I had a topsy-turvy week personally, but now sadly (probably for the best) that appears to be put to bed, so it’s chin-up and full steam ahead to Sundown on Saturday at Stonyridge, watching Superbowl XLII Monday morning, and finally the highlight, Groove in the Park on Wednesday.

Put out your multi-texts, group emails and S.O.S smoke signals now. Groove in the Park at Western Springs Stadium is a mere 1 week away and will sneak up on you. We all get the day off, thanks to that national treaty of ours, so plan ahead and subsequently prosper at what’s set to be Auckland’s greatest day party of the year.

A diamond amongst the rough last week was the basketball on Thursday. It was one of those evenings where one vodka leads to another, and you end up crooning to old songs you think you know the words to, at 3am in a place with mirrored walls. We didn’t see a heck of a lot of the game due to Russian distractions. The Breakers had a solid win, slicing through the Razorbacks defence with relative ease. This week they play the Wildcats, meow! If you can, get out, support and aid our team into the playoffs for the first time in their history.

So, not at all dressed for it, we rocked on up to El Paradiso, aka The Pony Club, after the victory. Thankfully we were allowed in, probably attributed to the fact that the place was empty. After selecting our booth we snaked it to the dancefloor. My Russian accomplices stole the show with some of the sexiest dancing I’ve ever seen IRL. Not even my Travolta (remixed with a bit of Timberlake) moves could compete, but I guess you have to compare apples with apples. Great to see Pony back to it’s old tricks and I can only assume I’ll end up there again this week.

Long weekends normally religiously imply getting out of town. The offers were there but a couple of events held me back. Aquatica at The Viaduct ran over 4 days. There was a carnival atmosphere, with buskers, parades, stalls, rides, dancing, shows, aerobatics and a jumbo gig Saturday night, “The Legends Of Rock”, featuring Op Shop, The Exponents and Th’ Dudes. All 3 bands were at their all time best (although, like many others, it was the first time I’d seen Th’ Dudes perform), playing their classics that will never go out of flavour and ultimately made them national legends.

All the biggest super-luxury yachts were docked around the stage, displaying a kaleidoscope of people, some looking totally out of their depth on board, but liking the attention. Getting on board proved impossible, my neck lassoed credentials and gift of the gab didn’t cut it. Even my ice trick, that had served me so well at BDO failed to come up with the goods; these well-travelled deck-hands had obviously come across the likes of me before.

Not making it to The Legends after party at Jordan’s in Pt Chev proved a good call. Rising at 7am I began preparations on my own wee garden party, in anticipation of Lindauer’s much larger one at Ellerslie Racecourse afterwards. Long-time friends, down to those I’d never met before, popped in and got primed for the evening ahead. Pulling the pin on a good thing is difficult, but I always say, go while the going’s good, so we did. At 5.30pm 30 of us made the short stroll to the racecourse.

We’d left one good thing and walked straight into another. The Curve Lounge, where the main gathering was, was heaving (as were the various other rooms and marquees around the course that featured guests of differing levels of importance). Most had gone to some effort (some to considerable lengths) and dressed for the occasion, but all were in great spirits and soaking in the stunning atmosphere.

The 3 things that I enjoyed the most were meeting dozens more guide-getters, witnessing people meeting for the first time, have a ball, then sneak off home together, and keeping to my self-made pact of only doing imaginary betting (this saved me $80 overall). The band was good, but it’s definitely time to get some new blood up on that stage (no offence at all to Jordan and his band), but I feel a well schooled DJ may do a better job of keeping the party going.

Living so close to the racecourse meant that I hosted the after party. So at 11 we hoarded back to Canterbury Park Lane and found a bunch waiting on the patio. Unfortunately my flatmate and I had moved the spare key that week and couldn’t find it, so had to seek alternative entry. That achieved we set to work getting into mischief.

What possessed me to suggest I give a round of haircuts I have no idea, but Shane accepted. My hair cutting skills are rather limited, but I did my best. Let’s just say Shane opted to wear a cowboy hat for the remainder of the night. DJing has always been a passion of mine, so when the crowd swelled it was on. Time flew, and the volume obviously increased beyond someone’s bearable threshold, because as at 4.49am I was cut down to size by enforcement officer 3392 from the Auckland Council. He was firm but friendly explaining the next steps if I didn’t comply. I did, and we bopped around the TV to Ministry of Sound DVD’s from then on.

Aiming to please is always my intention; but occasionally one needs to step away from being Mr Nice-Guy and go head first for what you want. I had wanted to meet Dizzee Rascal and Carl Cox for years and last Friday I managed to. I incurred a badly swollen/bruised ankle and a one foot gash on my shin, but it was worth it.

I’d been trying to get hold of an Access All Areas pass for weeks to The Big Day Out, but kept on encountering impenetratable wall. My quest continued on game day. I came close many times but no cigar so I resorted to my old school trick of ice delivery. I went to a catering kitchen, asked nicely for 2 buckets of ice, and then jogged them towards security. With a head nod, an exhausted look on my face and my partially obscured dangling credentials, I was in. Later that night when I tried it again for Carl’s set my brain-box scheme was foiled as I was shaking hands. It was dark and jumping a fence successfully when severely intoxicated is never easy, but when you add being chased it’s near impossible. Seeing my fall, I was taken pity on and set free. I limped toward the exit, knowing that my BDO should probably curtail rapidly.

The BDO was the talk of the town for most last week, and it was priority 1 for me to. Cocktail night at Chow on Wednesday was a bonus. A shot of Italian Fernet Blanca began my stay, a Rosebud, Tory Cooler, Stamp and Go and a Negroni cocktail completed it. Paying $12 for a well explained, made and presented cocktail is acceptable, but when you get 2 for that it’s a dream come true. Stop by Chow on Sturdee Street this week.

Monty Python and The Holy Grail was a movie that I never “got” at school, but never admitted it due to the possibility of ridicule. The Kingslander chose it to launch their “Dinner and a Movie” Thursday nights. 15 years on I am still no closer to solving the question as to how those guys became so mad. Some of the scenes were priceless. Embarrassingly on occasions I was the only one lustfully laughing, but overall it was a classic movie that I will endeavour to view again and hopefully unravel some more of its mysteries. This week’s movie is Ghostbusters; see that movie with a stellar 3 course meal and glass of vino for $35.

Friday started very early. I was startled wearing PJ’s and sorting out my CD collection by a bunch of people arriving at 9am. They were ready to rock’n’roll, and get primed for the Big day ahead. I necked some breakfast and joined them outside as neighbours peered from over-looking properties. 3 hours later we were well and truly ready to P.A.R.T.Y. We parked outside the main gates, at a friends business, and had a few more “ones for the road”. I had a hunch it would happen and it did. 12 of us enter through the main gate, 2 minutes later I’m on my own wandering. I did a recon circuit of the stadium then made my way to the corporate area where the BAT boys where tremendously hospitable. Thanks again guys 

The atmosphere was unreal. Many people just stayed in one spot all day missing 90% of the acts yet still managed to have the time of their life. There were all sorts in attendance, so making new friends was easy and fun (see my new album of pictures on the website). Police say it was the best behaved crowd ever, with just 19 arrests. They are putting it down to no party-pills being allowed to be sold in the stadium. I’m not so sure.

A low-key Saturday was always on the cards, drinks with new friends over-looking Milford Beach then dinner and Asahi’s back in Ponsonby at SPQR. Sadly I missed Chico’s birthday get together at Pasha that night, but the injury I attained the previous night was killing me.

So it was a Sunday of unbelievable opportunities. Up at 7am and ready to go by 8, but what now? My friends won’t be mobile for hours. I tackled the neglected housework, washed the car, played with the cat, watched a DVD episode of Scrubs and re-potted my sunflowers. At last it was time to hit Orewa Reserve for George FM’s Free Parking event, and witness my first cyclone sandstorm in the flesh. I was early so got a good semi-sheltered vantage point to see all the comings and goings. I didn’t dance and just did one of my favourite pastimes, people watching. The warming sound of Wendy Douglas started the show, Stormin’ Norman had the middle stages and Jason Eli closed. The highlights for me were: the Fresh-Up drinking competition, knowing that some DJ’s still use turntables, and that the forecast rain held off. The event wasn’t as busy as the last one, but that tends to happen when you venture to the Shore.

Energised I went to catch the last hour on UPFM’s solar series party at Tahaki Reserve. Kyle D’s mixing and track selection skills showed why he’s now getting booked all over town, and DJ Serum blasted us away with hard surging beats. With a good night’s sleep under my belt there was no need to pause; Sunday sessions are the best, so unpredictable.

I found myself at some newfound friends place in Newton. Others joined in and we played all the party tricks in excess. It wasn’t fair as I was one of the only ones who had to work the following day. But with new friends made, and the promise of a reunion, I meandered home happy.

The past week of pure sunshine must have got even the most stern homebody hermits outdoors. There was the odd morning when I rose, peeked between the curtains and internally said “Oh no, not another glorious day”. You see I was indoctrinated at an early age that if it was a stunner day you had to be out making the most of it. When it’s gloomy and less than favourable out, then you are allowed to head for the mall, DVD parlour, junk-food outlet and curl up on the sofa. So this extended fine spell has had me ballistic with varied activity, not all on the party tip either.

With masses still away on vacation the bulk of the businesses have the closed sign displayed, or are on limited trading, so early last week we struggled to find quality fun. A bunch of us got together at a pumping oasis, Magnum, on Tuesday in preparation for the arrival of Canada’s richest man’s son, and best mate. We’d be asked to entertain for the evening, you know, show the tourists how we do it here. We waited and waited, throwing everything on this enigma’s tab. We moved on to Coco and did the same. I got tired of this trick, so moved on to The Globe and Margarita’s to cut loose and celebrate my cousin’s birthday. It turns out that these guys never evolved and they’d done a similar stunt earlier that day with a helicopter fishing expedition. Grrrr.

I’ve been a tennis fan since I got my first swing-ball set at age 3, table tennis was next, patter-tennis followed, then the real thing. So having some of the world’s best players in town was a rush to say the least. I hadn’t been to a pro hard-court match since I was 13 and saw Lendl, Becker, Edberg, Graf and Sabatini kick ass at the Aussie Open. I had forgotten how damn fast the ball flies, and how easily these guys cover the court pounding back precision shots. What made the day even more spectacular was The Heineken Hotel. I’d been given access to utopia; they happily serve you scrummy food and alcohol all day without asking for any payment. Needless to say I’m super-glued to the idiot-box, when possible, for the next 12 days to see Federer take his 4th Australian Open title.

Living a stones throw away from Ellerslie Racecourse paid off last Friday. I had some friends over for a party warm-up before the main event, Global Summer Dance Festival. I thought arriving 2 hours after kick-off, at 6.15pm, would be bang-on. I was wrong. Our group doubled the party attendees, but we were outdoors, drinking, with great friends and tunes around so we “made hay”. Sample Gee managed to get us dancing under the Red Bull gazebo, while he sucked down bottle after bottle of Smirnoff Ice. When darkness fell we were herded inside by 6ft wire mesh fences like lambs to the slaughter. I played on the escalators for a bit (always a highlight for me) before I did a reconnaissance circuit.

Because of poor ticket sales, half the acts had been pulled and 4 of the 7 rooms abandoned (including the VIP one). Always the optimist I did my best, but had the most prolific time in the smoking zone (not that I condone the act) talking codswallop to strangers, reminiscing with friends and taking pictures. The main acts, Stonebridge and Warp Brothers, were nothing to write home about and by 4am the party was over, just the hard zone upstairs continued with a healthy crowd till the advertised end of 6am. Out of the twenty odd people I have spoke to post party, none had anything overly favourable to say about the party or the organisation.

I needed a break so was persuaded to go to Omaha beach the following morning. I am so glad I went and didn’t do the usual and waste the day away behind closed curtains. On arrival the Speedos where donned at pace, zinc smeared, snorkel, flippers and mask located and Roman sandals buckled. A hop, skip and a jump later I was crunching shells as I apprehensively made my way to the lapping waves for my first swim of the season.

We did all the usual beach activities before the searing sound of beer-o’clock overwhelmed and we retired to the deck for a few cold ones. I drew the short straw and was on tent erection duty, I loathe putting them up but enjoy the concept. I struggled as 16 eyes watched offering me unhelpful advice. I was the first to bed that night; I’d been requested to go on account of my nonsensical conversation being held up intermittently between snores. I was the first to rise though and went for a bike ride around heaven, a before body-surf and sea-kayak attempt.

Goat Island was a place I’d heard about for years so I wanted to tick it off my large list. I was interested to find out that its name was derived by the early settlers who found goats to be the only animal that could survive there, due to the lack of fresh water. That aside, I am definitely going back, mid-week, when all the kids will be behind desks. It’s a colourful fish paradise, all visible from the rocky shore. The swarms of humans gave me cabin fever, so with the promise of returning made we ventured to Pakiri Beach for some R&R. That achieved it was back to The Leigh Sawmill Café to regroup with the others and attack a pizza, the local vino and homemade fudge. The chronic queues of traffic on the way back to Auckland that night didn’t phase my impression that I’d had one hell of a magical day. Lucky I left when I did as there was a shark attack the next day and the beach was closed.

Chow is an uber-funky Asian styled restaurant chain on the corner of Sturdee St and Pakenham St East, in The Viaduct. Originating from Wellington, where they have 3 establishments, owner Paul Ryan opens up inner Auckland to some fine flavour. It opens to the public tonight (go as they have 2 4 1 cocktails made by veterans). I was asked to go and sample the cuisine last night by the GM Dave; Of course I accepted. Suzanne and I smirked as we ordered half the menu to go with our Pinot Noir. There nearly wasn’t enough room on the table; we sampled away merrily for over 2 hours, leaving only the sticky rice pudding. The banana leaf chicken and lime posset shone out in my pallet. But it was the intimate cosmopolitan décor and friendly service that probably out-shone all.

Just because the “silly season” is officially over, it doesn’t mean that you should hang up your party shoes. You’ve had a month or so of fun and frolicking, why not let the good times roll? There are so many awesome events coming up in the first quarter of 08, you’d be mad to yawn and say, “I’ve done my dash!”

Twenty days ago I wrote my last confession to you all and if I was to re-cap on what’s been happening since I’d have you reading till Tuesday, so I’ll just pick out a few highlights.

Two weeks before NYE I flew to Christchurch to catch up with family and friends, help out where possible, see the new sights and relax a little. I actually did all of that and got in a bout of daily exercise to boot.

I tiki-toured around the stunning southern lakes amidst piercing blue skies and lupins with my Dad, for four days of easy-going adventures; before returning for a much anticipated dance party called Lost At Sea, held at Lyttelton’s famous Wunderbar. But all my R&R&R got the better of me and I drank my night’s quota of booze inside 3 hours and spent a good hour gurgling to the seagulls over the balcony railing.

Christmas Day was the whole idea of the trip and it didn’t disappoint. I received some interesting gifts, e.g. an apron with a lucid photo of me emblazoned on the front, a Queen DVD box set, a bad taste calendar, aluminium coasters and a dentist appointment. We all played petanque, tenniquoits and drinking games while Granny watched on from inside. And I was in bed, as docile as a 2 day old puppy, by 8.30pm.

Hitting The City of Sails again was a shock after the placid ways of The Garden City. But a bottle of Rose aided my acclimatisation and I was soon on the famous Fullers ferry to Waiheke Island to join 4500 others in welcoming in 2008 at Stonyridge Vineyard. The sun was blazing and spirits were at previously never before seen levels. Most sat in clumps chatting till dusk, daftly missing some great DJs spinning to crickets; then herded to the various dancefloors to commence their farewell to 2007 dance of celebration. The music was solid as a whole but nobody stood out as being out-of-this-world.

By 5am the vast majority had left, leaving the DJ’s to mix to a few straggling muppets. Most ventured on to take their pick from one of dozens of after parties. I caught an exorbitantly overpriced bus to one, then leap-frogged to another back on the mainland where we danced on the roof, built a dam, turbo-charged the slip’n’slide, formed a band and played human skittles with car tyres.

3 days after this was Summadayze, the first dance party to be held at the world class Vector Arena. I, like many others, was concerned that it wouldn’t fly due to it’s proximity to NYE. Somehow though, the Future Entertainment crew pulled it off and managed to attract 6000 people. The general consensus was that Sneaky Sound System’s performance took the cake for overall best act and David Guetta the best dance set. A special mention has to go out to Steve Angello who superhumanly managed to knock back a complete bottle of Grey Goose vodka during his 90 minute set, while the rest of the big names tucked into OJ then zipped off to bed. The Drum & Bass sounds of Concord Dawn on last was never going to work after the uplifting nature of the former artists, and 15 minutes into the set most had partied on out of there, me included.