May 17, 2006
My Fug School Musical
I can't tell if this is just an awful, awful homage to Olivia Newton John in Grease, where she deploys tight shiny pants and heels in order to win back big dumb lug John Travolta and thereby freeing him from the cruel freakish prison of a varsity sweater (the horror, the HORROR), or if Ashley Tisdale just figured that the premiere of a movie called Surf School didn't require actually getting properly dressed.
There is also something awfully Peldon about her overlong t-shirt that reads, "DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR" -- especially the way that, coming from her, you figure it's just a message for that bitch in her on-set chem tutoring session who tried to steal all her answers and then shoved her tongue down the tutor's throat even though she FULLY knew Ashley had called dibs on him, and they're never going to speak again and Ashley just wants her to know that she would rather DIE than disrespect the Rules of Dibs.
Speaking of the Peldons, what do they have to say about all this?
Nothing. Not a bloody thing. They had the gall to show up after two months on the lam, or whatever it was, and actually look decent. Normal, even. This photo reminds me of a box my parents re-use every Christmas: white cardboard, decorated on the sides, emblazoned on the front with colorful, huge letters that say, "DOES NOT CONTAIN WHAT YOU HAD HINTED FOR."
[Amazingly, never once in the 20-odd years we've used that box has it borne the frustrated red pen scars of a quick but vicious grammatical edit from My Mother The English Major.]
So in that sense, thanks, Courtney and Brown, because it's nice to see that you're still out there Peldoning about, but this photo does not contain that for which our APB had hinted (man, grammar is so awkward sometimes). What we really wanted was some crazy. Capital-C Crazy. We wanted "my stylist is Crispin Glover and my coat is made of rat tails, Q-tips, and the hair of a virgin" insanity. Come on! If we can't trust the Peldons to loon it up at the merest hint of red in a nearby carpet, then what or whom CAN we trust?