UNIVERSAL DONOR: MA VIE EN CROUTE

Universal Donor
We can ill afford
another Klendathu

feed it up! | UD email


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



Powered by Blogger

Oh fuck yeah.

This is my Google PageRankā„¢ - SmE Rank free service Powered by Scriptme


Hosted by:
HostRocket.Com

Comments by:
YACCS

  SITE STATS



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?

from Technorati
from Google
from Yahoo



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

Wednesday, August 03, 2005
 
It's August and the entire city smells of bin juice. At least, I think that's what they call it -- last summer I read an article about Sanitation Workers' lingo (e.g. disco rice = maggots) and I'm pretty sure "bin juice" is what they call the liquid residue at the bottom of a garbage truck after you empty it of its solid contents. It is as putrid a fluid as Jabba the Hut's diarrhea. Woof! So anyway, that's what the city smells like. The restaurants put out their trash at night but when the air outside hovers above 85 degrees all night the sidewalk acts like a grilltop and those hot bags of meat tailings and liquefying vegetable matter squirt out their essence before they get picked up the following dawn, and it is too humid for the juices to evaporate or dry out or anything so the ground in front of any restaurant is slick and vomitous and you can only imagine the festival of roiling vermin that danced upon the sickening slick the night before.
     Speaking of which, I had an awful encounter last night. I was at my Mom's house (air conditioning, yo -- yesterday it was still 94 when I left work) last night, slumbering peacefully, when the need to urinate seized me in the wee small hours of the night. I stumbled to the lavatoire, flipped on the light -- aigh! bright! -- and sat down to take a whiz (I don't trust my standing aim when I'm half-asleep). Just as I was about to loose a sleepy stream, A FUCKING GIANT COCKROACH ZOOMED OUT FROM BEHIND THE TOILET, running between my goddamn feet like he didn't give a shit. I said "holy fuck!" in a nighttime voice and danced away from the toilet, naked and defenseless. I'm so fucking glad I was naked, though, because OH MA GAH can you imagine if he had wandered out on the same path and I had had my boxers around my ankles? Oh fuck what if he had crawled into my boxers AHHHHHHHHHGGGGGGGHHH!!!!!
      But so I danced, like I said, away from the toilet, but the stupid bug didn't, like, run away -- he just sort of wandered in crazy confused circles without fear of foot-smashing. Well, he was right about that because ain't NO WAY I'm crushing a water bug with my big flat bare feet BBBBLLLLAARRRGGGG. But these days I'm a tiny bit more controlled in situations like this, so instead of teleporting to a different area code and swearing off using that bathroom for the rest of my life, I peeked back at the toilet to see if the stupid bug was still there. And sure enough, his hulking chitinous idiocy was still loitering at the base of the bowl, like nice camouflage, you hexapedal doofus.
      I learned long ago that bug sprays like Raid don't do anything but clear a New York City bug's sinuses; they laugh at you and do a little jig, but they don't look any worse for the wear. HOWEVER. Soap -- regular soap, or shampoo, or dishsoap especially -- will just completely murderize a bug. I think I first heard about this from The Straight Dope when I was a kid, and it stuck with me. At my house I always keep a spray bottle filled with soapy water, but as I was away from home, I had to improvise. I took two squirts of handsoap into my palm, added some water, stirred it with my finger, and flung it, Byung-Hyun Kim-style, at the brown monster. He sat there a bit, like "so what," but then -- then! -- he was like "whoa, feeling a little woozy" and he started to wander away from the terlet, and he stuck out his wing for a sec, giving me an instant pre-infarction spazzy panic attack thing as I thought he might take to the air in a final death flight into my face, but the wing just stuck out of his back all crazy and he limped under a cabinet to die. I did not check this morning, but I know he lays there still. Dead, motherfucker. Fuck you.

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