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November 27, 2006

Kate Fugler

I should probably just relax and be grateful that it's former Big Brother UK winner Kate Lawler in this outfit, and not Lindsay Lohan, given the latter's recent predilection for looking like a metal groupie, or the daughter of a Hell's Angel who's working overtime to prove she's badass enough to get her own Hog. But, for once, this isn't about LiLo -- it's about Kate, who should consider herself bloody lucky that the minutiae of her life are no longer subject to national votes of approval or distaste, or else I'd call 100 times to register my shock and horror. This thing is at that hideous crumpled necktie, and the way that random strip of leather looks as if it's chaining together her arms (which are being thoughtfully cuddled by some old legwarmers) in some sort of homage to bondage. And the booties! Look, unless you're an infant, or you're displaying a collection of noteworthy derrieres, you should never, ever wear anything that requires the deployment of the word "booties." Trust me.

Perhaps she's trying to pitch her own reality show. Entitled Leather Daddy, it would entail Kate visiting different disgruntled house-husbands who are desperate for a dash of naughty spice in their otherwise bland lives, and taking them shopping for some mad-hot cowhide couture. See Nigel try and cook spaghetti with his chains on! See Gavin pick up his kids at school while wearing his hood! See Alfie's wife try and take him seriously when he hooks himself into the Brazilian love-swing! It'll be a hit.

Posted by Heather at 11:27 AM | Permalink

A Whole New Fug

Let's face it:  if there would be one item that we would lash out against, unilaterally, it would obviously be shiny pleather leggings:

And yet, loathe as I am to admit it, Katie "Jordan" Price is kind of pulling them off. I have no idea how she got them ON -- baby powder? Vaseline? Prayer? -- but she's kind of working them.

Of course, it's entirely possible that I am feeling particularly charitable toward her because I just watched the video she and Peter Andre made for their cover of "A Whole New World." If you have not yet seen this, do yourself a favor and indulge. As Celine Dion sang so memorably in "It's All Coming Back to Me Now" -- a music video which looks like a three-minute advert for minimalism compared to Jordan and Peter's effort, by the way -- "there were moments of gold, and there were flashes of light. There were things I'd never do again, but then they'd always seemed right. There were nights of endless pleasure. It was more than any laws allow." Truly, the six minutes of black and white deliciousness that is their music video WILL provide you with endless pleasure. More than any laws allow. Enough, in fact, to make you accept black pleather leggings topped with a superfluous belt (because last time I checked, leggings don't have belt loops). It is that powerful. Consider that my gift to you.

Posted by Jessica at 10:02 AM | Permalink

November 24, 2006

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 calls himself Peggy Post With A Penis, priding himself on his encyclopedic knowledge of etiquette, the history of social behaviors, his posture, and his immaculate sense of personal hygiene.


Dear Aunt Fugly,

I'm at a loss. I hosted Thanksgiving for my in-laws, and when we asked if they wanted any leftovers to take home, my mother-in-law said yes... and then took everything. The turkey carcass, the mashed potatoes, the stuffing, even the leftover pies. She packed it all up in shopping bags and sailed out the door promising to bring the dishes back washed. I was shocked! We cooked the meal, paid for everything, and then didn't get to have any of it the next day. Worse, my husband doesn't understand why I'm so annoyed and thinks I'm overreacting and being selfish. And that's why he really wasn't impressed when he had to come bail me out because I TP'd my mother-in-law's front lawn that night and got booked by the Beverly Hills PD. But seriously... she deserved it, right? What should I do? Who's right?

Sincerely,

My Turkey Done Left Me

Yo, Turkey,

Sounds like you GOT PLAYED, Playa.  Some people might call your mother-in-law a freeloader, but I call her a hero.  Is she single? Tell that bitch to hit me up: 1-800-FOR-KFED.  I will be all over her popozao.

But tell your husband to shut his damn mouth: chicks with records are hot, and you sound feisty. Maybe you and your mother-in-law and me can all get together sometime, if you know what I mean. You know, just the three of us and some PBR, chilling at my studio in Van Nuys. The dude next door has a hot tub. We can totally hop the fence.  It'll be SWEET. Blow up my cellie, girl! Holla!


Dear Aunt Fugly,

So... God, I'm nervous even writing this. Okay. Deep breath. See, I am a newlywed. And we're having our first Thanksgiving together. And his... traditions... are a tiny bit different than mine. For one thing, he doesn't want to have it on Thanksgiving because he thinks that's not what the Pilgrims would want, and whenever I try to explain that having Thanksgiving on Thanksgiving is kind of the whole POINT, he tells me that I haven't done my research and that he has and I should just let him handle things because he's a pilgrim expert. Also, believes that if we just leave the turkey on the counter overnight, Xe --  uh, I mean, some kind of cosmic force that he thinks is all-powerful -- will stuff it with good fortune. But I always thought it was sort of unhygenic to do that. He then wants us put on robes, rub our daughter with truffle oil, and read aloud passages from Battlefield Earth, because he says it's some kind of special auditing ceremony for babies who can't speak yet to confess their sins. Also, I like to say grace before we eat, but he likes to stand on his chair and throw his arms up to the sky and shout, "PURGE OUR THETANS, O GREAT ONE!" And then he starts laughing and clapping. Which, let's be honest, kind of weirded out my parents the last time so I told them it wouldn't happen again, but I'm not actually sure I can stop it. So I guess what I'm asking is, how the Hell did I get here, and yes, HUSBAND, I did say "Hell," because six months of your stupid free classes is nothing compared to a lifetime of being Catholic and I STILL BELIEVE IN MY OWN THING AND THERE'S NOTHING YOU CAN DO ABOUT THAT OWWWWWWWWWWWWW I think the chip he put in my brain just zapped me. What was I saying? Oh yes -- have you ever taken a Personality Test?

Sincerely,

Everything Is Fine And I Am Fine And My Baby Is Fine And We're All Just Fine Here, Thanks!

Dear EIFAIAFAMBIFAWAJFHT,

Bitch, I have no idea what you're even talking about.


Hiiiiiii Aunt Fugly!

Y'all, I am having an AWESOME THANKSGIVING this year! First I lost weight... to be exact, 180 lbs of STANK-ASS HUSBAND! THAT'S RIGHT CAMERON BOY-NAME, you had better LOOK OUT FOR MY ASS NOW! Especially because I totally went and partied in Las Vegas with Paris and danced around in my tights because I don't NEED pants because I'm not KNOCKED UP any more and I'm not ATTACHED any more and I have all this money and all I want to do is smoke and drink and NEVER LISTEN TO ANY MORE RAP MUSIC EVER. And THEN when I got home my mother totally threw herself at my feet when she saw me and started weeping that she is the most thankful for my brain this year. Y'all she has NEVER said that to me before -- last year she drank all the cooking sherry and then threw the bottle AT my brain and, like, I'm not sure what she was talking about exactly . Something to do with peas, maybe? But she knows I don't eat green vegetables, like, HI, they're the color of GRASS, which my ex husband REALLY LIKED TO SMOKE IN MY HOUSE EVEN WHEN I TOLD HIM NOT TO, so she should know better than to think I would eat anything that color. Maybe she was just sad we're at war. But not this year! We ate like KINGS and my ex ate at DENNY'S and I hope they SPAT IN HIS CRANBERRY SAUCE... which I totally did last year (sssshhhhh, don't tell).

So I guess what I'm asking is: Don't you think my ex should SUCK ON IT? And aren't you glad I'm back? And do you know any guys? Hot ones? Who sing and dance? And were the lead in a boy band? And have ugly manly girlfriends I can SNAP LIKE A TWIG?

Kisses,

B-Train To HOTVILLE

Dear HOTVILLE,

I strongly suggest you check yourself before you wreck yourself. Maybe your ex has a KILLER PLAN to make YOU suck it. No one breaks up with K Fed over text message, especially when you KNOW I can't READ real good. Damn. That was harsh, yo.  I'm writing a slow jam about it right now. It's called "You Have a Text Message from CheetoLover21" and it is a total panty-dropper.  But not YOUR panties.  You can leave those suckers on, beeyotch, because K Fed isn't interested anymore. YEAH!

And you can tell your MOM to stop calling me and laughing and then hanging up. I KNOW it's her, dude. God. It totally ruins my buzz, like, EVERY TIME.

So,  in conclusion: BITE ME, and I want the weed I left under that rock by the pool filter back within the next three days or I'm calling Child Protection Services and telling them that you don't recycle bottles OR CANS. Good luck with the custody battle when they find THAT out! YEAH THAT'S RIGHT. I'm playing with fire! Federline is on the OFFENSIVE.

BOO YAH!

Posted by H & J at 09:20 AM in Ask Aunt Fugly | Permalink

November 23, 2006

Happy Thanksfugging!

Although most of our time here at GFY HQ is spent thinking of synonyms for "ew" and playing drinking games, today is Thanksgiving. And so we set aside everything we've been working on -- a blueprint for extracting Katie Holmes from the Cruise compound once and for all, which we would have put into action already, except we're waiting for a call back from Josh Jackson; a scheme to send Lindsay Lohan several pairs of pants; and a very competitive Scrabble game -- to put on our buckled shoes and Native American headdresses while our cups runneth over with gratitude, and perhaps also rum.

We are thankful:

  1. that Nicole Richie finally canned Rachel Zoe
  2. that Britney finally canned Kevin Federline
  3. that the Coca-Cola Company still cans Diet Coke
  4. that our tireless Intern George is finally getting the recognition he deserves
  5. that Courtney and Ashley Peldon have a plan B
  6. that SoapNet is about to get back to The Brenda Years during their twice-daily dose of 90210. Three cheers for bodysuits!
  7. that Suri Cruise turned out really cute.  Seriously, we can't help it: we think she's adorable.  And that kid's going to have enough problems without having to add "Years of Emotional Angst About Appearance" to her list
  8. that we've managed to kick and scream our way through another year without being attacked by dogs, crocodiles, piranhas, birds, venomous snakes, or Dina Lohan
  9. that, in this year of Traumatic Celebrity Break-Ups, Posh and Becks are holding it together
  10. that we've got such lovely readers. Thanks for your support this year, guys. Have we mentioned that you look really hot in those pants?

Happy Thanksgiving from Go Fug Yourself! Go forth and consume carbs with great abandon.

Posted by H & J at 08:22 AM | Permalink

November 22, 2006

AMA Fug Carpet Scrolldown: Chris Brown

Chris Brown seems like a nice kid, even if he did show up wearing the exact same thing the red carpet wore. Awkward.

But I do think this is an excellent cautionary picture against the perils of cuffing your baggy pants, particularly when done with wanton disregard for proportions. His torso looks nine feet long; his legs, by comparison, seem like three feet with a possible lack of knee. Those are practically South Park proportions. And if eloquent animated epics like "Woodland Critter Christmas" and the shocking yet stirring tale of Lemmiwinks the Gerbil King's crusade through the Ass of Doom have combined to teach us anything, it is this lesson: Bad, strange, often calamitous things happen to people with South Park proportions. Oh, and also, a catata fish in a feathered helmet can be a powerful ally -- but that's really more of a creed.

Posted by Heather at 01:39 PM in Misc. Awards Shows | Permalink

AMAs: The Lonely Fugherd

At what point did Gwen Stefani decide to become the cheap Halloween-costume version of herself?

Between the outfit that looks stolen straight from Serena Williams' tennis bag of misguided on-court couture to the aggressive Gucci-logo knockoff on the belt to the $4.99 wig from Dr. Boo's Costume Emporium and Terror Barn to the tinted Elvis shades that aren't actually blocking any light (and therefore are only there because she actually decided they look good), I am overall disappointed in Gwen's post-pregnancy return to the red carpet, toned gams notwithstanding.

Her on-stage getup wasn't much better.

Yes, she has traded in the Serena suit, but she's replaced it with those omnipresent offensively odd footless tights, some sort of space-Cleopatra jumper, and a gaggle of Stefani clones in ridiculous children's pajamas and wrestling boots.

All I can surmise from any of this is: Lucy Liu finally woke up and realized she accidentally starred in two Charlie's Angels films, and has hurriedly given her part to a big-screen-hungry Stefani. Her first film in as part of the trio, Charlie's Angels 3: Engage The Thrusters, sends our three jumpsuit-crazy wingnuts into the outer realms of the galaxy to retrieve a devastating universe-exploding weapon, while also engaging in intergalactic shenanigans with karaoke, mime, a cooking class, a stealth jet dogfight, and an actual dogfight, all wrapped up in the tawdry bow of another plot so poorly rendered it appears to have been translated into English from its native Martian.

So I guess congratulations are in order... to Lucy Liu. As for Gwen, well, listen up, lady: This is what you get for dragging The Sound of Music's poor, unsuspecting "The Lonely Goatherd" into your maddening repertoire. You have only yourself to blame.

Posted by Heather at 12:44 PM in Gwen Stefani, Misc. Awards Shows | Permalink

AMA Nonfug Carpet: Well Played, Nicole Richie

It's terribly appropriate that the day after she fired Rachel Zoe, Nicole Richie shows up at the AMAs looking like the proverbial million bucks:

I've long held that Nicole actually really benefited from Zoe's influence at the beginning of her make-over, and she was one of the only starlets Zoe dressed who I thought could actually pull off the boho thing.  But the general disdain that we here at GFY HQ have for Zoe is no secret -- there's the fact that all her girls began to look exactly alike, and exactly like her, and then there are, of course, those nasty but widespread rumors about how, exactly, Zoe allegedly gets her clients so slender -- so there's something schadenfreudelicious about Nicole ditching her in favor of  "more positive influences."

Whatever positive influences she's surrounding herself with now, they've certainly had a positive influence on her appearance. I covet her dress, I love her make-up (thank god she's ditched the fake-and-bake), and her dark hair is very becoming.  Also, not be indelicate, but...nice rack, Richie. We're glad to see that your boobs are back.

But most heart-warming thing of all -- sorry, it's Thankgiving, and around the holidays the cuddly sweethearts inside our crusty and evil exteriors occasionally make a break for it -- is that she looks happy. Who knew that firing Rachel Zoe would turn out to be the best beauty treatment she could get?

Posted by Jessica at 11:20 AM in Misc. Awards Shows, Nicole Richie, Well Played | Permalink

AMA Fug Carpet: Nelly Furtado

Am I the only person baffled by how Nelly Furtado insists on stomping around with her face twisted into such sour contortions that it appears she is plagued by a foul stench?

Tight cheeks, pursed lips, squinty eyes, tense jaw... something's amiss. What's the whiff, Nelly? Whither the pong?

Is it that your InstaBangs still smell like the bag they came in? Is the carpet moldy? Is the girl behind you looking away because she did something of which she is now a bit ashamed?

Maybe you just forgot to take off your WhiteStrips -- or, tragically, never remembered to put them on in the first place. Perhaps you're sucking on a sour Jolly Rancher. Holding a lit cigarette in your mouth that you're trying to hide from prying lenses. Secreting a razor blade that you can spit out lightning-fast at your enemies once inside. Trying not to cry because you just bit your tongue, or your shoes hurt, or somebody just shouted out, "And what will you be skating to tonight -- the theme from Ice Castles?"

Or ... are you just naturally a teeny bit smarmy?

Please advise.

Posted by Heather at 10:26 AM in Misc. Awards Shows | Permalink

AMAs: Fug The Alarm

Poor Assica. So unprepared was she for the exertions of being The Favored Simpson, she completely forgot to wash her hair and have Ken Paves rip out her ratty extensions. Which is why Joe should never have allowed her to stand next to somebody who probably has two shampooers, three professional weaveologists, and six personal hairbrushing lackeys on her staff.

Ms. Knowles, on the other hand, has made the intriguing style choice of borrowing her pumps from a West Hollywood impersonator named Beshlongce, who we imagine croons tributes like "Bootyvicious," "Humpin'," "Saliver," and "Rim the Alarm" while dancing on top of a Cadillac parked outside Rage.

She is also apparently beginning to see some advantages to gallavanting around town in buttock-length skirts:

This awards season, make it The Year Of Never Having To Lift Anything Up Over Your Hips When You Need To Use The Restroom.

Indeed, thanks to this helpful poster-worthy photo, we expect that in 2007 all the various academies, societies, groups, clubs, and Elks Lodges will launch a campaign to install latrines right into the auditorium seats themselves. Think of it: No more televisually inconvenient seat-fillers; no more awkward Christine Lahti moments where the recipient is accidentally (or just pessimistically, I suppose) spending his or her category's precious air time as a chance to visit the facilities.

Posted by Heather at 09:41 AM in Ashlee & Jessica Simpson, Misc. Awards Shows | Permalink

AMA Fug Carpet: Tori Spelling

Just yesterday, I was talking about how cute I think Jaime Pressly looks now that she's got a wee Presslyette percolating. I do wish I could say the same about Tori Spelling at the AMAs last night.

I hope this isn't a Donna Martin Original, because that company is never going to get off the ground if it is:

Judging from the expression on her face, I think the woman standing behind Tori is thinking the same thing I am: "Damn, Donna! That dress is too short! The lingerie-inspired overlay ain't fooling anyone! You can't sit down in that thing!"

And truly, unless this super short number is actually a clever homage to the mini-skirts of Amanda Woodward -- in the sense that we're pretty sure that if Amanda Woodward were to be impregnated (which, of course, she was, but it was tragically an ectopic pregnancy, which was quickly followed by such stressful events as having her apartment blown up, getting cancer, having a lamp thrown into a hot tub in which she was canoodling, and having to shove Antonio Sabato, Jr. off a balcony), this is the sort of look she would go for. Roots included. (We know: Tori isn't coloring her hair because of the BABY, while Amanda didn't color her roots because she was too much of a bad-ass to care. Play along anyway!) -- I can not condone it. It just makes me nervous. It's so short. It looks like it's riding up. Every time she sits down, you know she has to pretend that she's just demurely setting her hands in her lap, when what she's actually doing is pushing the fabric of her skirt down so that no one can see up it.  (A lesson I learned with the Short Demin Mini of July 2004.) And shit's going down with Tori right now, with all the drama with her mother and a new baby and a new reality show and a husband that could very well be trying to get Britney Spears's number, now that she's on the market again. Doesn't she have enough to worry about without worrying about flashing the world?

Take this time to be good to yourself,  Donna Martin. Reject the Hoochie Maternity Wear. We'll all be so much more comfortable.

Posted by Jessica at 08:31 AM in Misc. Awards Shows | Permalink

 

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