The Count of New Haven's emissary visit to Lord Fairfield

Archived MySpace blog
Current mood: curious

OK, odd title, I know. But, really, we have eight counties. We should have Counts. I could be the Count of New Haven. My family still has a seat on the House of Lords, and a Barony in Ireland. But anyway...

So I found myself in the second shire of the lands of Count Fairfield. And what an odd nation it is. There I met a friend of a friend, and emissary of Lord Fairfield. We had both expected to meet a common friend, but when that person failed to show, I found myself with the will to approach anyway. "Hey, aren't you... Yeah, so-and-so's friend. I'm Ëener." I'm glad I did. I won't mention the friend, at least not until I speak with certain Bridgeport detectives, or the statute of limitations runs out. But I digress...

So, I'm there, listening to a band, with my new "Kevin Bacon friends". The band tripped me out a bit. Their entire 1st set was actually the rotation from VH1 from this September. In order, I believe. I only know this because I was home sick for two weeks in September with some odd flu, and watched Insomniac Music Theatre nonstop. But again, I deviate from what I believe may have been a point.

And so I find it to be 11:00. Usually not a special moment, but at precisely 11:00 I came to an odd realization about the foreign land I was in. See, by 11:00, I was now smoking my 5th cigarette. Now, in my home county, one cannot smoke a cigarette in a bar, but in this strange land, one can. That alone would have been odd, but not as noteworthy as the next point. Apparently, in Lord Fairfield's lands, 11:00 marks another special occasion. At that time, the young female bartenders are compelled to remove their jackets and/or sweaters, revealing their midriff exposing tank-tops. Again, not particularly special on its own. But when half the female patrons of the bar follow suit, removing their outer tops, reducing themselves to what could only be described as underwear from the waste up, this I feel is something of note.

Maybe its not. Maybe I don't get out enough. I'm just not sure this phenomenon exists in my home County. Maybe I'm not going to the right bars. Maybe I am going to the right bars. All I know is, things are just a wee bit different across the County Line.