UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
|
||
|
Universal Donor
We can ill afford another Klendathu 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
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
WHO LINKS TO UD? • from Technorati • from Google • from Yahoo and here's something weird: my place in Humor 3-space |
Thursday, December 04, 2003
The upstairs neighbors earned the nickname The Pirates for their noisy pegleg hornpipe antics, but yesterday they took peace disturbance to a new level of misdemeanorhood.
When I got home around 10pm, I didn't really mind the sound of the repetitive bass line blooping through the building, becuase 10pm is okay for music appreciation at any volume. Never mind that it was that terrible salsa bass line that -- forgive me for sounding like your parents when you started listening to rap -- makes every fucking salsa song sound the same. It was (and always is) like: Boooomm Tick BaBoom Tick Boo... (down whole step) ...Doom Tick BooDoom Tick (down a fourth) AD INFINUCKINGFITUM. The disc was clearly on repeat, and I began to think the Pirates had been killed by a sauce-loving psychopath who had made himself at home and passed out in blood puddles. Well, at 2am I thought maybe it was time to make Mr Buttsauce turn it down, right? But I was already nakies in my bed, employing the kind of wishful thinking that Ambien makes so simple. But my nudity and comforter did not seem to quiet the Boooomm Tick BaDoom of the Psychopathic Salsa Pirate. I yelled to good old Heroic [Second] Roommate for assistance. UD: Hey! Hey HST! HST: (from living room) Yeah? PSP: Boooomm Tick BaDoom Tick... UD: Make it stop. HST: Yeah. PSP: Boooomm Tick BaDoom Tick... UD: Tell Jesus to make the salsa man shut up. HST: Will that work? PSP: Boooomm Tick BaDoom Tick... UD: Doesn't Jesus hate salsa music? I'm pretty sure he does. Because he loves me, and I hate it. HST: I'll tell him. UD: And tell him to eat a bowl of dick. HST: Who, Jesus? UD: ...No. Tell Jesus to tell the other guy. But Jesus must have been too busy doing god stuff, like raping goats or something, so I had to take matters into my sleepy-time hands. I put on some laundry clothes and some sneakers and went on a recon mission to make sure it was the apartment directly upstairs. I was gonna disguise myself with my pillowcase, but it had gone completely transparent from head- and face-grease, so I risked identification. And yes, it was the fucktards upstairs. Boring story short: they turned it down after liberal application of the thwack'em stick (a decomissioned mop handle) to the ceiling, which was good because Ambien and I were ready to go up and get Louima on their Dominican asses for real. But so my sleep was curtailed, my little lambs, and you can't get blood from a stone. I don't really believe in calling the cops for shit like this, because the neighborhood, which frowns on crime, practically grimaces at the police. A couple years ago, this drug dealer got shot on the corner and hustled his bleeding ass into the building. A detective came knocking and asked if I had seen anything, and the weary look on his face told me that the building was collectively blind. Even though everybody on the block sticks their head out the window at the sound of a loud argument. Fuck it. If the pirates love music so much, maybe I could tape a subwoofer to the ceiling and share some of mine. Any suggestions? I'm thinking Langley Schools Music Project's version of Wings' "Venus And Mars/Rock Show" on infinite repeat, bitch. Boo-yaa! 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 |