(diaryland) April 03, 2012 - 12:31 p.m.

A famous person made me not lose my phone. Thankyou, famous person. I like your TV shows as well, in which you write and play every main character.

I was walking from uni to my parked car in Collingwood, which is a pretty major walk. I was walking through a street in Carlton, with townhouses either side. One house had a party in it, which is kind of intense for a Monday night, but that's cool. And that's when I saw the famous person. He was on the pavement outside the party house, and some chick was absolutely off her nut in excitement that she was having a 'private conversation' with the famous guy. She was fawning, without being complimentary. You know, in the way when you don't want to BE that person who tells the famous person how amazing they are to you, but you have to communicate it to them anyway by throwing your LIFE FORCE at them through huge gestures and inflections. And you're feeling like you're going to shit your daks, because you're ACTUALLY having a REAL CONVERSATION with this person!

That's what she was doing.

Not that I've ever done it. Well, actually I did, to Jon Spencer. I was a mess. Now I don't even really listen to his records anymore.

Meanwhile, back to last night, I had a moment of being impressed with myself for spotting the famous bro. That was the extent of it, though.

I had to txt someone about it; anyone. And that's how I found out my phone wasn't there, in my bag. I'd left it somewhere in the Architecture faculty building.

I thought, fuck it. I have an epic nighttime journey to make. I couldn't turn back, past the famous bro, but mostly because it would take another twenty minutes.

So, it ended up being a crap night of rushing to my car and sweating all through my nice gear, and then driving back to uni, skulking in, and getting my phone from some computer desk.

But thanks to the famous guy.