There are things that a geek dreams of. A tour of the Ackermansion. Meeting folks like Rick Baker, Stan Winston, Dennis Muren, Danny Elfman, Tim Burton, Christopher Lee, George Lucas, Steven Spielberg and so on.
There are those images that you like to think you can dream of... that you can shut your eyes and picture what it must be like.
I dream of being able to be at Graumann’s Chinese Theater on opening night of KING KONG... I dream of sitting in the library of Alexandria and looking at all that which was lost. I dream of watching LONDON AFTER MIDNIGHT... which has been lost seemingly for all time.
And...
Ever since the age of eleven when I finally understood what PLAYBOY was all about... I’ve wanted and dreamed of what it would be like to be at the PLAYBOY MANSION.
In its on magical mythological way, it is that place that Ronald Coleman tries to get back to... The place that Gene Kelly sobs about in a New York bar... frustrated at having left. It is surely the land beyond beyond.
Now, specifically... my dream always had me going to Bob Burns’ house first... traveling to 1966 and going to a party at the Mansion. The concept of wearing that tux... shooting the shinola with the likes of Peter Lawford, Frank, Sammy and Dean.... Shirley McClaine, Elvis and so on. The world had GO-GO boots and fun hair... The gals... not so anorexic. It would truly be... Hefner and his Playmates at my perceived top of form.
That was... until Saturday Night.
The day started with exercises and run throughs on my television show. Moriarty, John Robie, Mysterio, Harry Lime and I, all experimenting with the conversion of media. Character work, group discussions... all the pre-trappings of forming a show. Exciting stuff. On an improv level we managed to nail pretty well several of the things I have been advocating for with the show... and my producer and I were thrilled.
So... after a long day (6 hours) of rehearsals and training... we split up for our respective festivities. Moriarty was off to the Matt Stone, Trey Parker, Amy Cohen party.... and I was off to the Playboy Mansion.
Robie came up to the room to zip me into the TIGGER costume... and... boy... before hand I sat in the bathroom for nearly an hour... running all the water... trying to make myself pee. This was key. I needed to be like Arabia... dry. Dry as the friggin Sahara. Getting in and out of the TIGGER costume is not a single guy’s activity (and admittedly hopefully I wouldn’t be single this night).
When I finally came out of the bathroom in full TIGGER costume... Robie couldn’t believe his eyes. You see folks, there is an amazing thing that happens when you put me in a giant TIGGER costume. First off... there is something all together frightening and deliriously hilarious about seeing a six foot three hundred and fifty pound gargantuan stuffed animal style TIGGER.
Robie began shaking his head... smiling, he knows. Robie has been to places like the Playboy Mansion all round the world. Sheik’s palaces in the Middle East... Monaco Love Chateaus and Bangkok Opium Dens... and he knows what gals the world over are attracted to. That which they can not resist squeezing and feeling... TIGGER.
And here I was, the biggest most devilish Tigger they will ever lay eyes upon. Robie stood there agog. He knew how my night would go... if the Mansion were truly the magical place folks whispered about.
Robie left and I made my final preparations for the mansion. I got a brand new sock... stuffed money, cel phone and photo i.d.s in place and put it in my right sleeve... just above my paw. Doused the outfit in cologne... and set out for the promised land.
As I stood out in front of the ‘Riot Hyatt’ on Sunset, cars driving by would have screaming women exclaiming, “TIGGER!” Oh yeah baby, I’m gonna have a good night.
In your dreams Tiger!
Damn subconscious. I read in Talk Back moments before I left my room to remember to watch out for the Pig’s Blood Shower I was set for. And somewhere in the back of my head... for the rest of the evening I carried that thought thinking, “Man, that would be so cool!”
As I stood there outside my hotel I met a screenwriter that told me that all was still moving forward on Stuart Gordon’s DAGON scheduled to shoot in Spain (a very Lovercraftian/Innsmouthy tale).
Now, just so you know, there is only one way to drive to Hefner’s Mansion... you must arrive in a Limo... no exceptions. After all, it is Playboy.
My friend finally arrived and off we were to see the Wizard. He was a Playboy Wolfman, his girlfriend was the epitome of Nancy Spungen, his mother was a Fairy Goddess, the other two girls in the car... one was a big assed exercise freak and the other was a dream of Jeannie... and there I was... TIGGER.
The limo was the super long variety... perhaps 60 feet long. There was tubing inside that shifted in colors from purple to green to red to blue to yellow and all over again. I was actually beginning to get a little nervous.
I mean, you begin getting that weird self-conscious feeling... I’m gonna be the only freak at this party. That sort of thing, except that the group I was with were all cool people to hang with. A very good Linus Blanket.
As we approached the Stud Manor, we began passing what seemed like hundreds of parked Limos. Turns out we were approaching from the wrong angle... when the driver attempted the turn... the car began bottoming out on the incline of Hugh’s driveway. We had to continue going straight and perform a U-TURN in a 60 ft limo on a blind turn on some sort of semi-highway type of thing. The folks in this now twisting death chariot began screaming as the driver made the turn... Suddenly we were headed the other direction just as a volley of cars narrowly missed us.
Upon arriving at the mansion, I noticed instantly... THIS IS WAYNE MANOR!!! I am so completely serious. Perched atop a hill, trees/semi-jungle surrounding the grounds... There was a large faux inflatable moon floating overhead casting moonlight upon the entire grounds. Mist and graveyard fog flowed everywhere... giving it that mysterious London-y feel... Transylvania.... I was in a horror film with more nubile women than any horror film ever.
And I was just in the driveway. I mean, everywhere I looked there seemed to be 6 ft tall 38-18-24 women in 7” spiked high heels and various stages of skimpiness. I wasn’t even in yet. Dear God.
To my right was the graveyard... perhaps 50 or so tombstones... mist everywhere... a dungeon amidst the trees that I would explore later. But first... as ordered by many fans... I, TIGGER HARRY, had to find THE GROTTO!!! Pagan den of sin.... waterbeds, saunas, silken sheets and cave dwelling isolation and echoes for moans... THE GROTTO, long the stuff of dreams, now close to my grasp!
As I took my first step into the mansion, I saw a room off to the side, where Playmates were openly getting dressed in costumes for the night... Naked... and getting dressed. Sigh, but I can’t act like a tourist... all this nudity, flesh and temptation... I had to act as though I am a Gentleman... a man, not necessarily above temptation.. just one needing, um more temptation... heheheeh
Alright, admittedly, just a step or two in... I was beginning to think... damn, look at the women! But.. As I proceeded into the middle of the main room... My mouth hung open.
Easily over a thousand monster heads... Harryhausen’s Cyclops, a casting off the real John Merrick’s face, full size beautifully realistic faces of Peter Lorre, Vincent Price, Dr Phibes, Mole Men, Ghost of Frankenstein, Frankenstein, Phantom of the Opera, Invisible Man, The Fly, Brundlefly, Robocop, 3 Mars Attacks Aliens, War of the Worlds alien, The Cat And The Canary creature.... Everything.... Damien, Stay Puff, Slimer, Apes, Gorillas, Saucermen.... You name it... it was here. Alien, Predator, Pumpkinhead... ALL OF THEM... Fright Night, BLOB, Invaders from Mars, Devil Bat, Hunchbacks by Laughton, Quinn, Cagney and Chaney. Werewolves by Chaney Jr, Henry Hull and Oliver Reed. Vampires by Lee, Lugosi and Langella. Frankensteins by Lee, Karloff, Chaney Jr, Boyle and Strange....
This was what I couldn’t believe. I knew going into this that I would be dazzled by the women (I’ll get to them in a second), but what I was completely and utterly unprepared for was the complete extravagance of geek horror/sci-fi coolness.
The concept that Hefner not only has the most beautiful women in all the world surrounding his every waking and sleeping moment of life.... but that he also has this cool geek stuff. This room is filled with the souls of monsters that break men’s hearts, and the beauty that makes them beat.
The 30 ft ceiling held chandeliers speckled with the finest crystal... then above the doorway to the right... a ghost speaking to us.... fluidly and perfect... interior of the head white translucent material with a rear-screen projected face of a woman taunting you to take her to bed, then morphing into a hideous demon.. much like the ghosts in RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK. Just a nice touch.
As I left this room and entered the back courtyard (aka Tent 1) this is where the scope of the masquerade aspect came to light. There was only one person not in costume... Hefner, that red smoking jacket... flanked on all sides by voluptuous... amazing women...
How to describe this scene. It was...literally as though I had just walked through that doorway that Serling always talked about... into world of sight and sound.... as Wonka would say, ‘a world of pure imagination.’
Now... the mix was about 40% male, 60% female. The women were literally... the most beautiful I’ve seen. It had to be every Playmate ever... I mean, ever... the seemingly endless supply of perfect female forms... blew me away.
The first thing I noticed amongst the playmates was the nearly 40 or so full body painted Playmates. The exotic nature of watching perfectly painted gals... Cheetah, Tiger, Flames, Wind, Earth, Superheroines, Zebras, Mummy, garden of edens and on and on and on. Now, there were ladies dressed in clothes that... well were far more revealing than these girls... even though they were completely nude... The paint jobs as you can see from these few examples... were perfect.
However, the poise with which they moved, they were simply stunning. Cheetah girl, Karissa Fare, was my personal favorite. The make-up... as you can see, was simply stunning. I couldn’t believe it. I mean, I’ve been a fan of catgirls since Simone Simon through Lee Meriwether to Natassja Kinski on up to Michelle Pfeiffer... but dag dangit.... This one... she took the prize.
Then there was Mystique, Deanna Brooks, in the picture that I found at Playboy.Com she was in the midst of her paint job, but folks... I’ll tell you what... Talk about walking talking geek jizziness.... The hair she had looked as though it were a wig composed entirely of exotic Macaw feathers... that crimson red... the contacts... exact. And as she walked around... every head turned. Pure love.
However, the most simply stunning Playmate that I met was Jami Ferrell. She was a simple superhero, but folks... her figure... the slight bit of sadness I felt in her eyes, through the smiles and the exterior happiness. You can see it a bit here, was it merely contemplation? I don’t know for sure, but she was a delight.
Now, besides... EVERY PLAYMATE KNOWN TO MAN... there was Elizabeth Hurley, Kirsten Dunst and a bevy of Hollywood Ladies. Besides Hefner, who was the coolest person at the party... Tony Curtis. HOUDINI!!! Son of RAGNAR!!! JOHNNY DARK!!! Father of Jamie Leigh Curtis!!!
The party had its fair share of celebs... but really, that wasn’t what I was there for... I was there to be handled and pawed over.
And ya know what, the TIGGER costume is the greatest most dearest possession I own.... for upon it’s fleece has pressed the bodies of no less than 100 Playmates... I would be walking, and I would hear the sultry voice of some lovely crying out.... “OOOooooOOOhhh Tiiiigggggggeeerrrrrrr!!!!”
Ahem, my pawing crowd calls... Now, the benefits of being a Tigger is this... First off, the gals want to pet and tickle you... I was shocked by the tickling.... Then there were the posings for pictures... Lewd, regular... one on either knee... Yes yes yes.... I disgraced the name of Tigger... I used his image to paw Bunnies... and it was truly bliss. I felt like Cyrano standing beneath the balcony putting words in that dolt, Christian’s mouth.... using the visage of Tigger... I’m guilty... slap on the cuffs...
Now I could claim I did it for you. I was at that mansion for every guy ever teased by the pages of that wondrous magazine. But I was Mouth at the base of a wishing well waterfall pawing over the dreams of a thousand deluded souls. This was my chance to take a few back... My moment to connect with the pages of misery and bliss.
I was grabbed, hugged, kissed and talked to by the likes of Barbarella, Supergirl, 2 Wonderwomen, a couple of Catgirls, 1 Shirley Temple, a corseted Snow White and Cinderella, a golden goddess, a score of painted gals and enumerous others.
Picture in your mind a fetish image of a girl or hell even a guy... they were there... Madonna, Taylor’s Cleopatra, a Ginger Rogers, Green Skinned She Hulks or Star Trek lasses... Borg Queens, Queens both evil and blessed, Witches from each point on the compass, fairies from woods, rocks, water and even sugar plums. There was a Jesus Lady with crucified palms and feet with a crown of thorns a toga and so forth. There were nurses, cops, construction gals and so forth... Catholic School Girls, KiKi (yes as in Delivery Service), Taarna, Smurfette (with PaPa Smurf). Olive Oyl and everything.
This party was everybit that Jack Davis MAD party, that John Severin CRACKED party and the Harvey Kurtzman ANNIE FANNY.
You would see a rather simple looking kid at first glance in doctor scrubs, and then you’d notice... that’s no kid... That’s Tobey Maguire... Peter Parker... SPIDER-MAN. I shook his hand, wished him well, but like I said... reporters that bother folks at parties... well they suck, but I can report this to you. His features are more chiseled and a tad harder than I’ve seen from him in any of his prior films. His hair... already in Parker mode. Had he arrived in vest, white button up shirt, plain tie, and horned rimmed glasses... Dear God, that would’ve ruled.
The Haunted house? Supreme... Hellraiser, Exorcist, Silence of the Lambs, a polka dot terror, an amazing living dead room that was truly trippy. There was even a DAY OF THE DEAD room...
Absolutely a delight. And when I finally took a break from all the walking while waiting on my friend to return from the bathroom.... that MAN SHOW lady that does all the radical teasing... she wound up spread-eagle upon my furry lap... grinding and groping.
Now, to 90% of these lasses there was no name for me other than TIGGER. So remember folks, if you can be as cute as me in a TIGGER costume, then... well perhaps you too can be cool and pawed over at the PLAYBOY MANSION.
This was... the perfect party. I will, never in my life, attend a party that can begin to approach this one. The locale, the guests, the food and the drink (I was consuming masses of Rum and Coke).
At the end of the evening, I had stripped off the top half of the costume and had begun to try to dry off.... (I lost about 15 lbs of water weight in that costume... as pleasure does not come without it’s costs... pounds of flesh indeed. Cramps to this very day... as I attempt to rehydrate my aching form!) This is when people finally began to realize... Oh... ‘you are that internet guy right?’ Riiiiiight.
As I rode back to my hotel with Josh and his wondrous partners in crime... I realized the haze had lifted and my Brigadoon was in a rear view mirror.
The memories of this wondrous night... will be carried for a lifetime.
I share this with you so you may know... there is a dream of what the Playboy Mansion is... and I can tell you, the dream is nothing of hashish and booze, tis a truly real place... for I was there... and it was remarkable in every form.
For Tons of Pictures, Videos and Animations about the festivities at Hefner's Holloween Festivities... Click here and ahem... Enjoy my friends!!!
