Oh, Frank… You get me every time.
Rainy day. Coffee in hand. Curled up to Frank on vinyl. There are few more glorious things in this world. Of this I am convinced. I feel like a school girl with a crush. I’m looking forward to a slow paced, delicious rainy day. Through my lovestruck haze I can’t help but wonder, what the freak happened to music? In my long morning commutes I am less bothered by the traffic than I am tortured by the latest auto-tuned garbage on the radio. Not that the latest “you can taste my watermelons” or “that magic in your pants, it’s making me blush” aren’t literary genius, but played back to back on the radio I find myself clawing at the windows. Frank, we need you. You are always welcome in the house of Pearl. Thanks for keeping me sane.