UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE

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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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PRAISE & REVIEWS

"[UD] is a genius."
--Christian Oates

"[Claudia] is fucking awesome, and [UD] is a genius. And vice versa. You should all buy Fear Not."
--Tricia Howey



MOTTO

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Titan Gently

MY PUNK NAME

Razor Ection



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and here's something
weird: my place
in Humor 3-space

Friday, May 02, 2003
 
Spring makes me stupid. I've already started walking around for the hell of it, half-believing that I'm gonna start exercising on a regular basis, which I can already hear some of you falling out of your Aeron Chairs with helpless mirth. Exercise and me are like compassion and conservatism: fundamentally incompatible. But when the weather gets nice, my appetite disappears as my body tries frantically to shed my winter coat of fat, which must be some atavistic mating season preparation, right? Gotta slim down and make babies, fat little babies! Fuck. So even though I'm eating less, I feel a twitchy drive to stroll, and I get the itsiest little endorphin rush after dodging midtown lunchtime fuckwads for an hour, but I CANNOT EXERCISE. That's not excercise, says the bitch in the back with the Crunch membership card crumbling from disuse in her Kate Spade bag. Well, fuck you too, hooker, and go blow a frat boy. I don't want to sweat any more than necessary, because I hate having to shower more than once a week, and no amount of Matrix sequels will make me change my mind about that. I only like sex sweat and crystal meth overdose sweat.
     Spring makes me look in the mirror too much. Why do I have huge raccoony eye luggage? I got plenty of sleep this entire week (5 hours a night interrupted by frequent cigarette breaks is normal, right?), I ate a vegetable or two, and I even convinced an Irish dude that I was an angel. Though to be fair, the Irish guy was drunk and didn't take much convincing. I gave him a cigarette, which must have been the nicest thing anybody's ever done for the poor bloke, but I think he was hypnotized by my suit, which stood out in Williamsburg like a neon vagina in Utah. A weird Catholic response to the trappings of authority, maybe? He was old enough to know better, but he kept staring all googly-eyed, asking over and over again "but whar did ye coom froom?" And no matter what I said, he was convinced that I had said "heaven." If that's what being a cult leader feels like, I'm not sure I can hack it. Get lost, all of you.

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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