Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Any sand paper for my brain? Please and thank you.
As is true with most of my recent blogging attempts, I sit here with nothing on my screen as another two drafts sit in the queue waiting to be completed (for anyone keeping track, that's seven unfinished posts).
Why am I so lost for words tonight? I have the most ridiculous song stuck in my head.
Michael Bolton's cover of "P.Y.T."
Why me?
So all I can think of is him and this song. I swear, if if any part of my dream tonight includes him, I'm going to punch someone in the face (I haven't decided who. I was going to say "I'd personally punch HIM in the face" but I don't want to be blamed if it actually happened. Love ya, Bolty! Um...not really, but I don't think I'd have any reason to punch you in the face).
- - - -
Interesting story about Michael Bolton. The night of my wedding, I had arranged for my foster parents to stay in one of the presidential suites at the hotel (same location as the reception...and also where I worked at the time). A few days prior to their arrival, I was informed that they would be moved to the other suite (a little smaller, but not much different). I found out it was reserved for Michael Bolton. My foster parents joked that they were going to knock on his door and ask him to come sing at my reception.
(though I was opposed to it at the time...imagine if he did. It would have made for a much better story than the one I just told you)
See what happens when you get an awful cover song stuck in your head?
Why am I so lost for words tonight? I have the most ridiculous song stuck in my head.
Michael Bolton's cover of "P.Y.T."
Why me?
So all I can think of is him and this song. I swear, if if any part of my dream tonight includes him, I'm going to punch someone in the face (I haven't decided who. I was going to say "I'd personally punch HIM in the face" but I don't want to be blamed if it actually happened. Love ya, Bolty! Um...not really, but I don't think I'd have any reason to punch you in the face).
- - - -
Interesting story about Michael Bolton. The night of my wedding, I had arranged for my foster parents to stay in one of the presidential suites at the hotel (same location as the reception...and also where I worked at the time). A few days prior to their arrival, I was informed that they would be moved to the other suite (a little smaller, but not much different). I found out it was reserved for Michael Bolton. My foster parents joked that they were going to knock on his door and ask him to come sing at my reception.
(though I was opposed to it at the time...imagine if he did. It would have made for a much better story than the one I just told you)
See what happens when you get an awful cover song stuck in your head?
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