I remember last years Movember attempt. I did OK, but wasn’t overly au fait with the rules of engagement. This year I am cleansed, toned, moisturised and ready. I was told once that green vegetables made your hair grow thick and fast, so I’m giving it one hell of a shot (I may even get a bit more on top – if you know what I mean). Who out there is with me? Come to The Kingslander Bar this Thursday night at 7.30pm to get involved with the launch of Movember.

The Lido cinema is an experience. I’ve been living in Auckland for 2 ½ years and went for the first time last week. Running a little late, I only had time for a quick glance around, but the place has a cosy vibe, similar to a lavish mountain chalet. I saw “Atonement”, an epic movie with a super score, accomplished acting and very clever cinematography (an Oscar winner for sure). That’s all good, however it was when I popped my BYO bubbles, I noticed all the very mature members of the audience as they paid me attention. They all glared, frowned and sshhhhed me; honestly the mean age would have been at least 50, with an average GV house ownership price in the high 700’s.

The Hootchy Kootchy Girls are a unique band of ladies who I mention whenever they have a performance, as there are not many stage shows in NZ that are as fascinating. I couldn’t make the performance this time, but guide-getter Kate Fryer, who won tickets, went and this is what she wrote:

“Tease was what the night was about, so I kept our night plans under wraps (she took her boyfriend) till we arrived at the Classic. The show started in the dimly lit room with Tony Bambini, a not so funny old joker host, with lines that dated back to the dinosaur age. Thankfully we weren’t there to see him.
Coco Martini, Pacific Passion and a hot blonde, I forget her name (Crystal Nightlife), started the show with a tantalising dance using umbrellas. Most of the dances started in elegant gowns, compulsory feather bowers and gloves which were downed to reveal some very cute vintage style underwear from the 1930-40’s era. Think Dita Von Tesse look.  A well dressed lady from the audience was also selected to go on the stage, by the burlesque girl’s photographer, for a short lesson in strip tease. All in all the show was teasingly entertaining, and ideal for something different to do.” 

Aqualine was on Thursday you see. A once a year amalgamation of 3 Nourish Group bars, namely Pasha, Green Room and Euro. I’d been told to get there early, I did, but by the amount of people already there I felt late. My Sony Cybershot was being repaired, after a freak accident from the previous weekend at Stonyridge, that have given it double vision, so I was unable to gather evidence. At least those I spoke to could converse at ease, without fear of me busting it out and flashing, Isn’t that right Miss Jobz

The complimentary drinks never ceased, and the canapes were varied and damn tasty. Hesitant about moving on I was persuaded by some blonde, tight-clothed vixens, so we galloped to Pony. It was fun, just like old times, thank goodness Brooke’s back to guide most nights down there. When that began to peter we motored to Asta. The hip-hop beats were fresh and well mixed, as is happening more often these days I was in the upper quartile of the ages of attendees. Not phased, I bopped up front till I realized it was a “school night” then did a hasty stage-left and scampered home.

Friday was a mare. Only because it was Friday, and the pull of the approaching weekend, did I make it till 5pm. That night both The Carpark Bar and Bungalow 8 had successful full moon parties, the only howling about were howls of glee as the Managers counted the cash.

Saturday started sensationally with sunshine as far as the eye could see. Almost exactly when the weather slot came on the news the heavens opened up and didn’t relent till dawn. I thought this was the nail in the coffin for my inaugural party at SpyBar. Somehow it appeared to be the contrary, Spy was full by half 10, and literally jammed by midnight. It was wonderful seeing old friends and making new ones. The DJ’s played blinders, there was no OTT tomfoolery and the lasers zapped this way and that; right on cue. The only slight slip-up was the staffing, 2 or 3 more on the bar would have eased a lot of thirst and frustration.

We carried on into Sunday with an after party, or 3, before I bid my guests good-day and settled in for fish’n’chips and “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby.”

Who’s got a skill, a whim, an urge or a quality? I say don’t delay, display it!  Have a go; you will feel fantastic. Last week I co-choreographed a dance to two of the latest Chemical Brothers tracks to hit the air-waves, “Salmon Dance” and “Battle Scars”; painted a successful acrylic on canvas painting, blagged my way into a very plush party and held a great meeting regarding my next party on December 1st. As a result of this, on top of what you are about to read, I had a pretty good week, and I trust you all did to.

How ‘bout those Breakers? Just awesome guys! Glumly we have to wait until November 1st to see if they can make it 3 home wins in a row. They had the wood on the Adelaide 36ers from the first quarter to the last. I had to dart off before the end but Krissy, last weeks Breakers ticket winner, kept me updated till the end.

I caught the last half of the Vodafone Music Awards and wasn’t at all enthralled; the bars were all closed, so the nearby “Tanuki’s Cave” and “The Playhouse” got my business. There were the usual scatterings of dolled-up NZ celebrities, who only paid attention to those of worth (i.e. those that could advance their careers, or give them the best bonking session ever, or even better – both). Some had obviously found the free booze backstage, as walking, let alone communicating, seemed a struggle. There were no wild antics, significant speeches or tomfoolery of any type (definitely an avenue that has to be addressed for next year – I’d be glad to assist).

The after party, although exceedingly hard to get into, was superb. Piles of beer, if you like Steinlager Pure, top shelf vino and “V” with vodka. I stuck to the latter and bounced on the dance-floor for hours. I haven’t been to a party like this before where the music was so in-tune; people were having a ball. Top marks to Ben Mitchell and Petra Bagust for getting involved, and mixing with us commoners. Take note all you NZ celebs out there.

All great after parties should have an after after-party. The music awards one was at Crow Bar, it was messy to the max and fab fun. No real embarrassments as far as I could see, which wasn’t all that far. With there not being many other alternatives, I couldn’t resist and ducked down to Pony for a quick look. “Sing Sing” was surprisingly OK, the slump in every area in previous weeks must have been isolated, as I heard new music, saw familiar happy faces, was served well by the staff and drank tasty cocktails. On a roll, we belted down to Spy for The Groove Academy. It was shut. Thinking there must be some kind of mistake I wrapped loudly for a minute before a drousy Jamie ascended and explained that I was way too late and should try again in 20 hours time. I accepted his challenge.

Friday night was sad and slow all over town, everyone having nipped away for the long weekend or saving themselves for the following evening. It was “Sundown” on Saturday that I was also excited about and semi-saving myself for; the first dance party at Stonyridge for the 07/08 season and for the early-birds there was a lingerie show at 5pm to spark the event.

Like many others I caught the 4pm ferry, just. That’s where my party started, old friends, new friends, former girlfriends and soon-to-be friends everywhere. The bus from the terminal to the vineyard was just as social, bringing back memories of a certain mystery bus trip a few weeks ago. We arrived and bounded up to see the Miss Lingerie 2007 contestants. The judges got it right and Hannah Norton won, again, with Abby Hart second. Following this result it was all go, the stage was cleared and big-tunes sounded and didn’t cease till midnight.

It was great to get back into the super vibe that’s created at Stonyridge parties, but it was just like all the others really. The only added extras there from its usual restaurant set up were a smoking/chill-out marquee, some lights, boosted sound and a DJ. To be honest I was expecting a little more. A few surprises or even an extra alternative music zone would have been nice. Hats off to Adam B and Stephen White though, they do know how to create hype and run a tight ship. One big gripe is the recent commercialism of the parties at Stonyridge; is there any way that some of the patrons can be screened? When I arrived 2 people were being ejected, and a couple of hours later I had to see to another being escorted from the party, for throwing books aimlessly from the bookshelf. It’s not all about money.

The after-party at Spy was jammed, it rarely get’s this busy (hopefully it will though this Saturday for my party, “Sleepless” down there), there was even a 4 wide, 10 deep queue.

Sunday saw me rise after 80 minutes rest and drive to Matakana, to see the Hilbron sisters defend their “Shear a Sheep, Eat a Pie, Drink a Pint” crown. After 3 hours of watching the opposition’s technique they were up, sadly 2:21 didn’t cut it this year. The Rhyburn Fencing team took out the grand prize, with Paddison Engineers a close second.

I loved the event. They say this annual event, coupled with The Gala (on the previous day) is the jewel in Matakana’s crowd-pulling crown. It’s huge, even worth hiring a house there for Labour Weekend ‘08. It’s a great place so go visit: vineyards, the ocean, walking tracks, avant garde yet old-style-looking architecture, restfulness…I could go on, but go see for yourself.

Feeling sheepish, the car ride back was slightly somber; what better way to cheer up than to go to a party. It was Sara’s 21st (plus a few). We were some 6 or 7 hours late but did our best to catch-up. Many had been at Stonyridge the previous night, gone separate ways afterwards, freshened up then re-grouped here, so there were all states. I played more of a support role and observed the hilarity.

There is no other DJ that gets me as excited as Paul Van Dyk (aka PvD). He’s widely regarded as God to millions of party people. He likes to entertain, meet his fans and nudge down a hefty sum of drinks from his elaborate rider, before, during and after his set.

The event’s being held at The Studio, but I wouldn’t care if it was held on the Mangere mudflats. I’d be there, and I urge you to be also. Presales are out, and just $39.90. The cost will escalate up to $90 or $100 for door sales, not that I anticipate there being any.

OK, so calming down and getting back to earth for a bit: on Thursday I took 6 guide getters to see one of the best basketball games I think I’ve ever seen live. At half time I was ready to leave; the NZ Breakers were being d!cked by the Crocs by 15 points, but I’d come this far and it was everyone else’s first time, so I hung in there. Like the rest of the crowd I spent the majority of the second half on my feet, yelling advice and yahooing. We won by 1 point, just. I couldn’t get to sleep for hours after that win, I’m still slightly reeling. Can’t wait for this weeks match verse the Adelaide 36ers, if anyone’s going please let me know, we can make a night of it.

Friday on the large was odd. Must have been the lack of sleep caused from the elation, but everywhere I went I had a very average time. We thought we’d get the night of to a good start with a bit of comedy. The Late Show, hosted by Jamie Bowen was an abomination, we nearly walked out. They all struggled and it was obvious that they couldn’t wait to get out of the spotlight. The best performer was the novice on second, he was so vague and petrified it was hilarious.

Favouring the fresh air we walked down to check out the freshly renovated Code Bar. It wasn’t finished, there was still wet paint and drop sheets down. The tunes were fabulous but the turnout was not. Seba on Fort Street was next for Elmo’s birthday. The party was pretty good with the feel of a club crossed with a social house party. I think I was just 5 years too old to be there. I appreciated the invite though.

Needing Agavero shots we thought The Pony Club could sort us out. Apparently not, we were barred from entry. Looking at the cliental that were lurking in and out I think the unfriendly bouncers actually did us a good turn. I can’t wait for Brooke to get back from his Rugby tour; that place needs to be shaped up. Flight Lounge was no better with a cover charge for just an ordinary night. Don’t they make enough from their drinks?

Not wanting to give up we hurtled to The Late Club (when I said “On the double” I didn’t mean terrify us with Lewis Hamilton F1 cornering – thanks any way for the swift passage Gold Band). 1.15am on a Saturday morning was obviously too late for the place; it was fully operational, but nobody was home. So we wandered to my old faithful, SpyBar. It was just as I’d left it last weekend, absolutely humming. I should have left while I had the chance, within an hour it had turned to custard. My girl had got the wrong end of the stick and I had some explaining to do. She was determinedly adamant and could not be swayed. This heated discussion spilled out onto the street, and up and down a few more. A taxi whisked her away to clear out everything from my apartment. I bounded up to my car on K Rd, took the back streets and tried to head her off at Khyber Pass. Her taxi-man must have been the same one we’d hailed earlier, as she was home when I got there, and all packed up. 2 hours of chatting later we fell asleep.

My destination for Saturday night was Mount Maunganui. My mate Simon had enjoyed The Caravan Of Love party so much he wanted to show what he could do in his home town. I decided to take my lady, and try and make things lovely-dovely once again. We past through the mural capital of NZ, the antique capital, the corrugated iron, the biggest real ice-cream in a cone specials, de-ja-vu and non-sprayed avocado capitals of NZ, it was a real buzz.

On arrival we were whisked to Astrolab and given a stiff drink, followed by a brief tour of The Mount, which included important topics like, “who owns that lavish house and what I think of them”. Bethlehem was next, and for those who have never been down Tauranga, yes that’s what it’s called (there’s even a Judea). Julie’s house was amazing and we were about to spend the next 2 hours getting to know it very well, aided by some terrific Tequila, tacos and techno. Adam’s 3 story palace back in The Mount ensued, where fresh recruits joined company. It was getting late so we went nearby to Sophie’s birthday party. 80’s themed in everyway, it was a crack-up.

This being my first night out on the town in Tauranga/The Mount, I wanted to have a look at the infamous Buddha Lounge. I was in luck: it was first on the town agenda, so we rocked up. It was odd not knowing a soul but everyone seemed nice enough. Duncan the owner could not have been more accommodating, so we stayed till close (3am). Feeling fantastic we partied on till dawn and watched a jaw-dropping sunrise.

Sunday was a blur, more unheardofly great hospitality and blissfulness. The 4.30am start Monday morning to get back in time for work wasn’t pretty, but it was all worth it. Roll on this weekend.

Just got wind of “Sublime Times” cocktail Party on November 3rd. But you didn’t hear it from me. And if you wanted to go you should email robert@sublimenz.co.nz. It’ll be pretty fly for a white guy, in fact anyone.

It was a week of B’s once again. But this time, blockbusters, basketball, boats, beaches, bisque, binging, ballet, burns, brawls, bazaars, broken-bones, bungys, bowls and boo-hoos. Read on for details.

I’ll admit it, occasionally I’m a little slow on jumping on the bandwagon, I normally try to lead the sheep, or at least take a different route, but in this instance the sheep had already left, done a full days trek and set up camp for the night. I saw the kiwi made movie “Eagle vs Shark” last week. It will become a worldwide blockbuster I feel sure. Flight Of The Conchords main character, and Danny Watson 80’s retro look-alike, Jemaine Clement, was sensational, as was his co-lead, Loren Horsley (who doesn’t look like anyone I can think of off-hand). Many people of worth have compared the movie to Napolean Dynamite, this isn’t fair at all; It’s 60, 70, 100 times better. It’s funny (I suspect those from overseas may not get some of the subtle wisecracks though), superbly typecast, the locations chosen in all instances were believable and ideal, and it was perfect in length for those of us with ADD (83 minutes).

Full of beans on Thursday I headed to the North Shore Events Centre. I wanted to see the Breakers win their first game of the season. When the team bounded out from the locker-room I only recognized 1 player from last season, what a re-shuffle. The lack of cohesion showed, we were only ahead for about a minute in the first quarter, and ended lacking the points needed to crack it to the Razorbacks. No player stood out as being particularly good, or bad, just the ref really who made some shocking calls. A big plus at the basketball is the crowd-pleasing entertainment: two cheerleading squads doing flips and pyramids, a full marching percussion team drummed throughout from a stage in the rafters, the regular Breaker Girls and Cheeky (Breakers mascot), half-court competitions, tricycle obstacles races… it was all on.

Where are houses commonly mistaken for vineyard estates? There is only one Waiheke Island, and I love the place. I know that if I owned a boat I’d probably only use it once a month, so gazing out across the water back towards the city of sails, I saw dozens of the blighters and couldn’t help but feel jealous, and annoyed, that I didn’t have one, or know of a person willing to lend me one for an afternoon. So I borrowed a seemingly abandoned canoe and went investigating, navy seal style.

Nicely nudging down Onetangi Beach on a Saturday, the wind at full throttle, the UV factor redlining and my homemade paddle doing an OK job, I decided to land and to go on a bit of a wine trail. I’d been hearing great things for years about Mudbrick Vineyard, so started there. I didn’t want to leave. I’d found heaven. A bottle of Ridgeview Pinot Gris later, my dancing urges began to stir: where else do you go but to Stonyridge Vineyard. Stephen played the host with the most and multi-tasked with the ease of a veteran. The tasting plates were exquisite, my favourite was the red wine marinated salmon, hot smoked over larose barrel shavings, with crayfish bisque and parmesan crème fraîche . We downed many a Fallen Angel bottle of vino in the sun, while toying between dipping in the spa, grooving on the deck and laxing on the sun loungers.

Going to the Russian Ballet, sunburnt and rather tipsy is not ideal, but one thing led to another and I had one of the most cultural experiences of my life; From the beauty of a black cloaked dance to Bolero, to a storming rendition of the cancan led by a drag queen. The dancers were as beautiful as their moves and the skill level was amazing. I counted one dancer doing 30 consecutive pirouettes, all as perfect and graceful as the first. The only gripe was with the venue; the Civic was freezing, so take someone to cuddle up to if you go.

This was turning out to be one marathon day. Norrie’s “A List” website launch at The Late Club was packed when we arrived, wall to wall glamour; so much so I had to head up, and out, regularly for increased air supply and down-time. Extremely jaded I wandered home, past a brawl and a couple of party-goers dressed up as sultans.

Excited, I got up early and headed along to The Copper Room on the North Shore to top up the alcohol in my blood, and view a commanding All Black “W”. I’ll stop there. After the loss-rage subsided, I needed therapy and decided the retail kind would suffice. The Takapuna Bazaar isn’t half bad. I found razor blades at 75% off retail, a cool $4 torch, strawberries and a great ceramic plate and dip bowl set (required for an engagement party later that day).

I’ve been too scared to jump off a bridge for over a decade now and Sunday brunch-time was no exception. While harnessing up it was uncovered I had chipped my hip bone in a recent partying accident; I had wondered why the bruising had half subsided but the foul pain and lump remained. I did get to watch my friends do it though. The AJ Hackett Auckland Harbour Bridge Jump is a rush, or seemed like one from my vantage point. I’m so doing it next time.

Keeping with the ocean theme we snaked it to Piha for Mike and Andrea’s engagement party. Congratulations guys. An hour or 2 of merriment later and it was time for a few ends of lawn bowls. The locals were very helpful with the rules and drinking etiquette, I lost the bowls but won the hot-chip eating competition.

As far as events go there were only 2 for me last week. The Westin Hotel’s grand opening gala and the Caravan of Love mystery bus tour. Everything in-between was swept aside in order to enhance the C.O.L, and limit its hiccups.

The Westin, located behind the flash Vodafone building in The Viaduct Harbour, is streets ahead of its competitors in almost every aspect; its spacious opulence with superbly chosen decor, the helpful and knowledgeable staff, the fact that you can cruise your Miami Vice launch straight up to the bar, the cool Office bar on the street front and the even cooler club below it.

The launch last Thursday took all this into account and tripled it. Divine drinks from all regions of the menu, continuous sumptuous nibbles, that sometimes left you guessing as to what you were eating, and a glamorous social crowd that very much minded their p’s and q’s at first, but cut loose after an Agavero or 2. Only 3 quibbles spring to mind; the guest rooms, I was shown around a few, and they just didn’t measure up to my idea of a 5 star hotel (not that I’ve been in terribly many). One great feature though is their soundproofing, so if you ever want a delicate after-party, the Westin’s the place. Second was being locked in the conference room while the speeches were on. They were good speeches, but I just don’t like being caged.  Thirdly, and I know this is a bit picky, but the goodie bag was the opposite of good.  Lousy-bag was a better description. Or maybe mine had been raided earlier.

Last weeks title, “Bring Back The Blag”, should have read “bring back my bag”. I took my best of everything on board the Caravan of Love tour on Saturday and had such a great time that I mislaid everything, but I am told that I’m in good company.

3pm Saturday came around very quickly. 170 goody bags to fill, 5 venues to organize, three buses to load with ice, refreshments and boxes of tricks, 2 bands, 6 djs, a replacement film crew after a last minute cancellation, and of course the sunshine.  But from the correspondence I received over the last few days everyone had a fabulous time. I particularly enjoyed meeting new guide-getters, I now want to expand this social networking even further, and get even more of you involved. Stay alert for the rumbling of “The Love Train” in the near future.

When the double-deckers eventually arrived we were all parched. Like teenage girls at a Timberlake book signing, the C.O.L crew surged from all facets of The Westin. You could see the relief on the face of the Concierge and his arm-folded, frowning posse as we left the forecourt.

We motored around the bays to Bastion Point and ascended to The Memorial. The Steve Edwards Band was there ready to rock’n’roll, as was our pimped out little-man Gav plying us with an array of sweeties. I’d forgotten to realize that on such a nice day there may be some public there, so they were treated to sights and sounds too. It was here also that the “Boxes Of Tricks” came into play. Each bus had a jumbo crate filled with all sorts of wild bits and bobs that could be worn, thrown, blown or cuddled. The Red Bull promo girls were a timely addition and circulated the congregation dishing out the invigorating drop (that might have been added to vodka).

Between this stop and the next one Ecstasy was taken. Each bus was ambushed by themed Ecstasy promo girls who poured chilled shots for everyone. This lead to an impromptu stop by all 3 buses outside a poor gent’s home in Remuera, where a small ecstatic commotion was created before we busted on.

Stop 3 was my favourite. It was in a shoe boutique warehouse called Minx in Onehunga. Jeff and Kushla played wonderful hosts as we took over their home/workplace. Bright Young Things serenaded us as did James Reid’s rendition of “In The Air Tonight”, I suppose my lash at “Ice Ice Baby” wasn’t too bad either.

By this stage we were all letting our inhibitions slide. Steve played magician, Nicola played Ange, Hamish played the tyres and the band played on.

The Stardome had no idea what hit them. 170 up-for- anything people converging on a venue meant for groups of school kids with backpacks and Roman sandals. But what a venue. Andy Barr played a blinder set before Karn Hall saw us home.

Seeing we were having too much fun (is this possible?), we were shut down an hour early.  Nobody minded though as Forte was primed and ready for our onslaught. Ben Levi, Tania M, Justin Sane and the freshly mohawked Mike Burke kept us jiving till late. Spy bar took over, then a super crack-on at Dougal’s saw out Sunday. Can someone please just remind Leighton not to fall asleep at these events as he will get lip-sticked again and again.

Monday was a mess. Bruised, battered, bewildered and barely able to walk I made it to work and home again. Crashing out at 6 I woke just in time to witness another exhilarating installment of “Flight Of The Conchords”. Great day for it too. Nuff of the good shows on a Friday or a Saturday night. Who’s at home watching TV at that time of the week? ‘Suppose that’s why there’s My Sky.

Wow… the Caravan is now parked safely back in the shed.  I had a blast… Did anyone else have a good time?   Let’s hear your stories please!… and anyone who has photos they want to share, send them to marty@martysguide.co.nz and I’ll put them in our gallery.