Proving Myself To Sandra Bullock

WHETHER IT WAS SANDRA BULLOCK I may never know, but it was most adamant in its claim that (he, she, it) was and is. Another friend request,(Annette Sandra Bullock), another automatic acceptance by me, and off to to Hollywood I went, in Facebook messenger. I say "yes" to all requests, because, after all, promoting this website is my reason for using Facebook, that, and opposing Trump and conservatism, and declining friend requests is counter productive to that end. So I said yes to Sandra Bullock. We had typed a few words to each other, and I still had not made the connection, to Hollywood movie star fame. I, once again, oblivious to blatant mainstream American culture. Go figure, as we say. She awakened my memory when she said: "How long have you been a fan of mine"? (those were her exact words). Dumbly, I asked: "You have fans?" Suddenly aware, I typed in the emotocon for shock, the one with the gaping mouth. Then I typed: "good heavens!". "I can understand how you feel", she, he or it typed, quite aware of her own fame. I typed: "logic tells me that it is at least possible that an imposter could claim to be Sandra Bullock". At that point she showed me her driver's license, which appeared to be in order. California, birthday July 27, 1964. The picture was a bad driver's license kind of Sandra Bullock. Fancy sounding Beverly Hills address. If it was a forgery, it was a very good one, one about which Sandra Bullock should be aware of and concerned. The problem, the argument began when she reciprocated by insisting that she needed to know to whom she was speaking, and demanded that I show her my identiy. There is no picture of me on my Facebook profile, but only on the user profile of this website, which often gets me into arguments. People often get angry at being told to log on to this website, for a picture they feel should be sent to them in messenger, like everyboy else does. Again, go figure. Also, unusually computer unsavvy, I have no idea how to show a copy of my driver's license in Facebook messenger, and told Sandra Bullock so. She was no less angry than any other un-famous everyday jane or john doe.. She finally did indeed visit this website, and sent me acopy of my pciture to me, which I recognized, and congratulated her on doing. I was duly flattered. Still, She wasn't convinced. Anybody can use a website in the act of being an imposter. I went nuts. "Why would a nobody pretend to be another nobody? Why would Bob Bond in Arkansas pretend to be Bob Bond in Arkansas? I am Bob Bond in Arkansas pretending to be Bob Bond in Arkansas?" I pleaded and cried. Still, no dice, although I sensed that Sandra, doubtless draped in a lavish clingy see through negligee sipping mint julips on her balcony in her Beverly Hills mansion, was starting to see the sense in what I was saying, starting to accept me as a nobody retired teacher in remote Arkansas. I told her I loved her face, and had probably seen several of her movies, but wasn't sure. She probably laughed at this. I invited her to visit Arkansas, offering to escort her to the local community theatre. I made a joke about walking in with Sandra Bullock on my arm, which I thought she would think funny, but she didn't show it. Great acting, maybe. The last thing she said was that she was going to block me, for having the audacity to suggest that she might be wasting her time talking to me, but she didn't. After she was gone I typed in another message, reminding her how much I love her face, apologizing for being inadequate, and expressing the hope that we will talk again. I hope we do.