Dancing Queen. Or Not.

The Bellevederes will be at the 8X10 in Federal Hill tonight. The best thing about this show? The fact that we will be playing an hour set starting at 10 SHARP. And I hear the bar is pretty diligent about keeping to the schedule. As a rapidly declining thirtysomething, this means I can go to the show, have a great time, and still be in my bed by midnight. Now that is my idea of a good time. Or at least the best time I can have on a school night.

The only nagging thing keeping me from being completely pumped up for the evening’s activities is my foot. Or my ankle. Or something in that general vicinity that is swollen and achy and making me limp. Being the world-class graceful being I am, I managed to bang the top of my foot on the corner of our bed frame yesterday when crawling into bed for a nap. It hurt like hellfire, but I assumed it would be history when I woke up. It was not. So I idiotically assumed I needed to walk it out, and took Bruce for a walk which quickly devolved into me limping slowly down the street, being dragged by the dog the whole time. When I got home it was quite swollen.

It still is today. So I figure one of those tiny little foot bones are broken. But what am I gonna do about that? I’ve broken lots of those little bones in the past (because I am quite talented at tripping, falling, and banging into large, stationary objects). The doctor gives me an ugly, overpriced boot, some $45 ibuprofen, and tells me to “take it easy.” As if I was Don Henley.

So instead of wasting several precious hours of my time and money, I’ll just deal with an achy foot. This, however, is not a good thing when I am preparing to rock out with some bitchin’ three inch red patent leather peep-toe pumps on stage. So come see me and be entertained by my Elaine Benes-like dance moves.