Tuesday, December 02, 2003

The Simple Life

Ok, this show is f*cking hilarious. Although Nicole and Paris are very mocking of their surroundings, it just reveals what kind of vacuous people they really are. I am not sure if they are fashionable or just plain clueless--their clothes were horrendous. At least now I know where Carson Kressley gets his fashion ideas from. However, I have to give them props for being game enough to do it for 30 days. I guess, if I were in their shoes, I wouldn't agree to doing it. I certainly wouldn't pluck the feathers of a chicken. I don't like touching any kind of raw meat. I like my meat pre-cut so I can just toss it into the pan or grill. And ticks in the bed--gross. I can't believe that the family would not at least spray to get rid of the little critters.

I think that little four-year-old Braxton is ADORABLE. He's so cute running around with the flyswatter. If I were a Hollywood agent, I would fly down to Altus, AR and sign him right away. He could be the next Haley Joel Osment.

My dad used to raise chickens in our backyard when I was a kid. No, we did not live in a farm. We lived in the city, but my dad got it into his head that he wanted to raise chickens, so he had a small chicken coop built and bought some chicks and presto: chicken farm. It was kinda fun coz the chicks were so cute, but of course in a month or so, they were chickens and not so cute. My dad didn't really want to eat the chickens. He was happy to let them just run around the backyard and pick the occasional egg they layed--it amused him tremendously. However, occasionally, a chicken would be sacrificed on the altar of cuisine. Our maid* would catch them, kill them, pluck the feathers and cook 'em. It's very messy and noisy. I usually had to refrain from asking where the chicken came from, because it would be like eating a pet.

Part II of the season premiere is tomorrow. Can't wait.

Mood | Giggly