UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE

Universal Donor
We can ill afford
another Klendathu

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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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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?

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

Wednesday, December 29, 2004
 
I totally had a dream two nights ago in which my Stepfather asked me If I could get him one single joint. I told him I could do better than that, and he said, no, thank you, one joint will be fine. He said this with a sad finality, a regretful shake of the head. One joint. And I was thinking to myself "do I actually know where to get weed anymore? And am I going to have to roll the joint myself? What will I do with the rest of the bag of weed? Will he pay for the whole bag or only the joint?" And now as I sit here writing this, I'm becoming less sure that it was a dream. Then again, I tend to be pretty businesslike and pedestrian in my dreams, always asking for insurance or putting on seatbelts. I have never fucked a unicorn, or chopped the head off of a bully from grade school, or married a weightlifter, or dug my hands deep into a blue tiger's fur. I have probably retained counsel in case a sexual harassment suit was brought against me for telling a cowoker that I liked her pants. My dreams are stupid.
     I became a big hulking fattypants over the vacation of fatty foods. I am, like, Farley-fat. Candy-fat. Gleason-ated. Orcacular. Least I feel this way because my belly looks like it does after a large meal -- when I wake up! Eww! I did some math while reading people magazine and figured something out. Okay, Kirstie Allie is really fat right now, right? Right. Like, unhealthy fat, swollen ankle fat. The kind of fat I was humorously pretending to be myself several sentences ago. So People magazine (which you will find at my mother's house in large architectural stockpiles) says she's 195 pounds right now. Big fat Kirstie is 195 pounds? Well so am I, and despite my roly-poly hokey-pokery of almost a paragraph ago, I am not a flabster. Therefore Kirstie Allie is a midget. Q.E.D. She must be 4'10" or something. Just yiny. I can't even remember her character's name on Cheers. That's how short and fat she is. She's off my pop culture trivia radar, close to the ground like a foothill.
     A belly full of Christmas food is what I blame for my grossest holiday misjudgment. Charlie Munger is this investment banker who gave an awesome speech that I love in which he identifies the 24 most common Causes of Human Misjudgment. Well he didn't mention Yorkshire Pudding and Ginger Cookies, but they stole enough blood from my head that I fell for the Ronco pitch and bought some TV knives. Sure, there are 25 of them, but I think we all know that my buyer's remorse for this will be a epic, tangible, Claudia's-head-on-Saturday-Morning-style whopper. I'll have to use them all the time for everything. Like if you come over to my house, instead of a hug and a hello at the door, I'll cut you. I'll use the paring knife to press buttons on the remote, and I'll use the cleaver to wash my face. I'll use the six steak knives in lieu of a belt to hold up my pants!

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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"
-
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