Universal Donor
We can ill afford
another Klendathu

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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
• from Google
• from Yahoo



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

  Apropos of nothing, I gotta say that if John Kerry doesn't stop spamming my ass more than the dick enlargers, I'm gonna bring the hammer down -- Kilmer-style.
     Anyway, I have a good story and a bad story from Los Angeles, which is kinda perfect for this stupid town, where I saw a guy earlier riding a skateboard in flip-flops. See what I mean? Ridiculous.
     Bad Story: Yesterday I was eating breakfast in Venice with J.Ro at a restaurant on Electric Avenue (yes, the very same) called The Brick House, which provides an al fresco dining area where legislatively disenfranchised smokers like us can indulge our addiction as we enjoy our omelettes. The outdoor tables are on a raised wooden platform with a railing, further sheltered from the street by some lush ficus plants or something. Our food hadn't come yet, but my coffee was soaking in, revving up my synapses, when a guy walked up to the fenced-in area, snaked his hand under the railing, took my cell phone, and bolted down the street.
     Then I was chasing him, though I don't know how that happened. I was sprinting as best I could, and I think I shouted something at him like DROP THE FUCKING PHONE YOU FUCKING FUCK, but I haven't sprinted for more than 40 seconds since like eighth grade, so as the cracky thief pulled away, I had to make a choice between continuing to run or continuing to breathe. I stopped in the middle of Brooks Street, heaving like ship in a storm, and Speedy McCrackhead dodged around a corner, disappearing down the rabbithole into the Venice ghetto.
     Some nice lady in a jeep who saw the chase gave me a lift back to the Brick, which was good because I was done. People were all kinds of freaked out, trying to figure out whether they should've called 911, but sensing that a snatched cell didn't qualify as an emergency in this universe. The waitress asked "was he black?" which is too bad, because she seemed nice otherwise. A fat guy told me to quick cancel my service, and J.Ro dialed my number on her cell and handed it to me. There was no answer.
     I wasn't too aggrieved by the situation, feeling that the dude certainly earned the phone with that sneaky behind-the-ficus move and the ensuing dash. Kudos, Snatchy McCrackerson. I looked up the nearest Sprint store, savoring the appropriateness of the company's name, and rode a stupid red one-speed bicycle along the beach to Wilshire to unsever my link to the world. I lost all the stored numbers, but I got more exercise than I have in years. My thighs are on fire. Woo!
     Good Story: This evening, walking with Morgan back to his car from a successful mission to the bookstore, two twentysomething girls walk up to me. One of them gets my attention.
GIRL: Excuse me....
UD: Yeah?
GIRL: Are you single?
UD: Um... yes?
GIRL: Okay. I just wanted to tell you that you're really cute.
UD: Oh. Thanks! (pause) Wait -- would I have be less cute if I weren't single?
GIRL: (walking away) No. But now I can think about you later.

Hee.
posted by Universal Donor 8:32 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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