i am a 32 year old 24 year old

You Are 32 Years Old

32 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?">

normally, i don't do these things, but i had a sneaking suspicion i was either nine or ninety-nine. remember those magic pen games that you used to get at k-mart? "fun for ages 8-88!" i always felt bad for that 89 year old who just needed a way to pass the time but was simply a year too old.

the cheese wore a tie

my place of employment had its holiday party this past saturday. it was held at a swanky banquet hall (a swanquet hall), and the whole evening had the feel of a fancy wedding where, as a guest, you spend the whole night ripping on the bride and groom. the dinner was filet mignon served with itty bitty vegetables. it seems the smaller the vegetable is, the classier it appears. if a big honking carrot had been plopped onto my plate, i would have been slightly taken aback. but the bright orange baby carrot? so elegant! the normal sized zucchini would have had me wondering if i was dining at a mom and pop farm stand- but the teeny weeny baby zucchini? that required no elbows on the table and a napkin on my lap. dignified! although, it may have been in poor taste to loudly proclaim how my baby zucchini resembled a very small penis. so cultured!

chris and i danced a little, which we rarely do together because, as a couple, we have no rhythm. watching us slow dance is like watching a train wrap around a tree in extra slow motion, body parts and ticket stubs dropping every which way. the sight of the open bar was a delight to everybody's eyes, especially for some of the underage tellers. one kid i worked with downed a couple of long islands and then proceeded to run around the banquet hall until he crashed right into the senior vice president. do i hear 'promotion?'

i realize that i work for a great company, for which i am grateful. lenscrafters never fed me miniature vegetables and filet mignon. they certainly never invited me somewhere that offered unlimited cocktails and the chance to dance on a polished floor. never was there an event where the tables were sprinkled with rose petals. once, we ordered in pasta from the olive garden, but even that night was tarnished due to somebody forgetting to get silverware. ever eat spaghetti with a piece of cardboard? not so easy.

i must be out, or i'd pick up the phone

last night was the most cost-efficient evening of my life. first on the menu, an eye exam from my good friend, dr. eric. eric and i go way back, or at least a little way back, and last night he "donated" an eye exam to me. tax write-off for him, confidence that i will not run over a dog in the night for me. then, he gave me enough trial contact lenses to last the rest of the decade. i had contact lenses spilling out of my purse, my pockets, even my socks, which were extra crowded from a run in with my friend that distributes mustard pockets. "wow, this is quite generous of you," i stated as he also packed a bag full of eight bottles of contact lens solution. "i wish i could somehow repay you. would you like some mustard?"

i was eric's last appointment for the day, so we decided to go out to dinner. eric also invited his mother along, which made for a semi-awkward situation. we went to a japanese restaurant, and, because of my newfound fear of fire, i nearly had a heart attack when our chef, "uncle chad," lit up that hibachi grill. holy smokes, what a dangerous set up. i wonder how many eyebrows are toasted in hibachi incidents. i wonder what that number would be per capita.

of course, eric wrote the whole dinner off as a business expense. he penned my name on the back of the reciept. "jook. job interview. declined." nicely done. i can't wait until i get to a point in my career when i do that. i'll be writing off lunches, dvds, tickets to medieval times. that's dinner and a tournament.

i have now reread every christopher pike book ever written in my ongoing research project. it's been pretty embarrassing being a 24 year old young lady and checking out books from the junior high section of the library, and now that i've finally come to terms with it, i'm done with the books. maybe i'll move onto "sweet valley high" next, but as far as my own mock young adult story goes, i really have no use for twins.

or do i?

chris and i are looking at houses. if you're looking for a way to add unneccessary stress to a relationship, try talking to a realtor and a mortgage broker. try agreeing on which townhome is better. apartment hunting is a piece of cake. there's not that many options, they're all basically the same. some just catch on fire more frequently than others. but when it comes to house-hunting? holy hell. and it's such a big committment, there are so many factors, and then the whole process of getting approved for a loan? how do people do this and not go crazy? why aren't home sales down and pup tent sales through the roof?

the proverbial roof. we're talking about a tent, here.

anyhow, it's only been a week or so since we embarked on this fiasco, so i'm sure things will get easier. let's just see what happens when we add "planning a wedding" to this particular stew.

another day, another half dollar.

again, there is yet another fire at our apartment complex. over fifty people left homeless from a fire that sparked in the third floor of one of the buildings just down the way. over one million dollars in damage. the building is now roofless. this is the second major fire in the past six months. this just strengthens my resolve to buy a home.

now i am looking at my finances and realizing, for perhaps the first time, how frivolously i spend my money. constant eating out. always purchasing new shirts, shoes, corduroy pants i wear once and then relegate to the upper shelf of my closet. booze. things that i buy simply because they're on sale, although i have no real use for them. books i could just as easily get from the library. everything silly adds up, especially the food. i'm sure i could be a bazillionaire by now if i didn't go to the red lobster so much.

so, in a nutshell, here's what's consuming me: worries of a fire in my building and getting my finances in control. also, the legend of zelda. i just need that last piece of the triforce.

treasure hunt!

mo asses

the cheese and i are now looking to purchase our first home. for as much as we pay in monthly rent, we could have our own front door, our own garage, our own washer and dryer. i have been pushed over the line; living with the loudingtons above us makes me realize, finally, that apartment living will never be 100% comfortable. plus, i really do want my own front door. and garage. and yard. you know, for the kids.

update on the loudingtons: ms. loudington is still a dumb bitch, but now it has to come to our attention that she also "cares about nobody but herself." this from mr. loudington, who shouted this from the bathroom and then proceeded to break something. speaking of caring about nobody but yourself- we can hear you, you know. all day, and all night.

anyhow, my realtor friend linda brought some listings over to the bar last night, and i pored over them eagerly. they are all townhomes. chris liked a three bedroom, two bath affair in schaumburg. i think he mostly liked it because of the monthly assesments, or the 'mo asses," which covers lawnwork, exterior house work, gas, etc. "two hundred dollars in 'mo asses,'" chris said appraisingly. "that's a lot of asses. and you know what they say: the mo asses, the better."

well, not really. anyhoo, the whole prospect is very exciting, and i hope to possibly be a homeowner in six-ish months. as linda says, "there's a home for everyone." i just hope my home comes with a maid.

a stitch out of time

it was below freezing the past few days, the kind of cold that you're afraid to breathe in for fear that it will shatter your lungs. monday was martin luther no work for me king jr day, and i celebrated by hanging out with coby and tania, my favorite mother/daughter duo. tania's wedding is in about a month, and coby is making her a dress. oh, how i wish i had somebody to make a dress for me, to help me pick out fabric and patterns and delicate strips of lace. alas, i will never have that in my life. i mentioned to chris that i might want to take up sewing, that maybe i could make my own wedding dress. although i expected the laughter and jokes, i must admit that it stung to see how hard it was for chris to regain his breath, how he clutched at his tummy and his red, tear-streaked face as he he pictured said dress. when he finally tired of telling me how many sleeves my dress would have, how misshapen the neck would be, how i'd have the whole mess scotch taped together, i said that maybe, instead, i would start with sewing something simpler. like a poncho. with no neckhole.

at the fabric store, i closely observed all of the patrons. it's funny to take note of what the customers obviously made themselves, by hand. one lady had an extremely short scarf that was already unraveling. she must have bored quickly of the knitting project, much like how my own attempt at a scarf quickly became a washcloth. another lady was crazy go nuts over beaded pins that vaguely resembled kittens. there was also crazy hat lady and wacky decorated handbag woman.

but, you have to give them credit. and i'm considering wanting in on this army of arts-n-crafts nonsense. one day, friends, one day.

just suck it down

i don't know what my problem is, but i'm completely incapable of making a decent cup of coffee. i feel like it might be a water to grounds ratio, but i can't figure out if more should be less or if less should be more. instead, i'm sitting here with yet another cup of crappy coffee.

yesterday we went to my parents for lunch and then headed to eric and emily's for some poker. first things first- i can tell that the courting process is nearly complete, and my father is head over heels for chris. it's in the little things, the way he not only shakes chris' hand but touches his shoulder as if to move in for a hug. the way he says that my cousin needs a guy like chris, a guy that is inherently good. they bond over cigars and alcohol and small jokes, and i can tell that the italian stereotype that is my father has fully accepted the son-in-law into the family. and it makes me so happy i could float.

while we were there, though, we watched "monster" with charlize theoron (?) and christina ricci. as a warning to others, it is not exactly a "family" movie and can make for some pretty uncomfortable silences. then again, i've always been one to embarrass easily over what's on the telly in front of my father. kissing? swearing? violence? an exposed boob here or there? no good. i like to keep our shared tv experiences squeaky clean.

we moved on to the poker party after "monster," managing to turn a half hour drive into a 90 minute drive. i can now say i've been to kendall county. the tumbleweed nearly got caught in our tires.

i just about broke even at poker. i won a few big hands, and i would have walked away a bigger winner if i hadn't been goaded into betting nearly $35 in my final hand. i had an ace and a queen, and there was an ace and a queen on the table. there was no way ocean could have had a straight or a flush, and i thought he probably had another ace, but,hey, i also had a queen. what i did not count on was that he had pocket aces. blasted! anyhow, overall, i am getting pretty good at this poker stuff, and i think a trip to vegas will shortly be in order. it's been a while since i've had a two dollar steak.

you're just as far in as you'll ever be out

well, chris claims to hate this song, but i think that's just because i had such a strong, somewhat orgasmic reaction to it when i first heard it a few weeks ago. anyways, i am deeply in love with breathe (2am), and if you click on that link, you can listen to it yourself. carole, i'm talking to you here.

as stated before, my dreams seem to run along two themes: pregnancy and high school.

oftentimes, the two themes will blur together. last night, i was enrolling in a high school in the north suburbs. i was pregnant. this high school was one of the premier schools in the country, and you could only get in if one of the other students died. i recieved a phone call from the daughter of an 80 year old woman who had been a senior at the school. "mabel's out," she said, "so you're in."

"wow, that's great," i said, and i began to gather my school supplies. i was sharpening pencils, labeling notebooks, and making textbook covers out of brown grocery bags. then, i began to freak out, because the school was located north, and i, pregnant jackie, was still living with my parents on the southside, an hour away. "how am i going to get there every morning?" i asked, because i did not have a car. panic attacks ensued. "i'll never get my diploma! i'll have to work at burger king."

i went to orientation, and, while sitting there, i realized i had already graduated high school. "my god," i said to the thirty-three year old next to me. "i think i have a bachelor's degree, too. what am i doing here?"

then the baby began to kick, and i was rushed to a hospital.

what does it all mean? it's always high school and babies, babies and high school. one would have to imagine that i must have been pregnant as a teenaged student. this would not be the case. i was not having sex in high school, much less concieving kids.

we are going to start making wedding plans soon. this is a scary endeavor, let me tell you. i am not a planner by any means. i would hire a wedding planner if not for various movies which have made me believe that the husband-to-be inevitably ends up marrying the wedding planner. good god, who are these monsters in hollywood? what a horrid scenario.

chris' sister has given me the email address of her best friend, a girl who is getting married in july. i've met this girl once, briefly, and she has repeatedly told chris' sister to have me call her for help. i think this is awesome, although when i email her, i'm not going to know what to write beyond, "help, i need to plan to a wedding." my questions are not going to be specific, as i am broadly confused by the whole topic. this girl has also told chris' sister to invite me out for a girls' night in the next couple of weeks. i love people who are that kind, who barely know you but still extend their friendship.

i was thinking last night about other big events. i did not attend 8th grade graduation, only attended high school graduation because of my parents, and weasled my way out of the college graduation ceremony and instead opted to go out and get loaded on saki. i've only had one formal birthday party. i've never had graduation parties, or any other parties in celebration of other significant milestones. i'm not an "event" person. and that's why planning this wedding is scaring me.

but i have the cheese to help, right? right? right.

my, what a mess this is going to be.

i want...

...to be admired for creating awesome works of art.

...for chris to always look at me they way he did the night he proposed, right before i snapped at him, "what are you looking at?"

...to be enclosed in a bubble with my loved ones, impermeable to harm.

...to fix every mistake i have made, right every wrong i have done.

...my life to be punctuated by greeting cards that state, "congratulations!" for various jobs well done and milestones reached.

...a heart that is pure and good.

...babies and a warm home and the kind of family that you only see in cereal and juice commercials.

...to be remembered fondly by those that i don't see anymore.

...the ease and grace of those with much more confidence than myself.

...a big wedding, even though i say that i do not, with every friend that i have ever had in attendance. i want to dance with my father and have my grandfather come back to life for that one day so he can be there, too.

...to remain alarmingly healthy, with chris alarmingly healthy as well.

...my sister to get everything in life she deserves.

...to watch the evening news without seeing a single destructive act by either nature or other humans. badger attacks, maybe, as that is just how badgers are.

...a year to see the world.

...

ad in local publication, in its entirety

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where should i submit said application? po box up yours?

one of my drawings + camera + photo editor.

the side of a mug + camera + photo editor

awaiting analysis from the dream lab

i have never felt so devastated in my entire life, and it was only a dream. it certainly did not feel like a dream. i really thought that i had become pregnant and that chris, in a rather cowardly turn of events, had decided to leave me.

that isn't what devastated me, though. i was eight months along when suddenly something happened, and the baby within me died. my stomach flattened out and i started bleeding enough to fill the depths and length of the amazon. i think i cried in my sleep; in my dream, i drove to my parent's house and woke them up in the middle of the night. "my baby died," i told them, "i'm not pregnant anymore."

i didn't have chris anymore, so, for whatever reason, i started dating john ritter, circa 1976. but even that didn't cheer me up.

waterloo - i was defeated, you won the war

so nikki got the bright idea to play the song 'waterloo' fifteen times in a row at the jukebox in the bowling alley bar. we fed the machine our five dollars and punched in the code 29-19 fifteen times and then waited for the magic to happen. 'waterloo' blared once. then 'dancing queen' came on, which, while puzzling, was acceptable. then, nothing. no 'waterloo,' no ejected money. we were out five dollars and pissed. then i saw the phone number on the jukebox.

now, this was not a good idea, and i would not recommend doing it. the thing is, i had had three martinis with dinner, and now i was feeling crazed with a sort of drunken, stupid power. i took nikki's phone, since mine was not working correctly, and gave the service line a ring. surprisingly, on a saturday night, somebody answered.

"jukebox service, this is patrick."

"yes, patrick. we found your number on the jukebox machine here at such-and-such bowling alley and wanted to call because there's a problem here. you see, we put five dollars in the machine as to play 'waterloo' fifteen times. you know 'waterloo,' it's by abba, right?"

"'waterloo?' could you spell that please?"

i spelled waterloo. "anyhow, it only played twice, and we either want it to play thirteen or more times, or we want the rest of our money back."

"'waterloo?'"

"yes."

pause. then he took down nikki's name and number. "he's going to call us back," i told nikki as i handed her the phone, and ten minutes later, she was answering a call. "we just wanted to hear 'waterloo' fifteen times," she repeated to the manager. they went through their whole thing, and then he called back again, this time to notify us that they were sending a repairman.

"they're sending the jukebox repair guy," i told nikki as i hung up her phone, suddenly freaking out. "oh, my god, it's ten o'clock on a saturday night. i feel like such an asshole." my little prank was turning into an image of the poor jukebox repairman having to either get out of bed or leave the bar he was at, one of the two. neither scenario made me feel that good.

"i want 'waterloo,'" nikki declared stubbornly. "they should send the guy. that machine ate our money!"

ten minutes later, she didn't quite feel the same way. our change of heart over the whole matter was not only completely predictable but totally pathetic as we stood around and attempted to calm ourselves with the rest of the pitcher of beer. we were polishing the brew off when an older man in a flannel shirt with a ring of jukebox keys on his belt walked into the place. "go talk to him," nikki's boyfriend said, pushing her towards him. in response, nikki squealed, and, since i was decidedly incapabale of laying down in the bed i had made, the four of us shrugged on our jackets and walked out, right past the poor bastard without our $4.25 or whatever, and without hearing 'waterloo' thirteen more times, and without apologizing for making him drive out. we went our separate ways, and a few minutes later, the jukebox repairman called nikki's phone and told her that he would mail her our money.

i don't think she was willing to give him her address, for fear of repercussions.

moral of the story- don't drink three martinis for dinner, because somebody in the service industry is bound to be affected.

like christmas two weeks after christmas

this is the computer that chris built, atop the desk that he also built. i supposed that if you want to get wrapped up in semantics, he assembled my desk rather than built it, but overall, both the desk and the computer on it are quite impressive. i now have a great new computer with capablities beyond my wildest computer-related dreams. i couldn't even list all the things this computer can do- but that's mostly because i'm not sure about a lot of the spelling. what, you ask, am i going to do with this powerful new machine?

probably just use the word processing program. nothing too fancy.

christopher may not be the kind of guy you'd want around when your car starts making funny noises or emitting strange fumes, and he may not be the type of dude who knows exactly how and where to weld something, but when it comes to the pc, he's something else. i suppose i knew that chris was capable of building a computer, but i have to admit that i had a feeling i'd come home one evening and find that he'd haphazardly attached everything to everything else with strips of scotch tape. he would say, "now, your computer's ready to go, but you won't have any sound. and the disc drive won't work. and, oh, you know the monitor? totally useless." i think i'm just used to my dad's way of doing things where, in order to fix one thing, you have to totally break two or three other things. really smash them beyond repair.

this new computer is giving me a newfound desire to compute. i'm pounding away at my novel in process (my nip, if you will) and i've also purchased a new used computer game from one of the fine sellers at amazon. now, i'm a little embarrassed of the title, but let's just say that i'm out of the intended age group by at least twelve years.

but nancy drew is ageless, right? i mean, she's been around since... oh, crap, i've given it away.

in her honor, i've name my new computer 'drew.' i would call her 'nancy,' but that would make me think too much of my mother, who never did get the hang of all this technological nonsense. as an example, for the longest time she called 'nintendo' 'utendo.' and you should see her with a mouse. hysterical.

it's a small county after all

it seems that there's a man who works with chris who is the father of the boyfriend of the sister of my sister's boyfriend. he approached chris one wintery night and said, "hey, we know somebody in common- your future sister-in-law, kate." this, of course, threw chris for a loop since he knew of no such future in-law named kate. later, this man cleared up the confusion, and chris realized it was my sister marcia that was the common link.

did you follow me there? my fiancee's coworker has a son dating a chick who is the sister of the dude that my sister is dating. who realized that there was this slim thread of connection? how did this web of people who barely know other people come to light? i have to imagine that one day my sister and her boyfriend were sitting around on one exceptionally dull evening discussing everyone that they knew and everyone that those people knew as well. finally, they realized they could trace their circle back to marcia's sister (that would be me). perhaps, satisfied with themselves and their pointless detective work, they celebrated this minor revelation with a short game of "afternoons that we both drove down the same street, but at different times."

facts about clothing

1. at one point i owned a turtleneck for every day of the month. i was close to owning a hoodie for every day of the week, but not quite.

2. for the longest time, i thought i was a size seven. this is hysterical because i am actually a size one. i belted my pants so tightly that they bunched out all over the place in the thigh, butt, crotch area. quite comical to the casual observer, i'm sure. i don't know why i thought i was a size seven. also, when i was fifteen, i had to fill out my height for my driver's permit. i put down that i was 5'2". indeed, i was 5'7". i guess that, in my mind, i thought i was a short chubby chick. not that size seven is chubby- it's just bigger than a size one is all.

3. i bought my first "suit" at the thrift store. it was gigantic.

4. i refuse to wear plain white socks, unless i'm sick. for the longest time, i refused to wear black socks because black socks always look "sweaty," but now that i wear black suits all the freaking time, i've given in to the black sock craze, as it were.

5. i would never consider buying a bra without padding.

6. i believe jeans are appropriate for any occasion, be it a funeral, a wedding, a christening, a movie premier, or shopping for more jeans.

7. once, i owned these great dkny sneakers that were bright orange, bright yellow, and bright silver. i absolutely fell in love with these shoes, and i promptly went out and bought a whole bunch of orange shirts. in hindsight, i probably should have bought the navy blue model of the dkny's.

8. i don't like pointy-toed boots or heels because i think that the pointy toe makes you look like kind of like a scumbag. i understand that this may be the fashion, but i despise it.

9. all of my white shirts, due to poor laundry skills, are tinged with either blue or pink.

10. for the same reason, i don't own a single sweater that is completely lint-free.

11. i think that capris are the work of the devil.

12. as was the style, i used to buy a ton of clothes at the thrift store. this left me with piles and piles of men's polos and old ladies' blouses, each with holes near the collar from the stapled on price tags.

13. when i was little, i had a nightgown with a ducky on the pocket. unbeknownst to me, when you squeezed the ducky, it made a quacking noise. i found this out totally by mistake one night when i accidentally sat on the pocket ducky and scared myself shitless. "where did that quacking noise come from?" i asked my mother, who answered by grounding me. three nights later i finally figured it out, and then i went mad with power.

slaughter in the sand
whose bloody shoes will pop up next?

six teenage friends take one last vacation together before they each head off to their trade school of choice. the friends include a beauty queen, a football star, a dyslexic obsessed with elderly women, a creepy and brooding poet who makes strangers on the bus incredibly uncomfortable, a mean-spirited trickster who once had reconstructive surgery to correct the 'horsiness' of her face, and a girl who answers to two names and also makes strangers on the bus uncomfortable- due not to her creepiness but her frightening blood alcohol content. some of these friends will end up dead, their youthful bodies hacked into a million, trillion pieces. other friends will tactfully ignore the slayings and instead focus on making love connections.

who will go home alive and full of other people's body fluids? who will go home in three separate garbage bags? and who will go home with a sprained ankle and a bag of taffy? find out in slaughter in the sand, a mystery/erotic thriller/how-to-manual due in bookstores spring, 2005.

chris and i have started drinking 'vitamin water.' perhaps you've heard of this stuff; it's like kool-aid, only queerer tasting and pumped full of all sorts of vitamins that probably don't get absorbed into your system anyhow. the thing is, i'm mostly sold on this product. seeing as my diet is about as nutritious as the rhythm method is foolproof, i'm willing to try any 'quick fix' as to save a little grace. i do take a multi-vitamin most days, but what can i say? i love my food slathered with warm butter, sprinkled with handfuls of salt, and coated meticulously with layer upon layer of golden brown grease.

a spokesman for vitamin water is rapper 50 cent. this, i could do without.

"exactly!" can sound a lot like "hey, jackie!"

i'm bored lately. nothing seems to appeal to me all that much. i make up lists of things i can do, and then i don't want to do anything. i'm irritated by work. i get tired easily. i don't want to just lay around, but that's all i seem good at. maybe it's the weather; everything is so grey and cold and kind of dirty-looking.

i'm not proud of it, but i'll probably read amber frey's book. i used to devour books like this in shameful privacy behind drawn curtains all the time. amy fisher's tell-all? fascinating.

perhaps having a career in ghost-writing would be the way to go.

chris is going to build me a computer so that he can claim my laptop. he's like a mad scientist, purchasing various parts and promising me that, after he is done, i will have a new computer to rival the ones they use at nasa, or at least the public library. we went to fry's yesterday to pick up all sorts of devices, and i realized the extent of what a simpleton i am. he's throwing motherboards and graphic cards and drives into the cart, and i'm in the next aisle trying to decide what mouse pad i want. should i get the enrique iglesias or celine dion mousepad as to be ironic and funny? what about the water drops or the american flag design, or the one that states, "i love golfing" in big yellow letters? he's talking chips and processors, i'm asking, "what color keyboard should i pick?"

we also picked up a copy of "super smash brothers," just for the hell of it. there's one part of the game that they call "home run contest," and it's basically the character of your choice kicking the crap out of what appears to be half a tube sock. in the background is the kind of crowd that only the chicago cubs in game seven of the world series could possibly draw. who are these audience members? how much did they pay to get in? aren't they a little disappointed by this event?

new year's eve was fun despite the fact that i was stricken with a semi-deadly bout of a mild cold. it was a laid-back evening with good friends. my sister called me at about one in the morning, drunk out of her mind at some bar in lincoln park. "what are you doing?" she slurred, the sound of somebody getting naked in the background. "playing operation," i replied. she thought this was the funniest thing in the world, and perhaps it was. either way, getting back to basics was a nice way to ring in 2005, which i understand is slated to be the most evil year yet. just read the news, man.

today i have a full schedule of blowing my nose and nagging the cheese to get the rest of my computer parts. in one week's time: super computer 5000. imagine how much more blogging i'll be able to do.