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


Who Knew + Since U Been Gone = BFF

I admit, I like this song in almost exactly the same way I liked this song. Wholeheartedly and on repeat at the gym and even those times I hear them and they (inexplicably) make my eyes tear-up a bit. I know nothing about music but I think they might share something in their structure too.

Hit "play" on both of those at the same time. The videos even have a similar number of seconds of "just doing stuff to set the scene before my song starts" noise before they begin. Both have the same type of build-up of the verses and then crescendo-ing choruses, they both repeat a phrase a few times at the end of each song. They are the same song. And so, I do not feel as bad that I'm so taken with both.



I bought a new camera.
I forgot to tell you.


Blind Item

Almost literally. Who impulse bought a pair of glasses today? And whose new glasses happen to be branded by an Aaron Spelling tv show? A bit of Googling revealed that no character on the show actually wore glasses, although this pair is named after "Jake."



Here is where I admit that I had trouble following the directions on the back of the pack of ponytail holders. Do I have more respect for the medium now? No. Now I hate them even more.



An astute friend pointed out this post on Curbed, or, more precisely, he pointed out the handwriting on the sign taped to a stolen bike in a photo in a post of Curbed; with only tiny exceptions (the "a," the "y"), that sign could have been written by me.

He was not spot on, however, in asking whether the bike and sign were actually mine. My lack of street-crossing skills, my poor paying-attention skills, and the fact that I'm not very coordinated all indicate the obvious: I could never ride a bike on city streets.


Some Things

  • Something about sitting through an entire movie.
  • Something about being traumatized by uninvited advice from the clerk at the glasses store. (Has anyone else ever heard this nonsense that your eyes "must" be in the center of each lens?)
  • Something about propagating plants and picking the last cherry tomato.
  • Something about marveling at how long my hair has grown. (Past my shoulders.)
  • Something about doing a bit of work for Brooklyn Vegan.
  • Something about riding the subway and reading.



5A92 is outside my door.
3J92 sits just around the corner.



"That isn't a tip," he said, of the four quarters I was handing to him.
"A dollar isn't a tip?" I asked.
He said something nasty about "all that change."
"You're right, it isn't a tip," I said, and I kept it, and I didn't feel bad.

(For the record: it was four quarters; it wasn't like I tried dumping a pile of pennies on him.)



Maybe you should write it?


Yes, This Is All There Is

And what if the most exciting thing that happened was that I gave myself a manicure in Sephora? An opaque turquoise shade that I wasn't sure if I actually wanted to buy. They let you do this there, which is weird, because ten fingers and a coat of quick-dry is much more than should be able to be explained away as "just testing it out."

I Didn't Want To Speak Even To Ask For A Receipt

"This song is for making love, yeah?" he said. "This song is for making love, huh?" he added. "This song is for making lo-ve," he finished.

He repeated this series nine times before I felt like I had to either say something to shut him up or ask him to just let me out where we were, which was, unfortunately, quite far from where I wanted to be.

I said, "I have no interest in discussing such matters with strangers," which seemed, even to me, like an odd thing to say. But then he was silent for the rest of the ride, so it worked.
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.