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7 Things You Learn Breaking into P. Diddy's House

A few weeks back, some dude managed to pull a Goldilocks on P. Diddy's house, breaking into the rap mogul's East Hampton mansion while Diddy was out waiting for his porridge to cool. The intruder spent almost an entire day there, trying on Diddy's clothes, eating his food and even sleeping in his bed, which was where in fact he was caught the next day, and presumably mauled to death.

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The Baby Bear of this particular story.

Diddy hasn't offered any comment about the incident yet, nor on the stunning revelation that this isn't the first time it's happened. The same dude has apparently been breaking into P. Diddy's house for at least the past decade. Now, on the one hand, this is legitimately kind of scary, because celebrity stalkers can sometimes be dangerous, and they're also, as a group, typically very mentally ill, which we try not to make too, too much fun of around here. But on the other hand, damn, Diddy. Maybe get yourself a dog or something? Or one of those lights that comes on every night. Or a lock for your fucking door.

Because there's nothing that Cracked readers love more than creative violations of social norms (also, itemized lists of curious facts), I saw immediate potential for a column here. So, this past weekend I broke into P. Diddy's house and itemized the hell out of all the curious facts present. And here they are, comin' at ya:

#7. It Is Incredibly Easy to Break into P. Diddy's House

I'm not an expert break-inner -- I've broken fasts, promises, news, wind and, on occasion, hearts (typically due to the wind thing). Also, I've broken out many times. Just never in. So I was honestly a little worried that this experiment was going to sputter out before it got started. But I couldn't have been more wrong.

Although Diddy's house is surrounded by a fence, it's only about four feet high. It's the kind of thing that's really only useful for keeping out sheep, or heavy children. But as I was feeling a little lead-legged myself, I decided to try my hand at hacking the front gate controls first. This was done by hitting the "Open" button on the keypad and then waiting five or so seconds for the gate to slide open. I guess Diddy loses his clicker pretty often?

The front door was a bit better, in that it did have a deadbolt, which was locked, albeit not actually shut. Instead, I found the door hanging wide open, swinging back and forth in the breeze, the deadbolt preventing the door from closing. It was the kind of thing you'd do if you were worried about locking yourself out of your hotel room when you ran to get ice, or wanted your prostitute to get in without having to knock.

I'm guessing that Diddy didn't have any prostitutes coming, though, because the alarm went off as soon as I stepped inside. The same thing happened to Diddy's first Goldilocks case, but that guy was able to convince the responding security company that he was a member of Diddy's entourage. I considered trying the same, although privately I doubted that my improvisational skills would be sufficient. Acting black isn't really an "uninsulting" look for me.

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Imagine an Eazy-E impression combined with an Urkel impression performed by Linus from Peanuts.

So I decided to play it straight, and when the alarm company did roll up, I just explained to them that I was from Cracked. That was good enough for them, I suspect because they're not a very good alarm company.

#6. Diddy's Closet Is Actually not That Impressive

Finally inside Diddy's house, I paused to admire the surroundings. The front entry hall was crisp and modern; very Diddy. Lining the walls of the hall were pictures of Diddy meeting various peers and dignitaries. An old one of him messing around with Biggie Smalls. Posing with Aretha Franklin in a studio. Riding a tandem bicycle with Jay-Z.

As I moved further into the house, I realized what I wanted to do most: go check out Diddy's famous wardrobe. It turned out to be incredibly, impossibly disappointing. It would seem that Diddy's famous sense of style is probably the result of hard work by stylists who keep all his clothes off-site, because his actual wardrobe is way smaller than you'd imagine. Just a single chest of drawers in one of his bedrooms. No walk-in anythings, or fancy labels, or even a mirror. He had one drawer full of Wranglers ...

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They were the blue kind.

... and one drawer full of Dockers khakis. Half of his shirt drawer was full of rumpled button-downs that really should have been hanging up. The other half was full of T-shirts from software conferences. I guess Diddy did some FoxPro programming in his past? Or just likes baggy, tarplike garments?

#5. There Are Tons of Bodybuilding Magazines Everywhere

One thing that surprised me was the enormous amount of bodybuilding magazines Diddy has lying around. Everywhere I looked, I was presented with advice on the latest lat-shredding techniques offered up by pictures of wild-eyed He-Man-looking dudes.

Like this, but with smaller pants.

And I mean everywhere. In the bedroom, the living room, the other bedroom, the kitchen, the other kitchen, the library. The library, in fact, consisted of nothing but bodybuilding magazines, all four walls covered in shelves full of archived back editions of Muscle, Flex, Muscleman, Ironman, Flexman and Stout.

Curiously, I couldn't find a weight room anywhere.

#4. He Has a Gimp

In one of the rooms on the lower level of Diddy's home, I found a trunk. Because how do you not open a trunk? I opened the trunk, and found a leather-clad man wearing a ball gag, which was just stunning.

Wikipedia Commons
Probably the most expensive garment I saw in the house; I think it was a Versace.

He seemed a little stunned by the light at first, and it took him a few minutes to rehinge all his joints and rise up to a standing position. But once he was up, I couldn't help but notice that he was entirely unsurprised by my presence.

"MmM. Mmm MMm MmmmM MM mm mmMMmmm mm m mmFM mmf?" he asked, which I'm pretty sure meant "Hey. Are you just breaking in and hanging out for a bit?"

"Yeah, just for a bit. I'm from Cracked," I explained.

"Mm, mmm. MMM MM mm mmms." (Hey, cool. I love you guys.)

"Awesome, thanks."

"Mmm Mmmmm mmmfm mm mmm MM mm mmMM?" (Is Soren really as pretty in real life?)

"No, not really."

The gimp nodded, and after a kind of awkward moment, I helped him back into the trunk and closed the lid.

I guess you wouldn't expect P. Diddy to have anything but the coolest, most reasonable gimp, but still: I was impressed.

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