The past few days in San Francisco have been rainy and windy, which means there are a lot of broken umbrellas abandoned in garbage cans across the city. I counted five in a two block radius when I walked my dog earlier. That’s a lot of wet angry people that wish they bought a poncho instead.
I hate when my umbrella breaks. I’m usually huddled under it when a gust of wind flips it inside out, breaking one of the spoke hinge things. I don’t know what you call those things, but they are crucial for proper umbrella functioning. You’re fucked once one of them breaks. You can either cling to your broken umbrella or throw it away and get soaked. You’re going to look stupid and be miserable no matter what.
Critically Rated at 5/17
Written, Rated, and Reviewed by Brendan H. Young
criticallyrated 