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


Things, Some

  • Something about a crooked tie.
  • Something about a 24-hour clock.
  • Something about being mislabled and misquoted.
  • Something about wondering how many times you got it wrong when you were on the other side.
  • Something about wishing you'd just drive away and take all this stuff with you.
  • Something about The BQE and Sufjan Stevens and a symphony (but not about two arrests that took place there too).



I think I am allergic to you, not to your dog.
No, I won't let you both lick me "so we can find out for sure."


Don't Get Martha Plimpton Started On Duane Reade

"Don't Get Martha Plimpton Started On Duane Reade"
But do come to our show:
TINY SMOOSHY SUNDAY ON FIRE (Hosted by Martha Plimpton, and featuring Smoosh, Care Bears on Fire, and Tiny Masters of Today).

Also, read the New York interview with Martha, because it includes such hysteria as:
What do you hate most about living in New York?
The dead-eyed pharmacy people at Duane Reade. I'd rather have a drunk Mr. Gower filling my prescriptions. It's always a journey into the Heart of Darkness, going in there, with a long line of hysterical Upper West Siders tearing at their clothes and smearing themselves with their own feces. Here is the script:
Me: "Plimpton."
Duane Reade: "Clinton?"
Me: "Plimp-ton."
Duane Reade: "Crimpson?"
Duane Reade: "Pimpman?"

Cut to: Giant mushroom cloud signifying my own internal apocalypse.


Car Seat, Kids Table

Traveling to and from Baltimore taught me that I never want to ride in a car ever again.

And, Baltimore, if one of your guests is old enough that it's entirely possible that she could have given birth to everyone else at her table, then, yes, you've given her the wrong seat.


Better Than Bright Eyes

Better than Bright Eyes was the boy whose job it was to make the background look pretty.

I watched him most of the night.



His heart hurt, he said.
Not in a love way, in a broken way.


Short Trips

  • In parts of the new Gursky show, fashion plates are stuck in the middle of Formula One scenes. The photos are, as always, so shiny. (at Matthew Marks)

  • "I'd like to unintend her consequences." (Citizen Truth)

  • Miranda July + Blonde Redhead video. (via Ed, via another Ed, apparently.)

  • "Mayor Plans an All-Hybrid Taxi Fleet." (NYT)

  • Tord Boontje talks, lights my living room. (Artkrush)

  • Oregon Trail online?! I can't get it to work, but I hope you can. (via Zach Klein)



One way of knowing that you made the right decision in taking the subway home instead of a cab is if, while walking along the platform while waiting for your ride, you run into a friend there, and he is playing music for money. And you think, "Who knew he did this? Hysterical."



Kid rock.
For real.

Tiny Smooshy Sunday On Fire
A benefit for 826NYC

Sunday, June 3rd, 2p.m.
Southpaw (125 5th Avenue, Brooklyn)
Tickets: $25 adults /$10 ages 16 and under



  • Something about three train transfers and thinking this was a reasonable travel time.
  • Something about an Italian newspaper, a gym bag, and four and a half manila folders.
  • Something about why you have to beg to differ.


You Give Girls A Bad Name

"Do you like me more than dinner?" she asked.
(I should mention: they were clearly on a first date.)

His response, "Dinner as a concept, or this dinner?"

Then, and without hesitation, she started to cry.

He waited what I thought was an appropriate amount of time (two minutes), he put down some money, presumably for the check, and he left. She sat, still, at the table, and cried.

He doubled back, and handed her a twenty-dollar bill, "For your cab home."


Backseat Shooter: 2C68. Or, Garden State Parkway, Mother's Day


There was a kite and a beach and a family and a fight and there was a cab, and it was out of place, and it made them laugh. A little.



There are few products I've purchased (or had purchased for me) consistently for 20ish years. Maybe there's just one, actually. And, over time, the packaging has changed and the price has changed, but most things stayed the same and so I was always a happy girl. Not anymore.

Dear Dr. Pepper Lip Smacker,

My mom remembers buying you when she was young and though she hadn't seen you in years, even she admitted that your new smell stinks. Thanks for making me sad.

Not your friend,
Jen Snow


Short Trip

Vik Muniz + David Byrne = two components of a dream dinner party even before I read this post.


Cab, Rat. I Can't Look Away

Crossing Hester Street. I don't know why I looked back. But then I couldn't look away. I wasn't sure if the set-up was real and the cackling and hollering of the boys outside of aNYthing didn't help me out.


Response Card

Dear Mr. and soon-to-be-Mrs. Sortoffriends,

I'm mailing you this note card in place of the response card I should be sending, except that I can't send it because I left it in the back seat of a cab. It was early, and I was opening a pile of yesterday's mail, and I think it fell when I got mad at all the magazine subscription cards and matrimony. So, on the back of this note I'll write my name and the name of my "And Guest" who you won't know and who you'll probably never see again and I'll tell you that I'll have the chicken and he'll have the fish and I'll mail it to your mom and dad. Maybe the cab driver or the next rider will respond too.



Ready, Set, Go

I'm not normally the kind of girl who comments on the necessity of certain traffic lights, but this one seems like a good idea.


People Who Live In Glass Houses Shouldn't Throw Stones Or Walk Around Naked

A teacher told me that in 5th grade. I wish I could remember what I said to provoke it.

Philip Johnson's Glass House is now open to visitors! Who wants to take a trip?
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.