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.