It’s a rainy (which doesn’t do it justice, it’s like a cats-and-dogs raining from the sky day without the cats-and-dogs but lots and lots of water, instead) day, which means Office peeps are going to come in making grandiose statements about how mother nature needs to respect their total non-existent authority over anything having to do with rain, wind, clouds, snow, sleet, heat, cold, or birds that poo on their precious noggin and the walnut sized brain contained within.

This is really hilarious, considering the name of the company I work for. You’ll have to trust me on this.

I managed to crack an eye open this morning as a low rumble filled my apartment, but I was tired, so I went back to bed until my alarm went off, hit snooze, then decided to get dressed when a very loud crackle of thunder sent my cats running for the closet and me, for some reason, in the shower. Because when there’s a thunderstorm all around, the first place you want to be is in the shower.

And I have in fact tried Googling for an answer to, “Is it dangerous to be in the shower when there’s a thunderstorm?” and some people say “Yes, you could be electrocuted!” and some people say “No, are you an idiot?” And since I’m an idiot, I’ll assume the latter is the correct answer.

So anyway, having soaped and lathered and washed and rinsed, behind the ears, under the arms, between the legs, yada-yada-yada, I dressed and headed out for work, making sure that an umbrella was packed into my bag. Because this is DC. And in DC, you’d best have an umbrella during spring and summer, because there are lots o’ thunderstorms and lots o’ water from the sky. (And, obviously, not just DC — it’s the whole area, but, I mean, c’mon).

And I walk out of my building armed with an umbrella.

I live a block from the entrance to the Woodley Park Metro station. By the time I reached the elevator (because it’s closer), I was pretty well soaked: my left arm was completely drenched, my legs from my knees down were also. My right arm was dry, and there were (still are!) damp sensations on my back.

And I realized, how fucking dumb do I have to be that I can’t use a fucking umbrella? I mean, that’s the whole point of the umbrella, right, to keep you dry? And it’s not like the rain was coming in at weird angles, sure, there was a bit of an incline to it, but for the most part, it was coming straight down.

Speaking of umbrellas, though, this rant is hilarious.

Back on topic: so, I’m on the platform, waiting for the train (no delays today, hoorah!, but I did prove myself an idiot because I wandered down to the second car, which was stupid because I take the Metro to Grosvenor, and the second car will stop where there’s no roof overhang to keep me dry … back on topic for real. So I’m on the platform, and I’m like, seriously, why can’t I use this thing? Because I was, indeed, soaked. Still am. (Well, now I guess it’s more a level of dampness).

And then I came to the conclusion that the problem isn’t that I don’t know how to use an umbrella, the problem is that the umbrellas I buy are not large enough for my width. But just as I celebrated not being a total idiot, I realized, wait, when was the last time I actually bought an umbrella?

And the answer is: fuckit, I dunno! Truthfully, I just yank spares from the lost and found when it’s wet out.

So really, besides getting soaked, the only other thing meaningful I’ve done so far today is demonstrate to myself what a total and complete idiot I am. Good work, Snay.

(and now I’m talking to myself on my blog …)

Like, look, the Indiana Jones Trilogy? Awesome. The Quadwhatevergy? Not so much.

Look — I completely support the notion of more than three Indiana Jones films, I just wish Spielberg, Lucas, and Ford, hadn’t waited eighteen years to make number four, because, honestly, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull felt like the trio had forgotten how to make a fun Indy film.

So, this BBC interview I’m linking too, Shia LaBeof seems to indicate that Indiana Jones V is in the early stages, and … really? Because, guys, Kingdom of the Crystal Skull was, y’know, bad. Do you really keep wanting to add bad films to Indy? Please, just stop.

It would’ve been one thing if you’d've kept doing them in the 1990s. We wouldn’t have this image of a geriatric old Indiana Jones swinging his whip like he wasn’t sixty-something. And don’t get me wrong, I was all thrillin’ to see that first trailer, where it’s like, yeah, Indy might be an old man, but he can still stick your ass from here to motherfucking there, goddammit!

(Random insert: And, when Spielberg and Lucas first started making these movies, Paramount wanted five or six. In fact, an early draft for one Indiana Jones film featured Jones returning to Shanghai and somehow tangling with the gangsters featured in the opening segment of Temple of Doom. But now, of course, the guy who played Lao Che is dead, and boo, because death = too bad, so sad, and The Return of Lao Che? Woulda been awesome!)

And then I saw the movie. Big disappointment. And I’m totally cool with the aliens-from-space-between-spaces concept, even though I think Indiana Jones is at best when capturing Earth-based religious mythology as its driving force behind its stories.

I just think a fifth movie is sort of pushing against what Indiana Jones is supposed to be — an archeologist James Bond, who is now settled with a wife and a kid? I mean, yeah, up to the settled part. And, like, a biological kid, not the “Oh, hey, you picked my pocket now you can be my sidekick and burn me with torches when I try to throw you into lava kid while under the influence of mind-controlling blood” kind, either, because, let’s face it, Short Round’s the motherfucking man, even when he’s ten.

So, here’s to Indiana Jones V: may you please not suck. And if Jonathan Ke Qwan can come back as Short Round? Please? Pretty pretty please? Is it really so much to ask? (I was really hoping for KotCS to end with LaBeouf picking up Indy’s fedora — when the door blows open? — and suddenly Short Round is standing there, having arrived for the wedding, and he says, “You call him Dr. Jones, I was his kid first!” and slugs him! Because Short Round > Mutt.