UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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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
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Friday, January 23, 2004
I just overheard my co-worker say on the phone to her sister: "Yo, so I was just wundrin' how much that kid charges for the tax, for doin' the tax return." I hate to admit to eavesdropping, sweetums, but if you're referring to somebody as "that kid," he should NOT be doing your taxes. Just like you shouldn't let a man who calls himself "The Slicemeister General" operate on your brain. Also, don't get a tattoo from Twitchy McSpaztard, and don't use a babysitter named Fondles MacPheely. (Common sense is truly the rarest coin, Watson. Shut up, Holmes.)
Also, don't give beer to girls named Daphne Abdela. I was talking to Raekool about my Jailbird Baby, and she was like: "Damn. Things must be pretty bad when you have to kill someone and fill them with rocks. Like they really must have exhausted all other avenues for settling their differences." Har. I pointed out that the rocks were meant to weigh down the body, which Daph and her boyfriend attempted to sink in a lake. Rae was like "Oh. Well that makes a little more sense. I thought they were just wicked pissed at the guy." Yes. I'm pissed at Gregor for pulling a Hoffa on the blog, but not quite mad enough to fill him with rocks. Especially because his mouth is so full of hobo cocks -- he's busy! Here's a thought: when somebody is described as "street smart?" It means they are dumb. Similary, if someone claims that they're not "booksmart?" It means they are stupider than a bag of hot dirt that got hit with a hammer. Not "book smart?" Like, what other kind of smart is there? Car smart? Tree smart? Mailbox smart? Shoveling smart? Give me a fucksuck break, again. Shovels don't make a sulky Mars rover communicate again, unless you're standing right on top of its idiot lensy face, shovel cocked and ready for a roboslap. New York is sucking a wintry nipple and our lips are getting stuck. I was happy when Claudia's care package arrived, and it confirmed my theory that if you want people to send you shit, nothing imparts a sense of obligation like a big honking SASE with a dollar's postage. But the filpside of my happy burger is the crappy burger: my left eye's gone nystagmic. I don't mind the twitching, but what I hate is that I can never catch the eye twitching in the mirror. It's like twitch twitch twitch and you go look in the mirror to watch the fun trick and it's like, dullsville, dad; no twitch here, mang. So you wait for the twitch to come back, all sneaky and giggling because you're gonna fake it out by grabbing a coworker's hand mirror from your lap, and it's like twitch twi-- and BAM you grab that mirror and FUCK, NOTHING. Well, apparently, the Mars rover is talking to us again. And you know what it's talking about? Bendifer! Bennifover! Bennifinito! Bleep Bloop Glaargle Fuck! 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 |