I WENT TO THE PLAYBOY MANSION (AND IT WAS KINDA DEPRESSING)
A couple of weeks ago I was invited to the Playboy mansion for a screening of that new Jennifer Lopez/Jason Statham movie, Parker. I don’t usually go to press screenings because it’s much easier to download the movie and watch it at home and not have to talk to other people, but I’d literally wanted to visit the Playboy mansion ever since I’d found out it was an option for me several seconds earlier. So I HAD to go.
Only a few hours later and the Playboy Mansion was jumpin’. Playmates were in full frontal regalia as Hef made the rounds in his signature sailor’s cap. Everyone who was Someone had come out to let loose, creating an electric energy so intense that if a fuse were to blow, every A-Lister in LA would be groping each other in the dark. Limos were in a gridlock dropping off guests, bartenders poured unlimited vodka Red Bulls, and caterers gave and received oral with celebrity clientele in backroom closets. The night was buzzing with star power so bright it reflected off the moon and back, illuminating the faces of those rich and famous enough to be invited to such an illustrious affair, and it was only Tuesday.
Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt were not invited, but they weren’t about to let that stop them. Having spent the better part of an hour climbing over multiple estates’ walls to eventually scale the Playboy compound’s back entrance, the fame-driven couple had dusted themselves off and proceeded into the party looking as nouveau riche as ever. They were on a mission to interact with as many big name celebs as possible; the plan being that while Heidi kept their attention, Spencer would grab someone to take a photo with his whopping 4-megapixel camera. They’d sell the images to a tabloid the next day and appear as in-crowd as ever.
Over the course of their celebratory walkabout, Speidi witnessed a wide array of eccentrically glamorous behavior preformed by the crème de la crème of Hollywood Royalty: Tom Cruise & John Travolta were spotted in the bushes performing some sort of “Scientologist handshake” below the waist. Hulk Hogan showed off his daughter Brooke’s scantily clad frame, fresh from the tanning bed. Madonna explained the religious symbolism of her Kabbalah bracelet to Brittney Murphy in a pseudo-British accent. Jessica Simpson & Nick Lachey slow danced on the dance floor amid countless grinders, their marriage an eternal honeymoon spent in the clouds. Amy Winehouse was in town to promote her debut album; she looked tired but poured herself another Jack & more Jack anyway. Poor Mischa Barton, she was asking strangers for blow; it wouldn’t be long before her career dried up and everyone knew it. Tara Reid barfed in her own Von Dutch hat and a minute later forgot what she’d done and put it back on. Andy Dick stripped naked, jumped into the pool, and began humping an inflatable whale. Mariah Carey and Nick Cannon eyed each other from across the crowded dance floor…was there something going on there? Bennifer made out at a table surrounded by their assistants, convinced their upcoming movie was going to win an Oscar. Lil Jon & Lil Wayne clincked bedazzled pimp cups filled to the brim with Purple Drank, downing the entire goblet before slipping on their stunna shades and crip walking towards the smoking lounge. Criss Angel performed a miraculous trick for an unimpressed Christina Aguilera that involved his pants to expand in the crotch and his shirt to disappear. Charlie Sheen did a line of coke off a Playmate’s labia inside the Grotto and proceeded to fuck her twin sister in the Jacuzzi. And Mel Gibson picked a fight with a potted palm he believed to be Jewish.
It was a classy occasion indeed, where the evening’s highs were the same as its lows. Moments once lost to time were captured by Razr camera phones and turned into instant classics on PerezHilton.com the following day. Everyone was finally living in the New Millennium and could feel the world changing around them. American Pop Culture had reached a new apex of monetized debauchery and this six-acre oasis, located in the heart of Beverly Hills, was the catalyst for a new era of infamy.
If Coke is a mystery Michael Jackson… history If beauty is truth And surgery the fountain of youth What am I to do Have I got the gift to get me through The gates of that mansion
If OJ is more than a drink And a Big Mac bigger than you think If perfume is an obsession And talk shows, confession What have we got to lose Another push and we’ll be through The gates of that mansion
I never bought a Lotto ticket I never parked in anyone’s space The banks feel like cathedrals I guess casinos took their place Love, come on down Don’t wake her, she’ll come around
Chance is a kind of religion Where you’re damned for plain hard luck I never did see that movie I never did read that book But love, come on down And let my numbers come around
Don’t know if I can hold on Don’t know if I’m that strong Don’t know if I can wait that long ‘Til the colours come flashing And the lights go on
Then will there be no time for sorrow Then will there be no time for shame And though I can’t say why I know I’ve got to believe
We’ll go driving in that pool It’s who you know that gets you through The gates of the Playboy mansion
Hugh Hefner Is Reportedly Selling The Playboy Mansion, If You Have $200 Million and a Lot of Bleach to Spare:
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone. The end of the era has arrived. According to TMZ, Hugh Hefner has decided to put the famed Playboy Mansion on sale. According to real estate sources cited by TMZ, the 6 acre estate, and site of many a bacchanal, will go … More »