Go Fug Yourself: The Fug Awards Old Fugs Got questions? Contact us About us Press Clippings Advertise with us Fug Merchandise

« Celebrity Skeeve Watch: Billy Crudup | Main | The Talented Mr Fugly »

November 30, 2006


Truly, I should just be thrilled that Hayden Panetierre of Heroes is dressing in classy, grown-up clothes that don't require us to pray she is a) wearing underwear; b) toting seat liners for when she sits down sans panties; and/or c) wearing a very tough-to-crack chastity belt, because she was born in 1989 and we can't abide the idea of anything born while we were in Algebra II deciding to flash some ladybits.

And in all honesty, there's nothing really wrong with this outfit here. But... doesn't she look distractingly like a campy flight attendant? Like maybe Jet Blue has decided to run a promotion wherein a star from a randomly selected NBC show of will start randomly working its flights, peddling peanuts and sodas and those yummy blue Terra Chips that I love so much? Granted, that would be a quick way to my heart, and certainly there's nothing wrong with being a flight attendant, but I'll wager if you asked any of them whether they'd enjoy wearing their uniforms for a big night on the town, you'd hear gales of laughter through which you could faintly make out the words "tight," "itchy," and "panty lines." (But they would NOT respond by stealing little bottles of booze from the planes and drinking themselves silly. Because if there's anything the hideous Gwyneth Paltrow "comedy" A View From The Top -- or as she called it, A View From My Ass -- taught us, it's that America is really freaking sick of Mike Myers. Oh, and also, that a good flight attendant with big hair and big dreams NEVER steals miniature bottles of booze from the aircraft.)

At any rate, I find it sort of unsettling that this dress makes me expect Hayden to chat me up and then charge me $5 for headsets so that I can watch Garfield: A Tale Of Two Kitties and ANOTHER $5 for wine because it's a domestic flight and even though LA to NYC is about as long as NYC to England, I still evidently have to pay to medicate any domestic unease with flying, which is a load of BULL, if you ask me, but nobody did, which is a real shame. And because she's not the evil overlord who made that rule, I'd rather she tried a different dress so that I don't inadvertantly get cross with her for it.

Besides, no offense to Hayden, but we'd rather have Conan O'Brien work our flight. Nothing like a little genial hilarity along with those microscopic bags of generic Snak Mix, not to mention that we'd get to ogle his towering cowlick -- which legend has it is propped up by an elaborate system of pulleys and a paste made from Easy Cheese and molasses. Also, he'd give us free wine. I know it in my heart.

Posted by Heather at 08:49 AM | Permalink


eXTReMe Tracker