Bieber Sessions: Ekstra & disensor dari GQ Magazine.

Beliebers, mau lihat lebih banyak Ekstra & disensor dari GQ Magazine? 

Yuk, admin baru dapet info dari justinbieberzone.com.

“I spent five days in Los Angeles trying to get an audience with Justin Bieber, and there was a lot of random crap I experienced that didn’t make it into the final article for the June 2012 print edition because it was random, and in most cases, it was crap. Ah, but now we’re online, where I can post any worthless tangent I please. Here’s the best of the rest from the Bieber sessions:

• This was the first time I’ve ever profiled a celebrity for a big magazine, so I made sure to follow journalistic protocol and use a voice recorder to accurately capture everything said by Bieber and his friends. I had the voice recorder in my shirt pocket and, despite the fact that everyone at the recording studio knew I was a reporter, I still felt like an FBI informant walking around wearing a wire. I felt so, so dangerous. I desperately wanted Bieber to forget I was there and begin negotiating the sale of 30,000 kilos of heroin. Instead, I’m the one who forgot I was mic’d up for the entire four hours at the studio, so I left the recorder on when I went to go take a piss. GQ’s fact checker, who had to listen to the entire audio, was not happy about me pulling a Frank Drebin into the mic. I’m real sorry about that, Rafi. But we both know it could have been worse.
• When Bieber and I first met, we decided to play ping pong because we had nothing else to do. Bieber destroyed me—sample Bieber trash talk quote: “Get on me, bro!”—but our game never made it into the article because, in the very same issue, GQ correspondent Chris Heath profiles Michael Fassbender and also plays ping pong with him. That’s right.  “GQ: We Play Ping Pong With People.” [Editor's note: As it turned out, the ping pong match between Chris Heath and Michael Fassbender ended up getting cut from the story because of space constraints. Sorry, Drew!] 
• At one point while we were in the studio, Bieber played for me a two-minute rap by Jaden Smith, who is a friend of his. (Of course they’re friends.) I wrote in the article that Bieber is a lousy rapper, but Jaden Smith is a hundred times worse. He’s fucking AWFUL. It was torture.  Longest two minutes of my life. And the guys from West Coast Customs loved it. I think they’re so good at pretending to like shit that they’ve crossed over into genuinely liking it.
• At one point, Bieber told me that the massive gold chain he was wearing was a gift from Usher. (Apparently Usher, along with Scooter Braun, also gave Bieber a Fisker Karma, because Usher likes wasting money.) Anyway, I put that tidbit in an early draft of the article, but then Bieber’s PR lady complained. I am amazed we live in a world where shit like this matters to people. NO! WE CAN’T LET THEM KNOW THE SOURCE OF THE GOLD CHAIN! USHER’S ENTIRE GIFT-GIVING OPERATION DEPENDS ON IT!
• I walked to Bieber’s studio from my hotel in West Hollywood, a distance of four or five miles. I walked to the studio along Santa Monica Boulevard, which was a mistake. That is not a pleasant stretch of Los Angeles. It’s pretty much all Russian grocery stores, medicinal marijuana clinics, cut-rate acting studios, and vacant housing for crackies.  When I told Kuk Harrell, Bieber’s vocal producer, that I walked to the studio, he looked at me like I was the stupidest person on Earth. He was probably right.
• Harrell is also a vocal producer for Rihanna and Jennifer Lopez, and it becomes apparent when you’re in this environment why everything on the radio sounds the same. Everyone uses the same mercenary songwriters, the same producers, the same studio space—when I was there, Adam Levine was right next door—the same mixing software… The singer is almost an afterthought. After Bieber left the studio for the night, Harrell and his engineers spent several more hours culling Bieber’s ad libs and dropping them into the tracks.  Bieber didn’t even need to be present for the machinery to keep on rolling.
• One of Bieber’s crew said they could tell I wasn’t from the West Coast because I wasn’t wearing bright colored sneakers. Yeah, well, where I come from, dark blue Merrells make you HARD. Don’t fuck me with me on the mean streets of Bethesda, Md., Cali boys.
• At the end of the night, I was still trying to get as much out of Bieber as possible. So when he was leaving the studio, I decided to try and tag along to his car, just to observe the Beeb in his natural element one last time. That’s when this exchange occurred:Me: Hey Bieber, you mind if I walk you?
  Bieber: What do you mean, walk me?
  Me: I just want to walk you.
  Bieber: It’s kind of weird, bro.Can’t blame him there. It was so weird. His PR lady stepped in and told me my time was up.
• Bieber’s PR lady also tried to tell me with a straight face that Justin wasn’t “media-trained.” Oh, of course not. He’s only been world famous for four fucking years, lady. I’m sure he’s perfectly spontaneous at all times in the presence of reporters.
• Bieber’s people were also very proud that Bieber tweets on his own. They tried to present this as a risky move—you never know what he might say!—but I’m pretty sure their fears are unfounded. I assure you that you will not find a duller Twitter feed:”Wow. Airport was crazy getting to London! All worth it for my beliebers. Some people always tryna ruin it for the fans. Not today Swaggy.”You won’t catch Bieber linking to Tubgirl anytime soon. (NOTE: Do not Google “Tubgirl.”)
• One day, I went to this place called Millions of Milkshakes to get a milkshake. Never, ever go to this place. It’s horrible. The place was larded with HDTVs all re-running the same clip of the owner hanging out with Kim Kardashian and promoting the very store you’re in, over and over again. When I was there, the computer was busted, and the mouth-breather clerk just stood there like an idiot waiting for it to magically start working again, with Kardashian prattling away in the background like the vacant bobblehead that she is. My advice: never go to Millions of Milkshakes.
• But do go to Pinches Tacos. Oh, Pinches Tacos. You complete me. They even had tongue tacos. Mmmmmm… tongue tacos. THEY TASTE YOU WHILE YOU TASTE THEM!
• My extended stay in LA put a great deal of stress on my wife, who was seven months pregnant at the time. A week after I got home, she went into premature labor, which resulted in my son being born way too early and scaring the piss out of us. Since that day, we have joked that Bieber was the one to blame for the complications.  You’re totally paying my NICU bill, Bieber. I saw your van. You can afford it.”