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

  Claudia is supposedly out on the road somewhere, and still she updates more often than I do. I'd say she put me to shame, but I actually think the road trip is just a stunt, a made-up fairy tale that her doctors are willing to tolerate because it might help her get released from the looney clinic earlier if she "takes a trip" from her psychosis, represented here either by Chicago, her "job," or both.
     When I sent her an email wishing her a swift recovery, she claimed to be having head pains, which usually means she's hung over. I wonder if, in some phildickian warping of her perceptions, her "hangovers" are actually moments of clarity between shots of thorazine -- moments when she can actually perceive the padded walls around her -- but once she gets her meds she immediately represses the true vision and replaces it with a memory of drinking the night before?
     Whatever. The last time I had a hangover was something like four years ago, on a bizarre trip back to my college to watch some younger friends graduate. I took a nostalgic stroll to my old house (which my housemates christened "Dollywood," though I wanted to name it "Doogie House, MD") to find a friend I'll call J.Crew, who gave me a hug and a bottle of Belvedere. He introduced me to his girlfriend Zoots, and together they gave me ego-boosting compliments on my album, which I later realized was meant to misdirect my attention from the fact that my tumbler never ran out of liquor. And damn, that Belvedere went down as smooth as a buttered tadpole.
     I vaguely remember a party later, but I vividly remember the bathroom in the party's house. I think I spent three hours in there, hugging all three of its porcelain residents, with the kind of hangover you get when you forget to pass out first. After a while, people stopped trying to get me to move from the bathroom and just treated me like a moaning, sweating piece of furniture. Some people would chat with me as they peed, some would ask me to hold their Solo cups, which had the same result as sticking their fingers down my throat. Oh man.
      Hard times on expensive vodka. Later, after I had finally fallen asleep in the bed of some nice girl who lived at the house (she stayed at her boyfriend's place that night), I detected movement in the bed, somewhere behind my clammy back. Seems J.Crew and Zoots were feeling amorous but didn't have the energy to walk the two blocks back home. They unapologetically fucked their drunken faces off. Well, I couldn't really complain. It wasn't my bed, after all. Plus I literally couldn't complain, because by that point I was intellectually and functionally indistinguishable from a cup of primordial mud. Can you dig it, kids? Booze sucks. Drink up!
posted by Universal Donor 4:38 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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