Breaking news from the Daily Mail: Hugh Hefner is the Viagra-taking warden of a squalid sex prison. Not only that, he plies the women in his harem with quaaludes and Dom Perignon so they won’t be squeamish about bouncing on his ancient, marshmallow balls.
I’ll admit, I’m shocked. Where is Hef getting quaaludes? Did he stockpile them in 1978? And if so, did Scarface teach him nothing? Everyone knows that a woman hopped up on ludes will love you for a little while, but, eventually, she won’t fuck you anymore because she’s in a coma.
In any case, Izabella St. James, a former Playmate and author of Bunny Tales: Behind the Closed Doors of the Playboy Mansion, claims that Hef’s den of iniquity is a grubby world where girlfriends live in bedrooms with old, mismatched furniture and stained mattresses and sheets. Adding insult to injury, they are required to clean up their own dogs’ poo and must make 9:00 pm curfews, survive on $1,000 weekly cash allowances (plus free room and board, plastic surgery, etc.), meet celebrities, go to clubs, and engage in twice-weekly orgies with Hef – a sexual dead fish.
“If we’d been out of town for any reason and missed one of the official ‘going out’ nights, he wouldn’t want to give us the allowance. He used it as a weapon… Little did I realize that by moving into the mansion I was losing all the freedom I associated with the Playboy lifestyle.”
Hugh Hefner treats these twats better than I ever would. Their job isn’t to live the Playboy lifestyle. Their job is to fulfill a dying illusion for their employer and the hard cocks who troll the grounds and read his magazines. How one doesn’t limit their expectations going in to a situation like this is beyond me. Then again, how one doesn’t realise she’s a high priced whore going in to a situation like this is something I can’t begin to fathom.
Being a Playboy girlfriend isn’t some no-strings attached operation where you receive $52,000 tax-free cash and an endless list of prizes by doing nothing in return. Like most things in our world, it is a business transaction. And some of the stipulations in that transaction are living in Hefner’s time capsule mansion, abiding by his parental rules, and having sex with him. It could be worse. The old fool is so decrepit that he has to overdose on Viagra just to avoid peeing on his slippers, which means you saddle up less times in a year than most whores do in a month. Don’t like it? Pack your bags.
But for a pneumatic slut with little self-esteem, even fewer prospects, and an Elektra complex, it doesn’t sound like a bad gig. Something tells me Izabella St. James agrees, but is so bitter that all she got from the arrangement was new set of tits instead of temporary fame and an unsustainable fortune a la Kendra Wilkinson, she’s decided to get even.
Sorry to break it to ya honey, but we already knew that Hugh Hefner was a dirty old man who paid gold digging blondes to fuck him and help him promote his image, and guess what? We still don’t care. Do everyone a favour and throw yourself off a bridge. You’re of no use to us.