Matt Labash takes a look at the Simple Life over at the Standard. I was laughing out loud in my office when I got to this:
While Paris is the reason so much ink has been spilled over “The Simple Life,” she is hardly the show’s driving engine. That dishonor belongs to Nicole Richie–the daughter of Lionel, who wrote the hit song “Ballerina Girl” for her (a song I always disliked; now I know why). Her hair, while artificially highlighted like Hilton’s, is less like Barbie’s and more like Cyndi Lauper’s runtish sister. Built like a pot-bellied stove, she laughs constantly and inappropriately, her buzzard-like beezer pointing southward, while her cheeks scrunch, making her look like she’s trying to grind down her nose with her teeth. While she canters around in bun-hugging micro-minis (just pop them back in, you want to say), she acts as if she’s about five times as good looking as she actually is. But she’s not just worthy of cosmetic cheap shots. A spoiled brat who has already been busted three times–for a DUI, a bar-fight, and most recently, heroin possession–Richie is ugly on the inside, too.
And if Hilton’s résumé is thin, Richie’s is even thinner. In her few screen appearances, she’s had to play something worse than a “strung out supermodel.” In shows like “Punk’d,” she’s played herself. Her only accomplishment–besides being Lionel Richie’s daughter–seems to be that she’s Michael Jackson’s goddaughter. Regarding the molestation charge pending against him, Richie has insisted on his innocence. She’s spent the night there, she says, and “If he didn’t do it to me, why would he do it to anyone else?” Good taste, one suspects.
Ouch! That’s harsh. But oh so funny and true.