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March 27, 2006

Fugfugly Fugfugt

About twelve times a week I announce to myself that I am declaring a moratorium on Kimberley Stewart posts. "She's NOT a celebrity, and she certainly doesn't need any more attention!" I say self-righteously.

Then she shows up somewhere wearing motherf'ing fingerless leather gloves. How am I supposed to resist that?

Posted by Jessica at 12:25 PM | Permalink

March 24, 2006

Bobby Fugly: Fugtergeist

Uh-oh, it's baaa-aack...

This is the incarnation of Bobby Trendy that makes the entire wormhole collapse in on itself, because I think this is actually Bobby Trendy dressed up as Bai Ling dressing up as Bobby Trendy.

Posted by Heather at 01:49 PM | Permalink

Fug Taylor

People often ask whether we discuss a fug before one of us posts it. Usually, the answer is no.


HEATHER: Is it wrong to fug Rip Taylor?

JESSICA: I don't think so. He's still in his right mind, isn't he?

HEATHER: ... OR IS HE? ... But seriously, with Rip Taylor, can you ever tell?

JESSICA: He is one of those actors I always think is dead.

HEATHER: Like Gene Wilder.

JESSICA: And then I realize I was thinking of someone else.

HEATHER: Well, you will be pleasantly surprised today to see that he is alive and well and looking rather saucily like he is Rip Simmons, illegitimate brother of Richard, who was exiled from the family when it was revealed his goal in life is to make people fatter.

JESSICA: I think I'm thinking of Rip TORN. ... Who is ALSO not dead.

HEATHER: You have it in for the Rips. Are there any famous dead Rips?


HEATHER: I believe Mr. Van Winkle is no longer with us.

JESSICA: And NOW I'm thinking of Red Buttons... who is ALSO not dead.

HEATHER: Are you sure? Red Buttons sounds dead to me.

JESSICA: Not according to IMDb. Ah, but Redd FOXX is dead.

HEATHER: Bingo! Six Degrees of Dead Celebrities has been brought to you by IMDb, Instant Messenger, and Diet Coke.

Posted by Heather at 12:32 PM | Permalink

The Boss's Fug

Sometimes I look at Tara Reid and just wonder what happened in her childhood that made her think this whole plastic surgery thing was a good idea.

Those are not good implants. They kind of look like she's got two half-grapefruits shoved in there. And when your implants look like that, it's probably best to steer clear of any ensemble that resembles an embellished Warner Cross Your Heart bra, supported solely by weensy teensy straps, because it tends to scare the children. What if those things get loose? IT'S HAPPENED BEFORE.

Actually, I'm sure it's unfair to blame Miss Reid's unfortunate downward spiral of poorly done plastic surgery on her parents. I'm sure they're lovely. Let's just blame Carson Daly instead.

Posted by Jessica at 12:09 PM in Tara Reid | Permalink

March 23, 2006

If Fug Is A DJ

Oh, Pink. I hate it when we fight.

This shirt is not you. This shirt is Britney Spears lashing out at the press. This shirt is Lindsay Lohan hanging out with her regular friends, just trying to make sure everyone knows she is edgy and baaaaaaaad and anti-The Man even though sometimes, if the club is dark enough and the guy has been in enough action movies, she will consider secretly pleasuring The Man and pretending not to notice that he is texting his friends about it while it happens. This shirt is Avril Lavigne back when she wore ties and wrinkled her brow a lot and thought that a permanent scowl meant she was Alternative. This shirt is definitely Jessica Simpson on the way to another outing with her hairdresser, miffed that he is pretty much her only friend in the world and thinking erroneously that she is being clever in allowing the occasional dark moment to penetrate publicly her perky facade. In short, the shirt is Stupid Rebellion.

You married a Motocross boy. You have a funky aloof-bisexual vibe. You were the welcome balance between frightening Lil' Kim and vampy Christina Aguilera in that "Lady Marmelade" video a while ago, and outdid both of them. And you have a really scary pelvis. You have a fairly legitimate claim to badassery, basically, which makes the overtness of the sweatshirt rather sad.

I think I actually miss the split-pea-soup poncho. Good lord, Pink, look what you've done to me.

PS: I do, however, sort of love that your hair matches Gwen Stefani's wedding dress.

Posted by Heather at 01:30 PM | Permalink

March 22, 2006

Basic Fugstinct II


Posted by Jessica at 02:33 PM | Permalink

Diana Fug

It felt good at the time, but in retrospect, Diana Ross will regret screaming at her seamstress, "You're out of tulle? How are you OUT of TULLE? A woman can't come floating across dry ice without tulle! People don't pay to see Diana Ross rise up from the mist like a divine eggplant of destiny in some dull, bullshit satin thing! They want to see her looking like a mountain of royal glory dipped in raspberry dream spice! And as Lionel Richie always told me, THERE IS NO RASPBERRY DREAM SPICE WITHOUT TULLE. So I don't care if you have to sew some ratty-ass tutus onto a bedskirt. I don't care if you have to skin Bobby Trendy to do it. MAKE IT HAPPEN."

Posted by Heather at 06:43 AM | Permalink

March 21, 2006

In Cold Fug

Every girl has one of those days. You know what I'm talking about -- you wake up, you feel a little bloated, and suddenly, you've gone all the way down that uncontrollable slippery slope and landed right in the middle of an insatiable urge to reimagine Truman Capote as some sort of California vegan Hell's Angel.

And so, just know that the next time you end up in that dark place, Pink understands how you feel.

Posted by Heather at 12:36 PM | Permalink

Live Through Fug


Theriously, what you looking at? There'th nothing new or different about my lipth.  They've alwayth looked like thith. No, really. It'th not collagen! I would never do that to mythelf! Franith Bean lookth up to me. I am a rethponthible mother -- WHO ITH NOT ON DRUGTH -- and I have done NOTHING to mythelf that could ever be conthtrued as plathtic thurgery!

Thank you for your kind attention to thith matter.

By the way, how do you like my kicky little necktie? Ithn't it totally Dreth for Thucceth as reinterpreted for the new millenium? No, Dreth for Thucceth. DRETH FOR THUCCETH! Thop acting like you don't underthand me! I THREAR I WILL THROW THITH MICROPHONE THAND AT YOUR HEAD!

Posted by Jessica at 06:18 AM in Courtney Love | Permalink

March 20, 2006

Fug Bryant

They told Joy Bryant that this was an audition for the video tribute Olivia Newton John: Still Physical.

They lied. 

Posted by Heather at 09:35 AM | Permalink


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