UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
We can ill afford another Klendathu  feed it up!
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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 
Hosted by: HostRocket.Com Comments by: YACCS 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 egeo huic vigorum MY WRESTLING NAME Titan Gently MY PUNK NAME Razor Ection 
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Monday, August 11, 2003
Providence is fun enough, but only when viewed from a warehouse art collective run by punk/vegan bike-repair art bums. It's all downhill from there (excepting, of course, my various other hosts, who were angelic), especially if you go to the BigFucking Mall of Providence, which is probably the same as every other mall in the world, except that I wouldn't know because I live in New York, where you can't build a giant open indoor space without a whole bunch of vegan art squatters turning it into an ad hoc combo flophouse/altpunk performance space. So the mall was arctically chilled, which is an environmental business tactic designed to give you a raging ice-cream headache until you open your wallet and shake out the larger bills.
Which I did, for a viewing of S.W.A.T., whose subtitle is Colin Farrell Chews Gum a Lot and Things a Go BOOM a Lot, BOOM! It was a much better movie than I expected, because nobody said "Lock and load!" -- not even once! Four stars! Oh, but I have a question for the lady in the next row with the toddler on one side of her and the stroller-bound kid on the other: are you fucking kidding me already with this shit? Don't you have a TV you could have left these kids at home with? And some duct tape to keep them on the couch? Because unless you pour that orange nacho "cheese" sauce into their ears (and include the hardening agent in tube #2), you will seriously go to jail for deafening your children with Bruckheimer (or whoever). Or are you, god forbid, the babysitter? <irishaccent>Saints preserve us!</irishaccent> And then, due to some kickback-scheme bullshit, I had to pick up my backpack (which I was not allowed to bring into the theater because I guess terrorists love to bomb shopping mall movie theaters, glaargle!) at a hideous place called like "BF&D's Entertainment Gorgon Pit of Clanging Bells and Fatty Hell Fuck" which combined food, gambling, children, and 10,000 television sets. I got disoriented. I think I ate a urinal cake. Off to Boston, which is still a fucking stankhole of idiots, who conveniently congregate at Fenway Park, in case you wanted to witness a spontaneous fistfight about the fact that the Yankees weren't in town and therefore there were no Yankee fans to punch. I witnessed such a fight, and I always wonder how I would fare in the same situation. I picture myself kicking groins and stepping on necks, employing dirty-fight tactics to the applause of the onlookers. Of course this is impossible. I would squeal louder than a stepped-on cat, and get blinded by the blood in my eyes within the first five seconds of fisticuffs, and I would just windmill my tender arms until my attackers were incapacitated by helpless mirth. Then they would pulp me into a two-dimensional nerd Colorform on the pavement. Anyway, I took the $10 Chinatown Bus ("permsitted by Federal Highway Administration") back home, and the A/C stopped working in Hartford. Travel is poo. Never get off the boat. Goddamn right. 0 comments |
OTHER REVIEWS: Scrabble NEW! LATEST BOOK REVIEWS: The Game Moneyball One-Upsmanship Siddhartha You need the Fear Not Guide to Life. Buy it already. ($4) Now available! The Broomfield Variations CD ($10) or go to The UD Store 
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 |