UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
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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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Thursday, January 01, 2004
Nunky has already expounded ably on the several topics I intend to include in this post, but I'm not the kind of guy to quit fucking a horse just because it's dead, so sit tight and listen up.
I've never been big on the New Year's Eve search for the Big Fun, because like a gaywad I believe that the Big Fun is a state of mind rather than a particular place or party. My ex-gf Burfur would always stagger from party to party, trying to sniff out the nebulous ideal for which she had no discernable criteria but which she would know it when she was soaking in it. Of course, the Big Fun is as evasive as Mount Peng-Lai, which appears to recede the neaner you approach (how's that for obscure, you giddy fucks?) so Burf always ended up disappointed and sore-footed, $100 in cabfare lining the far-flung pockets of our local Mexican car service industry. So in the spirit of chilling the fuck out, I only went to one party last night. The party was full of strangers, but for the most part they were attractive strangers, which was cool as key lime pie. One of my social phobias about parties is that I'll end up at a party full of ugly, deformed, or SpEd people, and because I'm wicked polite, I'd treat everyone like they were ONH ("of normal hotness") and end up fucking a chinless paraplegic in a beanbag chair. The corollary inverse phobia is that I will go to a party so full of hipster hotness that I will be the least attractive person there (if you can even imagine the Olympian grandeur of such a gathering) and transform into a giant UD-shaped gourd. But so the party was nice, and I was comfortably in the average range of the event's attractiveness roster. I taught the Feather Boa Girl how to accessorize her dance moves with it. I complimented the baking skills of Girl Who Brought Cookies To The Party in such a way that her muscly boyfriend looked like he was gonna punch my lights out, but he let me live because I gave him a kiss when the Bloomberg Ball said zero. We were all just so glad that the Bloomy Ball didn't trigger a dirty bomb, but we were disappointed that our Mayor was wearing a sweatshirt. Ambassador to the World, my fat ass! In the kitchen, Hot Black Guy heard me say "I did such a Jew thing today" and he was like "whoa! hey now!" and I was like "what? I'm a Jew." And he was like "but it's a slur. Oh, okay, I see. like I can say I'm a nigger, and so you can say 'I'm a Jew' in the same spirit" and I was like "no, 'Jew' is not a slur; it's a proper noun, like 'Christian' or 'Muslim.' I'm a Jew and I'm proud." I half-expected J.Ro to walk in and out me as a half-jew, but she didn't, and then the HBG covered up for his drunken confusion by saying something about Catherine the Great and paradigmatic metareference or something, and he ate a deviled egg. But he was hot, so it was all good, right? Confusing Wizard called from Texas, where he and his friends were celebrating Remember The Alamo New Year's Day, when all good little Texans drink Vaseline margaritas and pistol-whip each other's balls in remembrance of the bravery of Davey Crockett, Sam Houston, Daniel Boone, David Bowie, Tom Collins, and Harvey Wallbanger. CW's pal grabbed the phone and effusively praised my musical skills, which makes two teenagers in two weeks who have compared me to Radiohead. Happy New Year! 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 |