First of all, how have you been? I can’t reply fine, thank you, as I have spent the last week and change sick as can be. I was a guest of the very fabulous Beth Israel Hospital, where I was lost in a drug fog for six days. No snide remarks from the peanut gallery, please. It seems last weekend Amanda and I got bit by something very little while walking the puppies in McCarren Park. The bites, which were just a little more than a mosquito’s work, were annoying but unimportant at the time. However, the next morning, they were swollen, infected, and suddenly very important. Within a day the swelling and all the guck associated with infections had spread to the neighboring fingers, my whole hand, and up my arm.

Fashion Week has descended upon New York City, anointing new and yet-to-be-opened venues with its holy presence. Fashion houses and fashionable rags have shouldered their way into seen-and-be-seen restaurants and night spots, and have sold off their first born in order to offer their party guests a first look at some unopened places, like The Mondrian and the Darby's buzzy basement. The perennial question: Whether to elect tried-and-true spots (or, in the case of Alexander Wang, gas stations and bounce houses) over what could be just a flash-in-the-pan hotspot. Herewith, a rumor-mongering and totally useless look at where all the week's parties shall take place.

Punxsutawney Phil has spoken. This winter of discontent will end sooner rather than later and thankfully, for nightlife, things are as simple as hot and cold. The warm weather will bring South Americans and snow birds back to spend money here, instead of there, wherever that is. Although the calendar says that winter will slink into spring on March 21, nightlife has its own seasons. New York Fashion Week is already upon us, which marks the thaw of a severe freeze in revenues that began on January 1. The smart set, the jet set, the fashion set, and the playboys who follow the models are all in town to celebrate the shows and the thousands of unbelievably important events that celebrate them.

In his decades-old column in last Wednesday’s Village Voice, Michael Musto, the greatest nightlife writer ever, listed his “10 Best NYC Clubs of All Time.” His list was Studio 54, Mudd Club, Area, Danceteria, Jackie 60, Happy Valley, CBGB, The Roxy, The Palladium, and Limelight. He is as right as anybody, as each of us has our own perspective. The list doesn’t go back to joints pre-Michael's viewpoint, like El Morocco or The Cotton Club, and it discounts anything recent with the exception of Happy Valley, which maybe had a moment 5 years ago. My list is pretty close. I would swap out Happy Valley (which was mostly awful), CBGB, and The Roxy in favor of The World, Max’s Kansas City, and Paradise Garage. The others I heartily agree with.

"It’s nice to play a good guy again"

A recent scientific study has just proved the obvious, that those who live by night are smarter than their early-riser counterparts. Which makes me smarter than everyone. If you don’t believe me, just ask my mother. I get up at 7am every day to write this column, and more often than not, I am up real late doing real late things. A 2am crash and burn is considered an early night. I’ve been doing this for 25 years, and there’s no stopping me now. I figure I’ll get all the sleep I will ever need in 20 or 30 years. I lifted an article from TheWeek.com as evidence of the genius of the night.

Snap, that sports bar we are finishing on 14th street and 8th Avenue, is open nightly and hosting fabulous events. Last night Danny A— as in always an “A” crowd—brought his crowd to the tables. The scene was easily the hottest gathering ever at a sports bar. There were more models and hot people than at the regular hot spots around town. That was the point: a sports bar without the 800-pound gorillas in the room, a place to enjoy the big game with good food and company. I will be watching the Manny Pacquiao fight with Antonio Margarito tomorrow night there. I chatted up Danny about his success in the acting/movie producing game. I loved Holy Rollers, which starred The Social Network’s now famous Jesse Eisenberg. The first guests to arrive at the bash were former Met/Yankee basher Darryl Strawberry, chaperoned by my pal Eytan Sugarman. Me and my gal chatted up the clearly together slugger. He said he admired my work, and I told him I always admired his. I said that he an Andre Dawson were the most feared batters of their day. At a sports bar like this, attracting heroes and a sexy crowd seems perfect.

My pal Richie Romero, who is doing fine, thanks for asking, wanted to do something unusual for his birthday. So he turned to Pascal Sugar Menard, who hasn’t had a usual moment in the 21 years we have been friends. When I was doing the Palladium big time it was Pascal, Lesly Bernard, Jacques, Alexander Israel, and Jellybean Benitez, who also ran the absolutely fabulous Michael Todd Room. It was, for all intents, the precursor of the model/bottle scene we have today—without the minimums and the losers. The crowd was beautiful and no one paid their way to get in. Anyway, Richie’s birthday bash will be held poolside at the Grace Hotel, which I last visited when it was hotel QT. For 20 seconds, the Boom Boom Room considered calling itself QT, before it was called the 16th floor officially (but not really). It was sort of a wink-wink name like “On the QT,” slang for hush-hush or quiet. It went from being called “Boom Boom” to “Quiet” in the flash of a publicist’s keyboard.

Technically, Halloween festivities fired up as early as last week, but New Yorkers really get down to business tonight, extending their weekend via The Bunker Club, or The Gutter, and rolling through the weekend with 1Oak, the Boom Boom Room, and the Hudson Hotel, with some lovely Brooklyn markets and parade options thrown in the mix. Enjoy one of the best weekends in NYC, and remember: next year, Halloween will fall on a Monday.

● Mario Batali at the opening of Eataly: My favorite places to eat are generally downtown in the Village: Pearl Oyster Bar, Spotted Pig, Grand Sichuan. My favorite thing to eat is anything anyone else makes! Da Silvano has an octopus salad and octopus grill that's really beautiful. ● Mayor Mike Bloomberg at the opening of Eataly: There are 20,000 restaurants in New York City, and I try to eat at every single one of them. ● Alex McCord and Simon van Kempen at GLAAD Summer Rooftop Party: wd-50, and in Brooklyn, Pacifico, the Mexican restaurant on Pacific St.