Buffalo Gal

If you've had a few drinks and there's screaming blues guitar in the air, it doesn't hurt when you tap your toe.
But it sure hurts when you stop.
We started out at the Hyatt last night, listening to legendary piano lounge singer Jackie Jocko. His signature patter with the patrons and the sobering $9.50 price on the drinks precluded any toe-tapping temptation.
But over at the Lafayette Tap Room with $3 drinks and young Mick Hayes chanelling Elwood James... a toe does what a toes has to do. It's a tap room , after all.
I got up to visit the ladies room after one song and immediately recognized my folly. It hurt. A lot. No more tapping.
But soon the music, conversation and gin were flowing. Seated white girl head bobbing wasn't going to be enough. It didn't really hurt anymore.
Until the next bathroom trip.
This had to stop.
I wrapped my offending ankle around the chair leg and tried to tap with my left foot. It was like batting with my left hand. I struck out.
One more shot of anaesthesia on-the -rocks and my right foot was at it again.
The doctor said a broken toe never actually mends. I started thinking about comparing it to a broken heart in a bad internal blues riff.
Fortunately for all concerned, I can't write music.
I can't sing or dance either.
But, thanks to a vicious scrapbooking injury, I now feel the blues.
Right down to my toe(s).

Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs

Buffalo Gal Judi Griggs I'm a communications professional, writer, cynic, mother, wife and royal pain. The order depends on the day. I returned to my hometown in November 2004 after a couple of decades of heat and hurricanes. I can polish pristine copy, but not here. This is my morning exercise -- 20-minute takes without a net or spellcheck. It's easier than sit ups for me. No guarantee what it will be for you. Clicking on the subscribe link will send you an email notice when each new entry is posted.
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Previous Entry :: Next Entry Read/Post Comments (0) Share on Facebook		2005-05-13 6:42 AM Don't tap a broken toe If you've had a few drinks and there's screaming blues guitar in the air, it doesn't hurt when you tap your toe. But it sure hurts when you stop. We started out at the Hyatt last night, listening to legendary piano lounge singer Jackie Jocko. His signature patter with the patrons and the sobering $9.50 price on the drinks precluded any toe-tapping temptation. But over at the Lafayette Tap Room with $3 drinks and young Mick Hayes chanelling Elwood James... a toe does what a toes has to do. It's a tap room , after all. I got up to visit the ladies room after one song and immediately recognized my folly. It hurt. A lot. No more tapping. But soon the music, conversation and gin were flowing. Seated white girl head bobbing wasn't going to be enough. It didn't really hurt anymore. Until the next bathroom trip. This had to stop. I wrapped my offending ankle around the chair leg and tried to tap with my left foot. It was like batting with my left hand. I struck out. One more shot of anaesthesia on-the -rocks and my right foot was at it again. The doctor said a broken toe never actually mends. I started thinking about comparing it to a broken heart in a bad internal blues riff. Fortunately for all concerned, I can't write music. I can't sing or dance either. But, thanks to a vicious scrapbooking injury, I now feel the blues. Right down to my toe(s). Copyright 2005 Judi Griggs Read/Post Comments (0) Previous Entry :: Next Entry Back to Top