I somehow managed to live in LA for six months without seeing a single celebrity. Actually, that's not true, I saw the brown-haired girl from Baywatch, but I didn't recognize her until someone behind me said, "Wasn't that the brown haired girl from Baywatch?" All my grandma asks when she calls is if I've seen any celebrities. That's why I decided to go straight to the source: the paparazzi, also called the paps. In this case, my friend's friend Chris, who, like David Beckham, came from Manchester to LA to carry on the fine British tradition of tabloidery. So I tagged along for one dayon a ride that turned out to be not so fast and sadly involved neither wigs nor big sunglasses, just a whole lot of waiting.
Advertisement
Noon: Down by the beach in Santa Monica we spot a photo shoot with a star van, which is a sign that someone famous might be there.
12:15 PM: Waiting for someone to come out of the van, Chris introduces me to his little black book, which is more like a big black folder that contains all the addresses of all the stars in Los Angeles. I ask why Zooey Deschanel is highlighted. Chris doesn't know but he had a dream about her, James Woods, and Gary Busey, who I myself have had long, torturous nightmares about after Celebrity Rehab the other night. In Chris's dream he was taking a picture of them, when suddenly all his paparazzi friends came and told him to "Get off it," which in pap lingo means, "Fuck you, this celeb is mine," or something.
12:30 PM: A guy finally comes out of the van but he's not famous.1:00 PM: We start the car and Chris explains that the company he works for was founded by two British guys who came to LA 15 years ago and basically made money just by reading the Hollywood Reporter and selling the stories to England. The internet wasn't really up and running back then.
Advertisement
2:00 PM: For a second we think we see Uma Thurman on Rodeo Drive but it's not her. I start to worry what will happen if we don't see any celebrities but Chris assures me that all magazines are twats and that you can sell photos without even seeing famous people. Last week when he went to an LA Galaxy game, he took pictures of fans posing with a David Beckham cardboard figure and sold them. He also sold a picture to Germany for €2,000 of a billboard with Jennifer Aniston advertising for Smartwater, which is just plain retarded.2:15 PM: Chris spots Jason Statham driving his car in the Hollywood Hills. I don't really know who he is but I'm still borderline excited because we turn around and chase the car.
2:30 PM: We gangbang Statham at Café Med. Gangbanging means that Chris isn't the only one taking pictures of him--some other paps are waiting by the café. It's only semi-action-filled and the pictures are not that interesting. Statham is just walking into the café with a brunette. I can't imagine that the pictures can sell but again Chris reassures me that all magazines are twats and that either it's going be a "Mystery Brunette" story or it will end up in one of those "the stars are just like us: they have arms" pages. Basically, you can sell anything with a famous face on it.
Advertisement
2:45 PM: We drive around Café Med and see Adrien Garnier from Entourage eating lunch, which is probably why the other paps were here in the first place. Chris snaps photos of him from the car. A little further down Sunset, we spot the Entourage set.
3:00 PM: Disguised as a tourist who's holding his girlfriend's beach bag, Chris stands on Sunset waiting for Adrian Grenier to walk from the restaurant to the set.3:15 PM: Still waiting for Adrian Grenier to come out. Chris tells me that some paps do door stepping. That's when they wait in front of a celebrity's house an entire day until they come out. But Chri s doesn't do that because it's boring and you sometimes have to pee in a bottle.3:30 PM: We walk back to the café to see if Adrian Grenier is still there. He isn't. Celebs are tricky that way.
4:00 PM: I have to pee so we stop our celebrity search so I can use the restroom. I'm starting to feel a little carsick from all the driving around.4:30 PM: We grab a late lunch and Chris tells me about the beef between the two toughest LA gangs: the red carpet photographers and the paps. Apparently the red carpet photographers think that the paps are not as legit as they are, and the paps think that the reds' job is stupid because they are all standing in the same spot getting the same picture and that there's no challenge in that, and plus, they yell a lot.5:00 PM: Back in Santa Monica, we think we see Ted Danson but it's not him. Chris is still fairly satisfied with the day because he got two sets of pictures he can sell.5:30 PM: Chris gives me a ride home and I try to hide that I am little disappointed with the Jason Statham and Adrian Grenier outcome of the day, which I don't think will impress my grandma.ANNA INGEBORG TOPSØE
