for those who follow lifestyles of the Hollywood scene, the men on "The Hills", or just plain want something entertainment related to read, i found this article to be interesting. taken from details magazine.

MASTER OF HIS OWN CELEBRITY
Brody Jenner knows just who to screw to sit pretty on the B-list. Plus: A look at the Prince of Malibu’s tabloid-worthy ladies.
By David Amsden

spencer pratt and brody jennerspencer pratt and brody jenner

Brody Jenner knows the look. It hijacks the face of his best friend, Spencer Pratt, whenever Pratt is scheming to “build the brand of Brody.” First comes the manic twitch of the jaw, then there’s the feral lip snarl, and finally the frosty eyes that lock in on you, lit up with visions of red carpets, autograph seekers, and bulimic blondes lounging poolside. What comes out of Pratt’s mouth next is bound to be the kind of unhinged logic that he specializes in as Jenner’s “manager-slash-publicist-slash-agent-slash-stylist.”

Pratt: “Do you trust me?”

Jenner: “Of course I trust you.”

Pratt: “All right, then here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna start dating Nicole Richie. And you’re gonna get that skinny bitch to eat, all right? You are about to become The Guy Who Got Nicole Richie to Eat. Process that shit, bro. You’ll be, like, a fucking hero to America.”

nicole richie and brody jennernicole richie and brody jenner

I’m going to go out on a limb here and assume that you’ve never heard of Brody Jenner. Here are the relevant facts: He is 23. He is handsome (sparkly brown eyes, wavy brown hair, an impressive jaw) and reasonably charming. Like many other kids raised in Malibu, he has massive amounts of family money: His “ex-stepfather,” David Foster, is a music producer who has worked with artists like Whitney Houston. Jenner was once on a reality-TV show—2005’s The Princes of Malibu—which you’ve also probably never heard of, because Fox canceled it after two episodes. His father, Bruce Jenner, was an Olympic decathlete who won a gold medal in 1976—something of a Lance Armstrong in his day, but not exactly a reference point for today’s 18-to-28 demographic. A few years ago, Jenner Jr. snuck into the Playboy Mansion by pretending to be Scott Caan, son of James Caan, figuring his own surname no longer carried any clout: “After they caught me, I tried to go the ‘son of Bruce Jenner’ route, but it didn’t work.” He says this with absolutely no embarrassment.

The plan to get Nicole Ritchie to eat was devised back in August. Five months later, Jenner and Pratt are telling me about it over a $900 dinner at Mr. Chow, in Beverly Hills. Such an idea is many things—perverse, postmodern, proof that apocalypse predictors shouting nonsense on street corners are onto something—but to Jenner and Pratt, it was a business plan.

Here’s how Pratt, also 23, and the son of a “celebrity dentist,” explains it: “What does it take to be famous nowadays? Nothing! Look at Nicole. She’s on the cover of every magazine every week. And why? Because she doesn’t eat. Well, lots of girls in this country don’t eat. That’s, like, my whole philosophy with Brody—make him part of that. Like at first, when he started showing up in Us Weekly, people were all, ‘Who the hell is that?’ Now they’re starting to be like, ‘Hey, do you know who that is?’”

I wish I could tell Pratt (and you) that he’s insane, but it says a lot about the current state of pop culture that he makes even an ounce of sense. After all, I’m here, having flown across the country to meet Brody Jenner. This wouldn’t have happened if Jenner hadn’t tried to get Nicole Richie to choke down a fry. And before Richie there was Kristin Cavallari (the moneyed blonde at the center of MTV’s Laguna Beach), and after Richie there was Lauren Conrad (the moneyed blonde now on MTV’s The Hills, a Laguna Beach spin-off). That these relationships are totally contrived is the point: Manufacturing fake realities is—read slowly here—the only real dimension of Jenner’s and Pratt’s lives.

The Conrad–Jenner union was forged five months ago, a week after Jenner and Richie “broke up.” You can watch the unraveling of Conrad and Jenner’s relationship in a multi-episode arc of The Hills, a show watched by 2.5 million people weekly. Pratt was the Karl Rovian mastermind behing these “branding efforts.” And he benefited too. “Basically, I made it, like, my mission to try to go on a date with every girl on The Hills,” says the guy who will proudly tell you he made $50,000 in high school by selling a photo he took of Mary-Kate Olsen drinking at a party. Pratt ended up “falling in love” with one of the Hills girls, Heidi Montag. Their drama dominates the current season.

brody jenner and lauren conradbrody jenner and lauren conradspencer pratt and heidi montagspencer pratt and heidi montag

In the future, Andy Warhol predicted, we’d all get our 15 minutes of fame; the reality is that we’ll all be sort of famous forever. Jenner is now regularly flown to cities like Vegas and Miami because promoters believe parties will be hotter if he shows up. A personal trainer comes to his $2.4 million condo in Hollywood every afternoon to give him and his friends rooftop boxing lessons. He and Pratt have a fleet of cars (including a Rolls-Royce Phantom and a Bentley Turbo) at their disposal, paid for by Jared Najjar, a member of their entourage they call the Godfather. “He’s the only 24-year-old kid I know who has a Black Card,” Jenner says. As a believer in the Brody Brand, the Godfather, heir to a commercial-real-estate fortune, is helping finance Jenner’s “lifestyle” line, Archangel, which consists of “pieces” like a $92,000 skull-and-diamond wallet chain. Jenner and Pratt also manage a rapper, Ya Boy, who is “blowing up on MySpace.” Neither of these endeavors is generating any real income, but they are turning Jenner and Pratt into obscenely TV-worthy entities—and this, Pratt hopes, will be the income generator. They recently sold a show about Jenner’s love life to MTV.

“Let’s see where Lindsay’s at, get her up in here,” Jenner says, reaching for his BlackBerry and texting Lindsay Lohan. He is seated at a back table in a lounge called Hyde, mixing himself drinks with a $500 bottle of Grey Goose paid for by the Godfather.

Lohan texts back: She’ll be joining us in 20 minutes. Meanwhile, Joe Francis, creator of the Girls Gone Wild franchise, comes by the table to say hello. The 33-year-old Francis is a Yoda-like figure to Jenner and Pratt—someone who got rich simply by persuading girls to flash their breasts. Francis, Pratt informs me, has an estate in Mexico with a device called the “anything button” in select rooms. “You press that and you get anything you want. Anything. How incredible is that?”

A few minutes later, in a particularly bizarre pseudo-celebrity collision, Kevin Connolly, who plays Adrian Grenier’s best friend and manager on the HBO hit Entourage, stops by Jenner’s table. “What’s up?” he says. He grabs the bottle of vodka, pours himself a glass, and meanders over to a platinum blonde about a foot taller than he is. “That guy is a joke,” Pratt says with scorn. “We were Entourage before Entourage.” He’s not joking. To Pratt, the notion that someone would become famous by acting is ridiculous. “Why would anyone act,” he asks, “when they can just play themselves?”

Well, there’s this: While Jenner & Co. will spend $1,000 on drinks over the course of the next two hours, Connolly is drinking for free.

When Lohan arrives a short while later, she is ushered to a table by her bodyguard. Jenner goes over to greet her (tomorrow he will show me a text message he says is from Lohan inviting him to, of all places, Joe Francis’ Mexican estate). When he returns to the table after their brief exchange, he’s in an introspective mood. “This whole scene, this whole town—it’s all so fake,” he says, pulling me aside. “It’s like a movie set, like my life is a movie set. These people, they all think this is real, but it’s not. I wanna meet a girl who has nothing to do with L.A., a nice, normal, real girl.” For a moment, he sounds almost genuine. Then he says, “Actually, you know, that’s gonna be a component of our new MTV show—me leaving L.A. to meet a normal girl. It might be hard, though, with all the cameras.”

The house where Jenner grew up has the distinct feel of an upscale rehab center: fake stucco walls, Spanish-tile roofing, electronic fireplaces set to timers. It is almost always empty. “My mom basically lives with her boyfriend,” Jenner tells me as he picks up a pug sleeping on the couch. “Is this not the cutest thing in the world? I gave her to Kristin [Cavallari], but she never took her home.”

Two minutes away is the family’s other house—a smaller but by no means small mansion Jenner wants to show me too. His older brother lives here with his girlfriend. “How cute is this cat?” Jenner says, pointing to one lounging on a chair. “It’s a Bengal cat—have you heard of these? They cost $1,200. I gave her to Nicole [Richie], but she ended up giving her back to me.”

Admiring the cat, I come to a depressing realization: Jenner’s fake relationships are, in his heart and mind, totally real.

Later, we take a drive with Pratt in Jenner’s Mercedes G55 (MSRP: $105,275) down the Pacific Coast Highway, passing Mel Gibson’s house and eventually David Geffen’s. Pratt spends 20 minutes talking about how he plans to make a tape of himself and Heidi Montag having sex, which he’s thinking about posting online. Plunging ahead to tap the next vein of almost-stardom, he tells me I should have been at Jenner’s the other night after Hyde, at five in the morning. “Guess who showed up,” he says. “Lindsay Lohan. I’m telling you, man, she’s obsessed with Brody. She wrote him a note that says how she could cuddle with him forever. Kissed it and signed her name and everything.” As Pratt speaks, I glance at Jenner, looking for a reaction, but he shows no sign of emotion.

“Hey,” Pratt asks me, “do you think Details would publish that note, like a copy of it?”

Maybe, I tell him, if he gives it to me.

“All right, but only if I can film myself giving it to you. Is that cool?”

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