No more Wilfred, go home (it's late)

Packed and ready, it was an easy endeavour to prepare for an adventure.

Still consumed by what I eat, I prepared my meals for the day and found the combination of mushroom and tomato on rye to be amazingly awesome come lunchtime.

I received a call from Rockdale Musical Society President Walter. Walter is without a doubt the salt of the earth. A towering colossus of a man with endless drive, creativity and passion. In anycase, Walter was short 2 men backstage for Beauty and the Beast today and asked if I could fill in at short notice. Not a problem. Unless you call leaving my sister without a ride into the city tonight a "problem".

In their panic they over-catered on the extra backstage people, so I instead filled the short supply of ushers. Not wanting to watch the musical for a second time, I stayed out the front guarding the precious alcohol from random walk in Rockdale locals using the facilities in the lobby.

It seems important to mention here that I kept avoiding to acknowledge a specific person involved in the production (as in trying to avoid being in the same room with and such). They too were like-wise avoiding me. It seems important to note because I can't tell anymore who's being more childish as we haven't spoken to each other for about 2 years now, ever since a dramatic and emotionally draining set of circumstances. We passed each other after all this dodging and avoiding, in the car park after the show and it was like we had never met.

I then traversed to Newtown. The young one was turning older than a quarter century and to celebrate we were headed to an Italian restaurant Spigolo. It was pretty cool. An old man playing classic Sammy Davis and Frank Sinatra numbers in Italian was chugging away incoherently in the corner. Also all the waiters were men and they had their stereotypical italian tight black shirts on, which was fun.

The loosely laid plans were to eat and then bar. Not being a bar person, and having no concrete way of returning to my car in Erskineville, I was hesitant to continue on. However my curiosity in meeting a man named Lloyd, killed the cat allowing me to go the the bar.

Good thing the cat died instead of me. I had a pretty cool time. Birthday boy Justin had lots of alcoholic fuel, and the rest of us remained pleasantly in the land of moderation. Highlights of the evening included a trip through Oxford street to get to Lloyd's car who had very kindly offered a lift back to my car and being criticised for wearing this along with a candid opinion about the socially inappropriate company I keep.

Fruit of the Moment: Green Cochineal with-a-Monkey-in-it :)