Yo mom and dad – most of these posts for the next … however long … are prolly not going to be kosher. This one in particular you’re def not going to want to read.
Don’t worry though, I’m still a virgin. K bye.
So, a few weeks back I got invited to Playboy’s Masquerade party at the Playboy Mansion. People take a LOT of pictures at Playboy parties, so it got me thinking that this could be a good opportunity for one of my sponsors.
Since I’ve been wearing MessageMe shirts for the last month or so …
I thought they might be an AWESOME fit for the opportunity. I then hit up one of the founders and sent the most inappropriate email ever …
Moments later I got the thumbs up, so all was good in the hood. (And FREAKING CONGRATS on hitting 1 million users this week!! 12 days!!! SO NUTS!!)
I then spent the afternoon picking out my outfit to go along with the body paint, and once I was settled I went to spin class.
Spinning is now my COMPLETE disconnect from the universe. It’s non-negotiable, I go every day, and I want nothing to do with ANYONE while I am there. It’s my thing … my jam … my little meditation session that no one else can be a part of.
Because I still use my iPhone as my music player though a notification or two might sneak in.
I see an update from Facebook telling me that my password has been changed.
My ears perked up like Scooby as my mouth vaguely produced Arrrr????
I then RAAANNNNNNNNNNN home as fast as my legs could carry me assuming someone was fucking with my account and I needed to isolate whatever it was they were doing.
I pull up Facebook on my Macbook Pro Retina and see that I’ve violated their photo policy.
Someone reported this photo that I had screenshot of SOMEONE ELSE’S default on a dating site. He was dissecting some random cadaver and it was one of the oddest but coolest things I had seen on any dating site.
This was MONTHS ago, I thought staring at the acceptance of the policy violation.
Bastard, whoever reported this.
Facebook then told me I would not be able to use it’s service for the next 72 hours.
Talk about a universal disconnect for someone like me, I thought.
Obviously the situation sucked balls all around, but what were my options? I just had to take it like a woah-man.
It got me thinking though, that for the Playboy party I was going to, I should just privately message photos to users on MessageMe instead of posting on Facebook. They’re going to be insanely naughty and I don’t know what it is going to be like getting banned twice in a week. The LAST thing I want to do is lose my Facebook account as it is also part of my business.
Dually noted, I thought.
Then, on Tuesday I hit the peak of frustration.
I was super stressed, super edgy, and super … out of it. Even our trivia team said how tired I looked. Sure, my schedule is kinda nutty right now, but I THRIVE when I live on the edge. Why all of the sudden am I becoming a wreck? I thought.
I was then reminded of this nagging-ness that I felt surrounding the book The Drama of the Gifted Child. I KNEW the universe was pointing me to read it again, but the acceptance of being back in “that place” was EXTREMELY hard for my ego to process.
Normally, the day after I write something like that I get really tired, I want to isolate, and I’m overall just kinda in this weird “zone.” What surprised me, was that for the FIRST TIME in at least a few weeks, I finally felt “rested.” It was as if this angst and anxiety came straight from my inner child who was just shouting for attention and because I kept saying how busy I was and didn’t want to deal with it, it just kept going and going and going.
My mom called me shortly after she read it, and I kindly told her I didn’t want to discuss it with her.
This has nothing to do with you, I reminded her. I love you, I respect you, but this is for me and for this anger that is still inside of me that I HAVE to let go of.
I was running to a meeting, so I told her I had to go. While I was in the car though, I cranked up Michael Jackson’s Scream and decided to SSSCCRRREEEAMMMMMMMM my little heart out. https://www.youtube.com/embed/0P4A1K4lXDo?wmode=opaque
I screamed for the annoyance of having to STILL deal with these emotions.
I screamed for this inner child that my intellectual brain doesn’t want to deal with.
I screamed for … me.
Fuck you. Fuck you. Fuck you. I kept saying over and over.
<tangent> Two best parts about having my car back are 1) being able to scream or sing my heart out with no one listening. 2) drive thrus. Never underestimate the awesomeness of being handed something without you having to get out of your car. </tangent>
Moments later, I was snapped back to reality via a text message from the dude I met in traffic asking me out for a date on Thursday.
Let’s do it, I texted back.
I had spent almost all week at that point searching for someone to do face/body paint and by Thursday I had found just what I was looking for.
I’ve never done this before, I explained to the woman. Do you mind if we test out some of the designs first? It’s going to be for a sponsor and I want to make sure it’s SUPER classy and not just oh, hey, these are my boobs.
She started laughing, and said not a problem and I could come right over.
I then popped on over to her studio, and for a few hours we tested out facial designs in addition to some of the lettering for the shirt.
This is great, I said to her. It’s thicker than I thought and while it shows your shape obvi it’s not all BOOBBBBSSS!!! RIGHT HERE!!! BOOOBBBSSSS!!!
I gave her some money for the cost of her materials and popped back into my car to head back to WeHo for my date.
Hitting typical LA traffic I got home later than I anticipated.
FUUUCCKKKK, I thought. I still have to get ready.
I finally arrived home 10 minutes prior to his scheduled arrival time and I SSCCRRUUUUBBBEEDDDDD that shit off like it was mah job.
My face feeling slightly raw and potentially still covered in … something … was finally makeup friendly and moving out the door to greet my date.
I then got in his car (the one he was driving when I met him) and started laughing. This looks familiar, I said.
Same one, he said with his killer smile.
We then went over to the Arclight to see the movie Spring Breakers. https://www.youtube.com/embed/rVvn9T6bqls?wmode=opaque
I thought the trailer definitely looked interesting, but since I never go to the actual movie theater anymore my opinion past that was sort of moot.
Since the Showtime app on his iphone got the time wrong, we decided to pop over to grab a drink before the movie at the little cafe they have there.
As he went up to get me a glass of wine, I noticed my twitter bud Liam sitting in the corner.
I went up to him saying howdy with a hug and a high five.
We chatted for a few minutes. It’s been years since we’ve seen each other but because we’re friends in social media you have somewhat of an idea what people are up to.
My date then came back, and I went back to our table.
Sorry about that, I said pulling out the stool. A twitter bud of mine is over there.
How did you recognize him? he asked.
Because we met IRL for the first time at Comic Con a few years back. I let him use my pass.
He stared at me for a second.
Then said, that is the hottest thing I’ve ever heard a girl say.
I laughed thinking, the dude I met in traffic gets it, but go to a bar and men look at me like I have 70 heads. Being in tech is not a value add to the Hollywood bar scene.
We then saw the movie, which I’m not quite sure how I felt about it. It was SUPER slow in the beginning. Like crazy, crazy slow … but I liked the photography, and how … weird … it was.
We chatted in the car all the way back talking about it.
This might be this next generations Showgirls, I said.
We continued the discussion, and I shan’t talk about anything else discussed. It’s that whole intimacy thing I’m working on. Awwww yeah.
I went to bed pretty early, but was stoked because Friday was going to be the ONLY day this week I could sleep in. My first meeting wasn’t until the afternoon, and to have my roomie gone and this … silence … is truly spectacular. (ESPECIALLY considering the lack of sleep I have been getting because I wasn’t listening to my inner child. Stupid inner child.)
As life would have it though, sweet sweet sleep evaded me once again as instead of swimming in a sea of silence I was jolted from my sleep by the sound of helicopters.
<tangent> You don’t fuck around with helicopters in LA FYI. 9/10 times it’s just a bad traffic accident, but you never know when there could be some sort of crazy hostage situation, or the time I threw my dinner party and had the meth lab explode down the street.</tangent>
I immediately popped on Twitter to check WeHoDaily’s twitter feed (the BEST reporting at ANYTHING happening in Weho/ Hollywood. From a traffic blip, to gun shots … all there.) and saw that Ashley Green’s condo had caught fire.
Not much else had been reported at that time, but the helicopters were DEAFENING.
As I stepped away from my computer, I went to touch my face and noticed that the sensitive skin around my eyes hurt A LOT.
Fuck, I thought, as I had difficulty blinking. This shit HURTS!!!!
I grabbed my iphone and turned on the camera feature to front face and noticed that my eyes were REALLY red. Like dragon lady red.
NOOOOOOO, I thought. I must be allergic to that face paint.
I then looked down at my chest where she had placed the body paint.
All on my neck and right about my boobs was BRIGHT red and splotchy with spotted hives.
Yep, definitely allergic, I said going over to the mirror for confirmation.
I took this last night. My chest cleared up faster than my face.
There goes my career as a stripper for Avatar themed parties, I thought.
I found out btw, that all you need to do when you have a reaction like this (as long as you’re still breathing and obvi not in need of EXTREME medical attention), is wash the affected area, towel blot it, and put on a pea size of cortisone where you need it.
Because I am a magnet for mosquitos, I happened to have cortisone on me, so it was just an epic win all around.
I decided to then cancel the body painter, but my brain went into HYPER active mode figuring out what I was going to wear instead.
I wanted something to stay consistent with their branding while being definitely sexual since it is the Playboy Mansion.
I rooted through my closet and found the PERFECT outfit.
WHIIICCHHHHHH I will be debuting later today. Not now. It’s only 2pm you freak a leaks!! Besides, I have a meeting I have to run to in just a bit and I can’t exactly show up naked to it.
Wait, I take it back, I don’t think the guys will mind.
So, there you go. Lesson learned … test all body painting for not only design purposes, but potential allergic reactions.
I’m SUPER grateful that my face calmed down today. Being able to blink again without being in pain is awesome!!!! Guess that’s something I won’t take for granted anymore. SPECTACULAR since it’s kinda something you do a lot of in life.
Off I go!!
Want to see the outfit for tonight’s party? Friend me on Facebook.
Want to see the private & will not be released photos of the party? Download the app MessageMe and here’s my pin …
I’ll send the photos to anyone that messages me between the hours of 8pm – 1am PST.
Argh! I’m so stoked, man. I meet the most INTERESTING people at the mansion. The men are SO NICE and chill.
Here we go!! W00t!