I Lost My Umbrella

With sporadic downfall and the threat of rain all weekend, I toted the little collapsible black umbrella I bought in a rainstorm during Mardi Gras in New Orleads.

I joined some friends for "Brady Brunch" at the Boulevard restaurant in West Hollywood.

I met Mr. John Brady himself, who was super sweet and funny and just lovely all around; I was having a gay old time. Then work called and I had to rush off to help them with some stupid thing and of course I forgot my umbrella. With such a large group of people, some of whom I did not know, it's unlikely anyone even noticed it hanging on the back of the chair -- or if they did it's even more unlikely they'd instinctively know the owner. Especially after another few rounds of mimosas, which I assume followed my departure.

I lamented this to our resident news room hottie, Coop, to which he replied, "I lost my umbrella a long time ago."

It always tickles my dark places when the most mundane things are made to sound overtly sexual.

By the way, I'm convinced no matter what you search for in google images, it will result in NSFW results. Y'all are just lucky I thought the naked guy was funny (yet tame) -- otherwise, I would have gone for the chick with the umbrella stuck up her poondada.