I get an umbrella with registration for a conference.

I don't understand why we need these gifts with registration. They could just reduce the registration price, and forgo them. But as unnecessary gifts go, an umbrella is not a terrible one, you can always use more umbrellas.

I open it up to take a look at it. There is a tag on it that says it has an SPF rating of 50.

So it's a parasol, not an umbrella, I guess it is a gift for my wife. Men don't use parasols.

Where I'm from, on the west coast of Canada, men don't even use umbrellas.

No one there does, really, except when you are golfing.

But living in Korea, I use an umbrella, and you can never have enough.

I take the parasol home to my wife, and act the hero, giving her a spontaneous present.

But she doesn't like the colour. "Perfect for you though!" she says, trying to throw shade on my hero-ship.

"I'm not a woman," I say, "I can't use an umbrella when it isn't raining."

She thinks this is silly. I'm lily white and burn like vengeance in a dry field.

I'm not alone on this. I was listening to the Never Not Funny podcast the other day, and in response to some comment about a parasol, Jimmy responds, "I'm not an Asian housewife."

It's hot here in Korea though. Ungodly hot. And I am recently seeing men using parasols. Not the frilly edged parasols with paper spans between bamboo spokes, like you are thinking, but umbrellas used against the sun.

Well, maybe not men– boys. College boys.

"It's time to get rid of those prejudices, Mark," my wife counters, "You can't stay inside all summer."

"I can do whatever I want." I remind her that I am a man.

But when I go to my office to get a tree to bring home, I find a solution that works for everyone.

That's what these pictures are about: