UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
We can ill afford another Klendathu You are just a number to me! And that number is: PAGES UD MADE: My Books Page My Reviews Page My Reference Page My Music Page My Pictures My Store UD-RELATED PAGES: My LiveJournal My MySpace music page My Flickr page My del.icio.us page My Last.fm page My Amazon Wishlist HEAVY ROTATION Dan Deacon: Bromst Animal Collective: Merriweather Post Pavillion Bon Iver: For Emma, Forever Ago Vampire Weekend: Vampire Weekend Fleet Foxes: Fleet Foxes BLOGS ETC claude le monde nuncstans rock 'em stock 'em tomato nation postmodern drunkard tuckova 22 ghastly mess constintina total virility fuzzysquid drunken bee stacey nightmare elyse from ANTM stereolabrat dark side points jf_franklin 123 i love you READ NOW brotherhood 2.0 NOT BLOGS ETC qwantz (dinosaur comix) go fug yourself the burg cat and girl book of ratings married to the sea icanhascheezburger fire joe morgan fivethirtyeight.com READ NOW hospitality on parade WEIRD LOVE dead amusement pks craters! all content © 2002-2010 Jeremy Broomfield
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Tuesday, April 08, 2003
I didn't go to work yesterday because I felt good ol'-fashioned crappy. I was like eight years old the last time it snowed in April, and though I didn't have enough experience to see it as grossly anomalous, I could tell from the bemusement of the adults around me that some shit was wrong. The Yankees got snowed out yesterday. It's Bullshit.
I wouldn't be bitching about the weather except that the radio told me to expect a freaking nor'easter on Friday, which is supposed to be the day I step onto my plane and kiss you bitches goodbye for ten days. That would be awesome, because although I have really enjoyed showing up for flights two hours early only to slouch in lumbar-punishing waiting areas where I can't smoke, it would be a million times awesomer to wait out a giant storm for a whole day on the floor of Newark Airport's charming terminal -- without my goddamn tweezers! Airports are like living museums of rich people at their worst. If you want to see poor people at their worst, just go outside and open your eyes; it's about as hard as a "Hidden Pictures" game on the back of Highlights For Children. But rich people try so hard to look good, and it's only in airports that they get to looking really crusty. I don't know how airport security people can differentiate between a shoe-bombing terrorist and a pissed-off, hypercaffeinated investment banker who's had his flight postponed indefinitely. Well, considering that the shoe-bomber got on the plane, I'm assuming that they can't actually tell the difference. Which is awesome. Hell, take my tweezers! I don't care! Not that I think the storm will actually happen, because as everyone knows, you can't predict the weather. Somebody find me a chart that shows the exponential rise of meteorologist error as a function of time after a prediction, and I will bring you back a souvenir Los Angeles shot glass. I'll even bash it into your eye socket for you, too! 0 comments |
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MY IMAGINARY GIRLFRIENDS Chan Marshall Rotem of the IDF Eleanor Friedberger Amy Goodman Bernardine Dohrn ('69) Maya Rudolph Joanna Newsom Imogen Heap Caroline Dhavernas Shana Rae Ray DISALLOWED FOREVER "I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!" - "from whence" - "...the exception that proves the rule" - any use of the question "spit or swallow?" - the phrase "drop trou" - fake-o reviewer verbs: "penned" for wrote "helmed" for directed "lensed" for whatever - "expat" - the euphemism "passed away" - pronouncing merci beaucoup as "mercy buckets!" (see also: "grassy-ass!") PET PEEVES "confinscated" - trying children "as adults" - "drownded" - misuse of reflexive pronouns, as when someone says "Please talk to Bob or myself." Come on people now. "Myself" is not just a fancy version of "me"! LEARN IT. - tattoos in the Courier font - any use of Comic Sans |