Rain, and a sort-of joke about breasts

Rain, and a sort-of joke about breasts

I got a chance to try out my new umbrella this morning.  It is quite small.  No, scratch that, it’s wee.  It’s tiny.  I can barely get my head under it.  It does, of course.  But I really want a proper umbrella, from an umbrella shop.  One with a curved wooden handle, that furls up in a satisfying manner and protects more than just me from the weather.  Plus, at about six foot, I am in the group least likely to poke you in the eye with an umbrella spoke.  People of 5’9" and under – watch where you’re going with those things!

Oh, while I’m here, addendum to the Tomb Raider post.  They use a sort of ragdoll physics model to show you lifeless Lara when, for example, she drops from a dizzyingly high platform for the billionth time and you have to restart the section.  While I’m sure it accurately models the way her dead limbs would flop about, I find it unlikely that she would fall on her back with such unwavering regularity.

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