UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE

Universal Donor
We can ill afford
another Klendathu

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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



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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!



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

Tuesday, December 30, 2003
 
I'm back, but I took yesterday off because this is my silly season. I work like three out of every seven days, and the rest I spend in sweaty, tossy torpor in my bed which refuses to be comfortable, but is yet the most comfortable bed I've found. Insomnia has made an early New Year's Resolution not to quit bothering me. Insomnia might not be so bad if I weren't so tired, but since I'm just a pre-zombie if I undersleep, it's like WHAT ELSE CAN I DO BUT LIE HERE AND THINK THINK THINK. Oh, and the ridiculous thoughts that take on a manic importance when you can't sleep: I must start a new religion founded on truth and beauty; bitches owe me money; I need new shoes; what if that chord were major instead of minor? My extremeties bristle together in their chapped winter shells. Who will make moist my flippers?
     Ah but yay: my rustling, dry-handed prayers have been answered by a moist and merciful god. Through the miracles of SCIENCE and the InTerWeb, myCetaphil.com allows me to electronically personalize my home moisturizing experience! Gah! Doesn't this bullshit piss you off? Moisturizer websites? Gabble!
     2003 was bad because I saw Daredevil, which seriously is one of the ten worst movies ever, with Jennifer Garner trying to ninja the fuck out of a blind guy within five minutes of meeting him because he asks her name. 2003 was good because I got the Matrix sequels out of the way and I can start anticipating real-life things like marriage, home-ownership, parenthood, crippling back pain, and twenty-rock-per-hour crack addiction. OR WHATEVER. Also I saw Errol Morris's The Fog of War, which made my December, if not my year. Also I bought products, ate food, and killed zombies with knives. Who can ask for anything more?
     Sunday I accompanied the new roommate (whom we'll call Newmonia in honor of her recent welcome-to-New-York illness) to a cough sports bar so she could watch her beloved Packers on one of the ten DirecTV hookups in the stinking dive. I couldn't stand it for long, but the straw that broke my scoliotic spine was a jittery, stumbly man who stared at the Vikings game so hard I thought his eyeball might land in his highball. On the sidewalk smoker's ghetto, he explained that he'd been on a bender -- variety unspecified -- and that he was down, way down, and need to win this one badly, and the Vikes were winning but not beating the spread, so who the fuck cared, god fucking dammnit. I sympathized with a genereic "Huh," which marked me as a good listener and confidant, I guess. Juicy-eyed and earnest he looked at me, saying "I gotta quit, man. Gotta quit gambling, gotta quit smoking, gotta quit drinking, gotta quit the drugs." I waited for a line about hookers, but apparently his vices know some earthly limits. But it sounded like a good resolution to me, folks, so let's just make it the UDvsGA boilerplate. Good luck in the New Year, my friends, and may your addictions be cheap, benign, or easy to kick.

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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
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any use of Comic Sans