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A bunny bash in a boiling hot bath robe.

AUSTRALIA | Monday, 20 July 2009 | Views [2192]

Five of the bunnies tear it up with some other party people

Five of the bunnies tear it up with some other party people

You can't share a house with 8 women and not have delusions about being the next Hugh Heffner. My playboy mansion might be disappointingly short on silicon boobs, bikinis and bare bellies to snort coke off, but my bunnies compensate by being genuinely beautiful people. And to celebrate the town planning violation of turning our residential property into a hostel, we decided to throw a house warming party.

The house was already rather warm given that Laura and I had been there for over a month. Such details are rarely relevant, but if one required further justification, it was JJ's birthday and Laura's Irish friend Emily was arriving to make the eighth and last addition to our family. Word of mouth spread the news like a virulent cold sore and rumours were circulating about possible attendance beyond capacity.

That fact was barely relevant as well, and we catered as best we could. I stole another 20 odd chairs from work, Laura brought enough potato based snacks to make her Irish heritage proud and we filled every basin and bath tub with enough ice to build an igloo village. Whether it was my limited backpacking wardrobe, or just my desire to undertake random stupidity, I brought a dressing gown for the occasion and did my best Hugh Heffner impersonation. I knew nothing about the guy other than his age and healthy libido so I threw some flour in my hair to look grey and distinguished, and carried a big cigar around in my pocket in mock invitation of the good times I could offer under my robes.

Only JJ briefly entertained the idea of dressing up as a bunny and I am a little bit disappointed she didn't. It might have helped convince everyone I wasn't just an old flasher thrown out of a mill for having an indecent bulge pointing out my intentions. The robe was some cuddly felt material that forced me to loiter near the bathroom iceberg in case I sweated too much and my hair rose to an afro style loaf of bread. Thankfully most of my friends were smart enough to know who I was supposed to be and there ended up being so many random people I gave up caring what people thought anyway.

Most people didn't care what they were celebrating, and those that knew the living arrangements were far more interested in the eight single girls than the one taken male. Within two hours of the party starting, the entire back yard was packed and even more focus fell upon the single people amongst the crowd. With a large percentage of the house mates being hospitality workers, it was inevitable that many friends would be working on the night. That spelt bad news for the neighbours when the party went up another notch around midnight with the arrival of the workers. Numbers had leveled out by that stage but alcohol was prompting certain individuals to make more noise than a Formula One race.

As a host, I tried to stay relatively sober and um, I nearly choked as I wrote that. Let me rephrase that to say that I didn't want to be totally shit-faced and throwing up in the garden before the night was half over. To this end I surpassed all expectations. At some a.m. point in time I managed to cook up snacks and circulated them around hungry revellers. There was naked people in the pool and I wasn't one of them, or even hiding in the bushes taking photos. People who weren't paying rent for the rooms still managed to have sex in them, and some of more questionable morality even  had a go at it in the hallway.

Even as one of the biggest house parties I had seen, and the biggest party I had been a host of, I felt it was happening wherever I wasn't. Perhaps I was too worried about my pool filling up with sperm, my bond being lost to me forever and the neighbours putting out a contract on my head. By the time I had stopped caring and gotten drunk enough to overlook my dance moves being a frightening spectacle, the party was over and it was time to go to bed. My bed had a post shag warmness to it, but I had to sleep, and fatigue overcame me before I rolled into someone else's wet spot.

Unfortunately I wasn't able to sleep through the clean up and my hangover recovery consisted of 3 hours turning a junk-yard into a hospitable abode again, then 8 hours of dishes at work. A few pool noodles got trashed, a pair of shoes were stolen and some stoner brought some seriously bad karma onto themselves by pinching Laura's marijuana plant. The house is well and truly warm now and should I be able to convince the girls of regular bunny dress ups, I may be able to emulate Hugh Heffner in more than dress sense alone. But then I'll just look like an old pervert instead.

Tags: friends, party

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