Simple Life 2, Ep. 3: Bare Naked Ladies & Gentlemen, May I Have Your Attention Please
Feel free to get in the mood for this week’s recap by slipping into something more comfortable—say, your birthday suit, because this week Paris and Nicole end up at a nudist resort, where they get in touch with their bodies and learn to love themselves (a lesson Paris seems to have no problem with whatsoever). But that’s not before sticking their hands into dirty toilets and hitting a fast food joint for some grub—well, not necessarily in that order.
Have It Your Way
Nicole whines about being hungry. Paris, who amazingly has turned out to be the pragmatic one so far on this road trip, points out that they “only have, like, three dollars.” Nicole doesn’t care, and demands that Paris stop anyway. The first place they find (or that paid for product placement, anyway) is good ol’ Burger King. See, it must be classy, as it declares that it is food for royalty by its very name.
Unable to negotiate the truck and trailer through the drive-thru, the girls give up and go inside. At the counter they order a gang of food, including but not limited to: a Tender Crisp Chicken Sandwich, a Sourdough Bacon Cheeseburger, a Chicken Whopper, two Crispy Tacos, French Fries, a Dutch Apple Pie, and a Cherry Icee. The total comes out to $22.03, which is not a huge amount, but let’s face it, at BK this purchases enough food to feed an entire trailer’s worth of family, from parents to kids to toothless great aunt Sophie (who enjoys the milkshakes the most).
The girls stall payment by rooting through their (matching pink Chanel) purses. “I’ll be right back,” Paris says, sucking on her Icee, and tromps out to the truck to hunt down some cash. Nicole stays in the restaurant, and as the food comes out, she begins to scarf it down, standing right there at the counter, as the employees look at her, aghast. As grotesque a sight as it was, you can’t accuse Nicole of being completely uncouth, however, as she did hold a half-eaten burger up to the cashier’s face and offered him a bite.
Paris comes back with money all right; she dumps a handful of coins into Nicole’s hand that looks barely enough to cover her drink. When Nicole claims that she knows where the money is and leaves Paris at the counter (not without first slyly tucking some food under her arm), I have a feeling this is a “two-man con” and that this road trip is starting to resemble a hot pink version of Gaiman’s American Gods.
Paris punches her straw into a second drink, and asks the man behind the counter for a "salad to go,” leading me to wonder for a split second if all the previous food was just for Nicole! Paris gnaws idly on a French fry, and says sweetly to the cashier, “I love the fries here, they’re good.” Meanwhile, Nicole is in the truck going to frickin’ town on a Whopper and not looking so much like she’s concerned about any money.
Nicole finally returns, and spills some change into the cashier’s hand saying, “We don’t have enough money, so can we just give this back to you?” She gestures at the food that’s been rummaged through on the counter. By now the manager has come out, looking very grave, and says, “You’re joking right?” He points out that one of the sandwiches has bite taken out of it. “You gave it me like this,” Nicole claims, with a straight face. Paris laughs, but the manager is not amused at all, and insists they find a way to pay for the food.
They go begging again, and manage to get the rest of what they owe from an abashed-looking young man, who parts with his cash like every chump at any strip club at any time of any day—simply because he feels like it might give him the slightest chance to sleep with these hot girls. You can see it all over his face. And just like the chump in the gentlemen’s club, in truth, he has ZERO chance at getting the goods.
Nicole and Paris (toting the remains of her salad) leave Burker King triumphantly. “That was fun, we got away with it,” Nicole says as they walk off. “As usual,” Paris adds, congratulating themselves on their cleverness. See? Who says blondes are dumb? Inside, the manager shakes his head over the fact that they left not only their sunglasses but also their keys.
Too Caliente To Handle
Back on the road, the girls ponder their cash situation. “We are broke,” Nicole laments, “I’ll strip, do anything.” That’s what I’ve been screaming since episode one, sister! Evening approaches, and the girls are looking for their next stop, a place called “Caliente.” “Sounds like a strip club,” Paris guesses—and again, I see a missed opportunity here. Why not give these girls a job they might actually be good at and that the viewing audience might actually enjoy watching? Just make these gals shake their moneymakers for dough.
They pull into a complex with RV’s, trailers, and casitas and flag down an old man to ask him where “the sexy club is” and if he’ll be attending. See, they already know how to work a man over. He points out where they need to go, but adds, “I don’t know whether you’re aware of this, but this a nudist facility,” and adding helpfully, “You may feel like a referee at yoyo match.”
The next day, the girls awake and take a look outside. Their peaceful day is interrupted by the sight of a naked man riding a bicycle. How do you ride a bicycle naked?!! (Very carefully, I suppose.) “This is not how I wanted to wake up,” Paris deadpans, as we watch a montage of all the naked people around the resort, around the pool, strolling, lounging, riding on scooters (!). For those of you who are wondering how they were able to get away with airing all this nudity, FOX was beat censors by covering peoples’ naughty bits with big happy face smileys, and female boobies are pixellated while male boobies are most unfortunately not. Also, I hate to disabuse anyone of their fantasies of a nudist resort as being filled with fine, tight, young nekkid bodies playing volleyball in the bright sunshine—let’s just say that the majority of Caliente’s denizens seemed to be old, flabby, floppy and (in some cases) quite hairy.
The girls are looking for a place to shower. They ask around and are told that there are outdoor showers. “Everyone watches us shower?” Nicole asks. “Yes,” one woman, in her 50s or possibly 60s answers. “This is sort of that kind of place,” a man old enough to be my grandpa tells her (shudder). The girls decide to see if one of their friendly neighbors will let them in to shower, and they do find one lady who lets them come in. The girls retreat to the bathroom together, then emerge freshly-scrubbed and clad in nothing but towels while they meet the rest of the family.
They ask an older man, again looking to be in at least his 60s, how long they’ve been at living at the nudist resort. Proudly wearing a Caliente t-shirt, the old man tells them they’ve been there 15 months. Nicole asks what made them want to be come nudists, and the old man answers, “When I was in the navy all of a sudden I’m taking a shower with 200 other naked men and it just felt wonderful...And when I got out the navy, I just became a nudist” “That’s hot,” Nicole commends him. As if the old sailor’s story were not disturbing enough, he walks them outside and sends them away with a wave—a gesture that would be sweet, if we didn’t notice the fact that he is DOING IT PANTSLESS. That’s right, his Caliente shirt is on, but there is nothing below the belt other than a big, yellow smiley face. “Was that absolutely necessary for him to walk outside?” Nicole asks Paris under her breath. “Bottomless!” Paris giggles.
Maid in America
The girls arrive to their job late, of course. When they first meet their boss, general manager Tom Landers, he is seated, in a big cushy lounge chair in what looks to be the one of the bars of Caliente resort. He is, naturally, nude but wearing a hat and huge, gaudy necklace of some sort. That’s what kills me, when these people who are supposed to be nude still bother to accessorize. Why, dear God, why?
All around people are seated on barstools, or leaning over counters, pixellated and smiley-faced. Tom, god bless him, is fleshy enough that, with a tricky camera angles, his own old-man-spread helps cover up his naughty bits (therefore no need for any smileys). When Nicole and Paris sit down opposite Tom, we see that behind them is a restaurant where dozens of pixellated folk are happily chowing down on their lunches.
Tom lays down some ground rules: no staring, no laughing, no making guests feel uncomfortable. How about puking, Tom? What are the restrictions on that? Nicole asks if people “have sex out here.” He answers yes, of course they do on the resort, but Nicole gestures with her eyes that she means “here” like on the very couch where for the first time she and Paris actually look overdressed. Tom starts to get punchy with Nicole’s line of questioning, saying that there is no sex out in public, and furthermore, “one of the big rules here is that everyone at the resort has to sit on a towel.” Ew, just ew to infinity.
Tom says that they have a full house and will need all the help they can get from the two girls. Have you not seen or heard anything about season one, mister? “I’m sure you’ve seen a lot of hotels all around the world, now you’re gonna find out what it’s like to actually clean a room,” he says brusquely, then dismisses them to go change into their uniforms.
In the bathroom, the girls marvel at the “cheap dresses” they are given, which they also feel are “so big and ugly.” They remedy the situation by using scissors to cut their hemlines higher and their necklines lower—so low, in fact, that for the rest of the time we see Paris in her uniform, you’ll find one or both of her boobies pixellated out. It’s a wardrobe malfunction Paris doesn’t seem to give a hoot about, and in this case, they’re at a nudist resort, where nipples won’t cause a scandal. They emerge from the bathroom 23 minutes later, and Tom raises an eyebrow at their alterations. “We wanted to look more nude, so we made them shorter,” Paris says, pixellated nipple poking out.
They then meet their supervisor, Cindy, the head of housekeeping. This no-nonsense woman begins by explaining the 92 points on the inspection sheet (toilet, sheets, etc.). She hardly gets through the top five before Nicole tries to cut her off—but Cindy is not easily intimidated, and continues with her lecture after snapping, “Pay attention.” The girls stand like restless children as Cindy drones on about shower caps and linen.
They head to their first room, where they are to learn how to change beds. Just as Cindy explains that the first rule is not to touch personal belongings, Nicole heads straight for the dresser to rummage through the guest’s drawers. Nicole tries on a robe, saying, “This is cute.” “That could be grounds for termination,” Cindy announces disapprovingly. “What’s termination?” Nicole asks. “Fired,” Cindy says, with an increasingly murderous look in her eye with every moment that passes in Paris & Nicole’s company.
There is something incredibly satisfying about watching the girls actually work, even if it is only for the cameras and probably only briefly. They fix the bed, fold linens, lug in fresh towels; Paris dumps the trash and Nicole wipes down a mirror, all the while with the scowls of a peevish child. Cindy then shows the girls how to scrub a toilet. Nicole sticks the brush into the bowl while Paris scowls behind her. Nicole is then instructed to wipe it dry; after she does she accidentally drops the rag into the toilet, and then sticks her bare hand into the bowl to retrieve it, while Paris ewwws loudly in the background. “I’m gonna barf,” Paris adds, after the ordeal is over.
In one room, the girls laze about on the bed admiring the mirrored ceiling (seems to be trend in Florida), and Cindy comes in barking, “Are you working or are you playing?” She hollers at them to get up and work on the next room, which she (unwisely) allows them to do alone. Of course, the second they’re unattended, they raid the guest’s box of chocolates, root through their possessions, and hold up their underwear in the air for a chorus of Ewwws. Nicole finds a camera, sticks it in her blouse, and takes picture of her boob for the unwitting guest to discover later when they develop the film.
Nicole decides to “[bleep] the whole cleaning thing, I’m over it,” and leaves the room. Paris, making coffee for herself in the room, feebly argues, “We’re gonna get in trouble,” but then follows Nicole out anyway. They find a swingset just outside the room (what the heck?) and swing away happily, reminiscing over when they were kids—the flashback is soon interrupted by Cindy, who very gruffly reprimands them and says, “If you continue to mess around I will have to report you to Tom.” “Who’s Tom?” Paris asks. “Your boss,” Cindy reminds them.
They lug the housekeeping cart to another room. This one contains a creepy, mustachioed, 70s-lookin’ white guy, who’s (you guessed it) butt-nekkid and smiling way more than is necessary to convey common courtesy. The first thing the girls look at is the bathroom. “You [bleeped] all over the seat,” Nicole shrieks (what, can you not say “pee” on primetime?). Still smiling broadly, the man says, “Wudn’t me.” Yeah right it “wudn’t you” buddy. He suggests it’s just water from using the shower, and Paris mutters, “Yellow water.” Now I’m ewww-ing uncontrollably.
Cindy and naked smiling guy leave them alone to work. Naturally, the girls decide to order food from room service. Neither of them can figure out how to operate the hotel phone, however, so they poke through the guy’s stuff until they find his cell which they use to place their order (spring roll, grilled chicken, calamari, and nachos). Nicole then calls housekeeping, and barks, “Can you send a maid to 117? This room is disgusting and I need it cleaned right immediately.”
By the time room service has arrived, Nicole has changed into caftan that I think belongs to the guest, and Paris clad only in a towel. They park themselves on the bed, surrounded by many cartons of food, which they appear to enjoy immensely. “These are the best nachos ever,” Paris says through a mouthful. Being rich is apparently no mark of manners, as Paris chomps open-mouthed and talks with chips and cheese roiling in her mouth. “We should’ve ordered pizza,” she laments.
Another maid comes to the room, a patient and soft-spoken woman from Columbia. She does all their work for them as they laze around stuffing their faces. I cringe as they try to make small talk while the woman toils away, complimenting the her “zapatos” and “pelo.” I’m so mad, I could fling poo at them! At least they give the maid a thank you hug at the end and tell her “You should put a big tip on our account, and charge it to the room. As much as you want.”
The girls change back into uniform and Cindy returns, none the wiser, and in fact quite impressed with what she thinks is the girls’ work. “I’ll let Tom know you did a wonderful job,” Cindy says. “Who’s Tom?” Paris asks again.
Schwing the Body Electric
Good old Tom is waiting for them (naked!!!) on a chaise longue by the pool, where he tells them to report to the aerobics room to attend a “body acceptance class.” There, they are the only clothed people in a roomful of diverse folk, including another sixty-ish-looking, nekkid woman who leads the class, which consists of asking people things like, “How do you feel about your knees?” Nicole declares enthusiastically, “I love my little breasts!” Paris announces with great relish, “I love my body,” which actually earns her a round of applause. Yes, let’s validate her superficiality, that’s a cracking idea.
Nicole brings the class to a screeching halt when she announces, “Darren loves the puss.” Everyone stops, and looks at each other nervously, muttering, “The puss? The puss?” “Yes,” Nicole says, gesturing to her face, “We like to call it our puss.” “Mug,” Paris offers, trying to help her friend out. Relieved laughter explodes throughout the room.
Next exercise involves pairing up and asking your partner what they like about their body. Nicole immediately makes a beeline to the most attractive male in the room, a young, studly African American guy who says he likes his stomach. He returns the question, and she answers “everything,” cheekily.
Paris approaches a fiftyish-looking lady, who says that she feels she looks pretty good for a woman her age and “I’m not ashamed of it at all.” This earns her a standing ovation (well, everybody was standing already anyway). She asks Paris what she likes about her body and, like a Lever commercial, Paris launches off on a catalogue of all her 2000 parts: “my stomach, my lips, my face, and my arms, my legs…”
Final assignment is to write a poem on nudism and Caliente. Paris shows signs of being a budding Elizabeth Barrett Browning with her verse: “Caliente means hot/Because that’s what we’re taught./Everyone loves their bodies/because they’re all hotties.” Nicole’s is slightly spicier, or I just presume it was based on how much was censored out of it. “This resort makes me feel silly and free/I support places where you can show parts from which you [bleep]/So shake your [bleep], then your [bleep]/Shake your [bleep] and let’s get silly.” Her poem garners a warm round of applause, and the teacher says she feels they “have the essence of what being a nudist is about.” Nicole declares openly, “I love it here.”
The show closes at night, with Paris and Nicole, in matching striped tube dresses, stepping into the Caliente disco to party with their nude—I mean new—wait, I did mean nude—erm, well okay, their nude, new friends. On the dance floor, Paris and Nicole, surrounded by many smiling faces and smiley faces (covering genitalia, that is) do a rousing (not to be mistaken for arousing, of which the display is the very opposite) performance of the Village People’s “Y.M.C.A.” They give the place their highest compliment, “This is hot.” 2392 miles to go.
I wrote this recap completely in the nude. Send your questions, comments, and poems on how you feel about your body to snowflakegirl@fansofrealitytv. com .