Paris Hilton, heiress to the multimillion dollar Hilton fortune, and Nicole Ritchie, daughter of singer Lionel Ritchie, obviously are bored with their lavish lifestyles. I am sure it gets old – all the shopping sprees on daddy’s dime, driving around in your Porsche or limo, wearing runway fashions, buying all the Manolos you could ever want. I mean, really… who wouldn’t tire of it? So in order to knock the boredom and find something fun to do, Paris and Nicole decided to go live the simple life. On a farm. In Arkansas. And have people tape it just for kicks. Paris clearly already has an affinity for being taped; however, this time she thought she would leave it to the professionals. Better quality, you know? (ok, ok… that is the one and only jab I will take at her amateur porn career. Just couldn’t let it lie. Or is it lay? A good lie or a hard lay? Hmm… let’s ask Paris. Seriously, that was the last one.)
“The Simple Life” premiered with Paris and Nicole answering questions from the media about why they are choosing to do the show and what their friends think. In unison, the pair says, “They think we can’t do it.” For dramatic effect, Nicole adds, “F**k them. We can do anything!” My guess is they should have listened to their friends.
Before they jet set to Arkansas, Nicole, Paris, and Paris’s way overdressed Chihuahua, Tinkerbell, have one last shopping trip where they splurge on $2,000 “farm” shoes, an $800 Britney Spears cap, $250 shades and a $1,500 dog carrier for Tink among other things.
The day ends with a group of 100 of Paris and Nicole’s closest friends and family gathering at the Hilton house for a last hoorah. Paris and Nicole make an entrance, in what Paris’ aunt claims is true Paris fashion – from a helicopter with a pink door on which their names are painted. As they climb out of the copter, Paris’ very short skirt flies up revealing that she does indeed wear panties. After some drinking and speech making from Daddy Warbucks and Paris, the party continues, but we don’t get to see it.
The next thing we see is Paris and Nicole in the limo with the butler banging on the back window, requesting cell phones, credit cards and cash from the girls, which they begrudgingly give up. Paris’ aunt let us know that she would rather be without food for 5 weeks than her cell phone. It’s good to know that this group has got their priorities straight.
From limo to Lear jet, the girls are whisked away to an unknown destination. Wishing for Europe, they instead land in a place where the houses seem to be spaced 50 miles apart. Departing the plane, Nicole asks, “Where the hell am I?” Oh, let me tell you, Nicole… you are in Altus, Arkansas, in God’s country, in the land of the Ozarks – and no, it was not named after the bottled water.
At the end of the runway sits a blue Ford pickup with the doors swung wide open and a note for the girls apologizing that the Ledings (the family they are staying with) couldn’t be there to greet them. Along with the note is a map of how to get from the airport to the farm. Paris is driving and we soon find out that she isn’t good with a map, Nicole has a terrible back seat driving problem and the truck does not go into reverse and squeals VERY loudly when it’s driving forward.
The girls arrive at the Leding farm and are greeted by the entire clan: Grandma Curly and Grandpa Richard, their son, Albert, and his wife, Janet, and two of their sons – 19 year old Justin and 4 year old Braxton. Janet tells the girls that Cayne would have been there to welcome them, too, but had a track meet. Oddly, Nicole blurts out, “How old is Cayne?” as if she’s trying to figure out if doing Cayne would be legal. Skeptically, Janet says, “He’s 15.” Nicole and Paris giggle, as if 15 isn’t too young at all.
The family stares at Nicole and Paris as if they are circus freaks. And they continue staring silently for quite some time, while the girls awkwardly shift their weight from the right stiletto to the left. They lead Nicole and Paris to their room, which appears to be a built on porch with a well in the middle. Janet tells them to watch their heels in the well grate, which prompts Paris to ask, “What’s a well?” Janet replies, “It’s where you get water.” My guess is that Paris is playing dumb a la Jessica Simpson in order to get herself an ABC sitcom, too.
In confessionals, the Leding family talks about how skimpy Paris and Nicole’s clothes are. And how high their heels are. And how much luggage they brought. The Ledings are not impressed, but despite editing, my guess is that 19 year old Justin is trying to invent new ways to hide the fact that he’s sporting wood.
Paris and Nicole change out of their couture and into their best farm casual. Albert sends them to the grocery store with $50 bucks and a shopping list. At the top of the list is an Arkansas staple – pig’s feet. Hearing Paris say it out loud absolutely cracks me up. Her emphasis is on the feet – pig’s feet. Pig’s FEET. The girls roll their basket through the store, stocking it with chips and juice, etc., and after the cashier finishes checking their items, he says, “That will be $65 and change.” Paris hands him the $50 and looks away. She says, “That’s all we have.” And Nicole adds, “Can’t we just have it??” The cashier says, “No you can’t just have it. This isn’t a soup kitchen.” The girls take out a few items that they had added which weren’t on the list, then throw the groceries into the back of the truck and speed back to the farm.
They drive up to Grandma Curly sitting out at a bench with a pile of dead chickens. She beckons the girls to come help her pluck them to which they toss out an “Ewww…….NO!” and head for the house. As they walk away, we are taunted with Paris’ buttcrack as her jeans are superlow rise and are basically down around her knees. They join Braxton on the couch and he begins to tell them how the whole family is filled with chicken killers, when Curly scoots into the room. She asks the girls to come help her pluck them for dinner and again they say no – that dead animals make them want to vomit. My guess is they don’t tell waiters at 5 star restaurants that they want to vomit when they are served their filet mignon, but hey… I do have to sympathize in that I wouldn’t have been able to pluck the damn chickens either.
After Curly and the gang of chicken killers finish plucking and ripping the feet from the poor chickens, it’s dinner time! The whole group is sitting together at the table not saying one word when Braxton blurts out, “This chicken tastes good.” For some reason this breaks the tension and allows Nicole to ask, “So, do you guys hang out at Wal-Mart?” Huh?!! Seriously, is that a myth going around about us Southerners? Do you Yankees and Canadians and all you in the middle really think that we hang out at Wal-Mart? To this, the lovely and brilliant Jessica Simpson, errr… I mean, Paris Hilton asks, “What’s Wal-Mart? Do they sell wall stuff there?” Dinner is over.
The girls head back to their bedroom and find that it is filled with bugs and beetles and ticks! Oh my! Braxton barges in, flyswatters blazing and kills them all. Later, Nicole and Paris head to the front stoop of the house and sit with Justin. They ask him what he does for fun. Instead of admitting on camera what we all know a good Arkansas country boy does (drinking beer and getting laid in the back of his truck), he instead shrugs and says, “Nothing” and excuses himself to get his coat.
When he gets up, Nicole and Paris both say, “He’s sweet.” Nicole then adds, “He’s cute.” I wonder if this is code for “I saw him first! Hands off, Beyotch!” But Nicole, who has been very kind and considerate since arriving at the Leding farm shows us all that she can share as she says to Paris, “We should have a threesome with him. Let’s give him something!” They laugh it off and Justin returns with the same blank stare he had when he left. Oh if he only knew….
Tune in tonight for another episode of “The Simple Life” and hurry back to the FoRT for an awesome recap of tonight’s episode by SnowFlakeGirl!
Y’all come back now. Y’hear?
For questions, comments, Paris’ mom’s credit card number, please feel free to email me at firstname.lastname@example.org.