It sounds easy, and that’s how this whole guide started. I was having so much fun that I wanted to share it with my friends, and I’m a million miles off getting tired. This is the 73’rd issue (and it’s a bumper), 3rd distinct format change and now we’ve reached the last issue for 2007. I’ve had the most fun I think that’s humanly possible this year. I’ve met hundreds of fantastic people and experienced a multitude of unique situations. I thank you for regularly reading this (or just looking at the pictures) and I hope to party with all 8000 of you, some time or other, during 2008. A special thank you goes out to Harry, aka Andrew Ferguson, my IT/design wizard who aides me each week in getting this out to you and making it look so sharp. Cheers buddy

It’s the time of the year where the weekend starts on a Monday at 9am. All anyone speaks about is what party is coming up, how the last one went and who’s doing what for Christmas and New Year. My last week was as flat-out as ever and it went a little something like this…

Normally when you get front and centre seats at a live stage show you are wrapped. I got some last week at The Classic and had the piss taken out of me by a host of comedians. There was no pleasing these comics, whether it was my jeans, job or choice of beverage there was no hiding. They were all jolly clever though and I think you should scout out next years Comedy Festival tickets now while the good’uns are still available, just beware where you sit.

The Kingslander Bar has supported me for over a year now and I appreciate it big-time, so I gave them a hand in organizing the best Xmas bash possible. Starting with 2 hours of free drinks the party was off to a roaring start. Sexy Santa helpers, Nibbles the naughty elf, Rio carnival dancers, lasers, Rudolph and his sleigh intertwined with 400 of the bar’s best supporters and Karn Hall’s wizardry on the wheels of steel. It was without a doubt the best Christmas party I’ve been to in recent memory.

Late afternoon on Thursday I went to an old favourite watering hole of mine in Parnell, B@1, a bar that wouldn’t be out of place on the beach in an up-market region of Thailand. I lounged outside and sucked on 3 Coronas while talking about the direction this guide might take in ’08 with a business big-wig. With super ideas and boosted enthusiasm I made my way to the Remix Magazine Christmas party at Coco Club. Tim and Tina had compiled a faultless gaggle of Auckland social-sceners, and the night went off without a visible hitch.

Friday was funken fun. I auditioned for an upcoming TV show for Touchdown with my old buddy Ben Baker. It’s a duo role, a bit like Ant and Dec from the UK, or Marc Ellis and Matthew Ridge (before the headline dramas) to be filmed early in the New Year. The audition was all about being silly, ad-libing and feeding off each other in front of the camera. We even went out onto Queen Street and interviewed randoms about their feelings on the concept of man hugs. I thought it could not have gone any better, but you never know.

That night was relatively quiet. I went to my girlfriend’s work Christmas party, it actually wasn’t half bad. I met some guide-getters, (one that stood out the most was a guy called Grover, a newly married chap from the UK), and had a good old rump shake when my high school theme song, Ice Ice baby, came on. There was the usual debauchery you’d expect with 5 hours worth of open bar freedom, a full plate of spicy wedges heaped with sour cream upturned on the floor, office admin girl snogging her team leader, boat races, vengeful glares and dance-offs. Weighed down with a good litre of bourbon in me I waddled to Forte for Sweet Dreams. The tunes were dirty dancey remixes (with words) spun by skilled disc jockeys. I arrived early (in dance party terms) and the crowd was already doin’ the do on the dance-floor. The night was a success and I hope Dodge Rodge puts on another there, as I wouldn’t miss it for all the tea in China.

Without a heck of a lot of sleep I boarded a big power boat at 10.30 Saturday morning. I felt privileged as a couple of others had gone without any Z’s. Half an hour into the voyage I was dreading the decision to climb aboard, most of the crew were looking green, and it wasn’t the reflection from the Heineken bottles. We sheltered behind Motuihe Island and the consensus was relief. The dirty electro sounds blared, people voluntarily jumped in and Keith’n’Steve got a coastguard issued speeding ticket for hooning in the tender. Braving the swells again we docked at Waiheke Island, dropped 5 peeps off who were bound for the Groove In The Vines party at Isola estate, and headed on back to The City Of Sails. Alarm bells rang when we realized we were out of petrol without a filling station in sight. Limping back to Waiheke, we found a pump ok, but it was out of order. Stress, phone calls, raised voices, laughter and a couple of brews later we found the tank actually was full all along and we zoomed on home.

I went to Adam B’s Christmas party last year and only really knew the people that I went with. This year was significantly different. The party style was almost identical, but the time I had was anything but. I almost didn’t want to leave. Girls kissed girls, people became friends again after long bitter tiffs, a blow-up penguin became a love-toy, Andrew ran off with my red lei, the cops came (and immediately left) and the alcohol kept on flowing. Great show AB

Sensibly we managed to fit 8 into a car and headed to The Late Club for a 30th birthday party. They’ve done something there, I can’t quite put my finger on it but, it’s got a much better vibe about the place and I might start popping down there again from time to time. Spy finished off me and the crew nicely after that, and I was homeward bound well before sun-up.

Not having a hangover on a Sunday is a feeling I want to try again soon. I got so much done; re-potted my prized sun-flowers, played with the cat, did some mindless shopping at the Warehouse, dropped off some Xmas pressies, made a healthy visually appealing lunch and then packed for my 2 week break down in The Garden City, aka Christchurch (where I’m from).

The kid behind me annoyed me for 118minutes of the 120minute flight (I sat down a bit before him and his Mum), but it was Christmas and I was loaded with cheer, so cut him some slack. Mum and Dad greeted me at the airport, as did a 32 degree heat wave (and it was 6.20pm).

Nothing much seems to change in Christchurch; I think it’s why I like to visit. There’s the odd new fence, bar or road signaling system, but overall it’s about as constant as The Black Caps’ losing streak.

I love to Party, please don’t get me wrong, but feeding the ducks and going to a Carols By Candlelight, like I did on Monday evening, was just magic. This passiveness will be short lived as I’ve just got back from a wander around Sol Square and the alleyways around that precinct; not even the promise of Mum’s specialty Yorkshire pudding will keep me from exploring this evening.

Happy Christmas to you all. May you all get at least one superb present and have tremendous fun with family and friends. See you next year. x

It was only 4.5 months ago that we conquered 5000, now it’s 8. This is awesome fun. Let’s try and make it 10 by winter. Get your friends to sign up via the website so they know about all the events you do. But don’t let this distract you from completing your Christmas shopping before the due date.

The Flight of the Conchords’ next series in ‘08 will be the biggest TV phenom to hit NZ since the Friends frenzy of the late 1990’s. After seeing Rhys Darby (aka Murray the Band Manager from the show) perform live comedy at The Classic last week, and the other two on Prime TV the other night, filmed in New York, I have no doubt.

Rhys is way up there now as one of NZ’s leading comedians. He’s been a guest on the Ellen Degeneres Show (doing comedy dressed in an Elvis suit), and just made a movie with Jim Carrey.  Now he’s home for a stint of family time. Brett and Germaine’s (the actual Flight of the Conchords band members on the show) songs are so unique, odd, imaginative and ultimately hilarious; I wonder if they don’t still delve in a bit of the old illicit mind-bending substances. Catch them if you can. Rhys will be showing-off at SkyCity as part of next years NZ International Comedy Festival and the other 2 aren’t far behind.

My former DJ God fell from his pedestal last Wednesday. Paul Van Dyk was egotistical, uninspiring and disinterested in his fans. I found his music on the night lacking any sort of direction and uncaptivating. So I perused around and found a back bar with a far superiorly in tune with the “real world” DJ named Mark Osbourne on the decks. The Powerstation was an ideal venue for the 2000 that turned up on that dark and rainy night, but the layers of pies and crisps behind the bars, and lack of credit-card or eftpos facilities resembled a venue ………….. foresight. Thumbs up to Jared (the promoter) though, getting such a big-name DJ to come over here to mix, and 2000 excited party-people out mid-week is no walk in the park.

I left PVD early in favour of an uplifting oasis-like Ponsonby house party.  It was a TV production company’s end of year do, so as you can imagine it was carnage, but in a good way. A highlight there for me was chatting to The Lionman, a lovely gent – not scary at all. My girlfriend enjoyed nattering to some self-confessed “famous” underwear model, I didn’t think he was much to look at, but he did. Now I was on a roll so had a multi-text around and found a party in a suite at The Westin Hotel. After hours of fun and hijinx that included me fully clothed in the shower, then bath, we scampered over to Parnell for some action in the 18 person spa. I called some like-minded regulars to try and fill it, and by mid-afternoon almost had. The ride home in Paul’s yellow HSV super-car was a tad hair-raising but I was in no position to complain.

Not really ready for rest a night-cap was required, and the games began, particularly when Grant (my flatmate) came home (he has the most amazing selection of dress-ups). Before long it was dark again and it was time to make our way to Soiree into Newmarket for Exclusive Models and Strippersrus’s Christmas Party. It was a mainly male attended affair, but totally understandable when you take into account the product these companies market.

Aroused, we went to The El Paradiso Pony Club for Sing Sing. It was odd being one of the first to arrive but this made it easier to chat, make new acquaintances and request songs from the band. We had a look in at SpyBar for the monthly Thursday gig Groove Academy.  The potential was definitely there but the masses weren’t. Being greeted with a deliciously fresh berry cocktail was a touch that worked and we stayed for quite a while. But it was Pony that had drawn the punters tonight so that’s where we roosted till the lights came on.

Friday meant the official opening of the The Pull Bar (on Cross St, Newton). They have done well.  It’s a fab place where fun goes without saying. I’m just a little worried about the location (being off the beaten path). Long may it thrive. Friday also meant that The Captain of hard dance was in town. Captain Tinrib is a hardcore live techno playing internationally renowned producer, who is unrivalled in his realm. Dressed like Captain Cook he had the sizeable Galatos crowd humming. I have nothing nice to say about Galatos as a party pad; it’s smelly, run-down and void of 20th century facilities, but on this night it was jumpin’ and pumpin.

I darted down to Asta after Tinrib’s set to catch John OO Fleming spin (he’s another energy dance master), only to find the guys at 3AM promotions had neglected to promote; even those with complimentary tickets didn’t show. John was mega-pissed off when he was sent back to his hotel without playing a beat. Luckily management at Asta has more of a clue; they had sorted the subordinate front lounge room. It actually rocked thanks to Mark Emerson and Greg Churchill.

The first day of the weekend dawned an absolute stunner. With my old pal Tinrib and his wife in town it was tour-guide time (something I take very seriously). We loaded up the car with supplies, got the usual sights out of the way before settling in for a scoot around the Auckland zoo. It worked out well as UPFM was having Phase 1 of their Summer Series outdoor dance parties. People were playing cricket, croquet, Frisbee, hacky-sack and drinking games; it really was a lovely sight. As the tunes rolled on, the clouds rolled in, and drizzle followed.

Nipping back to the hotel we freshened up, watched the sun set, and then boarded the party bus to Rachelle’s Christmas Party in Freeman’s Bay. I have never seen such an elaborate array of scrummy food laid out fit for royalty. The amp blew so the bedroom one was brought out but my hooking up skills had gone out the window hours before so people danced in silence for what seemed like an eternity. After we left I am told it got rather interesting, and a posh lady did a full striptease.

We moved on to Chemistry at The Civic. What a decadently decorated building. The 4 rooms were in full swing by the time we arrived, lasers zapping, bass bins convulsing. Once again it was clear that if you put the effort into marketing an event the people will come. It was getting late and my big week was catching up with me. I left it there and spent the rest of the weekend in bed with curtains closed, DVD player whirring overtime and junk food never more than an arm’s reach away.

My camera was stolen on Saturday night and I am still fuming. So if anyone you know has come into possession of a flash red 8.1 megapixel Sony Cybershot, please let me know. I’ll make it worth your while. Lucky I managed to get a few off before the dilemma.

Up until Saturday night I’d had a superb week. On Wednesday I went to see the NZ preview of American Gangster. The movie was good with solid performances by Russell and Denzel, just half an hour too long. The highlight for me was meeting 10 of you for the first time and your guests. It was like a surprise birthday party. Thank you for coming.

Pasha’s fast becoming my favoured place to drink after work and beyond, and no it’s not because I get the odd free drink. The big factor for me is the friendly service, closely followed by the restful bathrooms, leather cubed seats and the little corners to get away from it all. Last Thursday they launched their monthly social networking evening called Insideout. Essentially, you get a free bar-tab that reflects the number of people you bring with you.  You are encouraged to interact, and of course come back the following month.

The Miss Hawaiian Tropics Bikini competition pre-judging was at Spy. I arrived late but from what I caught it was a success. Pony Club is back to normal again and the only regularly performing bar on Thursdays downtown. It was Sing Sing’s (the musical free-for-all) 5th birthday. Whether it was the weather, marketing strategies or punters prior engagements I did expect something a little more than just the norm.

David Palmer, Denim Bar’s new owner, had his first pumping party on Friday. It was in collaboration with the clothing outlet Brave and the Diesel brand. Sexy house emanated as I approached the door, then 2 hot young ladies dressed in white offered me a special liquid concoction.  Things were off to a good start. 10-12 of these special concoctions later I was b-bopping up and down the aisle. David plans to transform the bar, opening it up in the front and putting a leaner outside. Also the techno roots that Denim was built upon are about to go, in favour of the more consistent/proven 60’s, 70’s and 80’s tunes played from a touch screen. This all makes sense and I wish him all the very best.

I’d been looking forward to Saturday and the parties it had in store since last weekend. It started with an exquisitely catered BBQ in Grey Lynn. I was dressed in High-tops, MC Hammer pants, Frankie goes to Hollywood t’shirt, stonewash Hallensteins jacket, Boy London metal reversed hat and matching sweatbands. You see The Kingslander’s 80’s party was just a stone’s throw away and I love to dress–up. It was also the end of my furry face reign of terror, Movember was finally over so a bit of a shin-dig had been arranged to mark this. It was good to see such a good turn out so early on in the night, so the drinking games got underway. Somehow I made it into the final, competing for a year’s supply of shaving products. My opponent was massive, I felt inadequate, but somehow I walked away with the top prize.

Remember Stanley Kubrick’s movie Eyes Wide Shut? I went to a house party with a similar theme in Ellerslie. I have never seen such glamorous female under garments. It’s here where again I’m saddened by the demise of my camera. There was a naughty chair which you were buckled into and dealt to for the most minor of offences, catering staff that looked like they’d come straight out of the pages of hotties unlimited and Chelsea’s gold-sequined bikini black feather pole dance.

The rooftop party called Rise was where the whole camera incident went down. The concept was awesome and the vibe was good, the numbers, volume and weather could have been better. So we went to Spy, Ink, The Supper Club and then an after party where 30 minutes after our arrival everyone crashed. Not phased, or in any hurry to go home, I played on till they re-surfaced. Still feeling rather good I rarked up my flatmate when I got home, called in the troops and it all got quite crazy, pruning grape vines, penguin dress-ups, face-the-music, RTDs, lasers, dvds and pizza.