Spurred by the stored energy gathered from the previous week’s chilled overseas escape, I expelled a hefty wad on Wednesday, a lesser sum Thursday and enough to sink the Rainbow Warrior on Friday. Since then though, after the injury, it’s been deep heat, wheat bags, physio and quiet times. See my effort here http://nz.youtube.com/watch?v=MAa-HhE2ieQ kindly filmed by Kyle D. The brave lady I knocked over was Amy, and I have apologised, she runs a wicked hair-cutting service check out www.travelingscissors.co.nz.

Wearing a shirt as bright as a solar eclipse, and matching shoes, my posse gathered at Denim Bar in Parnell. The plush interior design showroom of Inovo, down the road a little, signaled for our presence, we obliged, they were launching a new Audi model. We missed the awkward bit where you timidly wander trying to find people you know, and the speeches, but we were just in time for the fashion show, band and good times. New friends were made, hello Kimberley Matthewson, and others reunited with, welcome back Ali Scott.

We bolstered numbers, and looked in at The Eden Cloakroom for a Mojito, but they’d run out of mint, so it tasted disgusting. The sour taste in my mouth was forgotten when I met another new friend, Kat Wallis. Just as I was settling in my driver sounded the trumpet, and vrrroom, we were off, destination Pony, eta = in a world record.

This was the second Group Therapy Wednesday night affair that Rob Bruce had put on, and it was actually jolly good. It doubled as a George FM DJ mix-off, the winner getting a slot on the radio. The comp raged for hours, the cash register whirred, we all had a bomb of a time and Reuben R, from The Beat Mafia, came away with the goods.

With the shirt ruined (damn those break-dancing skills), and the shoes battle scared, I took Thursday easy and went to Alanah Hill’s VIP shopping night. Instantly I felt under-dressed, all the ladies looked absolutely stunning, my feeling of meekness wasn’t helped any by being the only bloke there, apart from Norrie flashing away merrily.

I’d been awaiting Fri Oct 3 ‘08 to roll around for nearly 3 months, so I went to a bit of an effort and organised a pre-party for 40-odd friends, at the closely located Easy Tiger. Godskitchen comes to NZ once a year and this time they were headlining with the mighty energy trance master Sander Van Doorn. The massive Vector Arena’s always been a tough place to build atmosphere, but the crowd, 90% of which were kitted out in white with accessories galore, and the energy beats managed it.

It was backstage at this gig, that I managed to knacker my left shoulder rendering anything requiring 2 hands impossible (even to this day). I’d had quite a number of drinks, done a great job of foiling security and was now in the international acts dressing room. I couldn’t think of a better time to attempt a kart-wheel (especially as I’ve never been all that flash at them). I pathetically collapsed, probably the Gods telling me to calm the f*#k down. It sort of worked and I pulled my head in. For a little while.

Funny buggers and after parties came next. Sarah’s one on New North Rd, Lisa’s in Ponsonby, then John’s cranking one in Parnell. They all eventually petered out, but my FOMO kicked in. I had plans for tonight and they would not be pushed around. We nipped into PSC, where paranoia crept up on me, I zoomed to Bungalow8 to see Timmy Vegas spin, then on to Mint at Seba for an improved vibe, always staying one step ahead of the dreaded excessive suspicion disorder.

It caught up with me big time at Flight Lounge, so I jogged to my safe haven, Spy Bar. I eluded that nasty devil for a long as I could, before bundling myself into a taxi, in search of a warm pie and my car.

After wandering Ponsonby for what seemed like weeks, I pieced a few events together and caught another taxi to Herne Bay, where I found my silver 4 door just as I’d left it almost 2 days before. I cocooned up in it’s waiting arms.

As I sobered, the agony of my shoulder injury truly set in, I writhed groaning, cursing my folly. Oh well, I thought of that old saying about making ones bed and then having to ly in it. I bit the bullet and made my way home, stopping only for cheese & bacon hot bread, rashuns and pineapple juice (as I needed a consoling treat).

Since then I’ve been quite sedate. How long can it last?