While at the Playboy Mansion, I saw a man killed with boobs
In a “past life” I got a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to go to the Playboy Mansion in Los Angeles. The invite was on behalf of Troma Films. They were making a Citizen Toxie: The Toxic Avenger 4. Part of it was going to be filmed at the mansion. In exchange for some advertising on a mailing list I ran, they got me an invite to the movie shoot.
In the movie, Toxie has an evil doppelganger named Moxie. Moxie decides to kill this dude by squishing the dude’s head in between the boobs of a woman he’s “doing the nasty” with. Observe:
Humph. Well, if you’re going die, there’s worse ways of going than between a very nice pair of naked sweater puppies.
The actress who was playing Unintentional Boob Slayer was one of the nicest people you’d ever want to meet. She had done a lot of films for Lloyd Kaufman, the demented master-mind behind Troma.
Yes, I did get to meet Hugh Hefner. Not that he’d remember me. (The security guards who wanted to throw me out 5 minutes after I arrived, now they may still remember me. But that’s a story for another day.)
There used to be a radio personality on AM 700, WLW in Cinncinnati by the name of Gary Burbank. I loved listening to that man. If ever I needed a smile, he was the guy to turn to. He’s long been retired, but you can still catch him doing his Earl Pitts schtick.
Gary used to tell a story about hitchhiking in Memphis. Gary says he was picked up by Elvis Pressley. He told the story so many times, that when he would launch into it on the air, “I was hitchhiking in Memphis one time . . . ” everyone else in the studio would start to chant, “Booooor-ring. Booooor-ring. Booooor-ring.”
Well, my visit to the Playboy Mansion is my “booooor-ring” story. Any chance I get to tell it, I will. Those that know me and (say they) love me roll their eyes and go into the kitchen for more pie when an uninitiated soul says the Secret Word, “Playboy.” “Hey,” I say, “I was at the Playboy Mansion once . . . “
What does this have to do with bicycling? Nothing. Needed something to talk about because they’re still not done fixing my damned bicycle . . .