I feel for you...

The Factory. Robertson. West Hollywood. Early Thursday Morning. Sometime between 2 and 3 a.m.

"So okay...let's do this."
"Santa Monica or this way" [points towards Melrose]
"That way."
"Wait, wait, wait. Slow down. Stop. We just interacted with them. We don't want them to think we are following them or something"
"Right. Right."

Pause.
Continue.
Melrose. Robertson.

You ever seen a fight start from a distance.

You know, when the guy or girl throwing the punch comes out of nowhere to punch their "opponent" in the face.

Yeah....it was like that.

Except he had a camera.

An expensive camera.

And he left his engine running with the door open.

DING...DING...DING...

"CARSON!"

"CARSON!"

"Monorail! Monorail!": Oh my god it's Carson Daly. Carson Daly. What? Huh? -Says those who stand around.

But soon the Carson talk is gone, and more paps have arrived and more people are stopping in their tracks.

ROB says: hey let's get out of here, prompting Dave to grab his arm and say no, this is kind of awesome to watch up close.

And it is, for now before us sits a black Surbaban SUV. Tinted windows except for the driver and his passenger who earlier asked for directions from the crowd.

Bad move.

"Monorail! Monorail!": It's Britney Spears! Britney! Britney! Oh my God! Roll down your windows! Let us see you.

This goes on for nearly thirty minutes. Somebody got close enough to see.

Window never goes down. Never really see her face.

And the car don't move.

Shit, the car can't move.

This is sad.

Sure the few papparazzi grew like whoa and were manageable, but now we got camera phones, curious gays, and drunkenedess galore.

Poor, poor Britney.

There has to be about 20-30 people directly in front of the car, and I ain't even got time to count the peeps on the sides all up in the windows. [You know with the whole being lifted and tired and hungry]

"Bump this. Enough. Let's bounce."

And off to Norms we go!*...

Eventually the crowd lets the SUV through, but we still don't know for sure if it was Britney's ride, but I am pretty sure it was. And let me say this: I feel for the girl and all celebrities, at least at that moment. Seeing that shit on TV or TMZ is one thing, but watching a girl sit in her car, motionless with the motor running for nearly 45 minutes cause 25-30 people are all up in her grill [literally. ain't being "urban" this time] unable to get to the fun that we just lost ourselves in was pretty sad.

Damn.

Guess it is hard out there for a pimp...








*Norms. Turket Burger. Seemed like a good idea at the time.