My primary issue with Michael McDonald is that he has one of those super recognizable voices that makes my skin feel all weird with its creepy warbling effect, much in the same way that Sade and Anita Baker and that weirdo lead singer from Simply Red do. The next time we’re all together at Rita’s, the imaginary fern bar that exists in my head, you should ask me to do my Anita Baker impression; it sounds like I’m choking on a Happy Meal toy.
Have I told you lately that I love my girlfriend? (Also, remind me to have my dad tell you about how much he digs that three drummers thing. Seeing that and a laser shoot out of Jimmy Page’s head live during “Stairway” are my dad’s two most formative musical experiences.)