Universal Donor
We can ill afford
another Klendathu

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feed it up! | UD email

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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 friend Chat just called me from Washington Square Park, where apparently a bunch of NYU students are having a major collaborative freakout at the spring-like temperatures. Chat was just trying to get back to work from her lunch break, when, like her namesake, she got distracted by something shiny:
     "Damn, what is the... is that Madonna?" she said.
     "Madonna's in the park?" I asked. "That doesn't make any--"
     "No, there's like, this... paddy wagon... with Madonna... blaring from some speakers? Huh wha?"
     "Wait," I said, "like there's a black maria playing "Borderline?""
     "Whazza? I. Do. Not. Understand." she mumbled.
     But I did understand. I know exactly what's going on: it's got to be RaverTrap 2k4, a new police initiative to sweep student populations for Extasy user/dealers. They drive into clots of reveling students, play something dancy, and hope that blissed-out ravers with pockets full of MDMA will just, like, dance up a Spy Hunter-style ramp into the back of the van, at which point they club them with Maglite-sized glow sticks.
     Of course, being cops, they pick hopelessly outdated music, and except for an obscure Kruder & Dorfmeister remix of "Things That Make You Go Hmmm" that's actually pretty hot, their entrapment disc doesn't have anything good enough to tempt pie-pupilled clubkids into their stupid truck. So the forces of freedom live to dance another day!

Now: something about receptionists. I used to be one, so I know what I'm talking about. Receptionists are a vital part of any business because they're the first face a visitor sees, and the first voice a caller hears. The receptionist in my office is totally awesome, and will always warn me if an angry caller is a woman so I can put on my deep sexy voice, which you would not believe how many mad bitches get INSTANTLY chilled out by a Barry White purr. The receptionist knows everyone's extension -- by heart! What?! You heard me: by fucking heart. Also, she flirts with the mailman so nobody else has to. On the upside, she gets to flirt with the FedEx and UPS guys.
     But there is a darker side to the job, which I think merits hazard pay: the receptionist is always the first to die if a crazed gunman or a vengeful druglord with a score to settle comes barging into the office. Other people, if they're savvy, may have a chance to duck under their desks or hide in file cabinets at the sound of the first shots, but it's always the girl up front who's like: "Hey, you can't -- GLEEP!" as the bad guy raises his arm, and without even really looking at her, shoots her right in the sternum.
     I tell you, that possibility haunted me every day when I was a receptionist. Every time the buzzer buzzed, I was like "Is this it? Is this the one? Sweet lord, forgive me my trespasses and all that shit etc., I'm ready to go if'n you call me," at which point I'd buzz them in and it was almost always some delivery guy with whom I was vocationally obliged to flirt. After three months of daily paranoia, I was a quivering wreck, eating Klompers like Tic-Tacs and sweating so much that I looked like I'd just stepped out of a pool. And what was my hazard pay for this? SWEET FUCK-ALL.
posted by Universal Donor 2:37 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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