December 19, 2018

Michael Jackson, Bloody Bread & the RNC

I woke up this morning to an invitation to dinner. It was a lovely email from a man on an online dating site. He told me my profile was interesting, he thought I sounded fun, appreciated my honesty, and said I had gorgeous hair. It was sweet and the truth is that I appreciate how hard it is to ask out a stranger and am always touched when a man is brave enough to write.

What made this man stand out is that he is a Michael Jackson impersonator. Yes, yes he is. His photos are a walk along memory lane of Michael’s career and I just can’t. I can’t. Don’t get me wrong, I love me some Michael Jackson, but I don’t want to date him. I am also quite certain there is not enough tequila in the world for me to want to sleep with a fake Michael Jackson.

I wrote him a nice note. I thanked him for the interest, told him I didn’t think we were a match, and wished him well with his search. I am not ashamed to say that when he wrote me back thanking me for being kind, I read his response in my best Michael Jackson voice. It was hilarious and I am still laughing about it now. Oy vey. My dating life is both sad and funny.

A little later in the day I was slicing bread and cut my thumb. By cut my thumb of course I mean I almost sliced my thumb off. It was very painful and immediately started throbbing. I cannot believe how much it hurt or how much blood there was. I was bleeding heavily and steadily, but my first thought was perhaps this was a sign from God I shouldn’t be eating bread.

I wrapped my thumb, took an Advil, and thought about whether or not it would be gross to take pictures of the bread, which now looked like a crime scene. I opted against the pictures but regret that decision. I changed the dressing about eight times over two hours and finally gave in and went to urgent care. Thirty minutes later I had three stitches and a tetanus shot.

My thumb is now wrapped up and still throbbing, but luckily I am right handed and sliced my left thumb. I feel tired. Exhausted really. I probably should not have waited so long to go see the doctor, but it is what it is and I am going to be fine. I am home, having a cup of tea, and thankful that laughter is the best medicine because I am watching the Republican National Convention.

These people seem to think God and Jesus are going to be voting in November and I find it very entertaining. They are trying to convince themselves Trump is the way to go, and not only do I not buy it, but they don’t seem to be buying it either. It is funny and also pathetic. They call out to God and Jesus and believe it will be enough to win. I don’t think so.

From the Duck Dynasty guy, to Scott Baio, this is hilarious and I feel better already. I don’t write about politics, but one could argue that the Republican Party is no longer about politics. These people have nominated a joke to represent them and that my friends is so funny it is terrifying. The American political process is officially a Saturday Night Live sketch.

It has been a strange day. From Michael Jackson, to bloody bread, to Trump for President, I need to go to bed. It is only 7:00 pm but I'm done. Tomorrow will be better. Perhaps a George Clooney impersonator will ask me out! A girl can dream. A girl can also pray, so I am praying my thumb heals quickly and Trump fizzles away while keeping the faith.