Universal Donor
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You are just a number
to me! And that number
is:

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PAGES UD MADE:

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My Books Page

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My Reviews Page

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My Reference Page

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My Music Page

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My Pictures

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My Store

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UD-RELATED PAGES:

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My LiveJournal

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My MySpace music page

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My Flickr page

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My del.icio.us page

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My Last.fm page

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My Amazon Wishlist

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HEAVY ROTATION

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Dan Deacon:
Bromst
Animal Collective:
Merriweather Post Pavillion
Bon Iver:
For Emma, Forever Ago
Vampire Weekend:
Vampire Weekend
Fleet Foxes:
Fleet Foxes

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BLOGS ETC

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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

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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

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dead amusement pks
craters!

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all content
© 2002-2010
Jeremy Broomfield

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PRAISE & REVIEWS

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"[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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egeo huic vigorum

MY WRESTLING NAME

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Titan Gently

MY PUNK NAME

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Razor Ection







WHO LINKS TO UD?

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

  So I'm a little dizzy when I get back to the physical therapy office after changing into my normal clothes, both from all the exercise and from the fact that I just saw an upscale business-type dude blowdrying his asscrack in the locker room. Oh yes, vigorously he dried his crack, with the deft wrist-flicks that bespeak years of practice. And he stared intently into the mirror as he did so, and lo he was hairy as hell, and the dopplering whoosh whoosh whoosh of the dryer almost made the stream of air seem solid, like an invisible lightsaber. Please, stop. Seriously, stop it, mister. Ugh. I need to sit down. Rich people are so fucking weird.
     The girls behind the PT reception desk have a question for me. "How do you know what the book is about?" asks the cute Asian girl, pointing to my copy of Vineland, which I'd left on a massage table. Sure enough the book has no writing at all on the back cover, and furthermore no reviews or synopses or whatever on the inside either. And I'm like "I never read the blurbs anyway," with a dismissive fling of my arm, which instead of looking nonchalant makes me seem like some kind of explosive spastic. The receptionists trade glances, and the more typical Queens receptionist girl (seriously, is there some DOL receptionist-breeding incentive program in Queens? Because 90% of all receptionists, EVERYWHERE, are from Queens) insists: "but then how do you know what it's ABOUT," like I'm pulling her leg.
     And I just want to scream at her "THERE IS A MAN BLOWDRYING HIS ASSCRACK IN THE LOCKER ROOM. HIS ASS. CRACK." But instead I go off on some endorphin-muddled tangent about Gravity's Rainbow and Play-Doh and half-sour pickles and the pluralization of latin words like scapula.
     As I stagger out of the Equinox gym that envelops the PT place, I giddily entertain the delusion that I am the hippest person ever to have set foot inside it. (This happens to me all the time.) Then two skinny greasy indie rockers slouch past me on the street and I get pissed, because they see me wearing a button-down shirt, and in the instantaneous sidewalk game of Fashion Stratego, they outrank my stupid ass by at least three. No wait, rockers! I'm usually dirty and slouchy too! Ah fuck it. They obviously don't have jobs. They probably eat cereal for every meal -- if that -- and their pointy-shoed girlfriends have to pay for their stupid Budweisers. Damn. I hate my shoes. I need new sneakers.
posted by Universal Donor 2:42 PM 0 comments

OTHER REVIEWS:
Scrabble NEW!

LATEST BOOK REVIEWS:
The Game
Moneyball
One-Upsmanship
Siddhartha

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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

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MY IMAGINARY GIRLFRIENDS

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Chan Marshall
Rotem of the IDF
Eleanor Friedberger
Amy Goodman
Bernardine Dohrn ('69)
Maya Rudolph
Joanna Newsom
Imogen Heap
Caroline Dhavernas

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Shana Rae Ray

DISALLOWED FOREVER

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"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!"
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"from whence"
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"...the exception that proves the rule"
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any use of the question "spit or swallow?"
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the phrase "drop trou"
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fake-o reviewer verbs:
"penned" for wrote
"helmed" for directed
"lensed" for whatever
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"expat"
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the euphemism
"passed away"
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pronouncing merci beaucoup as "mercy buckets!"
(see also: "grassy-ass!")

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PET PEEVES

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"confinscated"
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trying children "as adults"
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"drownded"
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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.
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tattoos in the Courier font
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any use of Comic Sans

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