Over a delicious meal of pho with a friend of mine on a rainy Wednesday not too long ago, I was regaled with utterly amazing stories about her dad, and how he was on a crusade to liberate his community from the scourge of Canadian geese.
Utterly entranced by her storytelling, we headed back to Arlington and discussed the types of stories we’d like to write about. Completely out of nowhere, I got a blast from the past; a memory I hadn’t visited for ages, but an experience nonetheless that served to shape me, for better or for worse:
What it was like to get shitfaced, 1994 style. Wow, 1994... a heady year of lousy music and shitty fashion. A year I was lucky to make it into junior college due to my horrible high school academic record.
Now, before I, as the French say, "go somewhere with this," I’d like to get something off my chest first. It’s my personal belief that alcohol consumption in America is a lot like nudity in America. You and I can’t handle it. You see, you and I aren’t to be trusted. Now, who in America knows what's right and wrong for us without the benefit of having actually knowing us?
Jesus freaks and soccer moms.
I came to this conclusion like so: I distinctly remember Janet Jackson’s infamous “wardrobe malfunction” a few years ago. Specifically, I recalled the exact thoughts that were running through my mind when I saw her breast, laid bare for the world to see: “holy shit! Tits! I wanna gun down a Sunday school and come home so I can cheat on my taxes!” Ugh! We’ve let personal freedom and freedom of choice get held hostage by a bunch of damn holier-than-thou types.
At any rate, for all the negative things I could say about my parents, they never once treated alcohol like forbidden fruit. I remember when my dad was going to technical school when I was a kid, and he had a part-time job at a liquor store to bring in a few extra bucks. One day, I saw a commercial for Busch (“Head for the mountains… head for Busch beer!) and asked my dad what it tasted like. He said he’d try and wrangle a stray can and let me have a sip.
Now, for all the bad shit I could say about my father, he was really chill about certain things, and wasn’t afraid to treat me like an adult provided I didn’t abuse this privilege. So I took my first sip around the age of five, and immediately made the connection beer=nasty! I’d be permitted to take the occasional sip or 4 ounce glass of beer once in a blue moon, but I never really developed the taste for it. In high school a friend and I got the bright idea to mix wine and soda (blech!) and in my senior year, I’d buy the occasional can of MGD off of an acquaintance of mine. But I never went crazy with it. I’d say over the course of my high school career, I drank the equivalent of about half a bottle of wine, and maybe a six pack.
That all changed one fateful day. I was a student senator at my junior college, and the activities board hosted its annual retreat for the student leaders of each major campus organization (student senate, foreign language clubs, Phi Beta Kappa, the school newspaper, etc.). It was a two day retreat held in December 1994 somewhere up in the Catskills in New York State, specifically at a Jewish resort whose two claims to fame were (and I have no way of confirming this) that it was the inspiration for Dirty Dancing, and supposedly had the country’s first indoor heated swimming pool.
We did the normal bullshit icebreakers and teambuilding exercises on the bus ride up. Several times during the journey, they cautioned us that there would be hell to pay if we were caught visiting the resort’s bar if we were underage. I honestly thought nothing of it. I wasn’t there to drink… right?
Well, being the anal retentive type that I was back then, I changed into a suit after checking in. I really have no idea why, aside from the fact that I thought I ought to look professional (which is funny, because I absolutely hate having to wear suits nowadays. Funny how 10 years in the working world will change your views like that). So after the various workshops, etc. we were left to our own devices after dinner. I remember walking down to the lounge area and joking with one of my friends that I ought to try heading up to the bar and asking for a drink. Hey, I was the only one in probably a 50-mile radius wearing a suit, right? So you just know I’ve gotta be legit! After a bit of encouragement by my friend, I made my move.
I recall being nervous. Very nervous. Trying to bluff your way through your first underage purchase is like putting your hands down your girlfriend’s shirt for the first time: you’re trying to play it all calm and cool, but meanwhile all you want to do is make a beeline for your drink/her tits. While I knew fuckall about what I should get, I intuitively knew not to order beer or some trendy cocktail. Something that’d get the bartender’s antennae up. No way... I gotta olden it up a bit.
“Beefeater. On the rocks. And make it a double!” I had no damn idea what I just really ordered. I knew most late teens didn’t drink gin, and asking for a double on the rocks sounded a bit more middle-aged, like something out of a black-and-white movie. And I made sure to say "make it a double" as an afterthought while I proceeded to light up a cigarette. I figured there'd be something so casual yet mature about this. Like that extra thought into putting some acting talent into my drink order would help out. Well, it did. I got my drink and promptly got the hell out into the hallway and away from the bar, eager to not only whet my whistle on the demon drink, but to also giddily brag to my friends that I, GQ smooth, the epitome of grace under fire, just got served.
Turns out leaving was a good thing. Someone I knew who was at the bar at the time told me the bartender did a double-take as I was leaving. “Man, I should’ve carded him. But he was wearing a suit!” was how my friend described the bartender’s reaction.
I decided not to push my luck, and in any event, some of the college admins (including a few deans) were still up and hanging around. I gracefully quaffed my drink and retired for the night. It was a good thing I got nice and rested. Because the next day was absolutely insane.
Turns out the last evening we were at the resort, the deans and professors were strangely absent after we were done for the day. So a few of us work up the nerve to try to get served, and this cool-as-shit older bartender (a WWII vet) was serving everybody, including one of my friends who honestly looked to be in his early teens! Naturally, since about 80 percent of the students on this trip were underaged, we were tipping like crazy. While I won’t go into complete details about the night’s debauchery, I will say that I managed not to throw up that night or the next day.
In retrospect, I have to believe that this all went on with the knowledge and blessing of the college administration. I’m sure they figured hey, we’re out in the middle of nowhere with about four feet of snow on the ground. We don’t have cars and we can’t wander off even if we wanted to. Why not let ‘em cut loose for once? Trust me, the resort wasn’t that large, and it would have been damn easy to bust us (especially since I’m pretty sure I saw the president’s wife watching the proceedings at one point. They knew we were getting our jollies off in a secure environment, and the resulting hangovers that pretty much all of us were sporting turned out to be an appropriate penance. And I must say the bus ride home was damn quiet!
I tried the whole suit business a few more times at bars by my house in the months afterwards, as well as when I went to my four-year school the following year. Eventually I tired of it, and decided that my luck would run out at some point. Better to quit while you're ahead, right?
So, what did I learn from all of this?
1. Don’t order beer (ESPECIALLY Bud or Miller) if you’re trying to get served and you’re south of 21. Dead giveaway! Don’t order any trendy mixed drink crap like Sex on the Beach or a margarita. This also ties in nicely with step 2, which is...
2. Don’t go to anyplace that serves the gimmicky drinks in step one. Go to some shitty blue collar dive (and not a hipster “blue collar” dive. You want the real deal). Order stuff like boilermakers, Old Fashioneds and Manhattans. Don't try to make small talk, but don't make it look like you don't belong, either. Sip your drink in peace.
3. For god’s sake, don’t dress like a broheim or sorority bim! I’ve seen at least one person get busted with fake IDs that might have gotten away with it, but they were dressed in stupid shit like a polo and shorts and a backwards baseball cap. In December. Amateurs.
They say you never forget your first. Ahh! To be young and completely in love… with your first glass of Beefeater. On the rocks. And a double!
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Sunday, May 3, 2009
I Feel Like Chicken Tonight!
Yeah, that's how the old Shake N' Bake jingle went. And when I'm truly hungry and time's a factor, well baby... I feel like chicken tonight.
I got back from a long day of modeling (upcoming post about that one) and when I got back to my apartment, I needed something quick and easy to make. My default meal in these situations always revolves around chicken.
In this case, fried chicken. Aside from steak, I think fried chicken is my favorite meal. When I was a kid, fried chicken was served very, very rarely. Never as a home cooked meal, and rarely as a fast food option, as neither one of my parents cared for KFC or Popeyes.
So ever since I got out on my own, I indulge myself in fried chicken whenever I get the urge. I've come up with a few tried and true recipes over the years, but I decided to do something a little different tonight.
But first, I made sure to start with the basics. Not any part of the chicken will do. Breasts are okay as far as a boneless, skinless, healthy option goes. But fried chicken defies any sort of notion of "healthy," so that's out the window. Wings are great on their own, but they're more of a snack as opposed to a meal. Drumsticks are pretty good, but there's only one part of the bird that can possibly serve as the vehicle for fried goodness...
Thighs. I get 'em in packs of four. Rip 'em open and trim off the excess fat and skin. Believe you me, when I was just starting to experiment with cooking, I thought cutting off all that skinly, fatty goodness was a sin. But trust me on this one: your bird will taste much, much better if you take the time to trim the excess flab off.
Now, I've battered up my bird with a variety of mixes over the years: flour, seasoned flour, breadcrumbs, corn flakes, panko, etc. Today, I decided to try something a little bit different.
Tortilla crumbs. Frankly, I never knew they made ground up tortilla crumbs. But I was at the local Harris Teeter today and saw this:
I was intrigued. So on a whim, I picked up a container. I was getting a bit tired of the usual flour-and-spice mix I'd almost always dredge the bird in. Time for something with a little crunch!
Okay, so now I've battered the thighs in egg and rolled them in the tortilla crumbs. Time to fire up Old Faithful.
In this case, Old Faithful is the CoolDaddy deep fryer I got at Macy's a few years back. Yeah, she looks a little beat, but she can still fry with the best of them!
Seventeen minutes later... TA-DAAAAAAH!
I sprinkled a little McCormick Chicken seasoning prior to putting the thighs in the fryer. And when I took them out, I doused them in Tony Chachere's Cajun Salt.
There's nothing like piping hot fried chicken, straight from the fryer, on a nasty, grey, drizzly day!
I got back from a long day of modeling (upcoming post about that one) and when I got back to my apartment, I needed something quick and easy to make. My default meal in these situations always revolves around chicken.
In this case, fried chicken. Aside from steak, I think fried chicken is my favorite meal. When I was a kid, fried chicken was served very, very rarely. Never as a home cooked meal, and rarely as a fast food option, as neither one of my parents cared for KFC or Popeyes.
So ever since I got out on my own, I indulge myself in fried chicken whenever I get the urge. I've come up with a few tried and true recipes over the years, but I decided to do something a little different tonight.
But first, I made sure to start with the basics. Not any part of the chicken will do. Breasts are okay as far as a boneless, skinless, healthy option goes. But fried chicken defies any sort of notion of "healthy," so that's out the window. Wings are great on their own, but they're more of a snack as opposed to a meal. Drumsticks are pretty good, but there's only one part of the bird that can possibly serve as the vehicle for fried goodness...
Thighs. I get 'em in packs of four. Rip 'em open and trim off the excess fat and skin. Believe you me, when I was just starting to experiment with cooking, I thought cutting off all that skinly, fatty goodness was a sin. But trust me on this one: your bird will taste much, much better if you take the time to trim the excess flab off.
Now, I've battered up my bird with a variety of mixes over the years: flour, seasoned flour, breadcrumbs, corn flakes, panko, etc. Today, I decided to try something a little bit different.
Tortilla crumbs. Frankly, I never knew they made ground up tortilla crumbs. But I was at the local Harris Teeter today and saw this:
I was intrigued. So on a whim, I picked up a container. I was getting a bit tired of the usual flour-and-spice mix I'd almost always dredge the bird in. Time for something with a little crunch!
Okay, so now I've battered the thighs in egg and rolled them in the tortilla crumbs. Time to fire up Old Faithful.
In this case, Old Faithful is the CoolDaddy deep fryer I got at Macy's a few years back. Yeah, she looks a little beat, but she can still fry with the best of them!Seventeen minutes later... TA-DAAAAAAH!
I sprinkled a little McCormick Chicken seasoning prior to putting the thighs in the fryer. And when I took them out, I doused them in Tony Chachere's Cajun Salt.
There's nothing like piping hot fried chicken, straight from the fryer, on a nasty, grey, drizzly day!
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Mondoburgers
I made a couple of what I like to call mondoburgers for lunch. It's not a Jasonburger, because a Jasonburger (named after me because it's that damned good!) requires ground up sausage to go in the mix. However, a mondoburger is pretty damned good on it's own. It's an exercise in gluttony, but if you can come up with a better foodgasm, I'd love to hear it.
The first thing you'll need are a couple of beef patties (duh!). Normally I go for fresh ground beef, but Giant had some prepackaged, preformed patties with bacon and cheese mixed in.
Now normally, I'd advise you to cook your burgers to medium rare, with straight-up medium being the highest temperature you'd want to settle for. Unfortunately, I've found pre-made patties to come out well-done regardless. However, while well-done is a sin for steak, for a burger, it's usually forgivable. Mostly since as long as you've got a decent fat content (I recommend 80/20. Yeah, I know it's a coronary under shrinkwrap), your should still get a somewhat juicy burger even if it's cooked thoroughly.
Next, you need bacon. Now, I'll be the first to admit the love affair with bacon has gone waaaaay too far (baconnaise, bacon salt, etc.). Enough already! It's the culinary equivalent of "irony" or horrible internete memes like "all your X belong to us." Over-fucking-done. But nothing compliments the taste of a burger than a couple slices of crisp bacon. I got a thicker cut applewood-smoked bacon, which was billed as being cruelty-free and free of hormones, preservatives, etc.
Pretty damn tasty looking, huh? Well, if you think it looks good raw, lick your lips in pleasure as I present to you the frying of the bacon:
Okay, so now that the bacon's done cooking, all we need to do is put the bacon on the burgers for a minute and take 'em out, right?
Wrong! Fill in the blank: some people like bacon and _________ for breakfast. Yup, now we're gonna fry up some eggs :) Two, to be precise. Mmm... eggs!
Some people like to have their eggs a yolky mess when they serve 'em on a burger. Frankly, I've found it to be a little too messy. I recommend over medium, so you still get some yolk mixing in with your burger, but it's not a dripping mess.
Okay, so now the burgers are ready to go, and I've added mayo, lettuce, pepperjack cheese and hot sauce, all on top of a potato roll. Behold, the finished product:
Yeah, I'm getting a heart attack just looking at it. Trust me, this is something I make myself once in a blue moon. Enjoy!
The first thing you'll need are a couple of beef patties (duh!). Normally I go for fresh ground beef, but Giant had some prepackaged, preformed patties with bacon and cheese mixed in.
Now normally, I'd advise you to cook your burgers to medium rare, with straight-up medium being the highest temperature you'd want to settle for. Unfortunately, I've found pre-made patties to come out well-done regardless. However, while well-done is a sin for steak, for a burger, it's usually forgivable. Mostly since as long as you've got a decent fat content (I recommend 80/20. Yeah, I know it's a coronary under shrinkwrap), your should still get a somewhat juicy burger even if it's cooked thoroughly.Next, you need bacon. Now, I'll be the first to admit the love affair with bacon has gone waaaaay too far (baconnaise, bacon salt, etc.). Enough already! It's the culinary equivalent of "irony" or horrible internete memes like "all your X belong to us." Over-fucking-done. But nothing compliments the taste of a burger than a couple slices of crisp bacon. I got a thicker cut applewood-smoked bacon, which was billed as being cruelty-free and free of hormones, preservatives, etc.
Pretty damn tasty looking, huh? Well, if you think it looks good raw, lick your lips in pleasure as I present to you the frying of the bacon:
Okay, so now that the bacon's done cooking, all we need to do is put the bacon on the burgers for a minute and take 'em out, right?
Wrong! Fill in the blank: some people like bacon and _________ for breakfast. Yup, now we're gonna fry up some eggs :) Two, to be precise. Mmm... eggs!
Some people like to have their eggs a yolky mess when they serve 'em on a burger. Frankly, I've found it to be a little too messy. I recommend over medium, so you still get some yolk mixing in with your burger, but it's not a dripping mess.
Okay, so now the burgers are ready to go, and I've added mayo, lettuce, pepperjack cheese and hot sauce, all on top of a potato roll. Behold, the finished product:
Yeah, I'm getting a heart attack just looking at it. Trust me, this is something I make myself once in a blue moon. Enjoy!Friday, May 1, 2009
25 Things You May Not Know About Me
Okay, so I completely ripped this off of my Facebook profile. But I modified it slightly. In any event, I thought this was cathartic enough that I wanted to post it onto my blog. So there!
1. The older I get, the more liberal I get. It's funny, because it's usually the opposite with most people.
2. I have a problem with authority figures. A real problem. This almost never bodes well for me. I’ve never been inclined to click my heels and offer a hearty “jawohl, Mein Fuehrer” just because someone wears a suit and tie and is telling me what to do. Similarly, I don’t automatically respect someone just because of their position or status. My respect is earned through your actions and deeds, not because of how aged you are or how long you've been doing whatever the hell it is that you do.
3. For years, I had issues learning how to process anger constructively. It was the one emotion that I was never allowed to express as a child. Love, sadness, fear, happiness, joy… that was all perfectly fine. Even when I cried, my parents were totally cool with it. But anger was the one emotion I was never allowed to show, and it took me ages to learn how to channel such emotion constructively and not let it consume me. I’ve also come to realize that in the grand scheme of things, there are precious few instances where getting angry really does anything… life’s too short to get crazy pissed over stupid shit!
4. I’m an only child and wouldn’t change that experience for anything. I always drew my energy from internal sources (reading, drawing, make-believe games). While there are a few negatives that I think came from it (I’m a bit guarded in lending out my possessions, for one thing), on the whole, it was an immensely positive experience.
5. Consequently, I’m the type of person that would rather have a handful of deep friendships rather than many superficial “friendships.”
6. Hot dogs used to be one of my favorite foods for years. Now? I can’t stand the sight of one. Blech! I used to steer clear of white wine and hearty ales up until recently, at which point they replaced my usual imbibing choices of red wine and domestic pisswater (though my man Michelob and I are mad tight. Word is bond).
7. My most revealing moment in recent memory? Taking my clothes off in front of a roomful of strangers. One day I realized that I hadn’t done anything outside my comfort zone in ages. So I model nude on occasion for art classes.
8. I’m a homebody. There’s no denying it any more. Given the choice to go to an intimate gathering at a friend’s house or go bar-hopping, I’ll choose the former every single time.
9. I cross myself and say a small prayer whenever a hearse passes me. I figure whoever’s in the back needs all the help they can get!
10. I am spiritual but not religious, at least in the sense that I participate in any organized religion. I have never felt comfortable in church for reasons I cannot explain (but readily feel). The quickest way to alienate me is to bring up your religious beliefs. I didn't ask, and I don't care.
11. If I see you spit on the sidewalk, my first thought is that I feel bad that your mother did a piss-poor job raising you, and wonder if coming from a long line of peasants is something you're particularly proud of.
12. People who can’t be arsed to hold the door open for the person behind them? Please refer to no. 11.
13. I am probably the only person I know that will actually listen to the director’s commentary in a porno movie, particularly one from the late 70s/early 80s.
14. I majored in political science and used to be really up on current events and public policy. Now? I cannot stand them and will visibly tense up when people bring such matters up. Please do not discuss your politics with me, especially if I’ve only known you for a few minutes. There's a reason why politics and religion are considered verboten amongst decent people.
15. I still lament the fact that Pepsi Kona (that coffee-flavored Pepsi) was discontinued. It was the best soda ever and that is a FACT!
16. For reasons I cannot fully articulate, I could not stand being barefoot as a child, and cannot stand wearing shoes and socks as an adult.
17. Yet I also own close to 30 pairs of shoes and God knows how many pairs of colorful socks. I cannot fully articulate this either.
18. Eyes freak me out, and I cannot bear looking at someone putting in their contacts without getting sick to my stomach.
19. I am a fragrance junkie and probably have 30 bottles of cologne.
20. Up until a few years ago, getting dressed was easy: random shirt+slacks/jeans=good to go. Now it takes me forever getting dressed, as I’ve become a clotheshorse and have to constantly cycle through my shirts and pants.
21. I collect fonts. Seriously. Particularly extravagent script fonts. Write me a letter or email in Amienne, Dear Joe, or Corinthia and I will definitely not forget it!
22. Whistling is one of my major pet peeves.
23. I cannot text for the life of me. I hate cellphones to begin with, and compounding that, I just cannot bring myself to type out “o hai, can u srsly come 2 my parti l8r? Bai!” I absolutely HAVE to type it out in full!
24. I still have a lot of my old Dungeons and Dragons books, even though the last time I played was during Desert Storm.
25. My iPod has anime soundtracks, songs in Simlish (that nonsensical “language” from The Sims), and videogame soundtracks, in addition to actual, you know… music. If someone ever steals my iPod, I fully expect them to track me down later and give me a wedgie.
1. The older I get, the more liberal I get. It's funny, because it's usually the opposite with most people.
2. I have a problem with authority figures. A real problem. This almost never bodes well for me. I’ve never been inclined to click my heels and offer a hearty “jawohl, Mein Fuehrer” just because someone wears a suit and tie and is telling me what to do. Similarly, I don’t automatically respect someone just because of their position or status. My respect is earned through your actions and deeds, not because of how aged you are or how long you've been doing whatever the hell it is that you do.
3. For years, I had issues learning how to process anger constructively. It was the one emotion that I was never allowed to express as a child. Love, sadness, fear, happiness, joy… that was all perfectly fine. Even when I cried, my parents were totally cool with it. But anger was the one emotion I was never allowed to show, and it took me ages to learn how to channel such emotion constructively and not let it consume me. I’ve also come to realize that in the grand scheme of things, there are precious few instances where getting angry really does anything… life’s too short to get crazy pissed over stupid shit!
4. I’m an only child and wouldn’t change that experience for anything. I always drew my energy from internal sources (reading, drawing, make-believe games). While there are a few negatives that I think came from it (I’m a bit guarded in lending out my possessions, for one thing), on the whole, it was an immensely positive experience.
5. Consequently, I’m the type of person that would rather have a handful of deep friendships rather than many superficial “friendships.”
6. Hot dogs used to be one of my favorite foods for years. Now? I can’t stand the sight of one. Blech! I used to steer clear of white wine and hearty ales up until recently, at which point they replaced my usual imbibing choices of red wine and domestic pisswater (though my man Michelob and I are mad tight. Word is bond).
7. My most revealing moment in recent memory? Taking my clothes off in front of a roomful of strangers. One day I realized that I hadn’t done anything outside my comfort zone in ages. So I model nude on occasion for art classes.
8. I’m a homebody. There’s no denying it any more. Given the choice to go to an intimate gathering at a friend’s house or go bar-hopping, I’ll choose the former every single time.
9. I cross myself and say a small prayer whenever a hearse passes me. I figure whoever’s in the back needs all the help they can get!
10. I am spiritual but not religious, at least in the sense that I participate in any organized religion. I have never felt comfortable in church for reasons I cannot explain (but readily feel). The quickest way to alienate me is to bring up your religious beliefs. I didn't ask, and I don't care.
11. If I see you spit on the sidewalk, my first thought is that I feel bad that your mother did a piss-poor job raising you, and wonder if coming from a long line of peasants is something you're particularly proud of.
12. People who can’t be arsed to hold the door open for the person behind them? Please refer to no. 11.
13. I am probably the only person I know that will actually listen to the director’s commentary in a porno movie, particularly one from the late 70s/early 80s.
14. I majored in political science and used to be really up on current events and public policy. Now? I cannot stand them and will visibly tense up when people bring such matters up. Please do not discuss your politics with me, especially if I’ve only known you for a few minutes. There's a reason why politics and religion are considered verboten amongst decent people.
15. I still lament the fact that Pepsi Kona (that coffee-flavored Pepsi) was discontinued. It was the best soda ever and that is a FACT!
16. For reasons I cannot fully articulate, I could not stand being barefoot as a child, and cannot stand wearing shoes and socks as an adult.
17. Yet I also own close to 30 pairs of shoes and God knows how many pairs of colorful socks. I cannot fully articulate this either.
18. Eyes freak me out, and I cannot bear looking at someone putting in their contacts without getting sick to my stomach.
19. I am a fragrance junkie and probably have 30 bottles of cologne.
20. Up until a few years ago, getting dressed was easy: random shirt+slacks/jeans=good to go. Now it takes me forever getting dressed, as I’ve become a clotheshorse and have to constantly cycle through my shirts and pants.
21. I collect fonts. Seriously. Particularly extravagent script fonts. Write me a letter or email in Amienne, Dear Joe, or Corinthia and I will definitely not forget it!
22. Whistling is one of my major pet peeves.
23. I cannot text for the life of me. I hate cellphones to begin with, and compounding that, I just cannot bring myself to type out “o hai, can u srsly come 2 my parti l8r? Bai!” I absolutely HAVE to type it out in full!
24. I still have a lot of my old Dungeons and Dragons books, even though the last time I played was during Desert Storm.
25. My iPod has anime soundtracks, songs in Simlish (that nonsensical “language” from The Sims), and videogame soundtracks, in addition to actual, you know… music. If someone ever steals my iPod, I fully expect them to track me down later and give me a wedgie.
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