Another World - That's Hollywood
Now you get the full cliché-program. I am almost ashamed to tell, cause it's so not me. :-) I was thrown in at the deep end and these are some crazy stories that recently happened. So I'll just go for it now.
First I met Andrew, Ben, Greg and Adam. Awesome guys. The first one a movie producer, the second one a guitar-guy (when I hear Milow now... it's so Ben!), Greg (i looove him, funniest guy ever. We did a convertible car race on Sunset Boulevard against Andrews ride. Which sucked.), and the last one... I don't know what Adam does actually. Nevermind.
These four guys became my party crowd, we hung out together almost every Friday to Sunday, I spent a lot of weekends in Hollywood, staying on the corner to Sunset Blvd, uphill street, right where "the area" begins. And here we go:
Lauren Conrad is the neighbour. She is beautiful and extremely nice, but I mostly envy her for her small, but awesome house (2,2 Mio.). And she's not even artistic. She just did this crappy thing on MTV for like 100,000 bucks an episode. (I point out, an EPISODE. For asking "So what did you do last weekend, Heidi?" I go nuts...). I could name twenty more persons now that I spotted jogging, eating fatty food at KFC and even spitting in the corner, but that would go beyond the scope.
Stick-thin Lindsay Lohan sniffing coce at Chateau Marmont where we hung out most late Saturday nights was already enough, finally destroying my former idol-picture of her. So much for clean. She's a wreck. Poor girl.)
We actually sat at Burger King, it was Academy Awards' night and Ed Hardy head Christian Audigier himself at the table right next to us, outside his 800,000 $ Maybach. Would have loved to throw my burger at his (typical puke-design, so wouldn't even have looked different with the whopper on it) shirt for polluting all of Europe with the crap every douchebag wears over there.
And yes, I have been to the Academy Awards. We got press tickets that allowed access right to the red carpet and aswell to the afterparty, powered by Vanity Fair. Huge party with Muse playing live, was an awesome and fun event.
A funny thing was a private house party in the Hills. Private house party. So so. Ben was invited, so well, all the bunch of people including me joined and we drove all the zigzag way up. [You're a little dizzy in the end, so the curves actually become dangerous after a while].
The owner and Mr. Partymaker himself was actually Kevin Federline, K-Fat, chunky Mr. Nobody once married to a well-known bubblegum pop princess. And. It. Was. So. Ridiculous. The house was the typical MTV-Cribs thing with all the BlingBling and view all over the city (no need to say where the money comes from), but the joke is that this fucker actually does nothing. He is nice and polite, but a total jerk, he doesn't even work, he just gets the divorce's cash and lives. Yeah. That's Hollywood. Plenty of them in this town, it stinks of money.
Another awesome thing: Nice girls I met there (skinny³, talking to them on the terrace. I am hungry, there is a buffet inside. The girls staring inside, too. Me: "Let's go in and get some food?" - Scary look at each other. And then - watch out now! - the question of the century: "Do you eat?" My temper went into nirvana, I had to pull myself together so hard, but I couldn't resist almost crying of laughter. "What?!" - "Do you EAT actually? I don't. I just do liquid food. There is only carbs inside there. I don't want to gain weight, I need that job or they'll replace me."
Yeah, holy crap, heaven forbid!!! Let them bones alone and went inside. So I finally ended up being the only one female getting some Sushi (I am gonna be so fat tomorrow!) :-) Well, seems like I'm not made for this, I am still a woman.
Again: This is Hollywood. It's so insane, so unreal and so shameless cliché-true how you almost can't believe it, but where else in the world when not there?
What really fascinates me is how close the urban world lays to the "other" world. There can be a normal grocery store, ten meter further Jay-Z celebrates his birthday. You see a poor Mexican immigrant mother trying to bring her three children with enough food through the day, drive up the hill one minute and you know where Paris Hilton has her 40 m² wardrobe. Life is unfair, isn't it.
And all the native L.A. people are so used to this, used to living in the center of where all the movies are made in their neighbourhood, grew up in places the world talks about. But there's so much behind that you can't see from the outside. Get thrown right into it and you see how beautiful and scary it is.
I guess, this is what makes the addictive magic about Los Angeles - as the line between these colliding worlds is so thin, you can't almost escape from it, once you've crossed it. So sweet, but so dangerous.
Mister Michael Stipe once used beautiful lyrics I never understood before.
That's sugar cane, that tasted good
Now I get it.