Luckily I’ve been blessed with a friendship at Brobible that allows me to gain access to such parties that I would normally get arrested for trying to sneak into. And luckily also the Karma execs who threw the party (benefiting charity) told me firsthand “Just because you’re doing good works for the world doesn’t mean you have to be boring and celibate…” So just to recap, while I was paddling around the Grotto at 2am with some Blue Label in one hand and two large flotation devices in the other – I was actually directly benefiting charity? Well played Karma, well played.
Let’s take it from the top. Firstly, no-one’s allowed to simply drive up to the Playboy Mansion (unless you wanna drop some serious coin just to be seen stepping out of a limo). Instead you congregate at an undisclosed parking garage and board VIP shuttles that chauffer groups of mesmerized party goers to the mansion. Then check your passports at the door and brace for sensory overload because the first step off the shuttle drops you in either one of the two graveyards or perhaps the spooky forest (I could never tell which was which as they were all dark, all stocked with actors ready to jump out and scare you, and all paled in comparison to the bevy of nekked bunneys walking around)
Doing probably the most enthusiastic investigative journalism of my life I decided to post up next to an open bar by the Grotto and find some answers to an age old question: what does it take for a guy to get some second hand body paint on his palms at the Playboy Mansion? The Answer: about 3 vodka Redbulls (for confidence) and a white-lie about George Clooney being your second cousin (Stamos works here as well though I found Clooney’s name cuts your unnecessary foreplay time in half).
Being “Press” we were privileged to cut the lines to the 4,000sq ft Haunted House. Staged on Heff’s converted tennis courts, it’s packed with falling ceilings and actors jumping out from sliding walls/through trick mirrors/off rooftops/out of the floorboards. Basically it took about 20 minutes to get through sober and was f*cking amazing!
After this things get a little jumbled but I know there were moments of glory on the packed dance floor. (Hollywood VIPS and Heff himself lined the dance floor in their exclusive 10,000 dollar a night cabana’s) I remember recharging at about 11:30 by hitting the incredible high protein buffet…I toured the Mansion’s private Zoo…and I had my fortune read by either a fortune teller or a really confused Bunny.
Seriously in the interest of building your future bucket lists here's what a guest at one of Karma’s parties can expect to encounter besides extreme sensory overload and Baywatch-caliber withdrawal symptoms. Karma Execs Eric Stotz and Marvin Epstein: “We take you out of where you are and put you where you aspire to be, we fully immerse you in a (Halloween) world, and you live an experience you’ll never be able to replicate or explain without attending.”
I could go on listing the mischief I witnessed throughout the five-acre Playboy Mansion grounds…things like stumbling into surprisingly accessible private rooms equipped with beds and always more than 7 people not so happy to see me…but what’s the point. Honestly it’s truly indescribable. Don’t take my word for it, scope the pictures, then go immerse yourself in it for yourself and try to explain being there.
I want more like this!
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