Chance of Rain, 100%

You know, I like rain as much as the next person.  Something about the way the streets glisten, Northface jackets slick off fat droplets, and strangers come together to stay dry.  I like the sounds and smells of rain; everything, from bakeries and coffee to car exhaust and crying children seems more charming.  After the rain is done, a city is an infinitely cleaner and brighter place.

But sometimes, when your Longchamp is soaked through and the smell of Hunter rubber makes you want to gag and someone dumped their umbrella on top of yours and how the hell is the rain possibly blowing sideways and I swear to God if another person bumps their wet slimy hairy arm against mine I'll scream

I. 

Really. 

Wish. 

It. 

Would. 

Stop. 

Raining.