A blog that was supposed be made up of bits about cab rides and blurbs about beauty products but, instead, is about other things.


Last Night A Ninja Saved Her Life

Last night my little sister was mugged.
Luckily, she is okay.
Luckily, it was only 7:30 p.m. when it happened.
Luckily, she got all her stuff back.
Luckily, she was mere feet from her apartment, and also near a taekwondo academy, at the time.
Luckily, some guys on their way into the Upright Citizens Brigade Theater drop-kicked and held down the perpetrator as he tried to get away.

If you are one of these super-ninja-samaritans, or you know these super-ninja-samaritans, please contact us. She'd like, very much, to say "thank you."


You Are Trying To Break My Heart

Apparently, “3N23” stands for "I am going to try to hit that girl as she crosses Delancey."

Not “hit on.”



Mother Knows Best (but she couldn't get past the title)

My away message had a link to my blog.
This is what I found when I returned to the computer:

bonniesnow: Jennifer, are you dating a cab driver?!

I don't understand.

Why don't you tell me about these things?!

It's okay if you're dating a cab driver.

bonniesnow: We should talk.

It's not okay if you're dating a cab driver. It's WEIRD!!!

Just because a boy tells you that you're pretty doesn't mean that you have to go out with him.

I tell you that you're pretty.

I think you should call me.


Ugly-hot. Not, pretty ugly.

I'd get into that cab with Andy Samberg.

He's quite hot, in that jolie-laid kind of way.


I hailed a cab last night, for the fun of it

And a whole new ethics of interaction was born.

Hailing a cab in this mess was sort of like voluntarily hopping into a roving dinner party wherein the guests are all strangers and the host is the mediator who must vet routes and deal with grumblings because Passenger 2 doesn't want to sit next to Passenger 1, and Passenger 3 thinks the best route would be to go all the way uptown before going to Brooklyn, and Passenger 4 is allergic to dairy and wants to keep talking about his hernia.


Making up is hard to do

The TWU has "officially" rejected the MTA's "final offer."

And now it's like they've broken up.
Well, broken up in that way that we all seem to break up.

Sort of temporarily. Sort of semi-permanently.
Sort of with the possibility of make-up sex somewhere on the horizon.



The last time I passed your place I was in a cab.
“Pull over at the yellow people walking sign,” I wanted to say.

In all the time it was my place too I never bothered to look up what that symbol was actually called.

I don’t think I’ll look it up now either.



Has anyone else ever been offered a discount on cab fare?



News reports about the Palestinian/Israeli conflict sound much prettier in French.


Things, some

- something about fake IDs
- something about hating to drive
- something about dropping me off
- something about snowshoes for tires
- something about 7-year-olds being confused by hand-cranking windows
- something about kicking things to curbs


My other blog is a newspaper

But they're not going to publish this scoop.

Local Bank Doesn't Pay Bills

NEW YORK -- Area woman visits East Village branch of Bank of America to find out why she hasn't received replacement ATM card she requested on November 12. Help at East Village Bank of America is poor, as usual. Despite the fact that this is the second time that said woman has visited this banch to check on status of card, they appear to have no answers. She tells them that "this is unacceptable," and asks to speak to a manager. The manager, who had assured her (on November 22) that the card was "in the mail," told her that there was little he could do. She asked him to call someone that could help.

She sat across from him as he called various national affiliates. She waited quite some time. She waited long enough to notice a very interesting Post-It stuck to his computer screen. It read:

She returned to her office and called the number. After a few minutes of Muzak-filled holding, she was told that the East Village branch of Bank of America is "ten months past due" on their bills. They owe, in total, $1,XXX.80.

She's not so sure that she wants to do business anymore with a bank that doesn't pay its bills.


On the way to work

“You sound like a writer,” he said.

Based on the amount I’d said, I assume he meant one who writes very short books.

I hope that I haven’t begun to speak in 65 word blurbs.
jensnow(AT)gmail(DOT)com. All content Copyright 2008. You can visit me at Things I Don't Understand And Definitely Am Not Going To Talk About (thingsidontunderstandand.tumblr.com) and at www.jensnow.com.