I did them all, so I had a fairly good week. Easter has to be up there in the stakes for the coolest time of year. It creates 2 back-2-back short weeks, the weather’s generally sweet, there’s always lots to do and the bountiful chocolate is a definite bonus.

The Nite:Life awards were held at The Auckland Town Hall. It was a ceremony as part of the major Our House dance party taking place at the same time. I knew I was up for the “Best Scene Personality” award, but when I was asked out on to the stage I was awe struck. I hadn’t received a major award for the best part of a decade, so the thrill was indescribable and it still bubbles within.

The few seconds of glory ignited something; I tried to be everywhere, talk to everyone, drink everything (actually this sounds quite the norm) and may have gone a bit OTT, stepping on some important toes and putting a couple of VIP noses out of joint.

The Glamour dance party was on a few blocks away at Toto Restaurant, and seeing both parties were packed with fun party peeps up for a large one, I to and froed getting into quite a bit of mischief in transit. In one of these movements I mislaid my award, so that sucked.  In another I spilt the majority of an orange Bacardi Breezer on my loaned white shirt. You get the drift.

There was 1 other big party held on Thursday night. Crazy P and Norman Jay were headlining at Pontoon. A quick stop in there saw a more mature party crowd, and a flash restaurant superbly transformed into a world-class concert venue. I arrived at the right time. I’d not seen Norman play since London’s Notting Hill Carnival in ‘04. His tunes were original, worldly and very danceable, so I stayed longer than intended.

The other 2 gigs charged on. Glamour began to peter out about half 4, and Nite:Life banged it out fully fledged till the planned 6am. For me it was the town hall event that took the cake. It could have been the award, that it’s such a fab venue for large scale dance parties with more nooks and crannies than Narnia, the top international DJ’s, or just the fact that it was a very well orchestrated dance party.

Having these 3 pumping parties happening meant after party city and options for Africa. I chose one in Parnell. I’d only met the guy that night and he appeared normal enough so off we trucked. The place was a palace and soon piles of familiar faces beamed from the lift (that opened directly into the house) all carrying gifts to make the morning and afternoon all the more sweeter.

Friday was a blur, so moving on to Saturday, I did something out of character: turning my back on what I knew would be a spectacular night at Stonyridge Vineyard on Waiheke, I headed to Whitianga for The Bluesfest Festival, and a few out-of-the-ordinary nights at Cooks Beach (a hop skip and a jump from Whitianga). I regret the move a little due to the great feedback I’ve heard about the last Sundown dance party ever, but I’m always in search of new things and experiences, and the Bluesfest opened my eyes to some whole new kettles of fish.

Maybe me approaching 32 (this Friday) is a small turning point in my partying career. Who knows but the time away has left me motivated and riddled with ideas for the future. So keep your eyes open, ears alert and you’ll be seeing more of me in places you may not expect.

It was hard to do but I pulled myself away from attempting to attend 2 bikini comp finals, 3 dance parties, 2 afternoon outdoor music gatherings and a flat warming on Saturday. Instead I scampered up north to Matapouri for some R’n’R. Now a few days later I feel refreshed and invigorated, even though I probably had less sleep than I normally achieve on a weekend.

Before I got up there though, I had 3 days, and nights, of activity. It started with Luke Thompson and Brian Platt’s concert at Tabac on Wednesday night. I had to wait two and a half hours for Luke to take the stage, but seeing I’m a fan I endured and took the opportunity to catch up on the gossip about friends, colleagues and people I know. I’ve seen Luke perform live 3 times in the past 3 weeks and he’s getting better and better. Take some time and have a listen to some of his songs online; you’ll be enthralled.

I knew Thursday was going to be big, but not as big as it was. An accidental pre-party began it all at my place. All the disco lights were plugged in, the latest dance download throbbed from the speakers and we got creative with drinks. Pasha was the primary culprit. I’m not sure if it was Sam Sarge’s 20th birthday celebration, or that the place is normally that alive, but all the stars were out to seek and destroy. Pony club was a super natural progression for most, and mischief (when Brooke’s back was turned) was rampant. I got on a bit of a roll and when Pony closed, I tried Globe and then Forte. It was only when I looked around and saw nothing but unfamiliar male faces that I made for a taxi.

There were only 2 things I HAD to do on Friday and I managed one of them. First up was The Kingsland Festival. Now if that was on each week I firmly believe that Kingsland would become the new “place to be”. It boasted a variety of DJ’s and bands in the many bars and restaurants, street performers, comedians and balloons on the pavements. The sip’n’walk drinking laws were relaxed so multiple bar-hopping went without saying. Like last year it wasn’t only the entertainment that was different to normal, it was the cliental. Obviously a huge wad had trekked up from The Viaduct to wallow, so the spread of peeps was interestingly marked.

The other mandatory event to check out was hard dance provider Fevah’s 8th birthday celebration at Galatos. The crowd ranged in age from barely legal to nearing retirement, showing Fevah’s, and the scene’s, wide appeal. 3 rooms sweated it out till dawn with the highlight being Defective Audio playing live and the regular kiwi crowd favourite High Dosage.

I made it home at a decent time, rose at lunchtime and began the jaunt to Whangarei, stocked up on supplies, then hung a right aiming for Matapouri. To my glee I went against former mission traditions and didn’t get lost, arriving soon after 3pm.

It was Saturday, the sun was out, I was among friends and on holiday, so what better reason for us to flag the R’n’R and “get on it”? 16 hours later as the sun showed us what a stunning day lay ahead, and after long deliberation, we pulled the pin and lay down. The PG stuff that happened during those 16 hours saw a mixture of play-doh sculpting, charades, poker, karaoke, bush walks, epiphanies, beach decorating and star gazing (not necessarily in that order) take place. All other activities undertaken will “stay on tour”.

St Patrick’s Day has never grabbed me. I’ve tried to immerse myself in Guinness and green hats many times, but never seem to fully grab the Blarney Stone; instead I head home slightly bemused. Having said that though, thousands wagged work, enjoyed lengthy liquid lunches, applied Irish memorabilia and partied on down from sunrise through to sunrise. The Muddy Farmer in town probably went to the biggest effort; they closed the street outside, filled it with festivities and charged a tenner to enter their pot of gold. Others like O’Hagan’s and The Claddagh stuck with the traditional, by hiring leprechauns, giving out green blow-up swords and blasting out Irish classics. I like the concept of it all and won’t give up. Maybe next year will be the year where I become the latest St Paddy’s convert, and eat green pancakes with black Guinness sauce for breakfast. Stranger things have happened.

Those overseas subscribers most likely wouldn’t have heard of the people listed before me. But here in NZ they’re about the nearest thing to Tiger and Oprah that we have, and what down-to-earth nice people they turned out to be. I hear dragon stories of their fierce tempers and inapproachability, but this is far from the truth. Perhaps it was the booze talking, perhaps not. All I know is that they definitely helped make that day at the gallops one of the most memorable ever for me.

(On the side, I’ve lost my camera again, and again it was at SpyBar. It’s a red Sony touch-screen, engraved with my name and number.  Any leads will be rewarded).

Last Wednesday The Auckland Racing Cup was held at Ellerslie. I had a pre-drinks function at my place first, and then went along as usual. The weather was pleasant, track conditions soft and there was a great spread of people.

My first bad move was accepting a challenge from Justin, an experienced aluminium can beer shot-gunner. After 2 attempts to match his superior technique, I realised the fruitlessness and put his success down to his superior body mass. Folly followed again shortly after when I tried to chat to Lance O’Sullivan (NZ’s most successful jockey), only to find out that it was actually V8 supercar legend driver Paul Radisich. On a roll I ran into one of NZ’s most recognised media broadcasters, Paul Holmes, and thought it necessary to give him tips on how to attract a younger audience to his NewstalkZB breakfast show.

While all this was going on horses were running around the track, but I don’t recall seeing any. Thinking it prudent to continue, we went to town, hopped around some bars then met Paul Radisich and his entourage once more. Oddly, he invited us to have dinner with him. Bellies full, we pursued more gleeful times at Cowboy Bar. Options diminished and we were forced home to raid the liquor cabinet and await the inevitable sunrise.

Boogie Wonderland (the name says it all) relaunched the next evening. It had had 18 full days of work on it; a new bar zone, designer lighting and entrance being the essential differences. I was impressed, and could easily see myself going again to enjoy the plush seating, attentive service and of course the good time music from decades long ago.

I left early and walked a few blocks to The Rooftop Bar above Honey, for 42 Below’s Silent Disco. I had no idea what to expect, and I’ve been telling everyone since what went down. Given a pair of wireless headphones on entry punters were greeted on top by relative silence; ‘oh now I get it!’ I thought to myself. There were bunches of people there, but no audible tunes without using the phones. You could switch easily between 2 DJ’s (T-Rice and Bobby Bazooka) who rocked away up front, mixing merrily to themselves. As time ticked people loosened up, lost some inhibitions and danced. It really was an unfamiliar and unforgettable site.

Friday always makes me feel fine regardless, so after work it was into Denim for a couple of those tasty, affordable cocktails. NSP up the road for a late bite was a nice treat, before seeing Steve Bug play some of the finest electronic house music I have ever heard at Coherent.

Somehow I made it to the gym in the morning for a dose of Body Attack, then home to prepare for an afternoon at the races. It was the final day of Auckland Cup Week and the day was a stunner. I arrived via a back entrance and went into the wrong tent thinking it was the Whips’n’Spurs main party zone. I was shocked to find it sparsely populated with dolled up youngsters: I had found the orientation student tent. Finishing my Stella like a parched alcoholic, I found the correct section and was welcomed by ivy body painted babes and roaming pixies.

The afternoon flew by and before long it was time to leave and kick on to The Kingslander for round 2 of their bikini comp. The quality of ladies was abnormally high and I set to work helping out. Again the judges did the right thing and picked the overall best 5. Look out for this Saturday’s final, the heat will truly be on.

Dougal’s impromptu pre-town get-together was the Ponsonby oasis. For 2 hours nothing but great times with great people was had. Piling into cars we morphed to SpyBar and rocked on. I must have got a little too enthused, as I permanently mislaid my camera. Yes, again. Anyone got a spare out there? Feeling quite annoyed that my retrieval efforts were in vain, I sucked it up and drowned my sorrows.

The after party this week was gold. A sweet loft apartment in Parnell with all the requirements needed for a good morning. People came and went, dozed and awoke. I peeled off mid-morning still in a state about my camera.

I had to be alert on Monday at 9am as Peter Urlich was interviewing me on George FM. I was. I couldn’t believe how chipper he was, surely I must have caught him after 5 double espressos, or good news from the lotteries commission, as this positivity just could not be normal. He went easy on me, and the texts from friends afterwards told me I did well and have a good radio voice.  Look out Paul Holmes, maybe I do know what I’m talking about 

One more thing, text 8981 to vote for Peter Urlich to go all the way in dancing with the stars. The privilege will cost you a dollar, but it goes towards helping kids, and to help an aging rock-star reclaim national centre stage glory.

Xcalibur – Lord of S@x, Woodman Entertainment’s latest creation, was launched at Videopepo last Wednesday. After being held up at customs for 4 hours, the jaded, yet still jaw-droppingly alluring actors arrived. I felt out of place amongst the other guests, who didn’t seem phased at all about the whole scene. Because of their late arrival the planned live shows didn’t go ahead, the audible grunts and moans from the invitees reflected the disappointment of the collective. I did though get a chance to have my picture taken, get autographs and chat to the overseas vixens, namely Sophie Paris, Divinity Love and Nessa Devil (ring any bells to anyone out there?).

Although not as dazzling in real life as in print or on screen, they are 10 times more intriguing. Oddly, I was lost for words, and found myself speaking gooble-de-gook. I did manage to invite them to a party that night though, which they politely declined on account of their draining customs ordeal.

If you’ve been in the high-country for the last few months, or away from all communications, you may not have known that The Chemical Brothers played in Auckland last Thursday. My opinion is 25% good and the rest not favourable. Waiting an hour to get served at the bar is enough to get anyone in a foul mood, so the bad first: The “brothers” appeared to have done no research on NZ, playing music that left 90% of the crowd flat-footed. This wasn’t helped by the 2 warm-up acts, Minuit and James Holroyd, who played well but in relative darkness, and with no real volume. So we meandered about the stadium catching up with people.

I recorded most of the gig on my Sony and watched it the next day with a clear head, but came to the same conclusion; that I’d been let down by The Chemical Brothers. Without the superb full curtain of visuals the music would have been acceptable for background music at a family dinner party. For all we knew the entire show could have easily been pre-recorded, due to the non-existent crowd interaction. If I’d been on acid it would have been the best show ever, what with the yawning 5+ minute rolling build-ups and psychedelic graphics, it would have been pure heaven. Rant over, it was great to see the Vector Arena alive with people of all shapes and sizes, like bees in a hive moving this way and that, and the hi-tech electronic machinery on-stage rivalled something you’d expect to see at NASA HQ. After the gig we dispersed to Forte, Flight and Pony. All were on fire with happy faces so this was my Thursday highlight.

Being a leap year the Auckland Bridge Bungy Jump boys held a special day and threw 158 people off the bridge (a new record for them). I went along to the after party for a bacon sammy, some generously poured Jack Daniels, great live music and of course schmoozing. I couldn’t stay long though as it was time for the long awaited 40th birthday party for Andrew (aka Harry) Ferguson across in Ponsonby.

The invitees built up and up to well over 100 at its height. The dancefloor took a hammering due to Dougal Swift’s cranking house party tunes. Karn Hall stopped in to spin some classics, and with his oozing charm whisked away the belle of the party. It’s very rare you get that number of quality people in one place, so the vibe was tremendous and many new friendships were forged.

At midnight I ducked away to see Roger Sanchez mix at Met Bar. He barrelled in like a true megastar and was on the stage playing within 2 minutes. I’d forgotten how buff the fellow was, massive, and glimmering with wealth. My age showed, and not handling the intense sardine like crowd I went downstairs for a boogie and a breather, then headed back to Harry’s party.

We stayed till near sunrise then left the 40 stayers to their own devices. My 2nd or 3rd wind kicked in on the way home, so I stayed up and watched Love Actually for the umpteenth time.

I had a hand in the organisation of The Miss Kingslander Bikini & Talent Competition, so spent the majority of the day running around getting that ready. But I couldn’t resist ducking back to Harry’s again to see how they were faring. 20 remained, chatting, dancing, chilling, snuggling, strutting and observing. I had 2 strong vodkas and began to delve to their level. What fun.
Sadly, or fortunately, I couldn’t stay; the bikini comp’s start time was drawing near. The show went well. It was casual, occasionally improvised and the judges did a fine job in choosing the true top 5 (who go through to the final on March 15th). The male Zoolander walk-off at the end though was hilarious and the $100 bar-tab went to the right bloke, who incidentally can take his underwear off without removing his jeans.

Taking Guccied up models to Regan, Mike and Dom’s “Brown” party probably wasn’t a good move. There was a mud wrestling pit, fake dirty nappies strewn, Double Brown galore and crass chit-chat. I didn’t mind at all, but they did, so I took a few to see a late comedy show at The Classic.

Being late meant we only got to see Mrs Peacock and Jan Maree, but that was enough. I’ve never been much of a heckler at comedy gigs but for some reason I was on a high and felt it prudent, and in doing so won an X rated magazine.

The last stop for Saturday evening was the Warriors hard dance party at The Transmission Room. We took 3 flights of stairs into the earth and were hit by a heat wave. The VIP room was worse. I guess that’s why it was near empty, but my friend’s rider was the opposite. Not that I needed any more, I indulged and danced all over the show till 6, when I began to sober up and realised my shabby state.

Sunday wasn’t going to let me off lightly. By midday I was at The Civic checking out the sound check for the Toto gig on later that evening. Impressive was an understatement. The postponed (from the previous day) Rock the Park at 3 Kings Reserve was a thrill. Numbers were down on expectations, but with inclement weather and a date change, it wasn’t bad. I would have gone just for the giveaways galore for all; hats, energy drinks, coffee, chocolate, hot dogs etc.

Electing to sit on the hill in a bean-bag I had a great view of the band, mosh-pit and the distance. Not going to many of these rock concerts I was constantly surprised to find out who I was talking cods-wallop to. The lead singer of Thirsty Merc, guitarist from The Feelers, drummer of Elemeno P; all proved to be top guys (for the life of me I can’t remember their names though), and very worthy of the hoards of fans that were screaming for their attention.

At 6pm I gave up my bean-bag, slipped on a shirt and tie and rocked on over to The Civic to catch Luke Thompson warm-up for the main act Toto (you know they sing the songs Africa, Hold The Line, Gorgy Porgy and Rosanna). Luke was super. This was his first big concert gig, his witty and friendly personality when meshed with his Jack Johnson/Neil Finn-like songs won the crowd and I just wish they’d given him more than 30 minutes on stage.

Toto’s act was a surprise. I was expecting old style rock classics, you know something for Mum, but got fresh rock, a plethora of solos and little audience interaction. They played for a solid 2 hours and for guys that have been doing it for over 30 years I can’t see them hanging up their score sheets any time soon; their pure passion was clear. Upon leaving the stage the crowd chanted for a good 3-4 minutes before they returned, 1 by 1, and erupted into their most well-known song, Africa. It was a fitting end to a night where I learnt an awful lot about rock concerts. In fact my ears are still ringing.