what you missed part 1: the michael story

i thought i'd go through and send over a few of my better tumblr posts (there's not many) for those of you who didn't follow my time there (i didn't). this story, for obvious reasons, needed to be told. 
again.

QUESTION:
Dani,
I was just wondering if you have ever touched Michael Bolton. I don't mean brushed past like you said in your one post, but I mean like grabbed his arm or touched his hand, or anything more personal like that. So have you?

Asked by Anonymous

ANSWER:
Wow.

Best. Question. Ever.

Seriously… this deserves some kind of award. Preferably a medal with something awesome on it, like a unicorn or robot baby or something. If I knew who asked it, I would make you one… But, well… Just know I’ll love you forever, Anonymous.

As for your question… Sadly, I have not. (I thought I maybe brushed his arm, but I know that’s not true because if I had I would be immortal.) But, luckily for me, I was once so close to his body that I had to go home and take a pregnancy test due the to potent sexuality of his voice.

The story goes like this…

It was a dark evening, and the soft light sparkled on the red rocks that surrounded the beautifully secluded amphitheater. As the lights dimmed and the crowd roared, I felt a surge of pure joy. The moment had finally arrived— the moment when I would see Michael Bolton in person. As the band pumped the crowd for his arrival, tears filled my eyes. I sobbed with joy and exaltation, for I finally saw the most wonderous sight I had ever beheld: Michael feebly maneuvering his aging body into the spotlight. All at once my senses were overwhelmed with the sound of his voice rushing through the land with the power of a sexual tsumani. As he crooned “I Said I Loved You… But I Lied,” I couldn’t help myself. Following Marcos’ lead, I rushed down to the stage in order to get closer to the man whose thinning hair glimmered in the stage lights, whose wrinkled and drooping ears held diamonds as big as walnuts, and whose voice held our hearts. However, the dastardly and cunning elderly women who made up the rest of the crowd used their walkers as weapons and knocked Marcos and I down, beating us to the front of the stage. But our brute strength overpowered their decrepit limbs and we eventually forced them out of our way… And then we realized we were mere feet away from his wine goblet…. Just inches away from his mic stand… So close we could see every weathered wrinkle, the twinkles in his catract-clouded eyes, even close enough to smell the Bengay… And there he was. The only man Marcos would allow me to leave him for— MICHAEL BOLTON, looking right into my eyes and singing “Said I loved you but I lied… ‘Cause this is more than love I feel inside!”