Captivity Premiere Party

There are numerous women walking past me wearing nothing but electrical tape and a smile. Some are spinning on a table. Some are dancing in cages. Some take a shower. Some are being whipped by the guy who used to be in the Red Hot Chili Peppers. He's smoking, which means it's ok for me to smoke here. I figure since I'm not whipping scantily clad women, I can get away with the "Well, Navarro's doing it" excuse.

I'm at the premiere party of Captivity, which promises to be the most shocking evening of my life, but I've been to Thailand, so I kind of doubt that claim, no matter how little electrical tape you use to cover your nipples. Still, it ranks up there. I'm at a Hollywood club right on the heart of Sunset Blvd, and I'm witnessing a celebration of torture porn. And free booze. And you know me, if there's free booze and half naked ladies, I'm there. (Of course, I can usually also be counted on when there's free shrimp. So far this night's just hitting them out of the park).

The Suicide Girls are responsible for the flesh. I knew nothing of these girls and what they do until I was strapped down by two of them into a chair and forced to take a picture. Which I forgot to pick up when I left because of the free booze. Regardless, these ladies are hot and know how to put on a good time. Elsewhere in the vicinity is a man piercing people and sticking feathers into them. I suddenly think to myself "It's about time I get a fetish!"

There were stars abound, unfortunately Elisha "Caught in a cougar trap" Cuthbert was not to be found. However, imagine my surprise when I walk smack dab into Ryan Gosling. What a solid guy, man. I wish I could've remembered the name of "Stay", because I love that movie and I bet he doesn't get to talk about that flick. I also saw Borat's producer friend, but again because I spent most of my evening with Mr. John Daniels, I couldn't remember who he was. (At least it's not as awkward as when I met Borat himself, in a men's room. That was awkward). There were more celebs there, but I don't remember any. I'm not even entirely sure if I was there, but I do seem to remember someone thinking I was Seth Rogan, so maybe that should count. (And maybe I should use that to get me free drinks elsewhere).

The evening progresses into a slow fog at this point, as I have befriended the bartender, who's also from Jersey! Then a man in an eyepatch recognizes the brilliance of my shirt. (Which has a picture of Jesus hang gliding and says "What Wouldn't Jesus Do?" Suddenly I'm dancing with some lovely ladies named Lorielle, Rena, and Mary, whom I'm told is an adult film actress and ran for governor of California a few months back. It's possible the booze caused me to make this part of the story up, and yet it did happen. I have a blurry picture to prove it. Sure as there was a room with hanging pig carcasses with Suicide Girls lovingly fondling them.

Alright, so it's not Thailand, but it's still a step up from my normal Tuesday evenings. I should point out that I still have yet to see the movie. but that didn't stop me from blatantly (and with much vulgarity) declaring how awesome it is to a camera when asked my opinion of the movie. So here's hoping the movie delivers so I don't look like a drunken jackass. But then again, when the party is this crazy my ridonkulousness pales in comparison. It was a grand time, and I wish you all could have been there, if only to see that I'm not lying when I tell you about the electrical tape.