KEY POINTS:
This week is birthday week! Otherwise known as the most important week on my social calendar.
While the sane may celebrate their birthdays on the day, the egocentric, like me, feel 24 hours is not nearly enough to soak up all the attention. Why have one day when you can have seven?
I blame this fundamental need to be the centre of attention entirely on my younger brother. I say younger, because technically he is - 15 minutes younger, actually. That's right, I'm a twin.
The doctors didn't realise mum was having twins until we were born. Something about "heartbeats being in time" and "no scans in those days", and, well, out I popped, punctual as usual. Little bro, taking his time, ambled out 15 minutes later, giving poor mum the shock of her life.
She went into hospital expecting one baby, but came home with two. And that pretty much set the scene for the rest of our lives. Henry was always stealing my thunder.
He learnt to drive before me. He crashed the car into the garage before me. He got a mobile phone before me. He got his first job before me. He even dyed his hair before me. That was before someone told him he looked like George Clooney and he stuck with the salt and pepper look. The little bugger even married first (to the lovely Lerena) and the pair are expecting their first-born in a few months. That's right, I'm going to be an aunty.
So, back to me, me, me. I welcomed in birthday week on Monday with a friend over a cheeky bottle of Merlot. Yesterday was the rehearsal meal. I met Pip Squeak and the PR Queen for lunch in Ponsonby. The Single Editor and the Yummy Mummy joined us over a celebratory bottle of Bolly (we're showing our age), followed by several of the Pinot Gris variety.
Somewhere along the way, we were joined by the Society Don, and much later, two legendary journos: Robyn Langwell and Janet Wilson, whose hubby Bill Ralston welcomed in the big 55 on Monday (happy b'day, Bill).
I'd have given the ladies nicknames, but why bother, when they offered nothing in the way of embarrassing moments. Unlike yours truly, who wrecked another mobile phone thanks to the clumsy elbow technique of knocking over an entire flute of champers and dousing my BlackBerry. Clutz has always been my middle name.
Pip Squeak, the PR Queen and the Society Don lasted the distance, and we were last seen slinking out of Magnum after far too many delicious gingerbread shots and paying our respects to the Don of Ponsonby, Hamish Keith, who was at his regular corner table with an unidentifiable friend, as in, someone I didn't recognise.
Today is D-Day. Birthday lunch with the inner circle, which is expected to last throughout the afternoon as various friends with real jobs (who can't slope off work for long liquid lunches) will pop in to say happy birthday, followed by a family dinner tonight. I can't wait.
Meeting The Veronicas
My middle-aged photo editor loves The Veronicas. I know this because when I requested the services of a Herald on Sunday photographer to attend a wee radio promotion event for the identical twins last week, I was expecting a hullabaloo battle with said photo ed because there were no snappers available.
I'd practiced my reasons: "But the kids are down with them," "The girls would make a cutesy cover-spread," even, "Think of it as girl-on-girl action." But the excuses were wasted. It took photo ed less than five seconds to say "Sure, no sweat." Then he added something about how hot they look, and that was good enough for him.
That was the general consensus with the rest of the blokes I polled (in another scientific Spy research study). Hot and sexy was the gist, but I found the girls, Jess and Lisa Origliasso, to be more than that.
Sure, they're unconventionally gorgeous in that Elvira-meets-Mattel-doll sort of way, but they also displayed a dismissive diva attitude when the schlebs were out of earshot and the microphone was switched off. I witnessed one young lovely gush about Jess' boots, but the star appeared to deliberately ignore the compliment and proceed to text on her mobile. How rude! Lisa just looked meh, as in less than thrilled, perhaps because the compliment wasn't directed at her.
The Veronicas were in the country last week for three days to promote their album, Hook Me Up. I'm told they enjoyed their sojourn to GodZone - their first - no doubt largely because it gave them an opportunity to escape the publicity glare in Oz where news broke that Lisa has split with her boyfriend, Dean Geyer, and Jess has became embroiled in an online porn scandal after photos of a naked Jess, taken three years ago, were splashed over a US porn site.
Lawyers for Warner Music who represent The Veronicas have reportedly been hired to take action against an ex-lover over the sale of the photos. Adding fuel to the saucy fire is the rumour that Jess is in a relationship with gorgeous lesbian MTV VJ Ruby Rose, who's been voted one of Australia's top 100 sexiest people.
The girls were spotted holding hands at various spots around Sydney a la Li-Lo and Samantha style, and were last week snapped passionately kissing. We were hoping they may out their love at the MTV Snow Jam concert in Canterbury this week where Ruby Rose will take to the stage as presenter, but that's looking unlikely as The Veronicas head to the States to release their album.
Agassi in Queenstown
Former American tennis ace Andre Agassi was Spy-ed in Queenstown last week, dining at a restaurant with a male friend. He's in NZ for a recreational break and is reportedly not accompanied by his wife, Steffi Graf, or their two children, Jaden Gil, 6, and Jaz Elle, 4. Agassi was Spy-ed on Coronet Peak on Thursday taking lessons with an instructor and going incognito in helmet and goggles. He's apparently staying at the swanky St Moritz hotel, though management weren't forthcoming with info when Spy rang.
Cori and Co
Comedian Cori Gonzalez-Macuer hosted a fabulous comedy night recently to raise money for Children on the Edge at the Classic on Queen St.
Click here to see photos taken on the night.
Rachel Glucina
