Well it seems that nearly 200 (un?)lucky bastards were at a party at the Playboy Mansion. Poor things walked away with an infection. Not much of a swag bag giveaway, if you ask me. But I’m guessing the excitement of being able to say they
- caught something at the Playboy Mansion
- above the belt
- that required antibiotics
far outweighs the infectious discomfort of pretty much anything.
In some A-list social circles, an antibiotic-requiring affliction is like a Medal of Honor. Or so I’m told, since my circles are not A-list. And when “circle” is used in the same sentence as something about my life, it’s typically followed by the phrase “the drain”.
But did these folks really think they would visit the mecca of sexual hedonism (co-mecca, really, when you consider Charlie Sheen’s set up) without getting a little
drunk high skeeved out itchy?
Perhaps Hef can consider a sponsorship – The (formerly Playboy Mansion) but Now [insert pharmaceutical company name here] Party Grotto. I hear he’s getting married again, so he could probably use some extra cash to help de-infect the reception area before the next batch of party guests arrives.