There are just 69 sleeps till 2009, and in this time Documentary New Zealand will be on my tail filming my antics in the spotlight, and behind the scenes. The last time I was on film I performed poorly, and it ended in tears, fingers crossed for a reversal of fortune. Also, if you’re stuck for a NYE option come on my 24 hour party bus trip to Matakana, for Highlife Entertainment’s huge dance event. Look at http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=33575155317. Email me for more details.

They’ve got names like Betty Bo Peep, Lillian De Lace and Judy Garment. They performed last Thursday at Toto’s to a full enthusiastic house. I’ve seen the Hootchy Kootchy Burlesque Girls perform 3 times over the years, this was the slickest by far. MC Toni Bambini guided the show with wit I never get tired of, and with the help of duet singers The Lemon Honeys, soloist Gilda Goldentone and sweet seller Candy Kane, entertained the 200 strong audience as the lusty ladies slipped out of, and into, their various old school lingerie layered outfits. The introduction of interactive props to the show, like Japanese umbrellas, large pink bouncy balls and a mini shopping trolley was successful in leaving us with much to talk about when we returned to the new Sale St bar for a few night caps.

I hadn’t been to New Lynn in over a year. We got lost, and felt uneasy as we followed our noses along the dark streets. Arriving at the address, I began to apologise to my sidekicks, nobody likes a wild goose chase, but it was too late, we’d been spotted by the host. This indeed was the place, but we were the only one’s there (perhaps a start time on the invite would’ve been a good idea Miss Holley), with chins up, we knuckled down (I must admit that the faint flicker of the Sky Tower on the horizon put me more at ease). The hospitality was faultless, and when others arrived I was very content.

I was given BBQ chef duties, a role I took great pride in and snarled if anyone offered to help. Tequila and OJ in a cask, and ready salted crisps were replaced by Jager shots and Cuban cigars, and the party ignited.

I thought it a bit strange that the bloke I’d chatted to the most, cleaned the grill down, re-lit the flame and cooked his own meal. I hadn’t realised that he was indeed an All Black, and off to Hong Kong in a few weeks for the final Bledisloe test match. So he had a very special diet. This is fine, but why was he drinking Corona?

Reluctantly we had to go. Bidding new, and old, friends adieu, we bopped to the Beamer. Being clear-headed I drove, while the ladies did a full outfit change, and make-up application, around me, oh for a spare set of eyes.

We were early to George FM’s Doorlist Party at Galatos, this gave us time to say gidday to the hosts, and acclimatise ourselves. By 11.30 it was busy, and 30 minutes later packed. Revelers ranged from pretty promo bunnies in high heels, to unkept westie mechanics, but we all got along swimmingly. Being mostly sober wasn’t as much fun as I’d remembered, so we had a look in at the clubs down Fort Lane and surrounding blocks, it was like a ghost town. Unimpressed, I beamed it home, muttering something about how people should get out and party more. I was 3 hours late for my midnight snack, but it meant I could make my Body Attack class later that morning.

I made it to class, but limped off upset and cursing after the 4th track. My cartwheel injury from 2 weeks ago, and old football knee ailment had flared up, geez I’m flippin’ falling apart. I couldn’t wait for night time to douse my frustration, so got cracking early. The duty-free grog I picked up from my recent Samoa trip was nipped into at an afternoon drinking session in Parnell. As daylight faded I moved on for more pre-drinks in Ponsonby, then a great schmooze-fest nearby celebrating Kyla’s birthday.

My friends bailed before me as I was on a conversational roll. I tumbled down Franklin Road and into the Sale St Bar. Ned Roy was playing rocking party beats for the throngs, again I didn’t want to leave, but I was behind schedule, and I had it on good authority that the next stop was pumping.

It was, Met & Code’s 5th birthday party featuring Aussie’s Sam La More on the decks. The place was on fire, I hadn’t seen the venue this alive since MOS’s Potbellez party back in June.

When I arrived there was a bunch of youngsters having a Melbourne Shuffle-off, I joined in, but my alcohol ladened legs wouldn’t move properly, so I bowed out. Both floors were packed, we danced for hours, mainly downstairs where Mr La More was spinning. I was uber impressed with his tunes and mixing, but when will these big time DJ’s start to put some animation into their performance? Great tunes and mixes are super, but if you can get on down while behind the decks you’ll be a superstar.

My only downer for the night was being told off by a burly bouncer for rearranging furniture and fake shrubs. I’d created the feeling you were dancing in a private jungle, my effort was dispersed, but mission accomplished really.

Moving on to the traditional end of night meeting point of Spy Bar, we danced till 7, then surfaced to a glorious Sunday. You can’t waste a day like this by sleeping! We made some calls, warned a sleepy bed dweller that we were on the way, and vollar, there we were, on a lovely deck dancing, glugging chilled Miller, sipping Tequila on the rocks, and slip, slop, slapping.

We were fast becoming beached, so headed over to the shore, and revved up a quiet drinks gathering in Milford (their sun-trap had a pool). I dove in before I got pushed. Chitter-chatting and dancing till dusk it was time to move once more. This time though, back to The Viaduct to check out the Diwali Festival Of Lights. There were a few lights, ton’s of food and nik-nack stalls and thousands of people. It was too intense for me, so I opted out, and ducked home for Renkon Thai cuisine and Top Gun.