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Nightmare Dinner Guests


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Then when the kitchen was clean and all the left overs were tucked away and we were in our post turkey sleepy mood, he started making chocolate chip cookies and going through everything to find the proper utensil in the kitchen to zest a lemon for the espresso he was making. I almost cried.

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!

I don't care if it's the Queen of England. Nobody but nobody takes it upon themselves to cook something in my kitchen. The guy was obviously looking for some boundaries, didn't find any and proceeded to have his way with your kitchen.

You should have told him no, due to a clause in your home insurance no one but the residents of the abode were allowed to cook in the kitchen. Or some such crazy excuse. Anything to get him out of the kitchen. :angry:

The squeaky wheel gets the grease and the unwanted guest out of the kitchen.

I totally understand. I tried. I told him we had just cleaned, I told him no one was hungry, but the problem was... It wasn't my kitchen it was my ex's kitchen. And he didn't want to confront him about it. Even though he didn't help clean up the disaster that is cooking thanksgiving for 17.

It was horrible and then the roommate came home the next day and complained that the kitchen was dirty. But she's a whole 'nother story...

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Most of yours are far better than mine!  Mine plays on a major pet peeve of mine... poaching in the kitchen.

My husband's family is wonderful.  Really!  I quite enjoy them but their habits play on my nerves at times.

We put together a little party for my husband's graduation this summer.  It was an all day hanging out kind of thing, mostly for family and very close friends.  His family called 2 hours after it started and said they were running late, they'd show in an hour.  They arrived 2 hours later!  The meal plan for the day was lots of mini-bites.  We'd been passing plates of hors d'ourvres periodically as the nibbles all day and were in between passings when they arrived.  They announced that they were hungry so my Mom and I ran into the kitchen to put together more food.  They actually came into the kitchen and were taking food off the plates and out of the various pots before we could get them out!  Wow, that really steamed me!

Worse--my friends, god bless, 'em getting so hammered before dinner that it was all for naught. I learned not to obsess about my cooking as much when I cook for heavy drinkers

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

AMUSE ME

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Ah! Dinner guests! I have rarely had troublesome dinner guests until I moved in with my SO. Neither of us being kids our own kids were well grown.

His eldest daughter called to tell us that she would be coming for New Years since they hadn't been able to see us at Christmas.

They arrived; daughter and her husband; granddaughter, about 10 months pregnant; great granddaughter, spoiled rotten; and grandaughter's fiance.

Trying to give them something homey and nice for a New years feast, I baked a real ham, cooked yams (without marshmallows!), several vegetables and a salad.

Well, it turned out that fiance didn't eat ham, daughter didn't eat sweet potatoes, husband didn't eat vegetables but guzzled beer all day. Pregnant granddaughter didn't eat anything and made the fiance take her to Burger King.

This young woman was so spoiled that she always asked for toast when she came here and then couldn't eat it because it was sour dough or whole grain. Aaargh!

Told Dick that here after all they would get was beef roast and potatoes.

Edited by BarbaraY (log)
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The words "oafish family" above reminded me of someone who used to be, but no longer is, a part of ours. He was married to a close relative, and now is not.

About eight years ago, all our children were here for the week before Christmas, and we had several parties and dinners all together. One night, we planned a very special meal, with Hubby doing his secret-recipe grilled whole tenderloins. I did all the special side dishes and the appetizers.

For the appetizer course, I did the kids' longtime favorites: Shrimp cocktail, which consisted of several pounds of peeled shrimp, beautifully arranged on a platter around a large compote of cocktail sauce, with garnishes of lemon.

The leaves of several artichokes, arranged ditto around a crock of warm Hollandaise.

I had set both tables with beautiful white cloths and the best china and my seldom-used beautiful white Battenburg napkins, a gift from my late Mother. In the den with both appetizer platters were a stack of hors d'oeuvre plates and pretty paper napkins. We had been eating and drinking and chatting for a few minutes when I noticed that "guest" was eating a substantially-larger pile of shrimp than anyone else. He had a larger plate than the rest, plus a big white napkin. He had gone up a flight of stairs into the dining room and removed "his" dinner plate from the table, brought it down and loaded it with shrimp and a liberal dousing of the bright red sauce, and was munching away.

When dinner was ready, we all headed for the table, as I went to get him a spare plate from the china cabinet. He did not come in for a minute, and I found him in the kitchen, where he had tossed all the shrimp tails into the garbage. He was methodically wiping all the red sauce from the plate with my beautiful white napkin. He looked up, saw the spare plate in my hand, flipped his empty hand in the air and said, "Don't bother with that. This one's fine." :raz:

Edited by racheld (log)
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Marlena, my dear, you simply have to let these folks have a link to your story about Shakespeare, the elderlies, and the buffet. I think it'd be appreciated.

if YOU think so Mabelline, then here it is! (ps it ends with a couple of yummy pear recipes)

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?...FDGTU4FQT61.DTL

Marlena the spieler

www.marlenaspieler.com

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My worst dinner guest has to be, and will always be, the woman who came to dinner as the date of a friend of mine several years ago when I was giving my first dinner party as a newlywed with my now-ex-husband. This woman was an anesthesiologist who was on staff at the same hospital as my plastic-surgeon husband.

She came to dinner bearing a bowl of the same dessert I had made. It was as if she was telepathic, for I had not told anyone what the dessert would be. (She also had not said she would be bringing any food.) I felt compelled to serve her version, and left mine in the fridge, even though mine version was better, IMHO.

But that was not the worst thing she did. Not long after my ex and I filed for divorce, I heard from a mutual friend that he showed up at another dinner party with her as his date. Then I recalled that, after my dinner party, my ex was raving about how pretty she was. I am pretty sure the two of them were playing footsy under the operating table, and maybe even under my dinner table.

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Marlena: (small hijack)

You and your husband must take one of those two-week See-Everything-In-England, Wales and Scotland bus tours. He would deem it worthwhile, old hat as it might seem to a native, for the breakfasts alone. Ours was fantastic, and my BIL's high point was breakfast every morning. He spoke of it longingly after dinner, looking forward to the "piled high" rashers and fat glistening sausages and the eggs and broiled tomatoes, the racks of toast and the baskets of buns, the wedges and rounds of delectable rich cheeses, the jams and marmalades with fanciful names like bramble jelly and Tiptree's Bitter. The men in our party (as well as some of the ladies) tucked into a proper Brit spread every morning with the gusto of a troupe of Falstaff's understudies.

As you did, I confined my morning repasts to the vast displays of cereal, arrayed like crumbled sculptures in footed cutglass bowls, the platters and bowls of colorful fruit and yoghurts and juices. Eight hours a day in a confined space, no matter how large and luxurious, is still a bus trip with thirty other people, and still reminds one of the frailties of the body human.

And I was determined to have the whole experience. I wanted porridge in Scotland, just once in my life. So, sitting down amongst all the plenitude, I asked for a bowl of it. The young bright-cheeked server said, "Oh, Madam, the porridge is not for tour guests." I waited a moment, and said, "I'd like to order a bowl."

She repeated, "The porridge is only for HOTEL guests."

Of which I was one, I might add, but there was in her mind a distinction ingrained with her lessons in decorum and bright-cheekness. So I said, "Pretend I just came down and sat down amongst all these tour people. Please bring me a bowl of porridge and bring me a check." Light dawned. "ALLLL right," she smiled and went off to fetch it.

I did, however, serve one of each hot, juicy offering onto my plate on the very first morning. It makes a stunning picture for my album, that classic Brit breakfast which has done so much to make them the stalwart citizens they have always been. (And BIL ate it, in addition to his own).

As we went "wheels up" from Heathrow, I heard a wistful murmur from the row behind me, "Bye, Bye, Breakfast."

Edited by racheld (log)
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-the wife of a new hire slam her fork down at the table and --in a raised voice -- announce that if SHE were doing this party, SHE would serve uncle ben's rice and tuna from a can, "none of this wild rice crap and fish with pepper on it ." The party was to welcome them to the area.

-Fabby

:laugh: Hillareous! It must be pretty to take then over to dinner in the future them, just serve them canned stuffs and they are happy!

Edited by Hector (log)
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My buddy's father had a uh, I dunno quite how to describe it -- a relaxed relationship with his in-laws... His in-laws are a really nice couple -- in their late 70s, very dignified and rather formal -- I think they're trying to make up for the rest of the clan, who are just fun-loving, wacky, eccentric people. They're the sorta "head of the clan" kinda grandparents -- loved by all, except for one thing: They keep their place heated like a freakin' sauna. I've been there. It's unbelievable.

Well, one day, they had their daughter and husband over -- and you'd kinda think a son-in-law would be on his best behavior with his in-laws -- but after a battle of will, over air-conditioning, opening and closing of doors etc., he just took his shirt off. It was just too hot, see?

Then, he took his pants off -- because it was just too damn hot.

Dude ate his meal sitting at the table, in his underwear. Now, that's making a statement!

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:laugh:  Hillareous! It must be pretty to take then over to dinner in the future them, just serve them canned stuffs and they are happy!

Hector, they never were invited back. I can only think of a few times someone has caused such an uncomfortable silence. I felt badly for her husband, who was just horrified, and was saying that his wife wasn't able to be much of a cook with all the moving, three daughters, etc. So, I said, "it's my pleasure to do this, and it's also my profession. I couldn't do what anyone else at this table does ...," and the wife snarled, "well, I HOPE not. ____ is an M.D., and it takes more than just opening a book and a bag to do that." Yowch!

The "hit on husband" stories ... yep, there've been a few of them at my place. Yeah, honey, that's such a dignified thing to do. Tell the boss' wife he's a total babe and you wouldn't mind my life.

Someone brought their three-year old daughter to a dinner party. No, the kid wasn't put to bed -- she was up and at 'em, and expectd to be the center of attention. When she fell and bumped her head, her mother yelled at the people around who weren't watching out for her. :shock: And then asked me to make a peanut butter sandwich and clucked that I had no apple juice on hand (this was way before I had kids myself ...)

Dude ate his meal sitting at the table, in his underwear.
I love this!
"Oh, tuna. Tuna, tuna, tuna." -Andy Bernard, The Office
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My worst dinner guest is a repeat offender yet, has never actually eaten anything that I've cooked.

The mother of my husband's three-year-old, her husband, said three-year-old, and their 2-year-old son are always invited to our home for holidays, parties, and other special occasions. When the invitation is extended, it is always something like this... "Hey! We're (celebrating/hanging out/eating/etc.) this Sunday and you guys are more than welcome to come and (celebrate/hang out/eat) with us! Dinner will be ready around (insert time here)." This woman comes into my home at the appropriate time and will accept beverages from me, but when it comes to the meal she won't eat with us, nor will she allow her husband or children to eat with us. "I've got something going at home." or "We ate before we came." or "We're going to my mother's for dinner." While my other guests are heading for the food, they pack up and leave. Then I get upset and hubby usually has to talk me down for a while.

I don't know what the hell her deal is, but I will continue to extend the invitation until that b---h eats something at my house! :laugh:

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My worst dinner guest is a repeat offender yet, has never actually eaten anything that I've cooked. 

Which reminds me of my worst dinner guest...

A good friend's husband, back East. He's Orthodox Jewish, and for him she keeps a Kosher home, though she's happily tucked into lobster etc. when she and I have had "girls' night out" dinners.

So I invited them over, carefully prepared a vegetarian (pareve) meal using only Kosher ingredients.

He wouldn't touch it. Not a bite. Because my dishes and pots & pans weren't Kosher.

The only thing he accepted was a glass of water, in a glass glass, which could be purified to his satisfaction.

My friend and I ate dinner, as he circulated through the house.

It was not a comfortable situation.

I've never invited him back.

SuzySushi

"She sells shiso by the seashore."

My eGullet Foodblog: A Tropical Christmas in the Suburbs

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Another time, a dinner guest simply wouldn't leave, and sat on my sofa watching television while I clean up.  She ended up crashing on my couch, leaving a livingroom littered with dirty dishes and glasses from raiding the refrigerator at night.

When I was young, and just married, and just beginning to entertain, this used to happen to me all the time. And I literally mean ALL the time. At least two or three times a month.

At first, I'd attempt to wait 'em out, hint around, then try to push 'em out the door. Sometimes that even worked. But mostly, it didn't.

Finally, I just decided what the hell. I'd go to bed. Usually around midnight.

In the morning, I'd get up, go out to the kitchen, step over the bodies lying around the living room, and start breakfast.

At one point, my husband said, "Look, maybe a cup of Jack Daniel's is too much to put into the Irish coffee. Especially since practically everybody has two." (I was serving them in beautiful glass beer steins. And believe me, they were tasty!)

So I cut back. And that did help.

But I still found myself making breakfast for impromptu sleepover guests more often than not.

Actually, for about the next 15 years.

'Til one day, I realized with some sadness, we had all grown up. And the dinner guests were gone by 11.

And even earlier now.

Us old folk don't like driving after dark, you know.

:cool:

Edited by Jaymes (log)

I don't understand why rappers have to hunch over while they stomp around the stage hollering.  It hurts my back to watch them. On the other hand, I've been thinking that perhaps I should start a rap group here at the Old Folks' Home.  Most of us already walk like that.

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And that reminds me of the funniest "sleepover guest" story.

We were living in New Mexico. It was winter. We had a dinner party for about 20-30, which was pretty typical.

I made my grandmother's favorite punch. A whiskey punch.

When asked if he'd like some punch, this one guy says, "I hate punch. It's for sissies and women. And ground pounders. But not me."

So I said, "You ought to try it. My grandmother was a pretty good time gal and she never did like a lot of fruit in her punch."

Now as I said, this was winter in New Mexico. It was cold. And so to save refrigerator space, I had this huge tub of this punch sitting on the hood of the car in the garage.

The guy had several helpings of the punch, and commented upon how good it was. Along about midnight, I went to bed, as usual. The dinner party was still going strong.

The next morning, when I stepped out to the garage to get another dozen eggs out of the fridge, there was my dinner guest. Asleep on the hood of the car, snuggled up to the punchbowl.

Which was empty.

Edited by Jaymes (log)

I don't understand why rappers have to hunch over while they stomp around the stage hollering.  It hurts my back to watch them. On the other hand, I've been thinking that perhaps I should start a rap group here at the Old Folks' Home.  Most of us already walk like that.

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The next morning, when I stepped out to the garage to get another dozen eggs out of the fridge, there was my dinner guest.  Asleep on the hood of the car, snuggled up to the punchbowl.

You know, that's almost... cute. :laugh: Awwww... look at 'im!

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But wait. There's more!

So my husband and I had only been married about a year. We were living in the Philippines in a small house -- two bedrooms, but only one bedroom (ours) had a bed in it.

And we had these close friends. A married couple. They had been arguing a lot lately. And, in fact, had decided that when they moved back to the States (in about two months), they were going to get a divorce. It was sad for all of their friends to contemplate. For one thing, they had two young daughters.

But everyone was trying to make the best of things.

So we have this dinner party. Again, at least 20-30 people there.

And round about 1 am or so, I can't find Bob & Judy. They hadn't said goodbye. They hadn't thanked us for the wonderful evening. They hadn't commented upon how delicious was the leg of lamb. They just weren't around.

I looked outside, and their car was still parked by the curb. I looked out into the back yard where folks were chatting and laughing. I looked into the carport where a DJ had set up shop and folks were boogying. I looked throughout the house, but no Bob & Judy.

Finally, puzzled, I headed toward the back of the house. And I heard giggling. It was coming from behind the closed door of our bedroom. I held my ear close to the door.

Bob and Judy were in our bed, having sex. And clearly enjoying the hell out of it.

So I told my husband and he said, "No way" and we both went and stood outside the door and he said, "Okay, so you're right? What can we do?"

We agreed to do nothing. Just wait until they finished and reappeared and act like we had no clue. Oh, and change the sheets before we went to bed.

My husband and I waited and waited and waited. We kept checking the door.

But Bob & Judy had fallen asleep.

My husband and I slept on our living room floor.

You can imagine how embarassed Bob and Judy were when they finally reappeared around dawn.

But I just looked at them and said, "Anybody hungry?"

What the hell.

Those memories are priceless now.

And as for Bob and Judy....they did go back to the States. They did manage to keep it together for a few more years.

But finally, those good times in the bedroom came to an end.

For us all.

I don't understand why rappers have to hunch over while they stomp around the stage hollering.  It hurts my back to watch them. On the other hand, I've been thinking that perhaps I should start a rap group here at the Old Folks' Home.  Most of us already walk like that.

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Some great stories there, Jaymes. It seems as if finally, the only true love that lasted was between the man and the punchbowl!  :blink:  :biggrin:

Sadly, I had to separate them (because the "punchbowl" was actually my baby's plastic bathtub).

But, knowing men, I'm sure he quickly found a replacement.

:biggrin:

Edited by Jaymes (log)

I don't understand why rappers have to hunch over while they stomp around the stage hollering.  It hurts my back to watch them. On the other hand, I've been thinking that perhaps I should start a rap group here at the Old Folks' Home.  Most of us already walk like that.

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My worst dinner guest is a repeat offender yet, has never actually eaten anything that I've cooked. 

Which reminds me of my worst dinner guest...

A good friend's husband, back East. He's Orthodox Jewish, and for him she keeps a Kosher home, though she's happily tucked into lobster etc. when she and I have had "girls' night out" dinners.

So I invited them over, carefully prepared a vegetarian (pareve) meal using only Kosher ingredients.

He wouldn't touch it. Not a bite. Because my dishes and pots & pans weren't Kosher.[...]

No mystery there, Suzy. You're talking about religious law. It's certainly reasonable for you not to invite him back, but holding his observance of religious law against him doesn't make sense to me. The law is the law.

Michael aka "Pan"

 

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No mystery there, Suzy. You're talking about religious law. It's certainly reasonable for you not to invite him back, but holding his observance of religious law against him doesn't make sense to me. The law is the law.

And so have I told y'all about the time we invited eight Iranian fighter pilots to our home for a "typical American backyard cookout"?

And the guests showed up with several sacksful of groceries? And immediately went into the kitchen and prepared a dinner for themselves and for us to taste? And wouldn't touch my hamburgers?

:rolleyes:

Until after dinner, when they finally confessed that they really hadn't wanted to be rude, but that they had to do something since my husband had told them we were having HAMburgers, and they couldn't eat ham?

Edited by Jaymes (log)

I don't understand why rappers have to hunch over while they stomp around the stage hollering.  It hurts my back to watch them. On the other hand, I've been thinking that perhaps I should start a rap group here at the Old Folks' Home.  Most of us already walk like that.

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My worst dinner guest is a repeat offender yet, has never actually eaten anything that I've cooked. 

The mother of my husband's three-year-old, her husband, said three-year-old, and their 2-year-old son are always invited to our home for holidays, parties, and other special occasions.  When the invitation is extended, it is always something like this... "Hey!  We're (celebrating/hanging out/eating/etc.) this Sunday and you guys are more than welcome to come and (celebrate/hang out/eat) with us!  Dinner will be ready around (insert time here)."  This woman comes into my home at the appropriate time and will accept beverages from me, but when it comes to the meal she won't eat with us, nor will she allow her husband or children to eat with us.  "I've got something going at home."  or "We ate before we came." or "We're going to my mother's for dinner."  While my other guests are heading for the food, they pack up and leave.  Then I get upset and hubby usually has to talk me down for a while.

I don't know what the hell her deal is, but I will continue to extend the invitation until that b---h eats something at my house!  :laugh:

It sounds like you need to make something very aromatic and kid friendly, like macaroni & cheese, something that the kids will clamor for until she can't say no.

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My worst dinner guest is a repeat offender yet, has never actually eaten anything that I've cooked. 

The mother of my husband's three-year-old, her husband, said three-year-old, and their 2-year-old son are always invited to our home for holidays, parties, and other special occasions.  When the invitation is extended, it is always something like this... "Hey!  We're (celebrating/hanging out/eating/etc.) this Sunday and you guys are more than welcome to come and (celebrate/hang out/eat) with us!  Dinner will be ready around (insert time here)."  This woman comes into my home at the appropriate time and will accept beverages from me, but when it comes to the meal she won't eat with us, nor will she allow her husband or children to eat with us.  "I've got something going at home."  or "We ate before we came." or "We're going to my mother's for dinner."  While my other guests are heading for the food, they pack up and leave.  Then I get upset and hubby usually has to talk me down for a while.

I don't know what the hell her deal is, but I will continue to extend the invitation until that b---h eats something at my house!   :laugh:

It sounds like you need to make something very aromatic and kid friendly, like macaroni & cheese, something that the kids will clamor for until she can't say no.

I would make the invitation less ambiguous. Instead of "you guys are more than welcome to come hang out" I would say something straightforward like, "we would love it if you guys would come have dinner with us." I'm not that sensitive to these things, but some people are weirdly formal about accepting invitations.

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But I still found myself making breakfast for impromptu sleepover guests more often than not.

Actually, for about the next 15 years.

'Til one day, I realized with some sadness, we had all grown up.  And the dinner guests were gone by 11.

I also feel a bit nostalgic for those days and the guests that would crash all night and then we'd all share a great breakfast. My hashbrowns were never so appreciated as they were then. I always took it as a sign that they truly felt comfortable in first mine and then our home.

This is a great thread and highly entertaining. I have no horror stories to relate but I love reading them!

"Eat it up, wear it out, make it do or do without." TMJ Jr. R.I.P.

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My worst dinner guest is a repeat offender yet, has never actually eaten anything that I've cooked. 

The mother of my husband's three-year-old, her husband, said three-year-old, and their 2-year-old son are always invited to our home for holidays, parties, and other special occasions.  When the invitation is extended, it is always something like this... "Hey!  We're (celebrating/hanging out/eating/etc.) this Sunday and you guys are more than welcome to come and (celebrate/hang out/eat) with us!  Dinner will be ready around (insert time here)."  This woman comes into my home at the appropriate time and will accept beverages from me, but when it comes to the meal she won't eat with us, nor will she allow her husband or children to eat with us.  "I've got something going at home."  or "We ate before we came." or "We're going to my mother's for dinner."  While my other guests are heading for the food, they pack up and leave.  Then I get upset and hubby usually has to talk me down for a while.

I don't know what the hell her deal is, but I will continue to extend the invitation until that b---h eats something at my house!   :laugh:

It sounds like you need to make something very aromatic and kid friendly, like macaroni & cheese, something that the kids will clamor for until she can't say no.

Been there... done that. These were family style holiday meals and there are always other kids around. Altho'... she did let the little ones have some of my fabulous banana cream pie once.

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