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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Tuesday, May 29, 2007
RULES EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY I SAID GODDAMN!
ON YOUR BIRTHDAY, YOU ANSWER YOUR PHONE I don't care if you "don't like the phone," or you "don't feel like getting into a long conversation," or you're "trapped under a fallen pillar" -- you answer the fucking phone on your birthday. It's one day out of the fuckitysuck year. You people are selfish. Why? Because I want to complete this transaction. I went to all this trouble to REMEMBER your SPECIAL DAY. And now I have to sing "Happy Birthday" onto your voicemail? What do I get out of that? I want to hear you squeal with joy at how AWESOME I am. The value of your birthday really lies in how SPECIAL it makes ME look in comparison to the rest of your worthless friends. You're not gonna call me back today, I know that. It would be way lame and desperate to call me back for birthday wishes, like "oh, did you call me earlier, tee hee?" No, you're too busy eating cake or having dirty birthday fucksex in some juke-joint bathroom in the Tenderloin. So I gotta call AGAIN. When I could be having a fucking donut. DON'T FUCK WITH MY DONUT HOUR, PEOPLE. I don't have much left to hold on to, so I will fight like a cornered mongoose to defend it. DON'T BE ALL SEXY AROUND ME IN THE SPRINGTIME Oh, you say you can't help it, huh? "I'm just as god made me," you insist. I call bullshit, you hot sexy thing you. Get off my subway! It would be one thing if you were just wearing normal-person clothes like a normal person, but you are wearing some filmy and spare construction of breatheable, meshy hoo-hah. Or you're blinding me with periodic reflections off your glistening clavicle. Or you are absent-mindedly probing your navel while I'm trying to read, over here. Or you have a tattoo somewhere compellingly dewy that begs to be examined. Or you are female, between the ages of 20 and 40, and not completely deformed. NOW I REMEMBER WHY I HATE HAVING A SEX DRIVE OH MY GOD. I have a friend who I am pretty sure feels this way all the time, and I have to say: Dude, I had no idea. I am so, so sorry. This explains so much. Your life must be... well, I've only been feeling this way for like three WEEKS and chemical castration is looking like an attractive option. SELECT YOUR NEW RINGTONE IN THE PRIVACY OF NOT MY FACE Certain activities are entertaining to those enmeshed in them, but unfailingly irritating to those on the periphery. For example: finger-drumming fancy polyrhythms onto a tabletop along with your iPod is not fun for anyone but you, the drummer. Your little ping that says you've got a new instant message -- over and over again? -- well, HOORAY FOR YOU, YOU HAVE FRIENDS JUST AS LAZY AS YOU, but no one wants to hear it. (Ditto for the blockrocking two-foot penis-compensating bass speakers in your car. Boring AND a cliché.) Furthermore, certain sounds are designed to get your attention: sirens, alarms, bells, whistles, and so on through the rattle, buzzer, and klaxon families. Cellphone ringtones, the heirs of this noble ancestry, usually combine the restraint of the paparazzi the the subtlety of a crowbar pimpslap. You know what the most annoying thing in the world is? When you try out all your cellphone ringtones in public. I know the variety is a source of mind-hobbling bliss for you, the selector, and I know you are OH SO EAGER to give EVERY POSSIBLE TONE a fair shake before you pick the winner, but everyone and I mean EVERYONE around you -- including that nice old Chinese lady and those Mormon missionaries -- wants to a) scramble your eyeballs with a screwdriver, b) pack feces into your bloody eyesockets, and then c) stomp on your neck real hard. Now, would you like that? DO THAT AT HOME, DOUCHEBAGGUS SUPERMAXIMUS. 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 |