After David Letterman totally bashed Spencer Pratt I thought and hoped that maybe Spencer and Heidi would go away for awhile. A LONG while. But my dreams were crushed when Heidiwood, her new clothing line came out. I mean really? Who would want to look like that girl after her romp on the beach in that terrible music video, the skimpy bikini and the bad boob job? Heidiwood is an Anchor Blue line sold at Wet Seal. It’s pretty boring and cheap looking if you ask me and has some hideous animal prints. Bad designs all around. Who does she think she is, Lauren Conrad? Maybe she should actually go to fashion school and not just use her crappy “celebrity” status. At least she has one fan! .. Spencer Pratt the douche-iest man in Hollywood!

P.S. Your boyfriend is a MAJOR tool.

Here’s an example of Heidiwood. Hookers get fitted!

Yesterday I posed something on Spencer Pratt getting PWND by David Letterman.  Well, while doing follow up research (looking for naked pics of Heidi Montag), I found that the website Radar Online mistakenly gave him his own advice column.  This shit is priceless, especially when you know how much of a pompus ass he is beforehand.

Question:  Spencer, how do you deal with weak people and haters?

Answer:

With weak people, you can only try to give them confidence and pump them up. To be honest, you don’t need them around you. I try to put myself around really strong people. Haters you should love. Hatred stems from jealousy at some point. If people aren’t hating on you, they don’t care, and if they don’t care, that means you’re not doing anything right. I love my haters. I don’t hate them back at all. You can turn so many haters around once they meet you. I’m like, “Thanks, I get it, I’m an idiot,” and they’re like, “Woo! He’s an idiot! He’s so cool!” I flipped a couple haters at Benihana just last night.

Spencer Pratt: flippin haters at Benihanas since last night.  Word.

yeah, I’m not even going to pretend I know who Kendal Sheppard is because even if I did have cable, I wouldn’t watch MTV’s Road Rules. In fact, the entirety of Reality TV can suck it. However, I don’t mind looking at her picture for a second:

But really, anyone who submits themselves to reality TV gets exactly what they deserve. Such as a total douche shithead babby daddy. Let’s get a load of him, too.
(http://tampa.newszzle.com/baby-daddy-drama/)
What a bag! In an excellently played out move, Ms. Sheppard aired their dirty laundry and criticized her EX via….wait for it……wait for it…….

Her MYSPACE PAGE! Good move. Read all about it here. Or don’t because it’s a complete and utter waste of your time.

Maybe, in the end, they deserve each other. Either way, writing about this just lost me an IQ point.

Yeah, I know he put up 49 points and 10 assists in Game 2 against the Nuggets. Yeah, I know he’s going to win MVP. But goddamn, couldn’t Kobe Bryant be just a little bit less annoying? Every time he pops his jersey in self-righteous exaltation I cant help but cringe and shout at the television. Can’t we leave the collar-pop tactics to high schoolers? I’m not alone in this sentiment, am I?

(this is a long post, I know, kiss of death for a blog. But just go with it, alright?)

Ice Cube was sitting in the lobby when James Barone and I returned to the Four Seasons Hotel. We had failed miserably at finding an after-party with booze, and resigned ourselves to just chill in the room. After a delicious $35 pizza, James was getting a bit stir crazy, so we decided to venture on down to the dock on the river behind our hotel for a bit.

There were four people already there, and it being a small dock, they invited us into their conversation. Nice young British folk…well, that is, James from Does It Offend You, Yeah? and Jill were great peeps, their two friends were respectively indifferent and a bit douche-y. Keeping true to James’ band’s name, the order of the evening was saying affably rude things to one another. We chatted politics and race relations, cracking wise and calling each other out for our countries’ respective blemishes. It didn’t hurt that Brit James was ornery and bristlingly charming. And apart from being smart as a whip and wicked funny, Jill was incredibly gorgeous. Quite a pair of legs there.

Synthesis James was quiet for the most part, interjecting comments here and there; myself, I tend to be more talkative, and of course I was witty as all get-up. We chatted it up, their friend called me “pedantic,” I told him he’s “a bit of a cunt,” it’s pretty good-natured ribbing all around. After bumming a few of their cigarettes (I relished using the term ‘fag’ in the British sense of the term), another couple wandered over to the dock and asked if they could join us. They introduced themselves, common ‘merican names that I couldn’t quite hear. The Brits recognized the dude from the night before and our group grew to six music geeks, smoking and drinking wine at 4 in the morning.

I know the recent arrival from somewhere. But there are only about a dozen man archetypes here. You can’t throw a rock without hitting some bald, skinny white dude with glasses at SXSW. He’s cool and low-key, and says a few funny, self-deprecating things (“humor is not my strong suit”) before going into a story about how earlier he was interviewing Steve Jones from the Sex Pistols for a radio show. Jones is apparently a world-class whistler (“with theremin-like vibrato”). During their conversation Jones mentioned off-hand that “Hitler wasn’t really that bad a guy.” Then he played a blues song. Pretty weird/funny story. At this point I start to think to myself, “You know, come to think of it, glasses-bald dude looks incredibly like Moby.”

Yep. It’s totally Moby.

As it turns out, Moby is a really, really nice guy. Smart, too. Some people talk a lot of shit about Moby, about how he’s a wussy, a vegan weakling, or whatever. I say fuck that. Moby is down. Way down. I exchanged few words with him as he sat across from me in the circle, but he was cool, man. Still don’t care for his music much, but cheers to him anyway.

I sensed that James Barone was getting antsy and ready to leave, so we got up, and I wished them a good night: “Alright, I’m turning in. It was really nice to meet all of you…” I paused, looked at the douchy-dude. “Except you. You’re a bit iffy.” We left to the sound of laughter and the smell of wafting smoke.