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