UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE

Universal Donor
We can ill afford
another Klendathu

feed it up! | UD email


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



Powered by Blogger

Oh fuck yeah.

This is my Google PageRankā„¢ - SmE Rank free service Powered by Scriptme


Hosted by:
HostRocket.Com

Comments by:
YACCS

  SITE STATS



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



Look the fuck out! It's claude le monde!



WHO LINKS TO UD?

from Technorati
from Google
from Yahoo



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

Tuesday, September 16, 2003
 
You can talk to me in the morning if you must, but please do not expect me to remember anything. I may look humanoid, but pre-coffee I am strictly on autopilot, driven around like a Japanese robot suit by tiny microorganisms called "midichlorians." I can't see you. I can't hear you. I can respond to stimuli, but only reflexively.
     There was this girl once, on the F. She got my attention from across the aisle (because no one but no one gives up a seat on the F train for a conversation) and was like "did you go to W____?" (W____ being the name of my elementary school.) To which the reflex robots replied "yee-eess?" with what they thought was a sly, inquisitive smirk, but actually looked like a spasmic rictus of agony caused by scrotal tattooing. "Me too," she chirped, with the kind of energy usually reserved for the afternoon, "are you Jeremy?" The flexbots didn't try anything funny here: "Yes." They closed my book (which I don't read in the mornings, it's just a prop to make me look smart and keep me from dozing, because dozing leads to slack-jawed drooling, and that doesn't look smart at all), as this was obviously going to be a polysyllabic, polysentence communication. The chipper schoolmate said "my name is ______." And here is the problem, see? I have NO IDEA what her name is. Zero. Reflexbots do not take good notes. Nor do they take pictures, because I have NO IDEA WHAT SHE LOOKS LIKE, EITHER. Arrggh! We had a nice long chat, too. About schools and jobs and books and rainbows and ponies. Always ponies. But after that? Poof. File not found, dude. Four-oh-fucking-four.
     This wouldn't be a problem for some people, but I am a sensitive soul, and I can't help thinking that she is staring at me expectantly every morning, just for a grunt or eyebrow-wiggle of acknowledgement, and I stare blankly back at her, like the coldest brush-off artist fuckwad ever; staring into her eyes and pretending she's not there, eroding years of shored-up self-confidence (I imagine that she is short), making her smile muscles dance in confusion as they oscillate between hopeful grin and desperate frown.
     I couldn't have known. But I'm not too cool for school, I swear it. Just nearsighted and sleepy. So don't talk to me before the coffee. You're not talking to me. I will not honor any promises made by the robots in my body during the morning commute. Your coupon is no longer valid. You can't get there from here. Try me in the evening. I'm sorry. I really am. I'm sorry.

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