You’ve got to love a two-fer and tonight, my friends, is not only a tasty double-double episode with cheese, it is also the grand finale of this, the second season of The Simple Life. We’ve all suffered enough, don’t you think, so let’s skip the lengthy intros and get right to the meat of the matter.
Chicks with Clicks
The girls, we’re informed, are making their way through central Texas in order to get to their next destination, the Click Ranch, headed by Bob, an ex-marine, and his wife Gayle, an ex-teacher. Their son, the vaguely Vince Vaughn-y Elton who will eerily disappear after this brief appearance, says that they prefer being living in the country, where the pace of life is slower and people are nicer.
Before long, the old silver Airstream is bumping along the roadway, towed by a swearing Paris and a screaming Nicole who are having difficulty negotiating the many potholes. A camera in the Airstream shows Tinkerbell and Honey Child being shaken about in the sartorial squalor of the trailer as it rocks with every bump in the road, like little figures in a snow globe. That can’t be good for them.
The Clicks greet Paris, Nic, Tink, and Honey in the living room and sit them down for the obligatory laying down of the “rules of engagement.” Just as Bob says that he hopes they enjoy the peace and quiet of the ranch, Tink and Honey get into a loud skirmish on the couch. The Clicks, especially the stern Marine, appear distressed, but Nicole and Paris laugh as the dogs growl and bite at each other, dismissively saying, “Oh they love each other, they’re just playing.” Hmm, two bitches that are supposedly friends but are fighting viciously…Sound familiar at all?
Bob takes them out for a tour of the ranch in a jeep. After a few scenic shots of cows, cows, and more cows, Bob asks if one of them would like to drive the jeep, and Nicole volunteers. Nicole, however, cannot get a handle of the stick shift, and her time behind the wheel is brief. She’s better at steering the conversation, and soon the girls discover that Bob and Gayle have been married for 33 years (they’ve been together since junior high). The Marine, however, is tight-lipped about intimate details; when Nicole asks, “Do you guys ever [bleep] each other?” he responds, firmly, “We don’t want to go there.” About 25% of me wants to know what Nicole said, but the other 75% thinks it’s probably better off we don’t know.
Back at the old homestead, Gayle takes the girls into the kitchen to teach them how to make cheese dip because “You can’t go to a party in Texas without taking this dip.” I’m glad I’m learning such valuable anthropological lessons from The Simple Life; how else would I have known that the natives would not allow me to a ritual gathering without this cheese dip. There’s not much to teach, the hardest part of making the dip seems to be opening up the cans—it’s pretty much just a ruse to get the girls alone in the kitchen with Gayle, who gets nostalgic thinking about when she first met Bob in 8th grade. “I still get chillbumps thinking about it,” she says wistfully. “Is he romantic?” Paris asks, “He’s a Marine so how romantic can he be?” Just when I think she’s going to get offended, Gayle answers, matter-of-factly, “Most Marines are not romantic.”
The women all mosey (it’s the south, so yes they are literally moseying) to the site of the special cook-out they are having in honor of Paris & Nicole’s visit. As they eat yummy-looking steaks off rustic tin plates and get serenaded by a cook/singing cowboy who looks straight from an old Western, Lucy and Ethel—I mean, Paris and Nicole hatch a scheme to renew the romance between Bob and Gayle.
Later on that night, they corner Bob and tell them they’d like to help him plan a special evening, a romantic date for him and Gayle. Nicole posits that because they’re younger, “maybe we know more romantic things that you haven’t caught on to.” Bob says that he would appreciate the help—and I’m thinking the stiff, stern ex-Marine who has all the charisma of a tree trunk could really use it.
Nicole suggests going about with his shirt open, and getting a chest wax. Maybe he heard tell of their experience at the salon from last week’s episode, but he wisely says no to these two suggestions. Nicole says that they now have “oils that help get your significant other excited.” Would that be “Sex Panther”? Again, Bob looks dubious, in fact this expression is plastered on his face the entire time the girls yammer on about gifts, roses, lingerie, cards, candles, diamonds, and furry handcuffs. “Y’all are getting pretty deep into my pockets now,” he mutters, but still thanks them kindly for their suggestions.
Finally, one of the suggestions is deemed acceptable: a love poem. Inexplicably, the task of writing the poem goes not to Bob himself, but to Nicolo De Bergerac, presumably because her couplets at the nudist colony were such literary gems. She laughs the entire time she writes, which I’m thinking does not bode well for the poem. When she’s done, she has Bob practice reading the poem for tomorrow night, adding that he should relax and maybe tear up, if possible. While he concedes that he could relax and be less “uptight and Marine-like,” however, “You haven’t quite sold me on the dampening of the eyes,” Bob says, not even able to say the word “crying.”
He rehearses Nicole’s poem in front of the bedroom mirror: “I love you Gayle/If it’s a crime, I’ll go to jail/I don’t care how expensive the bail/Because you make my heart sail/Sail like a boat/I’ll keep you warm like a coat/Without you I’m a lost little goat/You’ve got me by the throat/I’m so in love, if I wasn’t from South Central Texas I might cry/Let’s fly in the sky/I love you, I love you, I love you…” He pauses because he sees a word he’s unfamiliar with, and he’s uncertain whether or not he should say it. Nicole assures him that the word is a “hip” way of saying “I’m done”, but he refuses, so she reads the final line, “I love you, I love you, I love you. Booyah.” Bob just says, “That would not sound right coming out of my mouth.”
Copping an Attitude
The next morning, the girls arrive late (of course) for their new job at the Bandera County Law Enforcement Center. Chief Deputy Matt King from the Sheriff’s office meets them and informs that today they will be made deputies. First things first, he hands them their gear: uniform, pepper spray, handcuffs. “Where is my gun?” Nicole asks rather forcefully. “You don’t get it the first day,” Officer King says. A giant wave of relief washes over me.
After getting changed, and saying an oath to “preserve, protect, and defend” the girls are off on their merry law-enforcing way. Who knew it was this easy to become a deputy? “This is a real job,” Officer King warns, “So you need to act appropriately.” Paris, meanwhile, sneaks behind him and activates a musical, dancing hamster that sings “Bad Boys.” Come on, now, who put that thing there? You can’t put out a musical, dancing hamster and not expect someone to activate him? I have one of those, but it’s the martial arts hamster who sings “Kung Fu Fighting” and every time a gajillionaire hotel heiress comes to my house, they can’t keep their hands off the thing. It’s like catnip. As Paris & Nic dance along with the hamster, Officer King looks bleak, and grumbles, “I think I’ve made a big mistake.”
Ther first assignment is to serve lunch to the prisoners of the jail. He gives them some rules, chief among them being that they are not to communicate in any way with the prisoners. “Don’t drop anything,” Nicole says helpfully. Perhaps her own run-ins with the law have helped her develop a new skill set. Nicole wants to know if there are any prisoners with felonies in the jail. Officer King says that they are in for a variety of reasons, and yes some are felons. “Loves it,” Nicole intones.
After spooning out some toxic-looking orange slop onto trays, Paris and Nicole roll a cart out down the hall to the cells in slow motion as menacing music plays. I am bracing myself for a Silence of the Lambs money shot, but fortunately, one never comes (no pun intended). They do, however, break Officer King’s golden rule—well, Nicole does, by chatting up every prisoner she can, asking how their days are going, taking alternate orders (the ones for Canadian bacon pizza and barbecued chicken are refused). Nicole even tells one inmate that she hasn’t eaten all day and asks to take a bite of his sandwich. She does, and makes a face like she swallowed a bug before handing the remains of it back to through the narrow slot in the door, saying, “It’s not very good.” She comforts one guy by saying, “The weather’s not that great outside, so you’re not missing much,” and another by telling him he’s living in a larger space than they are right now. Nicole even invites one of the inmates to “come hang out with us” if he gets out tonight.
After lunch, Officer King debriefs them back in the office. As Paris and Nicole discuss prisoners’ food allergies and where they live, a very cross Officer King interrupts them by saying, “I told you not to talk to them and you know their life history now.” He says their next task will be writing parking tickets, so he takes them outside where they will be given a police car of their very own. He tells them specifically not to touch any of the switches in the car, and of course Nicole proceeds to mess with every switch, turning on a cacophonous symphony of sirens. An increasingly infuriated Officer King tell her to turn it off, and Nicole responds only by saying, “It’s funny,” in her best, mentally-challenged I am Sam voice. By the time Nicole picks up the police radio, Officer King has a miniature implosion. “DO NOT talk on the radio like that! I’m tired of explaining, this is not a joke,” he says angrily. He is so grave as he says this, I wonder if somehow, in his heart, he really did believe that he was making Paris and Nicole into real sheriff’s deputies today, and that this whole thing wasn’t just a stunt for a television show. Did he not see or hear a single thing about this show; the whole bloody thing is set up and designed to be one big joke! Who’s mentally challenged now?
The girls take off in their cop car, turning on the sirens, flashing all their lights, and announcing over the P.A. system to all the cars on the road that “Everyone needs to pull over.” Nicole also seems to greatly enjoy belching into the P.A., for she does this several times. They finally stop to give their first ticket to a truck for “paw prints on car” and “ass sticking out” for $35 and $65 for each fine respectively. “Now we’re real cops,” Paris says, as they munch on doughnuts on the road.
They later find a line-up of men who look like rejects from the live-action casting of King of the Hill “loitering” with “open alcohol” containers on the street at 2:41 in the afternoon. Nicole tells them to “chug” it all down, like men, and then she and Paris go for ice cream at the general store. They have no money, but Paris says, “We’re cops, they have to give it to us for free.” She’s right, they end up not only with ice cream, but with little pink toy guns with matching pink holsters that they attach to their police belts.
Full on ice cream, and drunk with power, Nicole and Paris head back onto the highway, where Nicole calls out to people to not only “pull the [bleepity bleep] over now” but “get out and shake what your mama gave you” and “grab your tush cheeks.” No protocol, no Miranda rights, luckily the guy doing this appears amused—mayhaps, aroused? Shudder to think. The next person is not as amused; the woman demands to know what she did wrong. Nicole has the woman put her hands on her head and turn around, asking if she has any weapons. “Does it look like it?” the lady snaps. Oh yes, this lady has a deadly weapon all right, if looks could kill Paris and Nicole would be worm food by now.
They pull over one other car and take their toy guns out and pretend to blast at the driver, at which time Officer King drives up and, aghast with horror, apologizes to the driver and promptly whisks Paris and Nicole back to the station where he tells them he doesn’t feel they’re “cut out” to be deputy sheriffs and asks for their badges. He does pay them or their day’s work. Speaking of work, looks like King has his cut out for him: he tells the girls that the phones at the Sheriff’s Office have never rung as much as today. “Do people love it?” Nicole asks. Not so much. “I hope I still have a job,” Officer King frets.
The Love Goat
Meanwhile, back the Click Ranch, Bob is taking the girls’ suggestions to heart. He (or the production team) bought flowers, candles, and champagne as a romantic surprise for Gayle. When she comes home, he greets her at the door dressed in a nice suit and bearing a long-stemmed rose. Gayle is surprised, but delighted, and asks what prompted this. “I did get a little encouragement from those young ladies,” he answers, then sits her down for some champagne before reciting Nicole’s touching poem, by heart! He remembers every line, from “lost little goat” to “I could cry”…and at the very end, he adds, with visible discomfort, “Booyah.” Gayle, however, looks shot through with darts of pleasure, probably getting “chillbumps.” “I think Gayle is going to get lucky tonight,” Bob tells the camera.
The girls arrive back at the ranch just in time to catch Bob and Gayle in the middle of their romantic date. “Did you read the poem?” Nicole asks, “Did you close it with the ‘Booyah?’” The girls are leaving already, so they exchange hugs and goodbyes with the Clicks , but before they go they have a final romantic surprise for the Clicks. “Just in case you want to spice things up,” Nicole announces as she breaks out a pair of handcuffs from the Sheriff’s Office. Bob appears, again, distressed, but when Nicole turns to Gayle, and asks if she loves it, the prim ex-teacher answers, “No doubt about it, I love it.” And on that note, part one of the finale concludes with 1299 miles to go.
Running Out of Gas
Part two of the final episode continues with a pointless re-tread of the season and an oddly protracted scene in which Paris and Nicole are terrorized by a bug in the cabin of the pickup. Don’t worry, Nicole kills it by smacking it with her Chanel purse. More unfortunately, they run out of gas in the middle of the night, in the middle of a dark country road. Paris goes outside and lamely tries to lift the hood, when she sits back inside, Nicole (clearly the brains of the operation today) informs her that running out of gas is not a problem with the engine. “So what do we do?” Paris asks wanly.
They just sit, doing nothing for several minutes, like George W. Bush in the classroom after hearing our nation was under attack, but unlike Dubya, the girls have a Deus Ex Machina—producers! You don’t think the show’s producers would allow them to sit there in the dark for long, do you? And so miraculously a mini-van filled with a friendly family with just enough room in their vehicle for our ditzy duo and their camera man, that doesn’t mind driving them, and knows exactly where they’re headed appears out of nowhere—instead of a beat up old ‘76 Chevy Nova with a cannibalistic, homicidal maniac in it—because let’s face it, these are the people cruising desolate country roads in the dark.
The woman in the car asks if Paris and Nicole have seen any of the animals (deer, cows, etc.) around the ranch and Nicole asks, “How do they know to stay here.” The woman says, “We have a big, high fence that tells them too,” and I am impressed with the new talking-fence technology they have created for ranchers these days. The woman then hands them a bible, and asks if they know what kind of skin is covering it—for a brief second, I believe that this family (mom, dad, two little boys) are indeed cannibalistic, homicidal maniacs who skin their victims and use the leather to cover bibles. That would be a new reality show “twist,” however, no upon closer inspection we discover that the cover is made of deer skin. “Dead animal on a bible? That’s a little ironic, don’t you think?” Nicole queries. “Not if you read the Bible, it’s not,” the woman says. Yes, because it clearly states in John 3:16, “God so loved the world that he gave up Bambi and friends to be skinned and placed upon thy books as covering for thine library.”
But enough deep, intellectual theological discussion. They arrive at their destination, where they meet Missy, director of the Y.O. Ranch, a blonde who looks like she’d almost be pretty were it not for a touch too much in-breeding. Missy conveniently has gas in her truck, so she offers to drive the girls back to their pink pickup for a refuel. On the way over, Missy wonders privately if the girls have the “tough skin” this job requires. I’m wondering why the heck she only thought of this now? Why are all Paris and Nicole’s employers so stunned when they meet the girls, do they honestly think this is a serious career move for the girls? That they will leave their posh lives at tony hotels and glamorous parties to move out to the ranch to rassle up cattle and scoop up poop?
Meanwhile, in the back of the truck, yet another bug attacks Paris and Nicole (every time an insect accosts the girls, drink a shot), causing the girls to scream and freak out. Paris is so distraught, she breaks her shoe in her effort to get away. Are Paris and Nicole tough enough to be cowgirls? Hell, their shoes aren’t even tough enough, what do you think?
I Wanna Be a Cowgirl
Fast forward to the morning, when Paris and Nicole convene at the breakfast table with Missy and Murph, their “trail boss.” Missy asks Murph for a latte, and Nicole and Paris seem to perk up at the sound. “You have lattes here?” Nicole asks. “I’m just kidding,” Missy says, laughing with unnecessary cruelty. She then explains the task that lies before them: they’ll have to drive cattle several miles down the road, which she says they must start on soon, “if we want to get down by noon tomorrow.” “Oh tomorrow?” Paris asks, smiling with relief, “I thought you meant all night until tomorrow.” In a grave tone, Missy snaps, “I do mean all night until tomorrow.” Paris laughs and says Missy must be joking, and the two blondes get into the kind of tight smiling match that only women seem to engage in. You know what I’m talking about, that smile that says “There is only a thin veneer of politeness that is keeping me from scratching your eyes out right now.”
“Will we be walking?” Paris asks. No, Missy says they will have to be on…[cue menacing music]…horseback. Paris freezes over noticeably, and Nicole has to explain Paris’s recent accident to Missy, who seems nonplussed. There is a delightful slow motion flashback to Paris’s narrow ass getting thrown off the horse at the Batten ranch in episode one. Ah, good times. “Did you get back on?” Missy asks, obviously not impressed by Paris’s sad story. “No, I got airlifted to the hospital in a helicopter,” Paris says, hinting in her tone that now would be the right time to shower her with pity, sympathetic clucking noises, and offers of gifts and services. Well, that might work on her daddy, but it’s not working on Missy, who says with shimmering alacrity, “Well, what a good opportunity for you to get back on a horse.” You haven’t seen tighter collection of smiles around a table except for a Botox bruncheon.
Before they commence with the drive, they have to take care of one thing first: branding the cattle. Murph shows off his skills, roping cattle from his horse, while other workers wrestle the animal down and stick a blazing hot iron into its flesh where it burns the “Y.O.” Ranch symbol into its flesh as a sign of ownership. This is admittedly not a pretty sight; I’ve never seen it done before, much less a close-up of a calf with its eyes rolling back into its head. The girls appear completely horrified. “I’ve had nine tattoos, and I’ve never been in this much pain,” Nicole observes.
Missy’s temper seems to flare at the girls’ reaction, and she defends the practice by stating, “It’s a necessity. Every rancher does it. Not only is it the cowboy way, it’s what we’re going to do today.” Paris claims, self-righteously, “I’m an animal activist and I really won’t do it…I don’t believe in that, I think it’s wrong.” I wish right here that FOX had inserted a handy flashback of Paris in episode 4, talking about how yummy foie gras is—as foie gras is made by force-feeding geese grain by funneling it down their throats to make their livers swell 10 times its normal size. Or how about a montage of every fur garment or leather accessory and handbag Paris and Nicole have used? Or how about their dressing a chicken up lie a hooker and taking pictures of it—now that was animal abuse!
Missy bitches them out, telling them that they need some way for the animals to be identified, and that Paris and Nicole will have to find some way to get their job done. And they do, by coming up with another way to mark the cattle, the “Beverly Hills way”: they break out tubes of lipstick and mark the animals with bright red “Y.O.” symbols, hearts, and other designs. “That looks much better,” Paris remarks, looking pleased. Must everything they touch end up looking like a garish streetwalker? “Our neighbors are gonna laugh at us,” one cowboy grumbles.
They put stars on one special, freckled bull they named “Billy.” He farts in Paris’s face, God love ‘im, and gets extra attention from the girls, especially Nicole, who writes “Poop” on his hindquarters with an arrow. “You wrote poop on it? That’s mean!” says Paris, the “animal activist.” “It’s where the poop comes from,” Nicole says, as if she really thinks her arrow is helpful.” “How would you like someone to write poop on your butt?” Paris asks.
Back in the Saddle Again
Yet another deep, philosophical conversation between Paris and Nicole is interrupted, this time by an impatient Missy who says it’s time to get on their horses and hit the road. They play ominous music again, as Paris struggles with her decision: to ride or not to ride? “What’s the old saying?” Paris asks Nicole, who must have the brain today again. Nicole answers, meaningfully, “If you fall off a horse, you pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and try again.” Actually, I think that “old saying” is from that wizened sage, Aaliyah, but no matter. “Unless you get picked up by a helicopter and taken to the hospital,” Paris adds.
Like a mantram, Missy repeats, “That’s just the way things are around here, it’s pretty much the cowboy way.” Yeah, kinda like cheese dip and being racist—it’s just tradition in the Old South! Paris acquiesces, and climbs up on a horse in sexy slow-mo. Missy might not be impressed, but Murph is, and he tell her he admires her for getting back on after being thrown. “She cowboy’ed up,” Murph says, and I find I’ve learned something new today: that cowboy can also be a verb.
Murph, who actually does appear to be the very essence of the noble cowboy, shows the girls where to go and what to do. They have to round up the cattle, which requires a great deal of hollering. Paris’s breathy, high-pitched pleas seem ineffectual, however Nicole seems to get better result by screaming for them to “move your big, freckled asses!” They ride along with the cattle for a while…a long, long, long while, during which Paris and Nicole, like children on a car trip, both start to whine about how long it’s taking and ask repeatedly how far they are from stopping point. “You keep saying ‘around the bend’, we’ve been around like 50 bends,” Paris moans.
The girls decide to break from the rest of the group and go hide behind some trees. Murph notices them missing, and Missy goes off to look for them. When she finds them, Paris is on the ground, stretching her legs. Missy is infuriated and tells them, “This is a 40,000 acre ranch, if I hadn’t looked up because those steers were getting out of the way, I would have never found you guys.” She tells them to hurry up because the herd is leaving, and they now have to round up the errant steers.
As the sun sets, they finally stop and set up a campfire where they roast up some s’mores. The girls ask the Y.O. posse if they’ve ever been to L.A., New York, or Miami and the cowboys proudly say that they spend 360 days a year here at the ranch (they don’t mention where they go the other 5 days, but I guess it’s not L.A., New York, or Miami). Paris and Nicole are shocked, and ask why they don’t just come to see what the city like, saying they at least made the sacrifice of leaving their lives to see what the country was like. Never mind that they’re getting paid to do it for FOX as a television series that is more like an extended publicity stunt. A bug then attacks Nicole and much screaming ensues. This series could have easily been called “When Animals Attack Paris & Nicole.”
Kill Bill, Volume One
The next morning, the girls are the last awake. Missy has to yell at them again to get them up and out. Paris and Nicole emerge, miraculously made up, from within their tent, and hop back up on the horses. As they ride, Paris asks Murph some questions about the herd, like why they don’t just drive them all in trucks and where are they headed to after all? There is a dramatic pause before Murph answers, “To slaughter.” Paris is shocked, and protests, “Ours? Billy? We don’t want that to happen!” Nicole overhears just the tail end of the convo, and asks what’s going on. “They’re gonna kill Bill!” Paris shrieks. Nicole joins in on the hysteria, “But we painted him, he’s ours!” Murph just shrugs them off, and continues with his job.
They’ve come to end of the drive, where Murph and Missy inform Paris and Nicole that even though they’ve been at the Y.O. for two days, they’ve decided to only going to pay them for one, since “ya’ll kinda slacked up on us.” After Murph hands them the money, Paris and Nicole say that they want to keep Bill, and ask if they’ll accept their day’s salary as down payment. Missy seems annoyed, and explains the bull already belongs to someone by contract, to which Paris replies, “We can break the contract, that always happens in Hollywood.” Murph snickers, “This ain’t Hollywood, kid.” Paris offers them double the price, and it looks like money will buy someone’s ass in Texas as well as Hollywood, because Murph agrees to the deal. Paris holds her hand out to seal the deal with a shake, but Murph is no dummy and says he’d rather have a hug from such “pretty little girls.”
Later, both Missy and Murph express disbelief over Paris’s purchase. Missy says she can’t imagine what they’ll do with him, aside from keeping him as a pet. Murph says he can’t imagine the girls feeding Bill and shoveling up his “[bleep]” back home in their tony mansion in L.A. Missy gives her final thoughts on the past couple of days, “I don’t think I’d ever like the girls to come back and help us on the ranch. I think it cost us more money to have them come out and help here than it would to just have our regular crew.” Again, did she really apply to FOX thinking, “Hey hiring a couple of spoiled, inexperienced heiresses will be a really great, cost-effective business move?”
They can’t say their goodbyes fast enough, but before they go, Nicole hits Murph up for $20 for gas, which I’m sure is enough to get them through the rest of the state of Texas, Arizona, New Mexico, and home to Los Angeles, California. Murph confesses that he’s “always been a sucker for a pretty face,” and once again Nicole is able to sleaze some money off a near stranger.
California, Here We Come
With that, the girls are off in the pink pickup and heading for home. They reminisce and we are treated to the obligatory flashback montage. They decide their favorite family was the Cashes, the singing, dancing Bible-thumpers. They sing their “Sa Sa” song all the way through four states—and I believe they really drove through them all because, you see, they show us the route by a red line on a map, so it has to be true—and congratulate themselves for driving all the way to California from Florida. They arrive with much fanfare at the Spider Club in Los Angeles, where a group of their friends, family , and more importantly, the press have gathered to welcome them home.
Nicky says she think Paris probably missed her cell phone the most, and hopefully her sister. Paris shows her mom the trailer, and Mom looks aghast, looking around the filthy little Airstream, saying, “Paris, no!” Paris asks, “Can you believe, me and Nicole in that little bed for a month?” No, she doesn’t. And I don’t. And neither does anyone else in America. We meet Brenda, Nicole’s mom, who says that she can’t imagine Paris doing such a crazy thing with anyone else but Nicole—funny, because FOX can, since the series was originally proposed to Paris and her sister, Nicky. There’s hugs, air kisses and speeches, and Paris declares, “To all of you who think we couldn’t do it…We did it!”
Kill Bill, Volume Two
Ah, but the show’s not over yet folks. The camera crew just happens to be hanging the next day as Paris and Nicole return to the lap of luxury, lounging by the pool in bikinis and sipping pink lemonade. Also, the UPS man just happens to stop by with a special delivery which just so happens to be their old friend Billy the Texas Longhorn. “C’mere you sexy bitch!” Nicole says, presumably to the bull, and not the UPS man. I didn’t even know UPS delivered bulls! Well, I sure know FOX can deliver bull, and how.
Two butlers escort the gigantic steer into the backyard, where Paris signs for him, and says, “Welcome to L.A., Bill.” The bull stops for a second and seems to scope Paris out for a second before he attempts to gore her with his one of his horns. He hits her right under ribcage, which looks like it hurts, and Paris screams, before asking the men to take Bill away. “I hate him,” she cries. “You gotta keep Paris away from the animals,” Nicole cracks, laughing. I'm wondering if the bruises in those now-infamous pictures were really from an abusive Backstreet Boy or, rather, the result of Paris volunteering at an animal shelter. 0 miles to go, dear friends, and thus endeth the grand finale of Simple Life 2. At last my life is complete.
Thanks for being one of the three readers who joined me this season. If you’re not 100% happy with any of my recaps, please feel free to write me at snowflakegirl@fansofrealitytv. com for a complete refund.