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But they’ve never regained that level of popularity they had on and see two people going through the motions, stirring up drama not because they want to necessarily, but because they need to.“Mercenaries is pretty much what we are,” Spencer tells me with a certain resignation. That keeps the bills paid.”Spencer and Heidi live in Carpinteria, Calif., a small, tucked-away town near Santa Barbara.The wall is a perfect distillation of Spencer and Heidi’s seeming acceptance of all publicity, whether good or bad. They’re the kind of eyes that only someone like him can have—charming and entrancing, but with an underlying sense of potential chaos. As does the rest of his body—more than once over the course of seven hours, Spencer has to take his shirt off to cool down.They have a different mindset than you, or rather, the people writing them hate-tweets every day, would think. Heidi has a much less threatening presence and in person she looks exactly like she looks in magazines or on the cover of her book.She slips at first, but makes it up there, and starts whipping her blonde hair around and grinding on the Denali from her knees.A middle-aged female from the small, quiet California neighborhood jogs by, snapping the three of us out of this surreal moment, and prompting Heidi to slink off the SUV and sprint back towards their house.They’re regulars everywhere they go in town—Lucky Llama, the cafe where Spencer goes every morning, lets him go behind the counter to fix himself coffee; the brothers who work at Delgado’s, a Mexican restaurant less than a minute away from the couple’s house, talk to Spencer and Heidi like they’re old friends, not famous customers.Spencer and Heidi rarely visit the Hills that they used to roam, and seem thankful for the tranquility offered by living two hours outside of Los Angeles.
And she certainly seems comfortable in her own skin, something that couldn’t be said five years ago.
She then, in the words of Flo Rida, gets low, clearly a master of all white girl club moves.
Heidi turns towards the car, continuing her dance/gyrations—at this point Spencer’s given up on honking—and just as I think to myself, “This is really similar to that scene in where Cameron Diaz has sex with a Ferrari,” Heidi begins to climb onto the hood of the SUV.
It’s a nice, unassuming property, a true retreat lacking any signs that would indicate that it’s housing the most hated couple in television history.
The first thing you see upon entering the house is a customized LEGO-rendered portrait of the cover of the book Spencer and Heidi wrote together, .