Universal Donor
We can ill afford
another Klendathu

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You are just a number
to me! And that number
is:

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PAGES UD MADE:

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My Books Page

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My Reviews Page

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My Reference Page

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My Music Page

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My Pictures

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My Store

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UD-RELATED PAGES:

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My LiveJournal

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My MySpace music page

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My Flickr page

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My del.icio.us page

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My Last.fm page

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My Amazon Wishlist

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HEAVY ROTATION

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Dan Deacon:
Bromst
Animal Collective:
Merriweather Post Pavillion
Bon Iver:
For Emma, Forever Ago
Vampire Weekend:
Vampire Weekend
Fleet Foxes:
Fleet Foxes

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BLOGS ETC

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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

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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

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dead amusement pks
craters!

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all content
© 2002-2010
Jeremy Broomfield

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PRAISE & REVIEWS

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"[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

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egeo huic vigorum

MY WRESTLING NAME

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Titan Gently

MY PUNK NAME

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Razor Ection







WHO LINKS TO UD?

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• from Technorati
• from Google
• from Yahoo



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

  My boss just breezed back into the office at 2pm after a six-day trip to Atlanta, which may not have been actually hot(lanta) but was certainly hotter(lanta) than this stupid icebox of a town. Out like a lamb, my hot buttered ass. This shit be cold. This boss in warm climes thing highlights the fact that I need a vacation too, which shouldn't surprise me since it's been almost six months since my last one and the need for vacation is as clockworky as other needs like food and excretion, but those always take me by pissed-off surprise, too, like: What the fuck, body, you want me to eat three times a day? What, you want me to empty this stupid bladder again? SHUT UP BODY. I am busy failing to blog.
     The vacation deal at my office is enviable in that I get 20 days a year and they really don't care when I go, or for how long, as long I give them some notice. Sometimes I think I could just call in and be like "yeah, I woke up in Juneau this morning, so I gotta flag down a SnoCat or something, so, I dunno, I guess I'll be back in a week if I can cross the Rockies without going Donner on somebody" and they'd be like "okay, don't get frostbite" and that'd be thatski. Unfortunately I always seem to wake up in New York, where the SnoCat line doesn't fly, and I usually have to go to work. Now, since I have no imagination at all in certain realms, I am going to California again. Definitely L.A. and possibly S.F., if they'll have me. Don't try to talk me into going anywhere else. I've got no energy for it.
     In fact, I'm gonna make a t-shirt that says "I've got no energy for it" in spastic, slothful Sharpie, because it's becoming my motto. Somebody send me the translation into Latin, please, so I can whip up a wicked awesome coat of arms to pass down to my Epstein-Barr-afflicted progeny. How do you go out drinking, dudes? How can you drag your asses out to the same funless zone of depressant ingestion night after night? I admit that my idea of fun has become bizarre lately -- I just spent waaay too much of the day obsessively clicking reload on The Onion until the update finally came through. Not fun, but apparently more fun than SXSW, which I only read one random account of it, but it seems like the kind of thing you'd prefer to have your scalp cheese-grated than attend.
     Which unfortunately is how I feel about EVERYTHING. This lunch I'm eating, packed with vegetables to make me think for a moment that I could be healthy? Grate my fucking scalp. My plans for this week, or this weekend, or forever after? Grate away, Ellie May. This movie, book, or television show, which is supposed to distract me from thoughts like these? FILL ME WITH ROCKS. All right, I'm exaggerating. I'm emulating a level of emotion that seems to be more normal than my blipless flatline of nonchalance. OR AM I? GLAARGLE! COUGH! COUGH!
posted by Universal Donor 4:55 PM 0 comments

OTHER REVIEWS:
Scrabble NEW!

LATEST BOOK REVIEWS:
The Game
Moneyball
One-Upsmanship
Siddhartha

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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

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MY IMAGINARY GIRLFRIENDS

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Chan Marshall
Rotem of the IDF
Eleanor Friedberger
Amy Goodman
Bernardine Dohrn ('69)
Maya Rudolph
Joanna Newsom
Imogen Heap
Caroline Dhavernas

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Shana Rae Ray

DISALLOWED FOREVER

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"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!"
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"from whence"
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"...the exception that proves the rule"
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any use of the question "spit or swallow?"
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the phrase "drop trou"
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fake-o reviewer verbs:
"penned" for wrote
"helmed" for directed
"lensed" for whatever
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"expat"
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the euphemism
"passed away"
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pronouncing merci beaucoup as "mercy buckets!"
(see also: "grassy-ass!")

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PET PEEVES

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"confinscated"
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trying children "as adults"
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"drownded"
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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.
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tattoos in the Courier font
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any use of Comic Sans

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