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Our latest prank was Celebrity Gutters, a company devoted to cleaning and protecting the rain gutters and downspouts of celebrities. With my fellow entrepreneur and comedian Marc Horowitz, we embarked on the first step of building our new business: finding out where celebrities live. Fortunately, this was easy.  "Poor man's paparazzi" Although you can find "Star Maps" being sold on every street corner in Los Angeles, it's easier to book a ride on Starline Tours, which will drive you right past celebrity homes. It's perfect for obsessed fans and stalkers, and completely legal.  "Gutter cleaners to the stars" We boarded the bus to find a dozen Midwestern tourists listening to our tour guide, Richard, as he gave the pre-tour warmup. "Does anyone know who played Jan in the Brady Bunch movies?" he asked. "EVE PLUMB!" I shouted, eager to show my knowledge of celebrities. "No, the movies," he corrected. "Not the TV show." "EVE PLUMB!" I reiterated. "No, a woman named Jennifer Cox," said Richard, eyeing our Celebrity Gutters uniforms suspiciously. We were already wrecking his mojo. "This is me and Jennifer Cox." He held up a picture. "Great! Are we going to visit Jennifer Cox's home?" asked Marc. "No," admitted Richard. "I'm not sure where she lives."  We think he just wanted to show us that he had physically lifted Jennifer Cox. Richard started driving toward the Hollywood Hills, pointing out landmarks like the hotel where Pretty Woman was filmed. "Nice gutter work," Marc pointed out to the tour bus. "Great condition." "What do you guys do?" asked Richard, trying to maintain control of the tour. "Celebrity gutters," I answered. "Cleaning, installation, repair, protection." "Just celebrities?" "Just celebrities." "Do you do gutters of people who aren't celebrities?" "Nope," replied Marc. "That's how we maintain our premium pricing. Celebrities only. We're like the Gucci of gutters." "Really?" asked our guide. "I'll give you $5 million to clean my gutters." We remained silent. We could not be bought.  "Keep your eyes peeled ... you might see Bob Barker mowing his lawn" We drove by the home of William H. Macy. "Can we stop to check out his gutters?" I asked. "I'm not allowed to let you out of the bus," replied Richard. "We've had some problems in the past." It was hard for me to believe that there would be any problems with a service that provided crazed fans curbside service to celebrity homes. "That's all right," I said, pulling out a GPS unit and marking the spot. "We can come back later." "And here's the home of Alan Hale's widow," Richard continued, eyeing my GPS uneasily. "The wife of The Skipper, from Gilligan's Island! Does that one meet your criteria, fellows?" "No," Marc said flatly. "She's not a celebrity." I marked her home on the GPS anyway.  "A three-hour tour ... a three-hour tour" "Here's the home of Dr. Phil..." Richard said, until Marc and I interrupted him loudly. "Gorgeous gutterwork around the outside of the rotunda," I pointed out. "Perfectly round gutters," said Marc. "Very difficult to install." "What's the cross street?" I asked the Midwestern tourists, making notes of Dr. Phil's address. "Lexington Road," Marc called out. "Dr. Phil lives on Lexington Road."  "This house needs some tough love" The bigger the celebrity, the more walled-off and fortresslike the home. Lawrence Fishburne's house is guarded by a 15-foot stone wall, while Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes own a mansion that is not visible from street level. They may actually live in space. Rapper Bow Wow, on the other hand, lives at the intersection of two busy streets in Beverly Hills, where you could see a drunken Lindsay Lohan accidentally driving onto his front lawn.  "Not so Li'l any more" The eeriest stop on the tour was the home where Michael Jackson died, a mansion that he was renting for a reported $100,000 a month. "Wow." Marc whistled loudly. "Were utilities included?" "That I don't know," replied Richard. "How about gutter cleaning?" I asked. "That I don't know either." Marc and I were the only ones asking questions. The rest of the bus was absolutely silent. It was both uncomfortable and hilarious, like watching a clown being waterboarded.    "The Michael Jackson Makeshift Memorial" As the tour wound down, we drove past Charlize Theron's home, which was being renovated. "Look, fellas!" said Richard. "Maybe you guys could go in and introduce yourselves." "Excellent idea," I said, making note on my GPS. "We're at the intersection of..." I repeated the street names very loudly, writing them down on my clipboard. Richard shot a worried glance back at us. He knew something was wrong, but he couldn't quite figure out what it was. Back in the Starline parking lot, we gave Richard a generous tip, thanking him for his invaluable information. "Sure," he said, still eyeing us warily. "Good luck with your business." "Oh, we don't need luck," said Marc. "When you've got a service like ours, it sells itself." Richard stared at our Celebrity Gutters logos, which were made of paper and crudely glued to our jumpsuits. Marc and I strolled out to the Hollywood Walk of Fame, comparing notes. "You know," I said, "Richard could have been making up that entire tour." "Only one way to find out," said Marc. | ||||||||||||
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