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September 27, 2004

Fug, Actually

Somebody remind me what the big deal is about Keira Knightley, because on a good day it sort of confuses me...

... and as featured on Page Six today, in full Overtired Vampiress mode, I'm pretty much totally perplexed. She needs some eye makeup remover. And a wig. I just... really? Really?

Posted by Heather at 01:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (1)

New York Fugshion Week: Beware!

New York Fashion Week Fever strikes again. NYFWF is a rare, serious disease that affects mostly women between the ages of 22 and 35. Symptoms include: dressing like Florence Henderson in The Brady Bunch, if there was an episode of The Brady Bunch in which Carol Brady fell into a deep, deep depression and started drinking during the day, leading to drunk shopping and even drunker hair-styling [see subject above, who has a severe case of Bradyism]; delusions and hallucinations; the inability to tell if an outfit is attractive or if it makes you look like your Mom, circa 1971, especially if your Mom was on a serious diet of Quaaludes in 1971; no appetite, leading to emaciation [this symptom not visible in the subject pictured above. Please see: Wintour, Anna; Lauder, Erin; Grubman, Lizzie; any Von Furstenberg you can nab]; a pathological and crippling fear of mirrors and, correspondingly, an avoidance of one's own reflection. Treatment is severe and often requires stay in a rehabilitation center, where the afflicted is: forced to try on clothing that actually fits; fed three meals a day, two of which include carbs; and beaten with a plastic bag full of colored L'Eggs pantyhose [as pictured above on subject's legs] until he or she agrees that the only legwear options that are really acceptable in this day and age are the bare leg or the opaque tight.

Be on the lookout for symptoms of NYFWF in yourself. If you are a woman -- or, more rarely, a man -- interested in fashion, you are at risk. You may find yourself seriously considering buying a pair of Mukluks. You might hear yourself saying, "That Chloe Sevigny looks adorable!" You might decide to wear a pair of gold lame hotpants to the office. If any of these symptoms occur, remove yourself from New York Fashion Week immediately and seek treatment.

Posted by Jessica at 11:49 AM in High Fugshion | Permalink | Comments (0)

Fugicide: Life On The Streets

It appears that the Curse of the Baldwins has struck again.

It's not that Daniel Baldwin was ever "the Hot Baldwin," or "the talented Baldwin," or even "the other Baldwin." He was always "the other other Baldwin," or, in his darker times, "the Baldwin that almost (allegedly) ODed." But now, tragically, it appears that he has become "the Baldwin that ate the other Baldwin."

Posted by Jessica at 11:09 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

September 26, 2004

The Fug After Tomorrow

Dear Emmy Rossum,

Look at you! You are a very, very pretty girl, and you're very naturally slender, which makes you lucky. And you have great curl formation, which... suck on it, bitch, but first pass the product my way.

But that's neither here nor there. I have a more important question (aside from, "Um, are you at a Hollywood event, or are you a bridesmaid?). And that is: Are you eating?

Now, I get it -- weight fluctuates naturally; stress leads to weight loss; Jake Gyllenhaal wasn't good about feeding you rich soups while you were languishing in that library with him during The Day After Tomorrow... All these things make sense, i suppose.

But really, I just want to make sure you're not Mary-Kating yourself into oblivion, because that wasn't really good for anyone. I mean, all the fat twin wanted was to make some more caper movies, and now she's relegated to being The Sister Whose Name Hasn't Become A Verb -- in addition to being stuck in a career that will no doubt be confined to starring with MK in very special Lifetime Original Movies. Like Once Bitten, Twice High, about twins who get hooked on crack but are saved from their dealer (Kirk Cameron, as you've never seen him) by Bill Cosby, their gruff but lovable neighbor, and their kindly doctor Neil Patrick Harris, in a role you've seen him in before, but before all those other roles that were parts you'd never seen him in before.

Anyway... What was I saying? Oh, right: Just make sure that the next time the Phantom of the Opera kidnaps you and drags you into his dungeon, he offers you up some nice, butter-laden French cuisine and crusty bread while you're forced to watch him frantically and repeatedly, er, play his pipe organ.

Eat.

Cheers,
Heather

Posted by Heather at 04:38 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

September 24, 2004

Fug Vogue Awards

Oh my God, you guys! Bai Ling left the house looking weird, and with 80 percent of her skin showing! Can you imagine? What are the odds?!?

Seriously, this woman confounds me -- she's another one who shows up everywhere, but whose relevance I can't quite understand or recognize. I mean, other than the fact that her main mission in life is to be as naked as she can be. She's got to be stopped.

Maybe it's because I'm posting late in the day on a Friday, or maybe it's because she won't stop popping up all over the place in outfits that look like The Island of Dr. Moreau has a fashion line, but I am very, very intolerant of The Bai Ling Experience. She's no Courtney Peldon, who would go to the opening of a mouth -- and dress like she wants to put something of hers in it -- but Bai Ling is grating nonetheless. Can't someone contain her? Where's the mob when you need it?

In other news, I hate the '80s:

All Ali Larter needs here is some really giant geometric earrings and hairspray to complete this dumpy, sloppy outfit. I don't know which Mensa evictee decided that 1980s fashion was ripe for a comeback, but that person ought to be locked up Clockwork Orange-style in front of as many movies like Just One Of The Guys as possible. This person must be broken.

Posted by Heather at 06:25 PM in Bai Ling, Misc. Awards Shows | Permalink | Comments (2)

Mr and Mrs Fugin Fugerline

How embarrassing! In all the excitment surrounding the preparations for her maybe fake wedding to self-proclaimed "pimp" Kevin Federline, Britney forgot to wash and comb her hair! How totally ugh to look so greasy and unkempt in People Magazine!

The less said about the trashy "November Rain"-inspired wedding mini the better. Although I'm sure Axl Rose, who's clearly, like, living at an EconoLodge in Los Banos right now, reading People and eating chicken off of Buckethead's...bucket...is probably wondering how he can get some people again, so he can have them call Britney's people and arrange a meeting.

Posted by Jessica at 06:14 PM in Britney Spears | Permalink | Comments (7)

September 23, 2004

I Fug Huckabees

Talia Shire was so proud of her son Jason Schwatzman's work in I Heart Huckabees that her neck started spontaneously blooming:

Thank god she pinned a hanky to her chest in case she starts weeping as well.

Jason's wink at the camera says, "You and I both know that Mom's Playtex 18-Hour Bra is showing. But don't say anything -- she hasn't worked in a while and she could use an endorsement contract."

Posted by Heather at 01:27 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

Saturday Night Fug

So, you know how some people age really well -- either naturally, or with a little help from their friendly neighborhood plastic surgeon -- and some people, well, really don't?

Jan Hooks has taken a recent and somewhat alarming turn for the latter.

She's only 47!

Comediennes, a bit of advice. I know, because you are "funny," many of you feel that you must only be photographed making "funny" faces. Please stop. We know you are funny because we have witnessed you being funny. [Well, theoretically, anyway. I don't recall Jan Hooks being particularly side-splitting, but I also don't recall watching much of her stint on SNL] You don't have to create a visual cue with your face to remind us that you are known for being humorous. It's like the comedy equivalent of Zoolander's "Blue Steel," except way more off-putting. As my mother would say, "just look normal." Because I'm scared that the old adage has come true, and Jan Hooks's face really has frozen like that.

Posted by Jessica at 01:15 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

September 22, 2004

Fug & Order: Criminal Intent

GRAVELLY VOICED NBC ANNOUNCER: "Coming soon to NBC in November sweeps: A Law & Order spinoff that starts with a crossover you won't believe.

The brand new Law & Order: Fashion Police force will debut in L&O: Criminal Intent with a dramatic arrest... of one of their own."

"What's the charge, Officer?" Kathern Erbe's character will scream through her tears.

"You're under arrest for Reckless Deployment of Gold Lamé -- looking like a chocolate Emmy™ statuette that somebody only partially unwrapped," the officer will boom, throwing her up against the wall of the station as Vincent D'Onofrio sweats lightly and pulls at his thinning hair.

And then, the Miranda rights: "You have the right to remain indoors. Anything you wear in public can and will be held against you," the arresting officer will say, cuffing her. "You have the right to brown velvet jeans and a matching tank top, but only if you don't dress it up with any old spangly thing. You have the right to gold lamé, but only if you wear it carefully in the context of an evening gown and, at some point in the night, hurl a martini glass at the retreating figure of someone who has just bested you in a verbal joust. Wearing this gold lamé jacket violates the law and abuses these personal rights."

He will then drag her downtown as Erbe weeps softly, "I thought gold lamé was my friend."

The officer will smile at her pityingly. "We get that a lot, Ma'am," he will say. "Most people are easily seduced by the sparkle, but you have to remember that lame is more often your enemy -- it would willingly, knowingly, fug you and your whole family if it had the chance."

Erbe will then land in the clink and be recast on her show with someone who is pretty but whose talent is considerably less -- you know, the way it always goes with female leads on Dick Wolf shows.

Posted by Heather at 09:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)

September 21, 2004

Moonfugging

A thousand thanks to the eagle-eyed reader who recently made us aware of an unfortunate development in Cybill Shepherd's coiffure. If you can, um, call it that.

She arrived to tape a British chat show -- as I gather they are called, thanks to my extensive reading of Brit Lit -- looking like she was auditioning for the role of Red Riding Hood in a Christmas pantomime. If Red Riding Hood were, say, extremely weather-beaten from her trip to Grandmother's house. Regardez:

Image Hosted by ImageShack.us

When questioned, Ms. Shepherd, who, according to this account had already been in London for two entire days, claimed she had "jet lag hair," and took off her hood.

To reveal -- cover the eyes of any minors in the room, please!

Image Hosted by ImageShack.us

Apparently she rode over on the wing of the plane.

Posted by Heather at 10:58 PM | Permalink | Comments (0)

 

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