I’ll be the first to admit that I A)loathe Hollywood blvd nightlife on the weekends and B) hate cornballs who engage in touristy nonsense, but on Friday I broke both of those rules because of a loophole in my guide to living in LA: If a friend from out of town is visiting or you meet a new transplant, it is acceptable to participate in and even suggest activities which should only be done by newbs who don’t know the difference between the 110 and the 10.
Luckily for me, I have such a friend, a friend who works for Playboy, and it just so happens to be her job to go out ALL THE TIME to scout prospective centerfolds. She was in need of a good wingwoman so I tagged along. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t just a little bit excited because of the infamous movie, although after I realized that it was a newer, random, revamped spot off of Ivar rather than the original in West Hollywood my anticipation waned. Still, that didn’t stop me from playing that Haddaway song on the way there.
Let me tell you something about girls who agree to do test shoots to be in Playboy: a few of them are cute, but most of them are not, although what they lack in looks they make up for in personality. I’m just effing with you , they make up for it in cleavage! And speaking of cleavage, I regret to say that Chris Brown’s bodyguard accidentally
purpose felt me up as I searched for the restrooms on the second floor. Apparently
he felt the need to guide me towards it with his hands on my chest. I’m pretty
sure my shoulder would have sufficed, but he probably assumed I was drunk and I
wouldn’t notice. No sir! Besides, this is Chris Brown we’re talking about so
I’m pretty sure that a bodyguard is sort of redundant, as we all know he hits
girls so I’m pretty sure he could’ve handled me himself if need be. I’m so
not on #teambreezy
Molestation aside, the Roxbury is decent if you like house music, or if you like being sandwiched between sweaty college students, wannabe models, and posers, or if you like laughing at drunk people. I am a fan of the latter. One such inebriated girl lost her purse, so my friends and I tried to be good Samaritans and return it to her, but she was so plastered that she literally almost got hit by a car while attempting to cross the street to get it from us. Once you witness a near-death it’s usually time to go home, and that’s exactly what I did, but not before listening to What is Love one last time.
Alcohol Situation: 5 (I got free drinks for being a friend of a friend so yay!)
Actual Beneficial Networking Achieved: 0
Personal Victory/Dignity Retained: 1 (I was groped by the bodyguard of a wifebeater, so yeah…)