New Jaded Obsession

Just a quick note to recommend this artist to you: Meet Seattle crooner Allen Stone. His voice and tunes make my heart so happy and help to get my creative juices all flowy!

Original Tunes:








And a Stevie Wonder cover!!


I know what you're thinking: he's not my usual type of musical artist. But that voice cannot be denied. I rock out to his album via Spotify on the regular. Get you some!

*smooches...glad that good music and artists still exist*
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radio can't compete with the power of Spotify, let me tell you...

Some Of My Issue With Cabbies: An Overdue Jaded Rant

Let me let you in on a little secret about me: I have a severe dislike of mediocrity and ineptitude. People who do things half-assed or sloppily or lazily turn me into the Incredible Hulk, smashing shit left and right. Since moving back to Brooklyn in 2006, more often than not, I've experienced many a HULK SMASH moment with this City's cab drivers.

I guess what upsets me the most is this- if I'm about to spend all this extra money for a taxi, I need my experience to be worry-free. If the train acts up well, guess what? You get what you pay for ($2.25). That's to be expected; the NYC MTA is janky and we all know this. But if I'm shelling out well over the cost of a MetroCard swipe for door-to-door service, at the very least I need my driver to know how to get to my destination. BECAUSE THAT'S HIS GODDAMN JOB.

I become so annoyed when I give an address (with cross streets, borough and neighborhood for accuracy) and the driver says "How do I get there?" Sir, are you for real? If I tell you I need to get to East 41st Street and forget to mention it's in East Flatbush and you take me to Manhattan, that's my bad. NYC is a big place and many street names are repeated throughout. But if I gave you the general area then it's not unreasonable for me to expect you to know how to get there.

Here's how it usually goes down when I get into a cab:

ME: Hi, I'm going to [insert random address here]

CABBIE: (repeats address back to me and stares off into space) Ummm, where is that?

ME: [insert borough or neighborhood plus a landmark just in case]

CABBIE: (repeats what I just said and starts to drive off slowly) Ummm...so which way should I go?

ME: Listen, if you don't know how to get there just let me out and I'll find someone who does!

I am not your map or your GPS. Your freakin' job is driving people to destinations around the City so please, for the love of my blood pressure, KNOW HOW TO GET AROUND!

Then, of course, we have the issue of cost. Yellow cabs aren't a problem in that regard because there is a meter and whatever the meter says is bible law. But these damn Gypsy cabs and their arbitrary pricing...I haggle and argue all the time because give me a freakin break! Brooklynites, help me out here: it should not cost $20 to go from Atlantic Center to my neighborhood (Greenwood/Kensington) if it costs LESS THAN THAT to go from my house to Bed-Stuy or Williamsburg! (For you non-Brooklyn folks, Bed-Stuy and Williamsburg are a lot further out than Atlantic Center. Wayyyy further, in fact.

Here's how that exchange goes:

ME: How much?

CABBIE: [insert insane price that I refuse to pay here]

ME: [insert Jaded stank face] I don't think so; get your dispatcher on the line and let me talk to him...

I won't even bother to single out any ethnicity in this diatribe because I think you all consider me racist enough, but just know the depending on what shade of brown I see behind the wheel, I already know some level of bullshit is about to go down and I'll have to come out my face at least twice.

All this drama just to get somewhere on time... It's enough to make a girl buy another bike!

*smooches...thinking this might be what pushes me to drive*
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the issues we suffered with cab drivers this weekend were just too much. TOO MUCH!

My Friends Hate Celibacy

FRIEND: I hope your REAL dry spell ends

ME: O_o I'll wait and screw some random Trini guy during carnival in Toronto instead HAHAHA

FRIEND: lol and smuggle AIDS into the US

ME: *dead* I hate you...

FRIEND: You're welcome

*smooches...actively searching for new friends*
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the ones I have ain't shit SMH

"Don't Judge Me Monkey."

I've been looking forward to my birthday weekend all month and this weekend it was FINALLY here- dinner at La Casa de Mofongo and dancing at El Morocco- yes, partying in da Heights!- were on the menu!

I left the house and said to myself, "I'm gonna have a great night out! I'll only have a couple of drinks. I'm Healthy Jaded now, and Healthy Jaded doesn't do shots or Irish car bombs or grain alcohol-soaked fruit. Healthy Jaded is mature and cares about her liver's well-being." Everything was super cool. I had dinner with my family, one tiny tequila shot and lots of water. And I looked amazing!

I'm sexy and I know it!

Then two double-shots of whiskey happened, courtesy of Eb the Celeb, and a hookah that I swear had some kush in it, and it was all downhill from there.

That hookah was laced!

"No pictures!"

The cab-hair struggle is REAL

Legs were done at this point...

...but notice how shapely they are, though!

Yes, I slept on my kitchen floor. And your point is?

*smooches...another year older but none the wiser*
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next year I'm renting a cottage at the Vineyard and calling it a day!

Junk Food Struggles: A Healthy Jaded Update

I fully acknowledge that, along this fitness struggle, food has been my biggest opponent. While I have nothing against fresh, wholesome foods and love to throw down in the kitchen, I often fall victim to emotional eating. Or rather, I use my emotional state as a crutch or excuse to eat poorly. I can only imagine the bad example I'm setting for my daughters, as demonstrated by yesterday's shopping trip with Thug Boogie.

We're in Foodtown, getting the essentials we needed that were on sale (it was the last day to get almonds at $2.69!!) when we came across the dreaded frozen food aisle. Usually I go to that area, grab some frozen veggies and waffles for the girls and keep it moving. But last night I wanted Buffalo wings. And Jamaican chicken patties. And a Salisbury steak TV dinner.

As I stood there salivating for all the really-bad-for-me-yet-tasty foods, N was cheering me on, encouraging me to chuck all of my senses and healthy eating guidelines and buy all of these salty treats. You may as well know: my kids give nan one fuck about a Paleo lifestyle. Nan. One. Fuck.

But as I heard the eagerness in her voice while she egged me on, I realized how much she sounded like a pusher/addict, and that reminded me how these foods take over your body. All of those additives...if I reintroduce them into my body, it's a wrap; I'll get hooked on them all over again and have to start from scratch. I can't do that! So I fought it and walked away. N was not amused...

ME: Stop tempting me with the devil!

N: Stop resisting the devil! The devil is delicious!!

*smooches...thinking of ways to convert my kids*
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I need to tear them away from all these crappy foods!

A Jaded Moment In History Presents: The Wrong Baby

Last year, I told you my birth story, as told to me by Mami. You remember; it's the one where I took a nap in the birth canal. It was all real funny and we all had a good laugh.

Here's another bit of information, relayed to me last by Mami after my birthday dinner; this is both funny and disturbing at the same time.

After I was born and the nurses brought me to my mother, she took one look at me and said, "That's not my baby!" Why? Because all morning she'd seen all these adorable curly-haired, brown babies all over the place, and as she eagerly awaited hers was instead brought a very white, rosy-cheeked, nearly-bald, golden-haired baby.

According to Mami, the only reason she finally accepted that I was hers was that she'd seen my aunt born just two years prior, and I was her absolute twin.

So thanks, Tia Rossi; you saved me from a life in foster care.

*smooches...wondering what I'll learn next year*
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I'm telling you; the older folks get, the crazier the shit they tell you gets!

Before I Was Jaded...

...I was Papi's little Cascarita Bermudez, Titi Gloris' Piquito and everybody else's Cuchita. I had chubby cheeks and a pouty mouth, and eyes that always looked ready to cry.

You could always find me not too far away from the kitchen, the TV or my stereo, and at any given time I'd have some 15 books checked out of my local libraries. I loved to swim, had tons of pets and dreamed of being an entertainer.

I looked like this:

And listened to this:







Now I'm here in this place (well not HERE in the computer...you know what I mean, dammit) where the words live, and it's beautiful. I'm at peace with who I am, I cherish who I'm becoming everyday and I love what I do in this world.

I appreciate the fragrant flowers growing in my neighbor's front yard and look forward to every walk through the park that I take. I still marvel at the lights in Times Square and get a little bit giddy when I can introduce my daughters to a tiny piece of New York they never knew existed.

My friends are still my friends and they still bring joy to my heart. My family, however tattered since Grandma died, is still the collective unit that has my back no matter what; I'm still their Princess, and no amount of afros or tattoos or risque stories will change that. We've grown and evolved together. Womb to tomb; birth to earth!

I want to say Thank You to everyone who made it easy and possible for me to be me, in this place, where the words live.

Thank Heaven 4 You by esthero

Thirty-seven years never felt this awesome.



*besos...to the entire Universe on this most festive occasion*
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everyone have a drink for me; I'm in detox mode until Saturday!

Love Matches

Last week, a co-worker asked if I knew about the compatibility of a Taurus and an Aries (I didn't) because she'd met someone and was curious what was written in the stars for them. Now your favorite Jaded NYer puts very little stock in shit like that- you either work out with someone or you don't. When you were born has nothing to do with it.

Or does it?

Out of curiosity I looked up compatibilities for myself and a few of my former beaus and found the "analysis" to be eerily accurate for a few of my exes:

Gemini & Scorpio

Gemini's imagination and Scorpio's dynamism can make a good combination if only these two are able to get along together. They are close in the sexual relationships, but that is not enough...Scorpio is sensual, passionate, demanding, jealous, inflexible. Gemini is fickle, flighty, superficial, lighthearted, changeable...It will probably be a kind of relationship that is not easy to cope with with difficult marriage as a result.

Gemini & Sagittarius

These two are opposites in the zodiac and are attracted to each other like magnets. They are both tireless, changeable and not frank enough as lovers. Gemini are inclined to criticize the Sagittarius' behavior in bed. They may be disappointed sexually, since neither is demonstrative-and Gemini is very quick to criticize.

but so incredibly wrong for my ex-husband:

Gemini & Leo

An affectionate pair who really enjoy each other. Both Leo and Gemini have strong desire to have a passionate, emotional life. Sexually, Leo loves whole-heartily and Geminis variable desires are a complete mystery to him/her...It will be an acceptable connection and, surely, safe marriage in the future.

If I ever just wanted to date myself, however, it'd be fuckin' awesome:

Gemini & Gemini

You won't find a more versatile, charming, or vivacious pair. They are fascinating conversationalists, have tons of friends, and together they'll throw some marvelous parties. Sex is fun and games. On the other hand while this connection can be very pleasant for both sides, it may lose it's stability very quickly. Because their needs are shared and they have mutual understanding of the likes and dislikes of the other then they will be highly in tune sexually. There will be a mad love between them, and marriage won't become an accident. Such combination is possible and it will be the most interesting couple that you know.

but unfortunately Virgos and I are doomed to fail:

Gemini & Virgo

Both are Mercury ruled and have a mental approach to life. But similarity ends there; these two are star-crossed from the beginning...The Gemini will show indecision...Gemini will start searching for entertainment with someone else...their sex life soon turns chilly. This is going to be as short as flash relationship, which has not a chance to last long time.

But it's all bullshit anyway, right? RIGHT?

*smooches...still not believing in this mess*
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I mean, look how monumentally WRONG they were about my ex-husband!

Faking It Til I Make It

It's my birthday week and in honor of this holiest of holy occasions, I wanted to reflect on some shit.

Clearly I'm not where I thought I'd be at all- two kids, single parent, heavy debt, fat belly, battling depression. None of that was ever in my plans. But here is where I am so that's that.

Last week, however, as I felt myself sink into one of my usual funks, I tried hard to fight it with positive thoughts and affirmations, something a friend told me she does in the mirror every morning before she leaves the house. My version of that is usually just to check and make sure I'm still relatively good-looking, because I'm vain like that. It never occurred to me that I should give my self a pep talk, too.

So here are my weapons against depression, the things I'm hoping will bring less cloudy days in the future:

1. For the first time in forever, I love my job. It still challenges me, I'm surrounded by books and literary things, and my coworkers are a fun bunch. I like going there everyday; I look forward to it.

2. I still have my health. I've not gained any weight back, my blood pressure is lovely and I don't get winded so quickly anymore. I am currently having slight issues with my uterus but I won't give in to the worries. Everything will be fine because I'm taking care of myself, as opposed to my usual method of avoidance until a trip to the ER is needed.

3. I have a great family. They're funny, quirky, crazy, infuriating, supportive, amazingly flawed and loving, and they're all mine. I honestly wouldn't have it any other way.

4. My friends are awesome. They keep me (relatively) sane, smiling and on the right side of the law. For the most part!

5. I live in NYC, where the summer is about to swoop in and make my life 10x more awesome than it usually is via free concerts, beautiful sunny days and lots of travel within the continental US and Canada. And who knows, maybe the Caribbean, again, just because!

This is in no way a cure, but I'm making a conscious effort to just decide to choose happiness over mopiness. And sometimes that will mean that I need to pull away and be in my own company for a while, to regroup. But it's all a means to an end...

*smooches...typing this post with a smile on my face*
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I can still be Jaded and smile, right? or is that un-thug-like?

Just A Quick Peek

If you come to Princeton on Saturday to hear me read, you'll get to experience the whole thing.

But for now, all you get are the covers!

*smooches...hoping for a good event*
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I didn't organize it so people might actually show up! special shout out to the homie Marcin Kaliski for the amazing design!!

Soccer Mom Carpool...On Foot

Here's a math sentence that sums up my life as of late:

Me + active babies - car = UGH!

I've always been proud of the fact that I never learned to drive. I know it's silly, but I feel it makes me a REAL NYer to not have a license. "Why do I need to know how to drive? Everything I could ever need is withing walking distance. All the other stuff is just an hour away by subway!"

However, over the last couple of weeks, I've caught myself uttering the phrase "I wish I had a car." Things have been so busy for me lately and if I had a car I could get around faster (or maybe not, considering the traffic situation in Manhattan). The girls have a lot going on, I have a lot going on and last week's ANNOYING TREK all the way out to East Elmhurst convinced me that there are some places in the Tri-State area that are better reached by car.

So whatever, this is all to say...wait for it...next month, I am going to the DMV to get my permit. Then, I will sign up at a driving school and take lessons. OR I could just continue to hide behind my car phobia and refill my MetroCard like a BAWSE. But most likely I'll get the stupid permit and pay for the stupid lessons. There. Happy now?

*smooches...not really enthused about this idea*
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there's a really good chance I'll forget on purpose by mistake, so don't hold your breath on that license...your small children and outside pets are safe. for now.

"Real Cool, 'Cause Brooklyn's Cool..."

Ignore the fact that this is a Virgin Mobile ad and focus on the fact that the message is the god-honest truth.

*smooches...proud to be from Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, New York, USA*
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it would be cooler if I had a brownstone, but I'm gonna let that one go...

Your Grandparents Had A Lot Of Sex...And Other Shit That Will Fuck Up Your Day

>>The 12-grain bread you love so much, the one that was supposed to keep you healthy, is loaded with sugar.

>>Your hotel room's previous occupants did unspeakable things on the bed you're sleeping in. And in the shower. And on the mini fridge.

>>Under the right circumstances, your pet WOULD kill you and then eat your face off before someone can discover your mauled body.

>>Your grandparents had a lot of sex when they were your age, and the longer they live the more likely you are to find out about it. Or hear it happening in the next room.

>>There's a whiskey-flavored lubricant on the market called Whiskey Dick. *crosses Dark & Stormy off favorite drink list*

*smooches...wishing I didn't know any of this*
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unfortunately I can't un-hear what's already been said *sad face*

Vanity Post: The Afro Break

I love my curly hair, I really do. We've been feuding my entire life but the love we share is incomparable to any other I've known. But lately I've been longing for my bone-straight, shiny, bouncy, fresh-from-the-Dominicans hair.

So on Saturday night, after a hellish day of working out until I literally dropped, I decided to dust off my blow dryer and hot iron, and did this to my hair:

Courtesy of Raquel's Dominican House of Beauty

The ends are looking pretty scraggily--a definite sign that I need to visit my stylist in Washington Heights for a trim--but overall it's healthy, strong and long.

My straightened hair was Mami's Mother's Day gift

Understand that I've not straightened my hair in over a year. I made a decision to stop killing my locks with heat in an attempt to hide my ethnicity n shit. Yeah, I got a bit too militant about my 'fro--the more my family complained about it the bigger I let my hair get.

However, all "politics" aside, the thing that has always made me appreciate my hair is its versatility. Not many people can go from super big curly afro to silky tresses in an hour without chemicals. I appreciate the curl pattern, texture and strength of every strand of hair on my head. These locks have dealt with Kool-Aid dye jobs, bleached streaks, chemical relaxers, henna coloring and deep conditioning with mayonnaise. Yes, the food product mayonnaise.

And still, here I am, with a full head of strong hair.

That said, I decided to straighten it. No offense to my African ancestors but I think I'll be rocking my Anglicized hair for a bit. At least until it gets too hot to go without wetting my scalp everyday. But I must warn you--my straight hair is wayyyy sluttier than my curly hair. In other words, hold on to your husbands...

*smooches...flipping my hair back and forth*
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no, seriously, I was in front of a mirror practicing talking with my hair, then I sat down to a fake interview with Wendy Williams where we discussed my hair for a full seven minutes. I may or may not need help.

"Unfold Me...I Am Small"

I'd kill for two days--just TWO DAYS--where I don't have to talk to, see or be around anyone else. Except maybe one person who'd come along and pamper me. One person to take on all the responsibilities I'm sick of dealing with. I don't want any of it. You can have it all.



"I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe..."

*smooches...so tired of doing it all*
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right now my biggest goal in life is to do absolutely nothing

Come To Princeton Junction; I'll Make It Worth Your While

I'm taking the show on the road again!

In Our Voice: Fiction Readings by Local Writers

May 19, 2012, 

3:00-5:00 pm

West Windsor Arts Center

[Historic Princeton Junction Firehouse]

952 Alexander Road

Princeton Junction, NJ 08550

TICKETS: $6/$5 members | At the door

If you can make it please let me know. Need an incentive? I'll be unveiling a super secret project after the reading. Join us!!

*smooches...with butterflies all up and through my gut*
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new audiences make me nervous

Brooklyn In Mourning

First we lose Adam Yauch (aka McA) of the legendary Beastie Boys, then literary giant Maurice Sendak. It's almost to much to bear. And it's not fair.

"I cry a lot because I miss people. They die and I can't stop them. They leave me and I miss them more..."
-Maurice Sendak, 1928-2012

*smooches...for everyone left behind*
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it's not been an easy few days over here

Tales From The Motherland, Part 1

Last month I took a little trip to the Dominican Republic. It's been nearly 15 years since I'd been there last to bury my grandmother, and, coincidentally, this trip was right on the tails of K & N's paternal grandmother dying. We only had five days to make this a fun and memorable trip and we were determined to make it happen.

Let me tell you- we had fun. We saw lots of family, ate great food, relaxed and took in some sun. But my Santo Domingo is not your Santo Domingo. People hear that you're traveling to the Caribbean and they get all jealous and begin to daydream about white, sandy beaches, clear-blue waters and lush resorts. Well, honey, that's not where I stayed.

Remember East New York or Bushwick in the 80s? Well imagine that but 10 times more dangerous and gritty. Nearly naked kids in the street using plastic bags and strings as kites. Stray dogs so thin and lethargic they looked like they were about to die any second. Stray cats everywhere, begging for scraps. And everyone living behind metal gates and padlocks.

We did not have the key for that padlock.
Once we were locked in, that was it for the night!

I heard tales of a growing crime spree against women, similar to the violence occurring in Mexico. And before I could go shopping at the local Olé (aka the Dominican WalMart) I had to remove my nameplate. Apparently even a 40-year-old gold necklace with my name on it would mark me as a victim in the street. But they speak of it so casually, as in, "Oh yeah, this block is OK but over on 3rd Street? They'll kill you for five pesos." OH WORD?! Remind me to stay here on 11th Street, then. Thanks.

Not 3rd or 11th streets, but in the vicinity.

I'm from BedStuy, so I'm no punk. But the kind of crime and danger I was being warned about in Los Mina-the kind that made my grandfather's friend shove me into the house because it was after midnight and anyone could have snatched me and the girls off the street-that shit is definitely new to me. I mean, I'm used to riding the subway at four in the morning, traipsing up and down Minna Street without a care in the world (except for racoons; they're all over my block!). This snatching people for ransom...I just...

As we settled in for the night, Papi said to me (as he left to go sleep at his girlfriend's house-MORE ON THAT LATER), "Lock the door behind me and then prop up the chair up against it." EXCUSE ME, SIR??

I slept maybe two hours that first night, snuggled up with my babies in a full-sized bed, praying we'd see the morning and listening intently in case that chair began scraping across the floor...calculating in my head how much time it would take me to grab that shank Papi kept on the dresser.

For the record: 3.2 seconds. I wasn't going down without a fight.

*smooches...promising more uplifting travel stories soon*
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it wasn't all bad; I just had to keep it real for a second.

Language Lessons

ME: (After K trips into the subway car) Is this your first time taking the train or something?

K: (In a bad Southern drawl): Yes, I'm from Alabama...y'all. Hoedown.

[insert side eye from me]

K: I don't know what Southern people say. Grits. Madea.

*smooches...hoping no Alabamians are offended*
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but not really caring if they are.

Jaded Photographs: May 2012 Edition

"YUP!"

*smooches...barefoot and happy*
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I can't believe I wasted most of my life cramming my poor feet into those torture devices.

"I Want A Sunday Kind Of Love..."

Ever since Santo Domingo I've been taking a pause from soca for more merengue and music from the Fania All-Stars heyday. While perusing YouTube for Bobby Rodriguez videos, I found this amazing (Japanese?) orchestra. They do a great rendition of the song Rodriguez, in my opinion, made famous:



Groove with me; let's make believe it's Sunday. Spin me around the dance floor. Never mind if the movement flounces my skirt and exposes my undies. I wore clean ones just for such an occasion.

*smooches...dragging you into my salsa world*
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you'll love it here. I promise!

Maintaining: A Healthy Jaded Update

I'm just going to come out and and admit that I've been lax in my workouts and mindful eating. THERE. I SAID IT. I'm not at yoga and socacize every week the way I used to be. I haven't been to a gym in well over a month and my swim classes ended in late March. Part of it is money (as in, I don't have the cash to pay for all these things anymore) and another is plain old "I don't feel like going!"

My eating has been a bit (okay I'm lying, VERY) out of control, too. Part of that is stress eating and the other is "Fuck it! I want this pizza slice so I'm going to eat the shit out of this pizza slice!" I've even been drinking again, too. It has been a bit of a mess over here.

However, I have continued to walk home from work almost every day (it's about a 40 minute trip) and I take the stairs to my office all the time (it's only the third floor but still; it counts). I also still have mini soca dance parties in my kitchen on random days. And I guess for the time being that's enough to keep the weight I lost from coming back, as evidenced by one of my favorite tees that just last season was too embarrassingly snug to wear out in public:

I flipped the image so you could read my AWESOME shirt!

This is OK for now. It's not where I thought I'd be but I'll take it. And I do have a slew of fitness classes coming up in the very near future so I'm not being a complete lazy lima bean, but I guess I always (still!) thought I had to be working out like mad 24/7 and eating only lettuce and celery sticks in order to stay fit. Turns out that just walking, albeit A LOT of walking, can sometimes be all you need to keep the body from exploding back up to 200lbs. I don't plan on staying here but for now I won't beat myself up or freak out. My clothes fit awesomely so I'm in no rush.

*smooches...refusing to stress over my body*
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once you start obsessing over shit is when bad decisions like binging & purging start to look like viable weight loss options!

Wooing

HIM: Who is that on [the screensaver of] your phone?

ME: Idris Elba. That's my boo.

HIM: Really?

ME: I have a thing for Black men with accents.

HIM: (in a great fake Jamaican accent) Wha gwaan gyal...

*smooches...still laughing at that mess*
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a great sense of humor is priceless in my eyes

Back, I Guess.

Every time I take a blogging break, I reluctantly come back. Why reluctantly? Because I love not being a slave to this site. Why not just shut down? Because I'm no quitter.

Anyways, we're back- a little tanner, more relaxed, and with a few more reasons to smile. So I won't come back all crunked out as I usually do; instead, a little island love (because it's still on my mind):

Sergio vargas - si algun dia la vez by Junior Abreu

So yeah, the babies' paternal grandmother died and we still haven't dealt with that but eventually will. Instead, we went to Santo Domingo and chilled with family for about five days. I didn't get to see my grandma this time around but it's okay; I don't think I was ready anyway. I visited her sister instead and that helped.

This month I'll just focus on the energy I brought back with me from the island. I know I was born here but really, that place feels more like home to me. Damn shame.

Also, 37 is right around the corner. YIKES!

And I know I'm all over the place; it's still hard to focus. I'm on Santo Domingo time, where the days go much slower than here in Brooklyn. It was lovely. But we'll get into that later. For now, "Hello again. Pull up a chair. Let me share some tales with you..."

*smooches...cruising through a bittersweet homecoming*
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you'll please excuse my scattered brain for a few more posts. thanks.