It’s no secret I worked on the questionably-successful FOX show Princes of Malibu.
What some may or may not know is that one of the Executive Producers of that show was none other than The Hills’ Spencer Pratt. These days, Pratt is consistently being vilified by the mainstream press and rag mags along with his girlfriend Heidi. While I have watched the show and question what’s real and what’s not — I cannot question the fact that Pratt has always been very smart about business and buzz. So kudos to him for that.
While Pratt was definitely a driving force behind Princes, he was also gung ho about his first Producing opportunity and there was a moment I will never forget while we were developing the show that would become The Princes of Malibu. We had been brainstorming for hours about what the show would be, had come up with a board filled with hilarious moments for the psuedo-scripted show, and the following exchange took place:
Spencer Pratt: “Guys, this is awesome! Hey, if we win an Emmy — who gets to go up and accept it?”
Another Producer: “You.”
Spencer nods, excitedly. Then, a thought:
Spencer Pratt: “You know what guys!? When we win that Emmy? I’m taking ALL OF YOU up there with me. ALL OF YOU!!”
Let no one say Spencer isn’t a team player.
It’s just too bad we never won that Emmy.
Let me ask you a simple question that requires zero education whatsoever.
That question is, “What’s the use of paper?” We’ve got garbage dumps filled up with the stuff, we’re killing trees and raping forests to create the damn things, they cut and slice our fingers open with reckless abandon and most people, upon seeing paper, find themselves sick to their stomachs with the anticipation of pending work.
That’s why, effective immediately, it’s time to boycott paper.
Just like the oil companies are forcing politicians to slow the advances that will free us from gasoline in our cars, so too are mega-companies like Staples and Office Max and printer companies like HP and Epson, so that our desperate need for paper never ends (like the Universe and its inherent infinity).
I went out on a single date in college with a girl who had a prosthetic leg.
I didn’t find out she had a prosthetic leg until after that first date became the last date. And then, all I could think about was that I wished I had given her more of a chance. That, had I dated her for longer than one instance, I might have found out that beneath those jeans was an actual, psuedo-bionic Fugitive-like prosthetic leg.
Now all I do is wish I had a friend with a prosthetic leg.
Vrooooom, vroooooom, vrooooooooom.
Sputter, sputter, cough.
Vrooooom. Sputter. Wheeze.
Sputter sputter sputter.
Vrooooom vrooooom vroooooom.
Sputter (hooh hooh hooh, screech!).
While I personally can’t agree that a bird that tweets is the greatest logo for one of the coolest sites, I have officially started Twittering. My parents, upon hearing the news, asked me if I’d seen my primary physician. My grandmother suggested I should speak loudly and put out a commanding presence instead of “nittering around.” I told my parents I’d call the doc and told my grandmother I would try to make her proud.
For the rest of you, if you’re interested in seeing what I’m Twittering, then please…be my guest.