God, I fucking hate people who use broken umbrellas.
First of all, the thing is fucking broken. I’ve said it before; I know times are tough. Believe me, I know. Once again I ate Friday work pizza. It tastes like glorified cornmeal and comes at 11:55 in the A.Fucking.M. But I ate it. Again. Why? Shit’s free, son, and these days, free is good.
That doesn’t mean, however, that you should endure the monumentally shitty uphill battle against life with inferior equipment.
Arm yourself. Get yourself ready for the onslaught of shit that is Tuesday. You have ample time; prepare.
DON’T LEAVE THE HOUSE HOLDING A TATTERED PIECE OF TRASH OVER YOUR SHOULDER.
The reason this is problematic, however, is twofold:
1) YOU ARE WALKING AROUND WITH SHARP PIECES OF METAL PERILOUSLY CLOSE TO OTHER PEOPLE’S EYE LEVEL. This is dangerous why? Because …
2) IT’S NOT EVEN FUCKING RAINING RIGHT NOW, GODDAMMIT, WHICH MEANS I DON’T HAVE MY OWN UMBRELLA TO SHIELD ME FROM THE MULTI-PRONGED ORBITAL-SKEWER THAT USED TO BE YOURS.
You’d think you might notice that, since you’re walking around with HALF OF A FUCKING UMBRELLA COVERING THE WORTHLESS PORTAL OF EXISTENCE YOU CALL A BODY. But no. You must be made of sugar, or the fucking Wicked Witch of the West, because you’re morbidly afraid of the two raindrops that have fallen in the last 37 minutes.
RUN FOR THE FUCKING HIGH GROUND, THERE’S GONNA BE A GODDAMN FLOOD! Jesus Water-skiing Christ, people, it’s barely drizzling. Your suit isn’t that fucking nice.
But when it does come down in sheets, drop five bucks. Ten if you want one to last a few months. That’s it. Splurge. Go nuts.
Oh, and stop walking around clutching a potentially retina-piercing piece of garbage, you shit-eating cockgobblers.