Dish needs some amoxicillin, STAT! I have a little crush on Michael Bolton since Sunday. It's spreading like a bad rash from my yearning heart to the depths of my tortured soul. You have to hear the song that Lady GaGa wrote for him, Murder My Heart. It's a lovely tune, and he sounds so tormented as every good man should be. Can I cry a river of sweet damsel tears? That's when I must look at a picture of him and wish for white horses galloping across the sand. I am Diane Lane to his Richard Gere except Michael doesn't die in a freakish landslide as in Nights at Rodanthe. Poor Michael Bolton went through Hades with that Nicolette Sheridan, twice. I would be so much better for him. Wait...he's 56. He could be my father, sorta kinda. Do I have daddy issues (of course, but not *that* bad--exception: Donald Sutherland and Anthony Hopkins if I've had a few drinks)?Oh Michael, your darling voice and song touches me. Thank you, Lady GaGa.
(I am very very ill)
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