Hello, You sweet sexy things.

It's been two months since I could wear my sweet, sexy heels. They've missed me, and I've missed them. They impatiently stared at me, with forlorn looks of dismay. They thought I had eschewed them for the well worn trainers of 10Ks and 1/2 marathons.

Tonight I took my favorite Nine Wests on the town, to American Trash in Manhattan. Being sans brace for two weeks has been wonderful, but a nice night in my favorite heels is even better.

Did we dance? No. Did we climb subway stairs and walk the grimy and well worn lighted streets of Manhattan? YES! Did we drink too much at a one of the only dive/working class/biker bars on the Upper West Side? Hells yes. Did we get free shots from the bar keep, drink Jack and Coke to raised eyes, and play wing girl while the gal pal had a drunkard hit on her in epic proportions? Oh yea.

Did we do this after the Physical Therapist said I should take it easier? Perhaps.

Are we waiting for the N train back to Astoria? Yes, yes indeed.

In case you didn't know, I love this city and this crazy thing called my life.
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