August 03, 2005
Periodically, as their busy spa and Spider Club schedules allow, celebrity experts will join us to answer your questions about how to fug up your life as thoroughly as they do theirs. This week's expert has an advanced degree in overaccessorizing and is studing for her doctorate in enamels.
Q. Dear Aunt Fugly,
My sister is getting married this September and has asked me to be in the wedding. Great! Except the dress she wants me to wear is totally hideous: lime green satin, with a hoop skirt and matching hat. Do I tell her that I look like a deranged lime in this get-up, or keep my mouth shut?
No One Ever Told Me My Sister Was Blind
A. Oh my God, like, that's totally tragic. Blind people are totally the real heroes. Except for all the other heroes, like soldiers, and poor dead Dr. Atkins, and little Zahara Jolie. I can totally relate to your sister because one time, my sister gave me some of her mascara and I put so much on that it clumped and glued my eyes shut. I cried for three days and then burned a picture of Aaron Carter.
Anyway, what were we talking about? Oh yeah -- your sister is stupid and has bad taste in fashion. You and I are, like, totally the same, NOETMMSWB! And I can't keep my mouth shut about it! I mean, physically, I can't, because these things are, like, veneers on steroids. You know what you should do? Take some scissors to the dress and cut it up, like I did at the VMAs when I turned my Armani pants into Armani shorts. Then slouch a little and wear forty-five necklaces along with some cowboy boots, and you will look, like, totally fantastic, and everyone will tell you that you're the real star.
Or, you could just tell your sister she's dumb and much uglier than you are, although that tends to get people grounded. Trust me. Ouch!
Q. Dear Aunt Fugly,
I have a problem. Until about a year ago, I was a nun at the Monastery of the Angels. After a lot of soul-searching, I eventually left the convent and reentered the world. I'm very happy with my decision. However, I have no idea what a 29 year old woman is supposed to wear here on the outside. Fashion magazines are impractical, and celebrities are no help. My friends all tell me I look fine, but I feel totally lost. Can you give me some advice on some basics I should have in my wardrobe?
Don't Call Me Sister
A. Wow, you're, like, totally pious! I love God! He's so awesome! What a wicked beard!
Anyway, Sister Don't Call Me Sister, dressing doesn't have to be hard, you know. Two words: Teeth.
I find that a nice set of veneers dresses up any outfit. Fangs are incredibly slimming -- I mean, look how hollow my cheeks look -- and everything goes with white, even after Labor Day, so ignore all those people like my sister who will tell you that you have to paint your enamels black from September until Easter. My teeth are totally natural -- they just took a while to develop, You know? Every girl gets her teeth at a different time in her life. But you could probably buy some really good ones from... oh, off the top of my head... Dr. James X. Morgan III, Esq., in Beverly Hills, who is in the book and has a framed, autographed photo of me on the wall even though he's never touched my mouth, ever, and those X-rays are totally faked.
Q. Dear Aunt Fugly: I do not know what to do. I keep seeing photos of my ex-fiance's pregnant assface human incubator and it MAKES ME SO MAD, I WANT TO BUY WEST VIRGINIA AND THEN CLOSE IT JUST TO MAKE HER CRY, BECAUSE THAT WILL TEACH HER TO COOK SPERM EGGS! Except my Mar... er, husband... is hibernating right now in that coffin he bought on eBay, and I don't know when he's coming out, and I can't buy West Virginia until he has written us a sultry duet about bubble baths! Help me, por favor, I am furious!
Also, what should I wear when I am crowned Queen of West Virginia and declare that stupid high-cheekboned baby chute an enemy of the state?
Alias Schmalias, Stupida!
A. Aw, poor ASS. That, like, TOTALLY sucks! Believe me, I totally know your pain -- I so know what it's like to have somebody who is, like, completely trying to copy your life, and you wish she would get the hell off your coattails, already, and have her own stupid career and stop trying to upstage you with nice teeth and a bony face. But you know what helps? Caps. They do for your mouth what newsboy hats do for the rest of you -- a little something extra, extra. HA HA HA, get it?
For your coronation, dear sweet ASS, you must wear pants that hide your shoes -- they make you look taller! It's the best secret in town! -- and some scarves. About seven. Then march over to her house, announce that your she has no taste in clothes and looks like a man and can't even sing, no matter what your record exec tells her, and 7th Heaven is like so totally over, dude, so would she please just stop acting like a bitch and stop trying to Single White Female you, and stuff?!?!? ... Then flip one of your scarves over your shoulder, steal her whitening toothpaste, and leave. Easy.
Okay, I'm off! I have to back-brush my hair 100 times every day in order to make it look as rock-and-roll as possible, because (ssssh!) my boyfriend is in a band. Good luck, you guys! Watch for my Stuff By Duff false teeth on sale soon at Target! Smooches!