine, courtesan, doxy, fancy girl, fancy woman, fallen woman, flatbacker (<em>GI Joe slang for prostitute</em>), frail sister, French velvet, floozy, harlot, ho', hoochie, hooker, hoor, hostess, hussy, hustler, lady of the evening, lady/woman of the night, lady of ill-fame/easy virtue/ill-repute, loose woman, lot lizard, jezebel, lost sister, midnight cowboy (<em>?</em>), model (<em>?</em>), moll, nymphomaniac, painted lady/woman, party girl, pickup, pink pants (<em>lol</em>), prairie dove, pro, professional girlfriend, public woman, red light lady, round heels, saloon belle, sex worker, slattern, scarlet woman, shady lady, slut, sportin' girl/woman, street angel, streetwalker, strumpet, tart, tomato, tramp, trollop, vamp, wench, white slave, whore, working girl ... and my all time favorite: soiled dove.</em>
There are very few of those words, taken out of context, that don't immediately make it very clear what someone is talking about. Companion and hostess are actually the only two that don't immediately bring the profession to mind. Unless of course, you're in a conversation specifically about prostitution.
I've had occasion over the years to be on the receiving end of a few of derogatory terms slut and tramp come immediately to mind by women who took offense at me for one reason or another, usually because their man (<em>or some man they <strong>wished</strong> were theirs</em>) paid too much attention to me. When I was younger my feelings were hurt at the contempt those women held for me. It was only after I grew older, and wiser, that I understood their taunts could be considered more of a compliment than an insult.
The truth is that women as a whole, are evil, catty and insecure creatures. Finding themselves, or even thinking themselves lacking in any way, the female will attack that which is threatening their self-confidence in the most derogatory manner possible. So the pretty, funny, confident woman/girl/young mother at the bar/nightclub/supermarket automatically becomes a whore or a slut.
Similarly, if the insults were coming from men, I came to recognize them as thinly veiled episodes of sour grapes. Men, to a lesser extent, but much in the same way, will deride or verbally degrade that which they want, but can't have. In their roundabout way of thinking, men will tell themselves that if a woman doesn't want them, she must be useless and not good enough for them. Men will try to convince themselves, and anybody that will listen, of her non-existent virtue and obvious lack of worth.
On the other hand, my husband has called me those same words in the midst of passion and not only haven't I taken offense, I've found myself more excited, actually driven, to act the part. (<em>Of course, if he called me a slut in the middle of an argument it would probably earn him a shot to the balls. No doubt there's a lesson to be learned there somewhere.</em>)
These days, due in no small part to my maturity and the growth of a somewhat thicker skin, I find myself embracing and, at times, reveling in some derogatory insults. For instance, I take great delight in being referred to as a "bitch". I've worked very hard over the years to earn that name and I deserve it. "Trailer trash" and "Biker bitch" are two more terms that I don't have a problem with these days.
What it boils down to, and always has, is a lesson I learned when I was about fourteen years old: I know what I'm doing and the people that I love know what I'm doing. That's all that matters. That's all that should matter.
The rest of the world be damned.
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Added on: 11/15/05 11:43
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Despite the fact that I access the Internet in a completely empty house as opposed to a busy office, I've never been too fond of background music on web sites. Not only because of the load time, but because most web page music is so utterly fucking annoying that I would rather ream my ears out with the tip of a metal coat hanger than listen to it. That said, I don't presume to speak for others, and if you feel from your innermost soul that you absolutely <strong>MUST</strong> have the midi version of "Roxanne" blaring on every page of your web site, at least give your viewers the option of turning it off (<em>and keeping it turned off</em>).
Here are a few other things you might want to keep in mind as well:
The music file of choice for newbies is the MIDI file. MIDI files usually sound like they're coming from one of those cheap keyboards and are very likely to make your site seem it was done by a fourth grader, not an adult service provider. A midi is a file containing instrumental music and take very little space compared to mp3s and other audio files. The size of the midi-files depends on how many instruments are used. A normal midi, maybe three minutes long, doesn't take much more than 30 kilobyte of space, or about six seconds download-time on a normal 56 kbps-modem. The problem with MIDI files is that they can sound different on every computer, but most will sound fine on most computers. If you must have one on your page, here's the polite way to code it in (<em>remove the "." before the word "embed"</em>):
<blockquote>< .embed src="the_name_of_the_midi_file.mid" align="baseline" border="0" controls="smallconsole" autostart="true" loop="true"></blockquote>
A large number of surfers listen to their own music while surfing, so when they hit your page and "Roxanne" starts blaring, it plays over the top of the music they were listening to and makes a God-awful racket, driving them to either stop their music or leave your page instantly. Take a guess as to the choice most people will make. And they likely won't come back, either.
Odds are, your choice of music does nothing to enhance your site, anyway and even if you beat the odds, the majority of people aren't going to have the same taste in music as you. Truth is, the opening bars to "Roxanne" have been known to cause me grasp my head and howl in frustrated agony and it's likely that no matter what tune you choose, you're gonna have that effect on somebody.
Also, believe it or not, there are still folks out there surfing the World Wide Web with nothing more than a 56k modem. I <strong>KNOW</strong>, it's unbelievable, but it's true. Think of them as the Amish of the cyber world. If you have unfettered music bouncing all over your site, their computer, whether they have their volume turned up or not, is still gonna download that file and bring their poor old PC to a grinding halt, if not completely crash their browser. And they won't even know why. If you're gonna abuse somebody, for God's sake give them the option of choosing to be abused (<em>and charge for it, girly!</em>)
Bottom line, it's preferable to give your viewers as much choice as possible on your site. If you really want music to play, offer a "Play Background Music" link for those who want it. If you still want to force it on the visitor, please offer us a way to stop the music.
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Added on: 11/10/05 22:08
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<strong>The title of this entry refers to how the sites offered by the "free site builder" titles ALL of their sites ... it is NOT reference to business ... just part of my bitch</strong>
<em>www.xxx.com/ - Very escort friendly and 100% free!
It will guide you strait through building it even if you don't know what your doing at a key board.</em>
Can't do anything about those pesky spelling errors, though, eh?
Arrrggghhh! "FREE" websites are the bane of my existence. <strong>NOT</strong> so much because they're conceivably taking business away from me - though I <strong>WILL</strong> admit that's part of it - but because they're ugly and they're all alike. How many times have you seen these banners? Are one of them <strong>YOURS</strong>?
(In order to see this bitchfest in all its graphic glory, please refer to <a href="http://blog.highheeldesigns.com/?p=29" target="_blank" title="Welcome on my Escort Site!">this</a> entry at my work-blog:
According to <a href="http://www.webster.com/cgi-bin/dictionary?sourceid=Mozilla-search&va=rare" target="_blank" title="Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary">Webster's</a>:
Main Entry: <strong><sup>1</sup>rare</strong>
Pronunciation: <tt>'rar, 'rer</tt>
Function: <em>adjective</em>
<strong>1:</strong> marked by wide separation of component particles <strong>: <a href="#">THIN</a></strong> (<em>rare</em> air)
<strong>2:</strong> <strong>a:</strong> marked by unusual quality, merit, or appeal <strong>: <a href="#">DISTINCTIVE</a></strong>
<strong>b:</strong> superlative or extreme of its kind
<strong>3</strong> <strong>:</strong> seldom occurring or found <strong>: <a href="#">UNCOMMON</a></strong>
Twenty individuals, two designs. Which of these are the rarer, and which one is gonna stand out in Mr. Man's mind?
Even if anybody finds these pages, which is highly unlikely because they have absolutely <strong>NO</strong> search engine optimization whatever, who the hell is gonna remember them? They're all <strong>ALIKE</strong>!!! Isn't the point in Internet advertising about the freedom of individuality, about reaching millions, about being remembered? And for ASPs, isn't it about getting <strong>THE CALL</strong>?
Men are fools and, God love 'em, they tend to let the little feller do their decision making. Many of them will admit that freely. The bottom line is that men are visual monsters, they can't help it, that's how they're hard-wired. No matter <strong>WHAT</strong> kind of enticing descriptions are written on your "About Me" page, even if they skim over it looking for the goodies, they're <strong>NOT</strong> gonna remember it (<em>well, they <strong>MIGHT</strong> remember what "language" you speak</em>). Nor will they remember the 4-5 grainy photos you're allowed on most "free" sites with the great big "watermark" across them. They're gonna remember the huge 800 pixel header bar across the top of the page and the "banner" - which look like literally thousands of others.
Of course, YMMV. This whole rant might be because I woke up with a zit roughly the size and texture of a fucking <strong>GRAPE</strong> on the corner of my lip this morning, approximately five thousand flies that have decided to "snowbird" it in my house and the dog's decidely unmanicured paw in my face.
Feh ...
I gotta go to work.
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Added on: 11/03/05 11:51
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Mondays are usually my "day off". My self-imposed task for the day, because I've been asked a total of eleventy-million times since I made the decision, was to write an entry as to why and/or how I ended up designing websites for the escort industry.
And I got
Absolutely nothin'.
Apparently, my creative juices were drier than an AA meeting in a convent of menopausal nuns. The thing is I am obsessive, and once I get an idea in my head, I figuratively chew on it and chew on it until it looks nothing like what I started with or I choke on it and have to spit it out.
I fell in love with the craft of web design back in 1997 when I started my own first "homepage" on one what would be one of several free hosted sites. It was made with Netscape's <strong>WYSIWYG</strong> editor and full of the pre-requisite bells, whistles and enough shiny, twirly things to send you into an epileptic fit. How utterly cool I thought it was.
By 2000 I discovered <a href="http://notetab.com" target="_blank" title="Thank you, NoteTab for showing me the error of my ways">NoteTab</a> and figured out that all the pretty things were actually manipulated by <strong>WORDS</strong> - some of my all-time favorite things, whether spoken or written - and I became an HTML snob. By mid-2000 I'd purchased my first "vanity" domain, which still exists today, and in early 2001 opened up shop as a web designer.
More or less.
I've had clients over the years, but in the beginning it was like pulling hen's teeth. I often tired of the struggle and would waver back and forth about giving the whole thing up. There was the summer I would go to <a href="http://craigslist.com" target="_blank" title="classifieds and forums">craigslist</a>, start at the top and troll for anyone looking for a web designer, some days emailing out thirty or more resumes. I was determined to start making a living doing something I loved, but it was a hard go. Occasionally, I'd run across an ad placed by an escort, but never lingered for whatever reason.
The truth is I can't remember when it came to me to offer my services to women in the Industry. It might've been after reading a few of the blogs at <a href="http://www.escortblogs.net" target="_blank" title="where providers say what's on their mind">EscortBlogs.net</a> and feeling a sort of kinship with the women who'd written them or it may have been seeing one more escort website with some incredibly beautiful pictures plopped down in the middle of horrific coding. In any event, I put HHD together in less than a month and started advertising.
My husband and the friends that know what I do (<em>I don't hide it for the most part, my life is weird enough anyway that no one is surprised when they find out what I've branched out into</em>) seem to think that I spend my day immersed up to my eyeballs in tits and ass. I guess to a certain extent I do. But unless I come across a particularly gorgeous shot or something that squicks me out more than normal, I mostly don't notice the nudity. It's not as if I'm doing hard-core porn here, y'know.
I've found that the women I come into contact with are more polite and less condescending than nearly <strong>ANY</strong> of my mainstream clients or contacts, and they have no problem thanking me for my work or recommending me to colleagues and friends, something that was <strong>HARD</strong> to come by in my mainstream business. I've actually gotten more paying jobs since offering my services to the ladies of the escort industry than I did in over <strong>SEVEN FUCKING YEARS</strong> of mainstream design.
I can't say I had an epiphany of any kind or that the HTML gods smiled on me, but I bust my ever-widening ass up to twelve hours a day trying to make a living at this and I'm starting to reap the rewards in a very short time. My friends roll their eyes when I tell them that is a job, just like any other one. Except that the scenery is a little more exciting than say, booze bottles or food trays. And I never have to ask "D'ya want fries with that?"
For the most part, my escorting clients are just as normal as my mainstream clients. They're doing a job, offering a service, using their skills to make a living, just like I am.
Here's to ya, ladies. Y'all fucking rock.
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Added on: 11/01/05 09:21
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Is there some kind of rules as to who can or can't have a blog here? I mean, do you have to be an active member in "the business" or can you be in a somewhat related business, or perhaps just be a hobbyist?
I've searched the site over and can't seem to find anything stating definites one way or the other, but an earlier post of mine has disappeared.
Thanks,
Bella
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Added on: 11/01/05 01:12
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