The green Jeep takes off with Jen in the passenger seat, Andrew wasting no time before he launches back into the tour: "This whole vineyard was planted in 1972 by my dad." Oh, I'm so sure. I can just totally see Brooks Firestone (and if I knew Roman numerals much better than I do, I'd probably tack on what whatever combination of X's and M's and C's equal "the billionth" after daddy's name every time I wrote it) in 1972, at the tender age of 100, carrying a big sack of grape seeds (or, like, whatever) around an empty expanse of marshland, promising his unborn children, "Someday, dearies, all of this will be mine." Andy continues, "It's about a thousand acres including the vineyard and the property, all told." Wow. Brooks Firestone The Millionth had a bit of a walk back in 1972. With so little help, he must have finished single-handedly seeding the place moments before Andy and Jen arrived.
Oh, how cute! A kitschy and adorable road sign reading "Alpaca Xing" with a drawing of a little furry animal! Who, like, totally loves nature? I do! I do! Jen, not so much. We learn from Andy, "From the start, Jen's been saying that she's a little uneasy around animals. And, as you can see around here, we have plenty of animals." And, cue montage. "Chicks and geese and ducks better scurry/ When Andy takes you out in the surrey/ Andy takes you out in the surrey with the fringe on top! At least he won't judge you like his brother/ It's a thousand damn acres but still you'll feel smothered/ You may be rich but you're living with his mother/ And you'll never stop!" When we return from my getting served with papers by the esteemed estate of Rogers & Hammerstein, we find Andy and Jen inside an alpaca cage, Andy making Jen try to feed one. It's not working. She's scared. She didn't know alpaca was (were?) a real animal either. I will say, though, that Jen looks all natural and windblown and generally lovely in this context. She'd look really nice in a sweater made of what just licked her hand.
But, Paw! I sher do lurve bein' up in them there kuntry! Why we gotta take the hog down to this here see-tay? After the bucolic times in the Santa that dare not speak its name again, we're back in the concrete jungle of Beverly Hills, where we find Cruella de Kirsten in a limo. She's wearing an enormously-necked shirt that is the height of fashion, were the height of fashion "the dog has stitches, and he needs one of those big-ass head collars." God, I love that fashion. She stares with entitled, the-man-who- does-not-love-me- could-buy-and- sell-this-and- buy-it-again- and-single-handedly- plant-grapes-all-over-it assuredness at the city rolling by outside her tinted windows, and she voices over all the while, "I think that Andrew and I have come to a point in the relationship where I feel really comfortable going to look at engagement rings Andrew is everything I've been looking for in a husband he is definitely the one for me." Take a breath! And, the obligatory Harry Winston visit. Kirsten walks in the familiar (well, from TV) front doors and is greeted by a "Randy," who welcomes her to H.W. and sits her down at a table near the door. She continues voicing over that the whole thing seems like "a fairy tale," and my only surprise is that it's taken her this long to say it. It is a fairy tale. And, as Potes has pointed out, she is the evil Disney villain, with the perfect complexion and the overly-arched, drawn cell-by-cell eyebrows. Her kind never wins. But she and her giant collar are willing to give it a try. Kirsten takes a look at a ring called "the fancy-shaped oval." Doesn't the concept of "fancy" just cancel itself out at Harry Winston? It's not like she'll look at something fancy, and then follow that up by trying on "the tacky zirconium cube," "the ghetto fabulous hexagon," and then finish up with "the strawberry-flavored ring-pop." Mmmm...ring-pops. ["That's what my engagement ring was, homes." -- Wing Chun] But secretly, it is kind of fancy. She visibly shudders when she puts it on, and Randy -- never one to let a cheap metaphor rest -- notes, "It's like Cinderella. Hopefully your Prince Charming is listening." Kirsten laughs a hopeful "Can I just keep it?" Randy fake-laughs for a full two minutes before ending with the sadly edited out, "Ha ha ha ha...no. No, you can't." Always the sensitive empathizer, Kirsten remembers just in time, "I just keep remembering that there is somebody else who is going through this experience as well." Randy wishes her good luck and takes the ring back. You be the judge of which was the more meaningful gesture of the two.