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.