UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE
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Universal Donor
We can ill afford another Klendathu 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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Thursday, February 03, 2005
The week has been hectic, kids, but I know you're as uninterested in excuses as the shotgun-pumping papa of the cute little Texan cheerleader you impregnated ("I guess the condom broke, sir, but I assure you we used condoms -- ummm... I mean a condom, sir, not like we made a habit of it -- sex I mean, not safe sex -- no, wait, it was definitely safe sex WOW would you please point that at the floor because I don't know if you remember but you just put live shells in there and so it's in a dangerous state ha ha hehhhhhhh would you like to borrow my handkerchief to wipe some of that sweat from your brow and.... head... sir? Agggle. Please let me explain!") and I'm not interested in offering them. In school, when I handed something in late, I'd just say "here's my paper, I'm sorry it's late" without offering any pulp-hungry pet tales. Similarly, when I'm late to work, I always say "sorry I'm late, I'm an asshole" which is universally closer to the truth than any raison du jour. Although one time I was late to work because somebody got hit by a train so close to me that when his head burst open I got brains on my shirt! I had to go home and change, take a shower, and weep while hugging my knees for two hours. So that was a pretty good excuse.
How come nobody wants a giant picture of Paul Rudd? I lugged this stupid thing to my office after spotting it in fairly good condition in a corporate garbage pile, but oddly enough my boss didn't think it made a good addition to the office aesthetic. The eBay listing is a re-listing; the first auction had no nibbles at all. None! Don't girls love Paul Rudd? Doesn't the mere mention of his name cause your typical twenty/thirtysomething to experience an instant underpants tsunami? Especially if they picture his bare ass in Wet Hot American Summer, a movie in which his character was about as awful and annoying as a male character could be and yet he still came off as utterly charming and sexy and make-out-in-the-boathouse-worthy? And what about gay men? I'm pretty sure the Ruddster is a hit with your average FOD. What gives, peeps? Put your money where your soiled undergarments are! In the news of my decrepitude, I had to drop off my arch-correcting in-shoe orthotics with my podiatrist because after two years of daily use they look like Beirut. He's gonna send them to the lab to get refurbished, which will take about a week. In the meantime, I'm supposed to wear store-bought arch things. This is gonna be a tough weekend. After walking one block without inserts for the first time in two years my feet were screaming in agony. I swear, my feet are such sissies, acting like I'd shoved mongeese in my sneakers with them. Get a grip, feet. Shut up. I hope those of you who came to trivia last night enjoyed it. For those of you who live far away, you can click here to test your mettle on the visual round. It's not too hard, as long as your head is filled with crumpled-up pages from old issues of People magazine. Oh, and kids? One of the stories above about brains and trains isn't true. See if you can figure out which one. 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 |