Well the solar eclipse wasn’t that magnificent. But it did make me revisit the question “Are we are the only intelligent life out there?” I am STILL out to lunch with a verdict. Wednesday’s salsa lesson was a little easier than last week’s; it may have been the lack of alcohol in my system. Empowered, I ducked into The Globe bar for all drinks $4 night. Silly me, the staff there really know how to encourage excessive drinking. I doubt there was a semi-sober person in the joint, staff included. It was a riot; I suppose that’s why they are doing it again this week.
 
Chapel’s ski party on Thursday was great success (have a look at the pictures on the website). Ecstasy liqueur sponsored it and the cocktails did not stop flowing, so my “I’ll just stop by to say hi, and stay for 1″, turned into “Who’s coming with me for Jager Bombs at Pony?” About 10 ski bunnies made the trek into town to Pony. All the regulars were there; even James Reid came in from the golf course for a drink, or 50.
 
A smidgen tired and battered I left work at 4.30pm, getting to Soul Bar just in time to beat my date and make my 4.46pm table booking. A bottle of Gris later the convo was flowing, so cocktails and Agavero shots seemed prudent. We chose to wet our whistles at Bungalow8; it was their 1st birthday celebration. I’m never one to turn down a party so we did our best at fitting in. This place is really beginning to grow on me, all they’ve changed seems to be the music and service, but it’s done a 180 degree in my book over the past few months. Carpark was next, via a mandatory obstacles course (ahh this explains some of my bruises), for Mike Burkes “Last Ever DJ Set” (yeah right buddy). Katy Thomas’s Playhouse Party at Flight was slow to wind up, but went into orbit later on.
 
Achieving some much needed sleep, Saturday was very productive. The biggest task though was sorting an outfit for Seeby’s erotica themed retirement party. Looking like a cross between Julian Clarey and a Vengaboy I arrived at the most amazing house I have been to in NZ. It was a promo girl pimp-fest, Hefner style. On a high we aimed straight for SpyBar. In Da House was pumping, there was nothing extra decor wise (as far as I could see), but the crowd was definitely more excited than normal. One thing led to another and it was time for them to close up. I agreed, besides the crew and I had a crack-on to bolster. I’m not sure if it was Shanes back flips, Suzanne’s limbo technique, my biscuit eating record attempt that ended in a cracked cheekbone, Mr Cow’s perpetual jovial smile, Leighton’s attempts to fool the Sober Check 2000, or Samantha’s love for the Sunday paper, but it was a sublime time.
 
Corporate Water Brands, this guide’s longest supporter, launched the future of water to the world on Monday night with Good Water. It was a powerful affair with a crowd of go-getters that only Grant Hall could muster. John Key spoke last, crisply and candidly, leaving me with no doubt that he will be our next PM. Pasha called and we answered. 20 or 30 of us wanting to keep the party vibe alive. 10 bottles of Monkey Bay later we headed to Denny’s, where I had a meat lovers salad, isn’t that an oxymoron?