The Playboy Mansion Experience…

I had always said I would NEVER go as I had the fear of becoming impregnated by the very presence of the Grotto, not too mention other nasties and the thought of old balding overweight old men dribbling…just was not for me…

Yet here I was, accompanied by my lovely new friends Liz and Sylvie, who had come over to get frocked up and accessorised as a friend had organized tickets for a charity event there.

I had wanted to wear my rabbit mask but it was a bit bent and incredibly itchy on the eyes so I opted for the blue tit and fringe ensemble. It did a good job though I had problems maneuvering around the grounds in my stilettos…oh for a pair of Platforms... The bunny mask would have ended in a very un-glamorous stumble.

It was by pure miracle or misfortune we made it to the last shuttle as neither of us knew where we going and neither did lost Liz who we were supposed to be following. There seemed to be a gizillion women there in the tiniest dresses (me included) and a few chaps who were clearly short in one department but not the other, as the tickets were $1000 each for men.

I loved the good old school bunny girls, but the modern day bunny has lost all that wonderful saucy appeal. Who decided that Perspex platforms, thongs and body painting were sexy???

I knew trouble was in store for me when I could not decide what my first drink was, as I could not see the champagne…mmmm, errrr…scotch and coke please? Disaster...bad start...gets worse when all the girls then decide to have a tequila shot…yikes. A couple that I met in Cannes and had dressed for tonight then approached me with, "Champagne Julia???”

I should have ran in the direction of the returning shuttle buses but foolishly dived straight in and did several laps worth.

It was great to fun to bump into so many of my girlfriends there and the music was fantastic, so I cut some moves on the dance floor whilst I was still upwardly mobile.

The end of the night was in sight and we headed back to the returning shuttle bus only to end up on the wrong one along with everybody else. We were supposed to head to the UCLA stop, but this one headed into the heart of Hollywood. It was quite a hysterical end to a hysterical evening as the driver refused to speak to anyone or tell them where he was going. Delirious perspex-muled girls were screaming, “I am calling the police” convinced we had been hijacked as he would not let anyone off the bus…until destination "nobody wants to go there" had been reached.

Taxiiiiiiiiii!!!!!