Fodder for Fifteen Minutes

I ALWAYS WONDERED what it would be like to be famous. Doesn’t everybody? As the saying goes: Be careful what you wish for. Last year, I lived through a brief yet awfully annoying encounter with tabloid magazines and newspapers all the way from San Diego to Sydney. Most of you have no idea who I am. For now, after the drama, I wouldn’t have it any other way. My name is Brooke Tigh. Among other things, I’m a former San Diego Magazine intern—and I’ve been given an opportunity to clear my name and set the record straight about an issue that has been haunting me.

On October 6, 2004, I met a guy named Mark Philippoussis while working at a bar in Del Mar. Not that he introduced himself with first and last name or anything, but I recognized one of his buddies he was there with, and did a little investigating. Little did I know that this tall, dark and handsome Australian was a very good professional tennis player. We shook hands. I got him a drink. And that was the end of it. Oh, if it only could’ve been that simple.

A few weeks later, I began getting calls (on my home phone!) from Australian newspapers, radio programs and tabloids. Apparently, there were rumors that Philippoussis—he’s constant tabloid fodder Down Under—was seen with a “California cutie” named Brooke. Let the games begin.

Reporters wanted to know everything that happened between us on the night in question. “Did you kiss?” No. “Did you leave together?” No. “Are you dating?” No. “Are you jealous to hear that he has been linked with Paris Hilton?” Who hasn’t? No. I never told any reporter anything like what was published. But what are tabloids for, if not to twist absolutely everything you say into something totally different?

It was written numerous times that I work as an “exotic dancer” and that I “appear on a Web site promoting the services of strippers.” Take a better look at the home page of Bad Girl Productions. The company does offer strippers for bachelor parties. But anyone can see it also hires out models for trade shows, print, fashion, stage, promotions, glamour and swimsuit work. I am featured on the “models” page. But what tabloid article wouldn’t be juicier with a stripper involved?

I’m currently on a professional dance team called Fire and Ice USA, which performs at ice hockey and sporting events— certainly not the kind of dancing the tabloids were hoping for. Reports also said I work as a professional go-go dancer. I wonder, what’s the difference between an amateur and professional go-go dancer? What a joke. Although I must admit, they were halfright about this one—years ago I did work as a go-go dancer (clothes stay on, thank you) at a San Diego nightclub called On Broadway.

So there you have it: the juicy, behind-the-scenes story about an Aussie tennis hunk and his steamy love affair with a stripper. It boils down to a short conversation between a tennis player and a woman just trying to start a career in real estate. I hope this wasn’t my 15 minutes—but if it was, it was much ado about nothing.

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