I kind of over did it on Friday/Saturday. One exciting thing led to another and before I knew it I’d given myself a black eye. Read on to see what I mean.

Big Wednesday at The Classic must have been one of the biggest they have had there in ages. It was new material night for the pro’s, and they didn’t disappoint. Ewen Gilmore, a Willie Nelson Westie look-alike, MC’d the night and was a riot. He went off on tangents only to come back and finish the gag with improvised class. It helped having the 3 front tables’ occupants from unique countries, Serbia, Mongolia and Turkey.

The highlight though was the last act, Kevin Nealon from the Happy Gilmore movie, who played Happy’s golfing partner Potter early on in the piece. In the movie he tells Happy to “Harness the good energy and block out the bad” and for some reason I remember that bit. He’s also performed on Saturday Night Live in the U.S. Anyway, his style was like nothing I’ve ever seen. He started normally enough, with seasoned international skill, then every few words he’d pause and wait for the audience to yell out the next noun, verb or sentence, so as to carry on the story with their input. It worked remarkably well. He did his 10 minutes and summed it all up beautifully. I hope he’s performing at the upcoming Auckland International Comedy Festival, as I’ll be there with bells on.

If you haven’t heard of Luke Thompson yet you will at some stage this year (he’s also opening for Toto this Sunday at The Civic). He launched his debut album Here on the Ground at Toto’s restaurant last week. He’s got a Jack Johnson/Neil Finn sound, George Clooney charm, superb stage presence and is just 24 years old. From here it was on to the new and improved Denim bar, the purpose being to raise money for The Westpac Helicopter. We churned through most of the raffle tickets on the night, sold some hats and drank quite a bit of Heineken. Thanks for the hospitality David 

I don’t like talking about the weather, there always has to be better things to talk about, but it was shocking all weekend. The Mid-Summer Masquerade Ball didn’t mind one bit. Driving up to the Museum I wondered if I’d got the correct day, it looked deserted. I was thinking of excuses for my date as we ascended the entrance steps, as we had both gone to quite a bit of effort for the night, so for my stupidity to raise it’s head at this crucial time would have been disastrous.

Luckily I’d just read the start time wrong, and we got there just as dinner was ending. Not to matter, there was still the better part of an hour of complimentary drinks to enjoy (now this is where I should have listened to Mum and taken it easy). Encouraged by those at my table, and urged on internally by the vibe, I was on, and had more than a few vinos.

At half eleven we moved on to the after party at Metropole. Half the bar-top had lusty cocktails laid out on it, and the superbly dressed female DJ was just getting cracking. Perfect. 2 hours later town beckoned (again I should have thought about the next day and told the taxi to do a 180 and take me home but I didn’t). Venturing all over downtown I wasn’t surprised by anything new and out of the ordinary, so a couple of group texts later I was at a friend’s place in Parnell to crack-on.

With limited mixers, it was Fanta and vodka that was the drink of choice. Hours later, with lots of unmentionable fun under our belts, it was time to head home and prepare for the NZ Beer Festival. It was here that upon entering the taxi, my knee rose up and knocked a bottle of Jim Beam up into my eye socket, causing a shiner and blood. Not particularly cool, but the sad truth nonetheless.

Not feeling jaded we made a few calls and rustled up some friends to pop over. The dress-up clothes were brought out and a can of mayhem was opened.

We departed soon after midday, most of us in anything but our normal attire, wigs, hats, stethoscopes, lab coats, cuddly snakes etc. The SublimeNZ tent was the first one we visited; it became home-base and where 90% of my time was spent. No real reason just that it was handy, friendly and away from the thousands of other wet revellers.

Due to the persisting rain and foul wind (the opposite of last year’s glorious weather) everyone was sheltering inside the stables, (it was held at a racecourse btw) where all the beer was dispensed. So it was sardine-like and not pleasant. I nipped out a side door and found to my glee a mountain of snow, made a fort, a few round balls and commenced firing.

I didn’t make it around all the displays; I got cold feet and returned to the Sublime refuge. It was here were some people with stature forcefully recommended I drink some water or be banished. I obliged, and then tore home changed my costume and returned as a different character.

Sometime between 7 and 8pm I returned home once again, readjusted my mental state and got ready for The Hero Party. It promised to be a spectacularly flamboyant dance party where wearing less is best, and skin is in, for guys and girls. The zestful energy, costumes and uplifting tunes had me hooked from the moment I walked into the Hero kingdom. I couldn’t believe the friendliness of everyone, the fact that I wasn’t gay didn’t matter one little bit. Relieved by the acceptance, I partied on into the night and returned home with a firm smile on my dial.

As you could imagine Sunday was a right-off, so it was over to scroggin and berocca to revive me. After a good sleep Moody Monday wasn’t too bad, so after work I went to Red Bull HQ to celebrate the release of DJ Recloose’s new album ‘Perfect Timing’. It’s a doozy, not ragey at all, but suitable for universal occasions (vague I know, but you’ll have to cob a listen at Real Groovy or on the net to see what I mean).

He was playing live on George FM from 6 till 8pm, so after 8 he came out from behind the CDJ’s and mingled. I’d never met the guy before but what a nice, down-to-earth, normal, talented kiwi chap. Others there where amiable too so I did a circuit, relishing the good times. Once the horse bolts (I’m referring to getting alcohol into my system) it’s awfully hard to reel it back in, so on the way home I made some calls and invited some peeps over. We played Face the Music, Coin Rugby and Spoofing (all adapted drinking games), then watched excerpts from The Berlin Love Parade, clubs in Ibiza, The Miami Winter Music Conference and all dreamed of being in the thick of it all, partying with the best of them in the sun listening to the world’s finest DJ’s.

Morning came, and with it reality, reality that we were still in Auckland, that the hangover beast had raised its head and that I had to spend the next 8 hours writing this

Good, because I need a driver/partner in crime. Guy or girl, it doesn’t really matter, you just need to be presentable, fun and reliable. Email me back asap with a picture and a few paragraphs selling yourself.

Fingers crossed for the run of fine weather to bounce back. Autumn can’t set in yet. There are still too many parties that require sweet weather on the horizon, such as mine for instance on April 12th that you’ll all be receiving an invitation to next week.

The past week started with a bang and ended with a leisurely laugh. Wednesday escalated to a definite record for me. After a fun afternoon at the gee-gees I was escorted to Bar3 at SkyCity for the launch of a new series of Joker Poker. I was inundated with complimentary mouth-watering beverages that even the soberest judge would have a hard time over-ruling, then, 25 minutes later, told that I was to be put on the fizzy drinks for the rest of the evening. Unimpressed, I left. Sad though as it was a rip-snorting party.

I nuzzled into the old Wednesday faithful (Globe Bar) with a few friends. It was busy as usual so we settled in, b-bopping with the best of them, only to be told, when posing for a photo near the pool tables, that again I was being a nuisance and it was best I departed. Never one to cause a stir I left. It was definitely pie-time/home-time after this last rejection. Munching away on the way home some red carpet caught my eye. It was coming from one of the Les Mills’ Global Summit nightly get-togethers. They’d put a mammoth marquee over the top floor of the neighbouring car-park. Intrigued, I investigated.

My arm twisted (forgetting that things happen in 3’s) we caravanned it to The Lady Luck Club party at Pony. Barrelling in we upset management, got evils for a bit and were then encouraged to leave. Realising the game was up I called a friend and we tried Vanilla in Parnell. Feeling 10 years too old, lacking a dense tan and double the level of the nearest intoxicated person I soon left, favouring a good ole after party. Duct taping Dave to a chair, singing my rendition of Ice Ice Baby and crawling under the coffee table were my highlights.

Valentines Day was a fizzer for cards, flowers or any kind of romantic memorabilia for me, like so many others out there judging by the moans I heard. Pasha’s singles soiree was decadently delightful though. A flute of Moet greeted you on entry, as did comestible canapés. It was very well done, but more for couples I’d say than those flying solo.

Across town Sample Gee’s years of mixing experience kept the floor full till close at The Kingslander’s Singles Dance Party. The special lighting brought in to enhance the place, doctored it from a large sports den into a believable Ibizian superclub (with a little imagination). Finally, La Zeppa had an informal thang, for those against the whole hoo-ha. 50 or so singletons, and the odd cheeky couple, held out there till close, creating their own fun and shunning romance.

Baretro’s grand opening was on Friday. The Powerstation has been decked out. Internally it looks superb: laser lights, gridded neon squared dance floor, 80’s paraphanaleia blanket the walls and the sound system is earth shaking. I just can’t see it getting popular and thus surviving. If the launch is anything to go by it regrettably won’t see 2009.

Saturday was the kicker of the week. WhiskyLive at The Civic started me off at noon. There were 150 types of whiskey to sample. I managed 2. I know the purists will kill me but I could have done with a dash of Coke in there to make it more pleasurable. The crowd was older and chiefly male, the displays were well laid out, atmosphere cosy and worth the $85 to get in. I took great enjoyment in sipping a Tyrconnell whiskey, a bottle of which cost 3 cents for every day since it had been made. This made it over $500 a bottle.

The 2nd heat of Diesel Bourbon’s bikini comp at Pat’s Garage was my next stop. The calibre was high and fortunately my favourites got to progress to the monster final on March 8th. The Devonport Wine & Food festival naturally followed. The entertainment was good (Hollie Smith in particular) and the intermittent showers were an ideal chance to meet fresh friends. I just can’t see how they justify $40 to get in and around $9 for a glass of fine wine.

The Masonic Tavern hosted the Sounds of Summer dance party on the same afternoon, just down the road. Despite the rain it was more popular than last year, however like most successful annual parties in Auckland currently, it was riddled with youngsters there for the “coolness factor”, so I zipped into The Late Club for Celine’s 20th, Pony for Jamie’s 25th and The Northern Steamship bar for its 2nd. On a roll I hit the Bacardi B-Live gig with DJ Recloose, Sharlene Hector (from Basement Jaxx) and World beat box champ Beardyman at The Union Fish Building. I had a fantastic time; great to see novel gigs for an attainable $10 entry sum.

I had never been to Clevedon until Sunday. I think it’s only really known for its polo fields, but what a cool place and only 30 minutes from town. It was finals day for the NZ Polo Open; what a lot of pomp and ceremony. Corporate marquees lined both sides of the field, and accredited people buzzed about blowing air kisses and taking advantage in the cushy luxurious hospitality.

Polo has to be the only sport to have it’s own vocabulary; there was this old lady (a former member of The NZ Polo Association) sitting at our table, who eavesdropped on our conversation and corrected our grammar whenever we called a pony a horse, umpire a ref, hound a dog, chukka a period etc. Think Pretty Woman, it wasn’t far off, but a brilliant day out and fascinating viewing a whole new sector of society.

Death at a Funeral was Mondays treat, oh what a brilliant comedy, a modern day Four Weddings and a Funeral, but twice as funny. I’m making Mondays my regular movie night. Anyone else is very welcome to join me. Drop me a quick line if you’re keen for next week, I’m thinking we see Jumper.

A lot of people are like this, superficial, two-faced, back-stabbers etc. Being an all-round good Samaritan (where possible) feels great, and will hold you in great stead for being in the right place and time for all those opportunities that “other people” so often get.

Before I forget: any panel-beaters out there? I had a wee nose to tail, and the front of my Primera is a bit concaved. Your help would be greatly appreciated and rewarded.

I think I’ve found a new passion, interviewing. Luckily my first attempt was for people I’d heard about for years, and dealing with an industry I knew very well.  The TV Rock crew, at this year’s Groove In The Park, were Ivan, Grant and Seany (their MC). I had done significant research so was well prepared for my 10 minute slot; this was fortunate as the Alchemia vodka I’d consumed in the hours leading up wasn’t working in my favour when it came to alertness.

These guys love performing and they’ll be involved with music till the grave. They take what they do very seriously; it seems only Seany (a long-time guide-getter and self confessed ladies man) likes to keep the party going after a gig. The TV Rock duo of Ivan Gough and Grant Smilie have both separately played in Auckland before, but this was their biggest NZ gig performing as one. Seany B (Flaunt It’s vocalist) was on stage for half the time and yes they did perform their trademark track “Flaunt It”, much to the 5,000 strong crowd’s delight.

A chat with Sweedish DJ superstar Axwell, and his glorious girl Gloria followed. The chips of facts I got out of him were: he does homework on the type of crowd he’ll be playing for and plays that angle; stays backstage the entire time to remain focused; can only write music in his studio at home; doesn’t have any sort of sponsor; loves drinking straight vodka, holding it in his mouth and then adding OJ before swallowing.

Axwell’s set went mega-well playing his anthems, and those of others. During the last track though, the oddest thing happened. Someone lobbed a bottle from the crowd towards him. He caught it and threw it back, thus sparking a bottle hurling frenzy. I’d say about 200 plastic bottles lay strewn on the stage afterwards. He didn’t seem to mind at all, in fact wanted to keep playing amidst the recycling, but the sound controller had other ideas.

This year’s Groove in the Park was a fun day out, but sadly numbers were down on last year, and word on the street is that this will continue at a rate of knots for next year. The consensus being that it’s turned into a strict money making venture held in a cage. I suspect organisers will take the feedback onboard and radically shuffle things for next time. And if that doesn’t please the punters, well there are always other options for your February 6th day off.

It had already been a splendid day, but never one to say “when” I rocked into town. Bouncing around a few unhappening places I concluded the night to be a dud and almost called it a night, then for some reason I thought of The Globe Bar. Backpackers are always up-for-it, so off I trotted. I am so glad I did, the bar was jammed and humming till I left sometime around 4am. I met some friendly American guys who insisted on buying me Agavero, some saucy Scandinavian gals, who if unleashed would rival Christina in the dirrty category, and some old friends that I never expected to see there. Globe Bar seems to be “up there” on many peoples favourite watering holes list. It’s on Darby St in the CBD, have a gander if you’ve not been for a while.

The Breakers helped their chance of hosting a play-off game last Thursday, by taming the second placed Melbourne Tigers by a whopping 14 points. It was the last home game of the regular season and this brought with it the biggest crowd, probably aided by the half time draw of a 4 burner BBQ and 2 leather lazy-boys. Derek Alston (our USA imported centre) admitted to me later that they were “just having fun, and it paid off”. Sing Sing at Pony was a non-event for some reason last week, so I caught up on some much needed sleep.

I welcomed Friday with open arms, my favourite day of the week. Anything goes at work, and you’ve got “48 hours off from the world” (thanks Human Traffic) just a stone’s throw away. Met and Code hosted The Ministry of Sound Annual 2008 Tour that night. Past gigs there have been lacking energy and people, this one had both, fingers crossed that this continues.

The Kingslander had their first ever Loyalty Club boat cruise on Saturday afternoon. Everything was just dandy; the boat, staff, catering and naked twister (yes people did get down and put on a pink bikini). It was just missing the vital ingredient that most blokes look for, pretty girls. There were screeds of them though at The 2008 NZ Bikini Model Search (if only both could have combined somehow) at the Britomart Pavilion. Crowd attendance was low, but calibre of hotties on stage was super high. Girls came from all over the country to compete for cash and fame. Gail Chan took it out, one point ahead of bikini comp. veteran, Hannah Norton.

I made the short stroll to Spy afterwards and ducked in for Club Luxury, it was good but much like all the other nights there. I wanted something different, something harder. Freeformation hard dance party was across town at Space Bar, so I went for it. Not knowing many, and being on the older side in relation to the masses, I bopped up front for hours, Coronas firmly in hand. Arkitech and Ben Stevens from the UK tore the decks up with never-before-heard tracks and mixing ability, and the assistance of Lou Lou on vocals was something to thoroughly revel in.

UPFM ticks along merrily on 107.5 fm playing all types of techno. Every few weeks during summer they take over a council grassed zone for a full afternoon. Last Sunday it was at The Quarry by the zoo. 200-300 materialised and danced, taking breaks for hacky-sack, touch rugby, croquet, frisbee or a break dancing showdown. I sat on the periphery and successively sipped down 2 bottles of rosé, watching the madness that lay before me.

The Bridgeway on Northcote Point is a refreshing movie theatre with Sausalito Café (one of those places where almost everything on the menu appeals) attached on the side, and award winning The Engine Room restaurant adjacent. I went there for the first time on Monday for a Cure Kids movie fundraiser put on by the team at Aim Proximity. We saw Juno, a quality comedy with a twist, morals, super soundtrack and the capability to coax a tear or 2. A lovely restful “normal” evening; roll on the weekend.

In doing this one may find a hidden talent, achieve something thought previously impossible or just make someone’s day a little happier. When I think about the formerly insurmountable challenges that I have tackled (sometimes left right up until the court date), I think geez, that wasn’t so bad. If only I could realise this prior to quell the worry.

Slightly philosophical for a Wednesday I know, but I’ve just read a book called “The Monk Who Sold His Ferrari,” by Paulo Coelho (a timely gift from my long-time best friend Anne-Marie), it’s a 196 page inspiring tale that leaves lingering powerful messages about how to enrich your life.

Last Wednesday I tried to enrich my life at Chow, Auckland’s newest Asian restaurant and cocktail bar. It was my 3rd visit (sadly the 4th one will be quite some time off) to sample their wares. The previous two occasions had been fun and tasty, hence my return. I’m not sure if it was due to the GM not being visible, or the moon being in a weird cycle but the service was appalling, cocktails slapped together and music inappropriate. Eternally viewing the glass as half full I am thankful for the energising company and the fact that I moved on to Cowboys, found some long lost friends and had an entertaining remainder of my evening.

Auckland’s International Buskers’ Festival was launched last Thursday at The Classic. Nick Nicholas hosted 8 elite street entertainers. I forgot that these guys’ shows rely heavily on audience participation, so sitting front and centre was asking for trouble. Half time didn’t even roll around before I was tricked up onto the stage; I was joined by a lanky banker called Callum, and Bex a rather tasty office administrator. This hairy, out-of-shape man, in a tight, purple, knitted body-suit stuck a wig on me and taught me dance moves designed to entice Bex’s affections. The crowd was enthusiastic, so my job complete I reluctantly stepped down. The two stand-out highlights for me were the outright leftfield-ness of The Birdman’s show (please see this guy, the festival ends tomorrow), and the slick cleverness of mime king Mr Fungus. Cheeks stretched from grinning it was business time; time to have a gander at the CBD’s latest watering hole.

Easy Tiger’s a bar that has to be one of the hardest to describe where it actually is. Located between The Vector Arena and Foodtown down on Quay St, it’s in the middle of a half complete business and residential construction zone (thus making for an interesting outdoor backdrop). It’s the brainchild of Rick Doran, who just wanted to own a bar, and do it his way (not be governed by one of the big two breweries in town). So he stocks what he likes, has relaxed and polite staff and the inside is decked out like The Amazon. Have a look before it becomes too popular.

Whenever I travel, if there’s a zoo near I’m going. I find Auckland’s zoo to be just right, well laid-out and containing just the right amount of exotic animals, birds, insects, reptiles, creatures etc, for one to comfortably walk around in 3 hours, and that includes a 45 minute picnic. Liam Finn played there as part of the Zoo Music series last Friday (Hollie Smith plays this Saturday) and treated the packed house to wizardry worthy of The Royal Albert Hall. Entertaining, a master of multiple instruments and just when you think he may have gone too far, he bundles all the beats and lyrics together to form out of this world music.

The penultimate Sundown dance party at Stonyridge Vineyard was held on Saturday (the finale is on March 22nd), and it was just as good as all the others. The now customary pre-drinks on the ferry starts the ball rolling and moulds one into the happy-go-lucky Waiheke vibe. Getting there when the sun still has a bit of work to do proved a winner; enabling us to select the best appointed deckchair cluster and take in Waiheke’s beauty, meet new acquaintances and catch up with old ones, but most of all relax. Karn Hall was wasted playing the first set, nobody was there to even shake his hand, the outdoor deck proved too alluring. Grant Marshall attracted a few to the floor, Bevan Keyes capitalised and Jolyon Petch with Steve Richards polished us off. There’s not a place on the planet where I have made more friends than I have at these Stonyridge parties, so I thank Adam B and Stephen White for all the good times; let them roll.