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Jeremy Broomfield



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

Wednesday, November 10, 2004
 
Time for the biannual haircut post. If you've ever read one before, you can just skip this one, because I do not intend to tread any new ground, though I may throw in a few random, non-haircut-related non sequitur digressions (most redundant clause ever?), like:
     • I kinda like the new Duran Duran song "Sunrise," which I saw the video for at Launch, except that during the chorus, they use a chord change that sounds wrong to me -- like it was deliberately chosen to sound "different." If I had an instrument here at the office, I'd tell you what chord my ear wants and the one they used, but I'm too lazy to pick it out with just my head. (it happens on the lyrics "big sky" (first time) and "your life" (second).) I don't know if I'm being conservative/traditional here, but I just want to grab them by their skinny ties and say "don't get fancy, lads, you didn't get famous by using kooky, unpredictable, tinny progressions. You got famous by making videos like the one for 'Girls on Film.' Hottness!"
     My hair is in my eyes, and has been for a while now. It is at the length that makes it dangerous to perform tasks that require depth perception (driving, fighter-piloting, bowling, walking, life-drawing), and it also makes my mom crazy because she believes that the virus that causes conjunctivitis grows out of split ends and that I'm gonna explode with violent, albino-looking pink eye at any second.
     • The New York Post's cover page today was so despicable that I almost threw up on the train today. Take a look. That's right. A so-called newspaper gives Philip Morris a full-size ad on its front page, equating smoking with bravery, patriotism, heroism, manliness, and butt-kicking. Un. Be. Fucking. Lieveable. Except that it's not unbelievable, because it's the New York Post, which is the worst rag ever, Rupert Murdoch's toilet paper wiped across the face of New York every stupid fucking day. I just can't comprehend why so many people on the train are reading it. The text is at the 6th grade reading level, which makes it accessible to the undereducated, I guess. But I see a lot of upper-middle class yuppies and even hipster-looking leg-warmer trucker-hat types poisoning their minds with the jewel in News Corporation's crown of turds. I DON'T GET YOU, PEOPLE. YOU SUCK. Read the Times or put out your eyes.
     The hair is in my eyes and is getting funkier, which means that every couple of weeks or so, I actually have to wash it, which is totally anathema to my system of hair-beliefs. So it must be cut, and soon. BUT! As always, I look totally cute with the hair long. One coworker has threatened bodily harm at the business end of a letter opener if I let scissors within a foot of my dreamboat bangs. AND! I will have to do YET ANOTHER roommate hunt for the third bedroom, which I must fill on December 1. So maybe it's hasty and ill-advised to give myself the severe yet practical haircut until after I've wooed the new roomie. My sexy eyes never look sexier than when they flash out from hiding behind my dangly, greasy forelocks. Wait it out! Three more weeks!
     • When I heard this next bit of news, I flopped onto the floor in a paroxysm of pop-culture ecstasy: In the sequel to Pirates of the Caribbean, due out in 2006, the role of Capt. Jack Sparrow's father will be played by... Keith Richards. Oh yes. Just imagine, and oh god. Beautiful. Keith never cuts his hair. Neither does Cap'n Jack Sparrow.

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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"
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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.
-
tattoos in the Courier font
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any use of Comic Sans