UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE

Universal Donor
We can ill afford
another Klendathu

feed it up! | UD email


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



Powered by Blogger

Oh fuck yeah.

This is my Google PageRankā„¢ - SmE Rank free service Powered by Scriptme


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



Look the fuck out! It's claude le monde!



WHO LINKS TO UD?

from Technorati
from Google
from Yahoo



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

Wednesday, March 17, 2004
 
I woke up this morning before my alarm went off and smiled to myself, because I had a perfect topic for you. A good entry after a drought. I slept the sleep of the righteous. Then I woke up and went to work and forgot everything. So maybe I'll talk about the Irish instead.
     I have to cross Fifth Avenue on the way to work, which today was not possible because of the police barricades set up to completely enclose the upcoming river of bagpiping drunkards. I managed to hop the barricades and blend in with the crowd by stripping down to my green shillelagh hammock and bolting across the street screaming "FOOKIN' 'ELL OI'M IRISH! YARR! SURE AN' YER DA'S A SHEEPSHAGGAH!" I was allowed to cross, and my heart swelled. I'm a quarter Irish, you know. Even now, from my office on the 14th floor, I am gladdened that I can still hear the "FweeEEE-ummmm a Fwee-dalla Fweee!" of Irish pride.
     It's a wonderful tradition, which commemorates the day St. Patrick barricaded the rats of Dublin inside a pub and killed them using the amplified screams of the witches burning under the willow trees of Glocca Morra, or whatever. Helicopters are flying freaky low-altitude intimidation patterns over midtown to discourage... um, parade terror, I guess? My boss said she heard there were police snipers posted all along the route, which is also weird. My guess is they're authorized to shoot anyone who isn't wearing green or demanding kisses from every girl who passes within thirty feet. I just hope the snipers aren't Irish too, because Irish people are drunk all the time. No, I'm kidding. But seriously, it's hard to aim when your laser scope is covered with chunky green scone huke. Erin Go Blaargle!
     Speaking of green, my cowokers just started a volley of tsking over some story about a lady who was pregnant with twins and blah blah blah tragedycakes about opting out of a C-section. I dunno, but there was some more tsking about the fact that the expectant mom had smoked weed while pregnant. I just want to tell you that it makes perfect sense to me. The idea of being preggers gives me the shivering creepers. Plus, I think burning trees with a bun in the oven pretty much guarantees you a mellow, chilled-out baby, right? Also, shooting speed straight into the amniotic sac will create an energetic, productive baby who loves to clean his room. Also, inserting a mini bottle of airplane liquor and a rifle bullet into your baby-filled uterus will guarantee your child future employment at St. Paddy's Day parades.

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