Acabava el darrer post comentat que havia plogut a LA, i he recordat la cançó d’Albert Hammod: It never rains in Southern California.

Got on board a westbound 747
Didn’t think before deciding what to do
Oh, that talk of opportunities, TV breaks and movies
Rang true, sure rang true.

Seems it never rains in southern California
Seems I’ve often heard that kind of talk before
It never rains in California
But girl, don’t they warn ya?
It pours, man, it pours.

Out of work, I’m out of my head
Out of self respect, I’m out of bread
I’m underloved, I’m underfed
I wanna go home
It never rains in California
But girl, don’t they warn ya?
It pours, man, it pours.

Will you tell the folks back home I nearly made it?
Had offers but didn’t know which one to take
Please don’t tell ’em how you found me
Don’t tell ’em how you found me
Gimme a break, give me a break.

Seems it never rains in southern California
Seems I’ve often heard that kind of talk before
It never rains in California
But girl, don’t they warn ya?
It pours, man, it pours.