Curious things to happened to me this week were. In no particular order; Mega pimped-it at the magical Ti Point Retreat, gave blood, was treated to a Balinese full-body pamper, toured The Northern Club, fell off my seat, ate a green scone, filmed a skit with Mr Urlich and missed out on 4 AAA passes to Coldplay due to my appetite.

At last people are taking on dress-up opportunities as they arise, always leading to a heightened night in the fun department. Unless you mistake a real cop for one in fancy dress, damn my rose-tinted beer goggles.

Early last week thousands dressed up and celebrated St. Paddy’s Day. Many revelers were blottoed by noon, most by sunset, however by midnight only a few hardened Irish souls remained. I don’t like Guinness, red-heads (there’s the odd exception), the weather in Ireland and green is not flattering on me, but I do like their drinking ethic and the happy-go-lucky leprechaun vibe.

The heavenly 90 minute Balinese rolf, with citrus oils, on Wednesday took that days most memorable honour. Thursday’s was the Taste Of Auckland maiden launch, on the infield of Ellerslie Racecourse. There wasn’t only a myriad of the finest food in town, there was fine alcohol to. I obliged to everything offered. My indulgence though caused me to miss repeated calls hailing me to collect AAA passes for Coldplay. Ahhhhh!

The Northern Club took Friday’s cake. Exclusive, regal and steeped in tradition. I was meeting bio-chemist masters, professors and health-care head honchos, so I was on my bestest behaviour, and in my Sunday best.

Having to wear a jacket’n'tie is just one of the many rules of the club, being nominated to join by 3 existing members, and the chance of being blackballed, is another. The walls display portraits of some our countries most esteemed men (women are only a very recent addition to The Club). The library and snooker rooms fizzed a feeling of finesse and upper classiness. You could just tell that many decisions, deals and relationships to shape our lives had been struck there. I nursed my 2 beers over a 70min period, and held my end of the conversation up by asking genuine questions, then topping them up when the previous one’s answer was about to be completed. I left while the going was good, and before being coaxed to pull out ‘The Raindrop’ dance maneuver.

Without a doubt Ti Point Retreat, located 10min passed Matakana on the way to Leigh, is my pick of bliss accommodation spots in this country. I mean, have a look at www.tipointretreat.co.nz and see for yourself. Acres and acres of rolling vines on your doorstep, and a breath-taking expansive ocean view to the left, just past the friendly donkeys and mammoth tame sheep. Only one group at a time can stay there, as there are only luxury 2 bedrooms, but once there you don’t want to leave (and we didn’t), the place comes fully stocked with complimentary fresh food and drink (you could want for nothing more), oh, and there’s Blackie the resident super friendly, well-behaved feline.

Leaving was hard, but they didn’t have Sky. Reluctantly we legged it back to the big smoke in time for the Warriors 2nd NRL match of the season, and what a stunning win it was for ‘our’ boys. I yelled at the telly, leaped up, cheered, clapped and literally slipped of my seat. I only wish that I had literally put that $1000 bet on them to win as I’d planned.

I want to be in tip-top shape when I depart NZ in 9 days, or at least know what needs to be done to rectify things, so I nipped in for a ‘works’ blood test on Monday. I always get the heebie-jeebies when getting the jab, but it’s for the best, so gotta grin and bear it. I’m thinking my liver may need an adjustment, and perhaps the old iron levels, and God only knows what else. In fact my health is one of the reasons I’m moving on from the professional party lifestyle I’ve led for 3 years. I’ll let you know the results next week.

Now Tuesday was fun, we began the penultimate chapter in filming for my DOCNZ film. Filming well-known kiwi’s whom I’ve met during my Party Marty reign, and great friends who’ve stood by me. The funniest so far is Peter Urlich’s matter-of-fact candid answers (done in The Office TV series style). But Te Radar, Brooke Howard-Smith, Anthony Tuitavaki and Leigh Hart are still to come.

Along with all this activity I’ve been burning the midnight oil in preparation for my farewell party. Here’s the link: click here. If you’d like to come, let me know asap. Else, come to the free after party with your friends. It’s to be held at Pasha from 10pm – 3am.

And, if you haven’t already, please vote for me in the annual Nite:Life Awards (and tell your friends to). I’m gunning for back 2 back victories in the ‘Best Scene Personality’ category www.ourhouse.co.nz/nitelifeawards

Things that help me get though crazily busy days are funnies, like this one sent in from Guide-getter 4118, a.k.a Leon Austin. He sent me this cool music link… click here.

If anyone else has some great, non-pornographic, funnies, send them on over PLEASE! The keep my sanity at a manageable level.

I did. So there was that, seeing/hearing an unrivaled orchestra, strong-armed out of Shed 19 by a feisty bouncer, spinning a 480min funky house set, dress-ups, a greater than great beer festival, Mr Wright’s 50th and one gigantic Big Club Night Out.

Easing off the pedal of my manic party lifestyle, due to my fast approaching NZ departure aye? The weekend began on target with craning over the crowds to take in the fantastical ‘People In Your Neighbourhood’, feat. The UK’s ‘Urban Soul Orchestra’, on Thursday. They’re playing my next big party for sure.

Friday started on track, checking out the ‘Every Dog Has His Day’ opening at The Letham Gallery. A house-like exhibition space with many nooks; I gazed, sipped and roamed for over an hour.

The devil then piped up, chipping in with some naughty ideas, I had no valid comeback for his convincing argument. It was on! Scooting about Ponsonby I picked up 3 car loads of stray party orphans. We tripled the Parnell pre-town party, and got the guaranteed, neighbour-knocking, surround-sound system humming.

Heightened and enlightened, my slimmed team bounded into Opium right on que. I wished DJ Falcon had done the same. I handled 40min of looking at every euro looking fella that rolled in, hoping that this was the DJ I’d come to see play my favourite party anthem ‘So Much Love To Give’.

Staying on party schedule we sadly moved on, vowing to return in an hour, or so. Crossing the road to the car I commented on the nearby cool, slick, white double-decker tour bus. All of a sudden there were 3 forceful voices charging me on to climb aboard. I’d never struck peer-pressure like it. Climbing a tree, and onto an overhanging branch, I lowered myself onto the roof, and did the jig I’d been hounded to perform. Scared I’d wake the snoozing driver within the cocoon, I shimmied down the sheer bonnet and scuttled to the get-away car, which happened to be parked out the front of the Auckland central police station, how unlucky.

Get Shaky was absolutely quaking upon our arrival. The council had halved the allowed capacity prior to opening, making it appear oversold. I made my way in, was thrown into an involuntary arm lock and marched back the way I’d come. Red faced, with a grazed forearm, but unphased, I stealthily tried again. Successful, we traipsed about Shed 19 (that’s indistinguishable from the former Float, the last bar there). The attendees were young and buzzy, but they had no staying power. By 4am, they were sweeping the floors.

A quick look in at Spy gave us directions to a crack-on. In the zone I reserved the decks and played for 8 hours. Having just 14 CD’s was a drawback, so I got creative and doubt anyone noticed the double/triple-ups.

As Beerfest o’clock rolled around, the intimidating clouds rolled away. Thousands turned out at Ellerslie Racecourse, well it felt like it anyway. The vibe was excellent and entertainment steller. I wish it was just more regular than annually. I say put Jordan Luck, Wagne Anderson, The Tutts, SJD and Pluto on the next set of NZ postage stamps, they all performed like heros.

I couldn’t miss Steve Wright’s 50th birthday bash, it had been on everyone’s lips for weeks. Cutting a few corners we made it, and were not let down by any means, think of a Hugh Hefner party, but just on a realistic budget.

Regrettably I had to duck off early and get the ball rolling at The Big Club Night Out. Out of the 5 clubs I’d been booked for the newish Shadow Lounge. It looked great, staff friendly and the DJ set-up was bliss.

I felt like a rockstar up in the booth. People smiling, and yelling encouragement in my direction, hands in the air, taking snap-shots, it was buzzy. It was only after my set that I ascertained it had been simulcast nationwide on George FM. With a bounce in my step I went exploring the other zones and venues, the gig had sold-out and K Rd was as busy as a red-light sale at Supre.

As the little hand ticked on, my big weekend out caught up with me and I set the compass homeward.

Thankfully I’d left my diary at a friends place, else I would’ve remembered about Sunday’s wild party opportunities. Instead I lazed on the beach, went to a nutty performance light’n’sound show called Siren, at MOTAT, cooked a scrummy BBQ and watched 1/5 of Guy Ritchie’s latest movie RocknRolla. I would have watched the last 4/5 but I was sound asleep.

I thought my white & pink number in the couture couples comp, at Auckland Cup Day, would be a winner. It wasn’t. I’m a tad bitter. Hung-over to hell I geared up and headed to Taupo to see 1495 take part in a grueling 226km race. I’m told that our group alcohol spurred support method got more photographic attention than the race winner, Cameron Brown, at the prize-giving.

I spent the best part of 3 weeks borrowing, buying, contra(ing) (thanks Frank Casey) and tweaking my outfit for the races. I’d been coaxed in, by a lovely lass, to enter the Stella Artois Cup Couture couples best dressed, and didn’t put up too much of a struggle. I’d entered the Boxing Day races avant garde category of the Viva Fashion In The Field, and come a deserved second, this time I was confident to go one better, especially seeing the prize was an all expenses paid weekend escape to Taupo’s Huka Lodge (with all the trimmings), and years supply of Stella (and this has got to be a tonne).

Our white and pink outfits, and head pieces, were in sync, and for 4 hours we posed for the cameras and gladly accepted the bountiful compliments. Boosted with confidence we made the top 3, then brain explosions by the 3 lady judges (or a long standing personal grudge) ensured that a husband and daughter team, dressed in a mourning suit and her 21st dress, took top honours.

After the robbery I threw in the towel, got heavily liquored, danced and met some fantastic people.

Town beckoned, I followed the signal to Pasha for magical curly fries, calamari and champagne. I don’t know how it happened but Kiran, Harry, Zoe, Kathryn and Anna (5 of my true bestest friends) were there. We commiserated the loss and moved on to Pony Club. Bearing in mind it was a Wednesday we didn’t expect much, we got the opposite. Royal treatment, a select fun crowd and kingpin dance beats. I could’ve stayed till closing.

I’ve never been a good day sleeper (nor a night one come to think of it), but I tried the next day as I was driven to Taupo. Failing, I called a truce with the sandman, snapped out of it, got some pinot noir, sushi and grain waves, then proceeded to make a happy day of it.

The 3 more notable events to occur the next day were a pack morning run in drizzle, where I tore my calf. The subsequent consequential deep tissue massage, with cooking oil, from one of the elders that procured writhing, sweat beads, laughter and tears was an eye-opener. It did the trick though. Secondly we did a 3 hour hike from Kinloch to Kawakawa Bay in the mist, I had my inaugural wearing of compression tights and discreetly liked my time.

Once the gravel had been shaken from our shoes, squashed mosquitoes from our naked skin sponged and disheveled hair put back in place, to my surprise there was a prize-giving ceremony. I’m not sure if camp Mum and Dad were trying to make up for the Cup Day fiasco, but I won 2 awards. One for ‘Best Dressed’ and the other for ‘Overall Supreme Hiker’. I was officially presented with a well wrapped figurine of Toad (from Wind In The Willows) that could hang from the lip of my cuppa, and a very cool blue plastic mug, with 2 rubber fish on the side (Paul and I named them Rhonda and Stacey), this has been my vessel of choice ever since.

The last biggie for the day was to fabricate motivational signs for the iron people that would pass past our front door four times a piece, as part of the marathon final leg the next afternoon. Once my designs had been vetted I set my permanent markers to work. There was ‘Go Go Gadget Legs’, ‘Wave If You Need Encouragement’, ‘Go Kiwi’ (boldly written below the buy kiwi made logo), ‘226 KM Of Pure Fun Aye?’, and the last 2 that got the most use, ‘Need A Hug?’ (with eye-catching red hearts strewn) and a heap of score cards so we could rate the marathon runners (very few attained below a 10).

Blarey-eyed we rose soon after 6am. We missed the Ironman start at 7am, but caught them up at their first transition after the 3.8km swim, as they headed out for a 180km cycle. During this 5 hour window we cruised the lake on a launch named ‘MYGO’, window shopped, read the papers, had lunch then set up camp on the grass verge outside. We weren’t the only ones, it appeared to be the done thing as I looked up and down the crescent. We began timidly with a few lazy 9’s and 10’s, and hour later with booze in our bellies we rocked the party, yelling personalised encouragement to every competitor, even some shell-shocked bystanders.

The boom-box boomed from the balcony, and as the day wore on the runners became more and more friendly, perhaps the lactic acid had seeped into their brain. They sang, waved, hugged, danced, and on the odd occasion, kissed their way passed our support station.

Even in flawless darkness our props could be heard miles away. When the runners became too sparse for our attention span we legged it to the finish line in town. Floodlit, grandstanded, crowded, club-like (with the MC raving and beats banging) it reminded me of the Wellington 7’s. I felt proud of all those I saw finish, I didn’t know them, however I could sense the joy of achievement that glowed from their faces.

We chose Finn MacCuhal’s Irish Pub for our after match function. We mingled with some buzzing competitors and found some talkative travelers. When the ‘Raindrop’ dance maneuver was pulled out of the bag, I was pulled out of the bar, placed in the boot and the 7 of us whizzed home to review the day. The outcome = I’m doing one before I’m 35.

I did the closed eye thing on the way back to Auckland, opening for 30min at the Kaimai Cheese Company, in Waharoa, for a handmade jumbo sausage roll and roast vege salad.

I hate making plans on Sunday, they rarely get accomplished. Nevertheless I’d made one VIP one for last Sunday. My main mate from my London days was in town for 1 night. Kafuddled, I pulled into The Langham’s docking bay, typically he wasn’t ready so I nosyed the ground lavish floor. He showed, and it was instantly like old times, just 4 years later. We’d both changed a bit. He was marrying another UK pal in Sydney in 4 weeks (hence the start of my world travels there), and had gone back to Uni, but I was approximately the same (maybe sporting 1 or 2 more laugh-lines).

I didn’t realise how much I missed his friendship, and that of those who’d also be attending the unification. So, I’ve altered my flight and now I’m going even sooner. I took him to Sale St for a bottle, then on to 2 bars that you have to visit. Down Factory Lane, off Custom St, is Agents & Merchants, and next door is Racket. They own this quaint cobbled lane (used for cigar smoking, and lounging by the mammoth gas fire and shrubbery). We had 2 more bottles here. When Mel, his fiancée, arrived we ordered another. We didn’t want to go, except the hidden yawns from staff suggested we should. We hi-fived out the barnyard door, and I can’t wait to do another with him, and the rest of my London crew, in Sydney in 20 sleeps time.

Firstly, defending my “Best Scene Personality” title I won last year at The Nite:Life Awards. Please click on this link and put in my name in the appropriate box to help in my quest. http://www.ourhouse.co.nz/nitelifeawards.

The second is to see that all the finest party people can make my 33rd/leaving party on Saturday March 28th. Click on this link and have a read of the lowdown http://www.facebook.com/event.php?eid=47481854009&ref=ts

Annoyed at missing all of Splore’s Living Lounge event, The 09 Bush Party and the start of Auckland Cup Week, I turned up for my first chosen obligation of my Christ’s College Old Boys’ reunion in Christchurch.

Handicapped upon age I began 40m behind the next youngest racee, and more behind the rest. The pistol cracked and I launched around the first bend, in the oldest regular running race in NZ. The next youngest competitor was 20 years my senior and rather nimble, but I got past him OK. Passing all but 1 opponent, I came to the finish line of the 200m race, he was mid-70 odd and trotting comfortably. Lunging forcefully, falling and tumbling, the photo finish proved that I’d been pipped at the post.

My 20 years on gathering was part of the school’s sports weekend, and there was a 30, 40, 50 and even 60 years on catch-ups concurrently. When it came time for the photo session the following day I saw my classmates who’d begun the institution like me way back in 1989. Fortunately a good third of them, like me, had a severe case of hair loss, so the stares I’d been anticipating didn’t happen.

As expected there was the usual Lawyer, Doctor, Lawyer, Banker, Lawyer line-up, but very few Professional Party People. It all flowed very painlessly, the ‘coolness’ hierarchy had dissolved and we drank, and laughed, well into the next day, all vowing to stay in contact, and me offering my services to sort a function for next year, the unofficial 21st of the class of 1989.

These last 4 paragraphs sound fairly tame and average don’t they. I’d better let you in on a bit of the other stuff that I sprung up..

Well, when I took my bags from the boot, after arriving late on Thursday night, the lid closed on my head, piercing the skin, causing me to drop to one knee and a golf ball sizes lump to rise. The next day I cut my hair with my Mum’s pro clippers (for race aerodynamics), I was too thorough leaving bald patches, a rash and flecks of blood. I scooted to a skate park on my 20 years on mountain bike next, and pulled some phat 2 inch air, before being teased on my way.

Later that day I went to my first Super 14 rugby match for the season. Sitting way up on the top shelf for the first half I froze, so I sought seats closer to the action. I eyed 4 mega prime ones and wondered why nobody had bagsed them. Thinking it was my lucky day I circled in stepping on many toes and nestled into the box seats. Less than ten minutes later I was asked to vacant immediately, I’d settled in amongst the Canterbury reserve players. I obliged, knowing that all my worldly blagging experience couldn’t sway this massive fluro-top-wearing security operative.

Then there was Saturday night, once I’d lost my school buddies. I decided to pull out the break dancing moves at a hard house club night. I was in my Sunday best suit, and yes ‘The Raindrop’ maneuver was unleashed. So that’s another suit that needs surgery. In my state I tried to change the chip in the video camera, dropped them both and in doing so lost 3 full days of footage for my party documentary. At least I still have the camera though, for a change.

I spent Sunday and Monday searching for a white trilby hat to complete my winning (fingers crossed) white and pink Auckland Cup Day outfit. Trying, hirage, Facebook and IOU avenues, in the 11th hour I settled on a stark white Al Capone number, that I doctored to look like a million bucks. Roll on Wednesday arvo, I just gotta win.