Heidi and Spencer Somehow Make 2009 Miss Universe Pageant More Absurd
It seems that Heidi and Spencer Pratt, or Speidi to the uninitiated, will be gracing the 2009 Miss Universe Pageant with their unique brand of self-centered assholishness. Heidi will “sing” her single “Body Language” from her July album Unleashed, named that because heretofore she had been caged by society, man, and it’s time to let everyone know what she thinks about … stuff. Spencer, who will do the same nothing he always does, will continue to sprout millimeters of facial hair each day and respond phototaxically to flashing paparazzi bulbs.
Since they are barred by the laws of physics from inhabiting the same space at the same time, Heidi and Spencer decided that they instead would try to inhabit all space at the same time. In a nifty Dr. Manhattan trick, you’ll see them on (and quit) every reality TV show, on every magazine cover, on every morning show, and perhaps even behind you in your mirrors. Born-again Heidi even appeared in September’s Playboy, but not naked—she says she’ll show more later, which should cause a flood of entirely justified refund claims.
So why on earth would the Miss Universe Pageant, an outfit trying to confer upon itself a little credibility, associate with this train-wreck? For a competition where 2/3 of the events involve nothing but wearing things and prancing around on stage like a dressage horse, and “well-rounded” is measured by cup size, featuring “aspiring singer” Heidi Pratt does not seem like the solution. And, oh! Look at that! Things don’t appear to be going according to plan! It seems Heidi’s missed several “song” rehearsals, and Spencer has asked that their hotel pay him to give himself skin cancer. (Note to the Atlantis Paradise Island resort: DO IT!)
Did the Miss Universe Pageant think this would go any other way? Given their track record, Speidi couldn’t attend the grand opening of a Bruster’s in Arkansas without causing a scene. Heidi would pose seductively atop a metal table then bitch about the latticed indentations on her legs, and Spencer would smear hot fudge around his mouth and say, “Look at me! I’m Lauren Conrad’s butthole!” to the Jonesboro Sun. Their antics are becoming so surreal that the next time they’re invited to a movie premiere or casino opening they should ride in on tricycles made of Twizzlers wearing four-foot tall cream-colored top-hats and demanding the concierge deliver them a solid gold Wayne Newton bobble-head.
While we may despise Speidi, we can’t blame them: if people are going to keep paying them to appear places and predictably fuck up the program, why wouldn’t they? As for the Miss Universe Pageant, at least they’ve got Flo Rida, David Guetta, and Kelly Rowland to pick up the slack. How could that go wrong?