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January 31, 2005

Fug Night

Okay, who let Lil' Kim design a prom dress?

This is, apparently, an actual dress, made by a Texas company that has advertised it successfully in teen magazines like YM and Seventeen. And the model is not, apparently, wearing it backwards.

Now, I would maybe expect to see something like this on The O.C., just because if any show is likely to have a complete break with fashion reality, that is the one. But ... really? This guy has actually sold some of these. If I had come down the stairs in that thing, my father would have locked me inside the house, burned all my clothes, and replaced them with billowing muumuus -- if he was able to retain hold of his consciousness.

What is wrong with people? It's a school dance. Do you really want your geometry teacher to know the exact diameter of your breasts? Are you really that interested in rendering your English teacher speechless, or perhaps reducing him/her to speaking in tongues? Are you this hell-bent on becoming a stripper?

Sweet God. To quote my esteemed colleague Jessica, "I need to lie down."

Posted by Heather at 11:18 AM in High Fugshion | Permalink | Comments (179)

Debra Fugging

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[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

"Hi... yeeeeeeah, look, I know, okay? I know my new movie The Wedding Date looks like the bastard cousin of My Best Friend's Wedding, what with the shenanigans and the Dermot Mulroney and the redheaded star. And I know Julia Roberts would never be caught dead in this dress, okay? I know. I know it makes me look like a governess, or maybe a governess who got invited to the prom. But, see, all I hear about myself lately is that I'm a bitch, right? And what makes a woman more likable than a good pregnancy rumor? So shut up about me being a cow whom the other three on the show don't talk to, and start writing about how huge this dress makes me look. Babies are PR gold, bitches, so I'm going to grit my teeth, plaster this tight smile on my face, and rumor my way back into everyone's good graces. I'll even write the headline: "MESSING DRESSING TO HIDE BUMP?" Good, yes? In sum: I'M NICE AND I'M SOOOO HAPPY, AND WHAT IS MY DRESS HIDING?

"And if rumors don't work, I'll just make like I'm on Passions, kidnap my pregnant archnemesis, throw her in a well, and torment her with visions of clowns until she gives birth and I can pass off her baby as my own. All the baby benefits, but none of the stretch marks! Whee!"

Posted by Heather at 10:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (34)

Same Fug Girls, New Fug Location

After countless log-in problems and error messages at our old location, we've moved Go Fug Yourself to a new hosting service (thank you to the lovely Monique for all her help in this regard), and we're excited about the switch -- chiefly because we can now file away old entries by topic, giving you an easy way to read all the Letters of Fug in one sitting, for example, or enabling you to scroll through the many looks of Courtney Peldon with greater ease.

About half of our archives are now up and available for your perusal; the rest will, bit by bit, reappear, but we think we're off to a pretty good start.

Please update your links to: http://www.gofugyourself.com, if you hadn't already. Thank you!

Fug on...

Posted by Heather at 09:53 AM | Permalink | Comments (13)

January 28, 2005

2005 Golden Globes: Lisa Marie Presley

Proving once and for all that a predisposition toward capes is genetic:

Posted by Jessica at 04:43 PM in Golden Globes | Permalink | Comments (3)

January 27, 2005

My Fug Don't Cost a Thing

In a desperate attempt to outrun the paparazzi, Jennifer Lopez cut through neighbor Rue McClanahan's back yard, becoming inextricably entangled in the older woman's guest room curtains, which had been hung on her clothesline to dry:

Late for a premiere, Ms Lopez allegedly said, "eh, screw it," and just cinched it.

Posted by Jessica at 03:18 PM in Jennifer Lopez | Permalink | Comments (7)

Fuggis Hilton

We knew it would be only a matter of time before Paris Hilton fugged herself up again:

[Photo courtesy of Lime-light.org.]

Love the shoes, but what is the appeal of the split knickers? It looks like she had an accident with some barbed wire. Maybe her vagina gets upset if it doesn't have some ventilation, or at least a nearby window.

Although I much prefer the image of Paris, having locked herself out of her home, hurling her body over a barbed-wire fence and getting her knickers caught, dangling there for twenty minutes screaming at her bodyguard to stop laughing and help her, dammit, instead of running off to 7-11 to buy a disposable camera.

Posted by Heather at 10:02 AM in Paris & Nicky Hilton | Permalink | Comments (7)

January 26, 2005

Papa Don't Fug

Oh, Kelly.

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[Photo courtesy of Lime-light.org.]

This is such a cry for help. Come here, baby. Come here. No, no, don't cry. I'm here for you. Talk to me, sweetie. What's wrong? Why are you acting like this? Why are you wearing a bowler hat that makes your head look like a pale little pumpkin in a bad wig? Why would you do that? No, no! Don't talk that way. Lots of people love you. Like who? Well, like your parents. Of course they do, Kelly! Kelly...Kelly...I can't talk to you when you're like this. Do you want help, or not? KELLY? Fine, that's just fine. If you want to act like a child, that's fine. If you want to run around dressed like a cut-rate Ally Sheedy impersonator -- OF COURSE THERE ARE ALLY SHEEDY IMPERSONATORS. They have impersonators for everything. Shut up, that's not the point. As I was SAYING, if you really wake up in the morning and decide that the only thing that will make you happy will be dressing like Demi Moore on a carb bender, that's your business. But when you decide it's time to act like an adult and get some help for your problems, you know where to find me.

Tell Jack that goes double for him.

Posted by Jessica at 05:41 PM | Permalink | Comments (6)

Fuglie Minogue

News outlets are buzzing about Kylie Minogue's newer, stranger mouth, suggesting that perhaps she had a lip procedure done before attending this fashion event in Paris:

[Photo courtesy of Lime-light.org.]

Hmm, lip enhancement? You think?

You know that trick where you put wrap your tongue over your upper lip, which forces the lower one to go all puffy and huge, and you pretend that comically enlarged kisser is your real mouth? I mean, not that I would know anything about such grade-school chicanery, but... that's totally what she looks like.

Her reps, of course, are refusing to comment, perhaps because their client suddenly looks so shockingly like The Joker -- check out the creepy upturn of her mouth -- that there's no way to deny her fugly lip enhancement. And Kylie herself will be unable to offer any insight, as her lips are so weighed down that her facial muscles can't lift them to form words.

And let's not even talk about how creepy her right eye looks behind those shades. Is she tired? Stoned? A victim of an equally bad eye job? Who can say. All I know is, she looks like her own waxwork doppelganger.

Which is so sad, because she was so cute on Neighbours, when her trailer burned down and all her worldly goods were reduced to ashes, and yet somehow her closets survived because she kept wearing all the crazy-loud clothes she wore before the blaze. Those were the days.

Posted by Heather at 10:58 AM | Permalink | Comments (7)

Random Fug

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Young soap star Ashley Bashioum is the anti-Dunst: She's begging people to notice that she's wearing a bra.

Does no one know how to own and operate a brassiere?

Posted by Heather at 10:50 AM in Random Fug | Permalink | Comments (9)

January 25, 2005

Can I Check Your Fug?

Tired of the endless glam grind, Maggie Gyllenhaal retires from acting and opens her own filling station:

Posted by Jessica at 01:09 PM | Permalink | Comments (5)


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