The lonely life of the suburbanite.

So last evening, I found myself in the unibar.

Alone!

Long story short, my workmates had failed to contact me about our little night out to see a friend sing at some pub in newtown, Bear was at some work-related dinner thing, and I'd stayed back at uni for the weekly seminar series and to sort some data out... when my phone failed to ring (next time, i will ask for their number too), and as if by some serendipitous (but not really as you'll find out) saccade, I found myself looking at the latest student union mag, which advertised none other than The Bedroom Philosopher! performing at the unibar, 7pm, free.

And i was like, Whee! and then eh? Because he was supposed to have performed last week which I missed, brokenheartedly, in my earnest quest to provide Qiao with a home-cooked meal and really how often does your best friend visit from Dubai (no more than once a month!) and really one shouldn't be encouraging one's big crushes especially when one has the perfect boyfriend and all... right?

Not last night though, I was stranded, left bereft of workmates, best friends and dinner, and all the other research students were beavering away with ANOVAs and suchness and were not persuaded to join me in bludging off for an hour to see some bizzare if inspired musical comedy so I took a deep breath, told my mind to shut up, and decided to be brave (which essentially, is just telling your mind to shut up, or absinthe), and strolled down to the unibar by myself.

On the way there, there was some weird shit taking place on the main walkway - some sort of en masse art student ritual concept performance (there were lots of chairs, people dressed up in random costumes sitting on them muttering to themselves, someone in a mask shooting flares, a group in transparent raincoats, someone with a clipboard taking down notes, someone wheeling about a great big speaker with medieval music, and someone chopping up apples). I was like, ew don't touch me just let me get through thankyouverymuch.

ART!

But anyway The Bedroom Philosopher (aka Justin Heazlewood) wasn't there. Not at the unibar. Student union mag and website got things wrong wrong wrong - i should've guessed? Instead, Greg Fleet (ithinkthatshowyouspellhisname) and Justin Hamilton were the comedians for the night, and despite wanting to stay and boost their efforts by joining the meagre audience, I decided I'd better just go home and make dinner and let the ratties out for their runaround time.

Oh well!

Mr Bedroom Philosopher is moving to Sydney, to write some tv show, so hopefully he'll have more gigs in the near future. I actually first came across him mid-sept, when he was part of the entertainment for Bear's step-father's excellent short comedy film festival thing (The Funnybone500), and he was Excellent! Here's a random review of some show he did some months back (its a bad picture - he'd had a haircut since then)... and apparently he's much better now, what with success boosting his confidence and all. He was very nice when I met him after the show - all shy and sweet and dorky. Sigh! I am a sucker for shy talented dorks. Who can sing. And are funny in that happy-nice way.

It's a good thing Bear isn't the jealous type! :)