me-spence

Just over two months ago, I did something that I never thought I’d do: I hung out with Speidi. That’s right, I spent a morning intermingling with Heidi Montag and Spencer Pratt, stars/villains of MTV’s hit show, The Hills. Needless to say, it was quite the momentous occasion, especially since it landed me on TMZ for the first time ever. These were extraordinary new heights for me, and the brief taste of the tabloid life was thoroughly intoxicating; although, I was happy to return (er, remain) in anonymity when it was over.
Anyway, I posted some of the pics that surfaced from that eventful morning, but I wasn’t really able to talk about the backstory until now. Behold, the TELL ALL post that will shock the internet!


Okay, don’t get your panties in a bundle. This won’t be that exciting. First, let’s get something out of the way. The answer is no, they were not awful. In fact, Spencer and Heidi were very nice and friendly; albeit, slightly aloof. If anything, I was actually impressed with Spencer. Yes, you heard me right. I was impressed with him. He has a surprisingly commanding presence, and dare I say it, he was… DYNAMIC. Okay, I will never live that down, but the truth is that in person, he comes across as a guy who’s pretty smart, calculating, and knows exactly what he wants at any given moment. And no, this isn’t me just jizzing over some celebrity encounter. I genuinely felt that way. However, I’m perfectly aware that I also met Heidi and Spencer in a specific context. The way they treated me may or may not be different from the way they treat other people in their lives. Nevertheless, in the capacity that I interacted with Speidi, they were nothing less than pleasant. I did not, however, reveal that I had spent many a night bashing them on the Internets (oops!) or that I had been a staunch member of Team Lauren for quite some time. They might not have taken too kindly too that. Similarly, I also neglected to tell them that their avid devotion to Mexican eatery Don Antonio’s inspired me to re-introduce myself to the restaurant, which has now become a favorite of mine. It’s also spurred on a previously non-existent love for Mexican food. So as you can see, Speidi can influence us in positive ways too!
Anyway, now that all the general observations are out of the way, let me tell you about my Speidi adventure. Back in late February, MySpace invited Heidi to participate in an online series called The Fit, a show that basically profiles starlets and singers as they peruse their favorite fashion vendors. Well, as luck would have it, my best friend Michelle works in digital music distribution and has been overseeing Heidi’s burgeoning musical career. Maybe “overseeing” isn’t the correct word, but I always like to make Michelle sound like Heidi’s overlord. It makes me laugh, and I don’t know why. The point is that Michelle has been working with Heidi and Spencer, and as one of her responsibilities, she had to oversee this MySpace shoot. Well, since Michelle knew I was an ardent Hills fan AND that I had nothing to do, she invited me to tag along and watch the taping quietly. And just like that, my boring, old Tuesday morning transformed into a glorious opportunity for celebrity gawking and paparazzi dodging. (For those of you wondering, I promised her I wouldn’t write about the shoot until after it aired, which it has. Hence, this post.)
Well, the plan for the shoot was to start at Lisa Kline and then migrate over to Kitson later on. Sounded glorious. However, it was all too early in the morning. As excited as I was to hobnob with Speidi, I simply could not sacrifice my precious hours of slumber, and thus I arrived about an hour late to the shoot. No big deal though. Michelle introduced me to Spencer out on the street, and while I basked in the surreal nature of it all, we headed into Lisa Kline where I heard the unmistakable voice of Heidi chirping from inside a dressing room. It was all so… BIZARRE. Yet slightly wonderful. Of course, I played it cool as if this was just a minor detour in my celebrity-filled, jet setting life. Yes, I’m very smooth (at least when I’m sober).
Anyway, apparently some girl had approached Spencer on the street and given him a free gift for Heidi. When the Heidster asked what it was, her man simply shrugged and guessed it was cosmetics or some junk like that.
“It’s probably anthrax,” Heidi joked. What the? Did Heidi just make a funny? And did I just sincerely laugh at it? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? Who knew! Heidi is funny! Then again, she’s been getting progressively funnier on The Hills. I still chuckle every time I think about her saying, “Spencer, I’m about to punch you in the face.”
Well, not long after I arrived at the shoot, the crew packed up their stuff and headed across the street to Kitson. Heidi headed off with a stylist while Spencer, Michelle, and I trailed behind for whatever reason. The three of us crossed Robertson Boulevard together (we were a nascent clique, clearly), and as we approached our next destination, a singular photographer emerged out of nowhere and began snapping away at Spencer. Again, I tried to play it cool; although, after seeing my “playing it cool” face in the photo above, I’m gonna have to seriously reconsider my entire concept of “playing it cool.” After all, my face looks like it’s neither playing nor cool. DISCUSS.
At Kitson, nothing too remarkable happened. Heidi tried on clothes and shoes and whatnot. It didn’t matter that she was a celebrity or pseudo-celebrity or whatever — watching someone shop is always boring. Actually, I shouldn’t say that because it sounds like I was having a bad time. It was merely that I wasn’t particularly engaged in what Heidi was doing. I did manage to have a nice little convo with Spencer, and he told me that the paps follow them everywhere, to which I replied, “Yeah, me too. And by paparazzi, I mean no one.” Okay, I didn’t say that, but I was tempted to.
Well, as the shoot progressed, the paparazzi started to slowly accumulate outside the window. One thing for non-Angelenos to know is that Kitson is a very swanky boutique, and it attracts the likes of Paris Hilton and other similarly captivating personalities. It’s not uncommon for the paparazzi to linger around outside, waiting for the starlet du jour to show up. Plus, the world famous Ivy Restaurant is located just a block and a half down, and at lunchtime, it’s like TMZ heaven. The point is, once word got out that Heidi was shopping in Kitson, the shutterbugs came flocking. One by one, they started to take over the store’s windows, kind of like moths on a summer night. The slowly developing circus intrigued me, but Michelle was not as entertained. It was her first time dealing with a paparazzi swarm, and let me tell you, if she had a giant fly-swatter that would have flattened them all, she would have used it.
By the time the shoot came to an end, there were a ridiculous amount of photographers huddled outside, and not all of them were friendly. There was this one guy with a big, booming Eastern European accent who seemed to think we all owed it to him to get him his shot. At one point, some random person browsing in the store happened to be blocking a clear view of Heidi, and the photographer literally yelled into the store, “Get out of the way, you MOTHERFUCKER!” It was ridiculous.
Meanwhile, Spencer had stepped out to do some shopping of his own at some other boutique, and when he returned, the Kitson store manager handed him a $500 gift certificate for Kitson Men, the subtle implication being “We’ll give you free clothes if you give us free publicity.” Part of me enjoyed getting this intimate glimpse into the Celebrity-Retail Complex, but part of me was kind of, how do you say, MASSIVELY JEALOUS. I think I should just get my friends to follow me with cameras everywhere and see what sort of freebies I can come up with.
Well, eventually the shoot came to an end, but the adventure was far from over. Equipped with their shiny new gift certificate, Spencer and Heidi had no choice but to go to Kitson Men, which was located about three or four blocks down the street. The good news for me was that Michelle still had a few more things to go over with Speidi; so I got to tag along to an unprecedented third destination. By now, though, the paparazzi were seriously out of control. When the four of us stepped out of Kitson, I just remember coming face to face with dozens of flashes and the TMZ video camera (I know this because there’s a big label on it that says TMZ). It was, in short, very cool. Granted, if this were an everyday occurrence for me, I’m sure the charm would wear thin. But as a random alternative to whatever I’d be doing back at my apartment (possibly sleeping, most likely eating cereal), it was a total romp.
Michelle, though, was despising the mayhem. She simply didn’t understand why anyone would care about two people merely walking down the street. The entire scene was baffling to her, but that alone wasn’t enough to perturb her. No, what truly rattled Michelle was the complete disregard for personal space that the paps showed. Both of us nearly got run over by these ruthless photographers — all of whom happily cut us off several times to get a better shot of Speidi. It was kind of like being on a busy city street or a crowded concert, except about ten times more jostle-tastic. There were massive violations of personal space left and right, but for some reason, it didn’t really faze me. Maybe I was so amused by the entire scene that I simply didn’t care. Michelle on the other hand, was haaaating it. And for good reason. She was being totally shoved around, all to feed some tabloid monster that she did not want to participate in.
Just her luck that this walk took forever. At one point, we had to cross the street, and you’d have thought we were in a battlefield. One photographer literally fell over in front of Michelle, causing her to emit an alarmed yelp. Another guy pushed her forcibly to get by, and yet another nearly got run over by a car. It was, quite simply, out of control.
Once we got to the other side of this paparazzi-themed game of Frogger, we then had a whole new obstacle to deal with: BABIES. For some reason, the sidewalk seemed littered with moms taking their newborns out on a lunchtime stroll, and as you can imagine, babies + a writhing cyclone (too soon?) of photographers = potential disaster. Luckily, there appeared to be a very simple system in place to avoid any pap-on-infant mishaps. The mom would shriek “BABY!!!!!!” and then all the paparazzi would momentarily stop, yell “BABY! BABY! BABY!”, step aside to avoid the tot, and then continue with their swarm of mayhem. It was bizarrely fascinating. Kind of like nature specials about ants that work in perfect, synchronized fashion, despite all being blind.
Nevertheless, as Spencer and Heidi walked along towards the store, the photographers barked at them over and over and over again to kiss. Finally, the kids gave them what they wanted and locked lips for the cameras. What was amusing about this was that the next day, all the tabloid blogs and websites absolutely reamed Heidi and Spencer, accusing them of taking a pre-planned, publicity-seeking stroll down the street for attention, culminating in their unnecessary smooching. For once, I actually empathized with all those stars who complain about the inaccuracy of tabloids. Here was a perfectly innocuous situation: Spencer and Heidi were given a gift certificate; so, they went down the street to the store — which is a normal thing to do — and then they kissed to get the photographers to shut up. There was no grand conspiracy or ulterior motive behind it. Granted, not saying they didn’t enjoy the publicity, and yes, they could have opted not to have gone to the store, but that would have been poor form on their part with their implicit deal with Kitson (besides, they were right there. It would be silly to leave and then come back). And yes, they could have not kissed, but honestly, who cares? They’re dating. That’s what couples do. I’m not trying to sound like Mr. Speidi Defender, but I’m just saying that in this case, it was interesting watching the reality of the situation and then the subsequent interpretation by the blogosphere (not that I’m above or exempt from such twistings of the truth).
Well, the four of us finally arrived at Kitson Men, and that’s where this story kind of fizzles out. Heidi and Spencer continued to shop, the paps continued to shoot (there’s some video out there of me turning around and staring at the cameras, which is sort of funny), and I continued to quietly document this all in my head, knowing that someday it would make a nice, meaty blog post. Michelle finally wrapped up all her loose ends with Speidi, and alas, our time in the Hollywood fastlane came to an end. We left the two reality stars to do their shopping and humbly returned to our normal lives, knowing we had just experienced something truly bizarre. Ironically, the last time I had had such an intimate, overwhelming run-in with so many paparazzi, I was also standing on Robertson Boulevard. One word: Star Jones.
‘Nuff said.
To see Heidi’s episode of The Fit, click here. Sadly, I don’t think Michelle and I are visible in the background.