So, I've debated to blog or not to blog on this one. But I've decided to blog.
Cue up Saturday night:
Several girlfriends and I prepare to go to what is made out to be an epic party. We were invited for free, although tickets had said going price of $1000. I don't care how epic a party is, unless I'm showing up on a camel to party at some ancient Pharoah's pyramid, that is crazy talk. But I'll be more than happy to attend it.
The theme: Masquerade. Masks required. All men in black, and women in, well, 'something hot'.
We show up to said location to show our ID's and get wrist bands. From there we board a bus with several other scantily clad women, men in black suits, and head north. Rounding a corner, and pulling up in front of the Playboy Mansion, I see it lit in all its cheesy glory. Blue, purple lights beam upwards, and we get in line which leads us in.
I notice a small man in front of me in a black blazer. I then notice than no man is that small, or none that I have seen. Yes, it is Verne Troyer (a la Mini Me). No doubt this night could go wrong now. As we enter, they have models posed on a red velvet couch. Trying to be still, I can read the boredom behind their eyes. I have been there, I get it.
We enter into a huge tent, lined with cabanas along the wall. A stage at the very front, dance floor, small bar tables lit up, and full premium open bar. Goodness. As it leads outside to the pool, there is a stone walkway which was the death of me by the end of the night in 3' stilettos, and a full buffet. Realizing I am a.) starving but b.) not wanting to show a food baby quite yet, I hold off while I still have will power.
I hit the dance floor, but honestly could not stop looking around. Women in only, ah, spray paint. Since when did paint become a costume? Several times they would blast some Indian "ohh oww ohh" music and carry out a girl on a glorified stretcher. I couldn't help but laugh. This was too funny to be true.
I ventured outside for a bit, in effort to finally see the grotto. And there it was: it all it's Playboy story glory. Heels were killing, so I took a sit and just observed for a bit. It wasn't until 15 minutes in, I realized I was sitting, alone in the bushes, watching people, and it was time to find my friends. By this time, that buffet was calling my name and I couldn't ignore it. Can't quite be clear on the food exactly, but I do recall it was tastier than imagined. And that I regretted eating all of it once I saw there was a sushi bar.
We departed and hailed a cab after the shuttle dropped us off. Here's when it gets good. My friend hails the cab, and as he pulls over, we begin to get in. Out of no where Sassy Girl tells us it was HER cab and how dare we get in. I say point blankly that my friend hailed it, and everyone can see that. She pushed me. So hard I fell down on the concrete. And then went for my friend's hair. Seriously? Girl fight? I retreat inward, emotionally damaged that a girl would push me down. I should of used my jujitsu. She takes our cab. And we are left dumbfounded, did that just happen?
Yup. Welcome to LA. We take the second cab as bystanders acknowledge the absurdity of Sassy Girl's actions. Whew. I leave, without my mask or full arm black silk gloves, but with my story, and a twinkle in my eye for the rocking chair.
Cue up Saturday night:
Several girlfriends and I prepare to go to what is made out to be an epic party. We were invited for free, although tickets had said going price of $1000. I don't care how epic a party is, unless I'm showing up on a camel to party at some ancient Pharoah's pyramid, that is crazy talk. But I'll be more than happy to attend it.
The theme: Masquerade. Masks required. All men in black, and women in, well, 'something hot'.
We show up to said location to show our ID's and get wrist bands. From there we board a bus with several other scantily clad women, men in black suits, and head north. Rounding a corner, and pulling up in front of the Playboy Mansion, I see it lit in all its cheesy glory. Blue, purple lights beam upwards, and we get in line which leads us in.I notice a small man in front of me in a black blazer. I then notice than no man is that small, or none that I have seen. Yes, it is Verne Troyer (a la Mini Me). No doubt this night could go wrong now. As we enter, they have models posed on a red velvet couch. Trying to be still, I can read the boredom behind their eyes. I have been there, I get it.
We enter into a huge tent, lined with cabanas along the wall. A stage at the very front, dance floor, small bar tables lit up, and full premium open bar. Goodness. As it leads outside to the pool, there is a stone walkway which was the death of me by the end of the night in 3' stilettos, and a full buffet. Realizing I am a.) starving but b.) not wanting to show a food baby quite yet, I hold off while I still have will power.
I hit the dance floor, but honestly could not stop looking around. Women in only, ah, spray paint. Since when did paint become a costume? Several times they would blast some Indian "ohh oww ohh" music and carry out a girl on a glorified stretcher. I couldn't help but laugh. This was too funny to be true.
I ventured outside for a bit, in effort to finally see the grotto. And there it was: it all it's Playboy story glory. Heels were killing, so I took a sit and just observed for a bit. It wasn't until 15 minutes in, I realized I was sitting, alone in the bushes, watching people, and it was time to find my friends. By this time, that buffet was calling my name and I couldn't ignore it. Can't quite be clear on the food exactly, but I do recall it was tastier than imagined. And that I regretted eating all of it once I saw there was a sushi bar.
We departed and hailed a cab after the shuttle dropped us off. Here's when it gets good. My friend hails the cab, and as he pulls over, we begin to get in. Out of no where Sassy Girl tells us it was HER cab and how dare we get in. I say point blankly that my friend hailed it, and everyone can see that. She pushed me. So hard I fell down on the concrete. And then went for my friend's hair. Seriously? Girl fight? I retreat inward, emotionally damaged that a girl would push me down. I should of used my jujitsu. She takes our cab. And we are left dumbfounded, did that just happen?
Yup. Welcome to LA. We take the second cab as bystanders acknowledge the absurdity of Sassy Girl's actions. Whew. I leave, without my mask or full arm black silk gloves, but with my story, and a twinkle in my eye for the rocking chair.
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