Maimed by Stiletto

Thanks to my dear friend D and three Lemondrop Martinis at Pair, the grip that The Devil has had on me lessened enough for me to walk among the living for a while last night. (if you find yourself there at Pair, eat the Buffalo Chicken Skewers and try the Yam Fries w/mango sriracha dipping sauce).

We decided to walk off the martinis. Summertime nights in Boise are fun and a wonderfully diverse place to be. The sound of street musicians plus the music which flows from each establishment as you pass by and the sound of happy celebration can make one heady even without 3 Lemondrop Martinis. And sometimes if you are really lucky, and we were, you will see a bride-to-be standing up out of the sunroof of a limo making fabulous Bachelorette Party memories by taking off her shirt and enjoying her last few hours of owning her own body. Whoever she was, she had beautiful breasts.

We went into Pengilly's to see what was up. Of course, I am a Pengilly's snob so really unless Rebecca Scott or James Miller is on stage I lose interest rather quickly. We had some water and then decided it was time to hit The Balcony. Along the way we were treated to four drummers with rhythm that could have awoken even the most withdrawn soul. I had to stop and dance. I would have danced longer but D kept walking and I realized that those martinis were still there threatening an embarrassing misstep that would send me falling unceremoniously onto my ass.




The Balcony is a weird place. There are nights you can feel totally immersed in delicious homo heaven. Other nights its as if you are an animal at the zoo and the straight people have come to make a night of watching you be gay. Some even have the balls to come up to you and thank you; telling you how hot it was to watch you kiss your girlfriend. Whatever dude. The Balcony is also very LOUD and plays techno. In the summer its not so bad because you can actually use the balcony that The Balcony has running its entire outside perimeter; you can watch the pedicab drivers bargain for rides below, converse over a whiskey and whatever and adore the drag queen population Boise is lucky enough to have. In the winter though there is no escaping that LOUD pounding of the music or the need to scream to have a conversation.

As I mentioned above, I am a spontaneous dancer. Dancing is my intimate prayer to the Goddess. I give thanks for my personal revelations and use it to express the joy which has been brought into my life and has been bubbling over regularly ever since. However, I do have a few problems with dancing to Techno so I don't do it. Techno doesn't feel like a prayer to me. It feels like I am late for a plane and everyone is standing on the left hand side of the automatic walkway. It pulsates with disorder, my body doesn't flow. I get a mental picture of walking on hot asphalt barefoot. I didn't want to dance but D had been such good fun that night and so we waited until there was a song on she liked (it also helped burn off my whiskey and coke and the long island iced tea D had dove into). Finally! A song which she liked and I could try to find a rhythm. God damn the dance floor was hot and crowded. It was full of happy gay people though, its saving grace.

I first noticed this woman long before D and I attempted our dancing. She was beautiful. Perfect curves, black shiny hair and skirt which allowed us all the opportunity to see how perfectly her thighs connected to the top of her bottom. Glancing further downward she had finished her ensemble with leopard printed 8 inch stilettos. Yowza. Once on the dance floor I noticed that stiletto girl was only a few people away from me and I watched appreciatively at how she could move the way she did wearing those shoes. I admired her right up until the moment she decided take a few steps backward and then turn on a dime and leave the dance floor. Yowza turned to OWza pretty fast as she had managed to land heel first onto my foot. Now remember, I was still buzzed from the pain management in a glass to really think that it could possibly hurt enough to turn it into a blog post or something. Until I got home that is and looked down at my sandals and realized I had blood all over my foot. "Woo Hoo!" suddenly I realized that it was indeed going to earn its very own post. I cleaned it up a bit for the picture




Those were some awesome shoes she had on. I hope her partner had enough sense to take them off of her before flipping her on to her back and admiring the rest of her.