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January 29, 2007

SAG Awards Fug Carpet: Jeremy Irons


I am respected actor Jeremy Irons! You may remember me as the guy who was awesome in that movie where I'm married to Glenn Close and she ends up in a coma and it MIGHT have been my fault, or maybe from that movie where I'm totally creepy twin gynecologists! I was GREAT in those and you probably think, when you think of me, 'Oh, Jeremy Irons! He's a wonderful British actor, and when he's not playing roles in which he does totally creepy stuff to women, he works in poncy British costume drama!' And that's ALL TRUE. But now, I have a new role! In a show coming to YOUR American television sets. That's right! It's called Old Irons' Sides, and I play a
crime-fighter with multiple personalities who has the ability to morph into whichever personality is best suited to the crime in question. For example, here I am in costume as his personality 'Marlton', who's what you'd get if Carson Kressley and Chuck Norris had a baby. He's really good at tracking down people who default on magazine subscription and KICKING THEIR ASSES. Anyway, the show is going to be really riveting, I'm just saying. It's going to change all your preconceptions about me. Check it out! On The CW, of course."

Posted by Jessica at 08:43 AM in Misc. Awards Shows | Permalink

January 26, 2007

Katie Fugmes

[Photo Source.]


POSH: God, I'm fabulous.

KAT(I)E: Hi Karl! Hi! It's me! Mrs. Cruise!

GIORGIO: KARL? I am not Karl Lagerfeld, runt. What kind of IDIOT would think I am Karl Lagerfeld?

KAT(I)E: Oh, wow. I'm sorry. It's just that you're both so... tan. Ha ha ha... ha.

GIORGIO: Quiet, Scientology Spice. Can you not see that I'm trying to start a conga line with the Queen of America?

POSH: That's f'ing right, darling. Thanks to the football deal for David, we're even MORE filthy, stinking rich.

KAT(I)E: That's great, ha ha!  I'm so happy to be here! Kar... er, Giorgio, I just wanted to know...

GIORGIO: BUY A COUNTRY, you delicious pleated diva!

POSH: Too right I will.

GIORGIO: Take the Maldives. No one knows who owns those anyway! Make it Isla Victoria!

KAT(I)E: I think the Maldives...

GIORGIO: LIKE I SAID. Nobody knows.

POSH: I wonder if America will let me have Hawaii. It's closer. I'll pay cash.

GIORGIO: I will make you leis. FABULOUS leis of GLORY. With FEATHERS, just like mama used to make.

POSH: Damn, babes, you're WAY more fun than Karl Lagerfeld. All he does is scowl and glove-slap people. F'ing awkward sometimes if you ask me.

KAT(I)E: Sir, Mr. Armani, if I could just ask you about this dress...

GIORGIO: Or you could buy A SITCOM. We could be in one of those lively half-hour comedy shows! Where we live together and work in a pizza parlor that is also a tanning salon, and have strange neighbors with children who won't stop talking! IT WILL BE HUGE.

KAT(I)E: Yes! And I could play the...

GIORGIO: No, no, I want that Michelle Williams girl -- she's DYNAMITE.

POSH: Tanning and pizza, eh, Giorgio? We could call it Mystic Pizza.

GIORGIO: I've never heard of ANYTHING so divine, my queen. IT WILL CHANGE THE WORLD. Now, CONGA, you vixen! 

KAT(I)E: Mr. Armani, if you'd just look at me for a second, I don't think these weird pleats...

GIORGIO: Child, no shop talk -- not when I'm about to break into the macarena. You know the rules.

POSH: Look at that. Giorgio Armani, following ME around. Wanting to ride MY coattails. My life is f'ing amazing.

KAT(I)E: My life is awful. He won't even look at me.

GIORGIO: Actress girl! We need an inanimate object to be the limbo rod. Can they use you?

KAT(I)E: Thank God I had this smile surgically locked in or else I would be SCREAMING at some people right now and then Tom would make me sit in the audit closet for a week.

POSH: Allegedly.

KAT(I)E: Oh, whatever.

Posted by Heather at 10:32 PM in Posh & Becks | Permalink

Evan Rachel Fug

Dear Evan Rachel Wood,

Hello. How's it going? Are you feeling okay? Having fun at Sundance? That's nice. We just wanted to check in with you and make sure it's been a fun, relaxing vacation.

Oh, but before we go: WHAT IS THE DEAL, woman?

I mean, seriously. Has it escaped your notice that you appear to be shacking up with Marilyn Manson? And that you're 19, and he's, like, 38 or so, and also a horrific prince of doom? Did he give you beer goggles that make him look like Kiefer Sutherland? Does he turn back into a cuddly little pumpkin after midnight? Is his junk made of Diet Coke? WHAT? What is it?

Because it's rather well documented -- we're certainly not the first to say it -- that you are starting to turn yourself into his ex, Dita Von Teese.

Here you were B.R. -- that's Before the Reckoning -- looking fresh faced and normal as you eased into womanhood.

And here's a little collage of you and Dita now, after you (allegedly) took a twiddle on the skin-flute of Satan's high priest of contact lenses.

We're not criticizing the hair and makeup, per se. You're a very pretty girl. But you are dating a notorious nutbar and mimicking the very distinct look of his incredibly hot, bodaciously bodded former wife. Did you think no one would notice, child? Are you not at all curious about the timing of this, and whether he's engineering you as some kind of younger SuperDita, meaning you'll be raven-haired and frolicking in giant martini glasses in a matter of weeks?

And I have to ask again: WHY? For the LOVE of GOD, why?

Look, I know I shouldn't judge books by their covers, but at the same time, there has to be something in the title, or the jacket, or the spine, or even in the font they used, that makes me want at least to check it out from the library and then leave it on my To Be Read pile until I have to return it to avoid late fees.

Do you really want to be riding bareback on this particular wang carousel, Evan Rachel? Does it really turn your crank to come home and gaze soulfully into the Giant Plastic Iris of the Apocalypse? Is there nowhere else you can play out your days of girlish rebellion than a man who is 19 years your senior and not yet divorced and, well, freaking MARILYN MANSON? I mean, REALLY?

Was Justin Timberlake busy? We need to clone him and start renting him out as a rehabilitative measure -- Britney could have one, and Lindsay could rent one for a week, Cameron could buy one for her nightly surfing of those waves of jealousy that rise up in her throat and threaten to choke her, and now Evan Rachel could snag one. It would be a great little cottage industry.

Let's get on it. Because it can't be good for a 19-year old soul to wake up every morning and stare across the bed at the leader of the undead.

Posted by Heather at 01:06 PM | Permalink

Random Fug: Veronica Maccarone

See? THIS is the sort of thing we wish American starlets would go back to wearing:

You know, to give us something to talk about.

Her boobs! They're in jail! What heinous crimes could her boobs have committed? Arson? Espionage? Extortion? Conspiracy to commit murder? Assault and battery? We must KNOW. Have they been committed for life, or is there a possibility of parole? Might she let them out for good behavior? Or are they going to end up in the hole? So many questions!  At least they have each other, as they waste away behind bars.

Posted by Jessica at 08:01 AM in Random Fug | Permalink

January 25, 2007

Pieces of Fug

An Ode To Katie Holmes-Cruise:

Dear Katie, imagine our horror

When we saw they snapped you getting out of the car.

"Dear God, no!" we exclaimed

"Why, we'll burst into flames!

If we have to see shots of your flora."

But although you have married a nutbag

This situation ain't all bad

Sure, the brain-washing's a bit of a hurdle,

But THANK GOD,  instead of for-going panties,

You've quite wisely gone for a girdle:



Posted by Jessica at 12:03 PM | Permalink

Well Played: ...FINE. Sienna Miller

Well, they say that even a stopped clock is right twice a day. And so it has come to pass that I have stumbled upon a photograph of Sienna Miller at Sundance and thought, "Heavens, I quite like her coat."

Is it possible that, beneath her coat, she's wearing a torn and saggy promotional tee shirt from Discover Card, belted with a vine? Yes. But right here, she looks pretty cute. It's kind of a relief to see her so toned down -- no crazy hat, no hot pants. It's very simple (almost boring, even, although the cut and color are classic and classy), and it turns out that, without all that crap distracting us, she's actually very pretty.

Also, we're pretty sure that she and Steve Buscemi here are going to be the next big couple. Call them Buscemiller.

Posted by Jessica at 10:11 AM in Sienna Miller | Permalink

January 24, 2007

Alicia Fugs

From the waist up: cute and comfortable and flattering. From the waist down: OH MY GOD I CAN'T SIT DOWN IN THIS SKIRT, WHAT WAS I THINKING?

Um, that's tight. And shiny. And 80s. And shiny. And tight.  And shiny.

When you're a pear-shaped girl -- as so very many of us are -- it's not the greatest idea to shrink wrap the bottom of the pear like this. Every single fashion magazine in the world advises you to find a skirt that lightly skims the pear, and every time I read that, I think, "blah blah, skim the pear, yadda yadda, where's that article about how using the right night cream will prevent me from needing Botox next week?" And yet, it seems that the fashion magazines are correct. Which I suppose means that I need to go out and buy that cream.

Posted by Jessica at 11:41 AM | Permalink

Fugly Betty

"Well. I'm sure it's very nice for Penelope to have her little Oscar nomination -- I mean, how thrilling for her that people aren't questioning her ability to act any more, you know? I wonder how that felt. Probably not very good, much like all her English-language movies. Ha ha! I mean, who was she kidding with the Mandolin one? Nicolas Cage? Really? But that's not her fault -- I mean, we can't all be in a summer blockbuster like Wild Wild West with Will Smith and that other person, right? Anyway, it's just so exciting for Penelope to be able to lose to Helen Mirren on national television, which she totally knows how to do now that she's already lost to Meryl Streep at the Globes in front of all those people. I can sympathize, of course, but I can't empathize, since my show won and that makes me a Golden Globe-winning executive producer, AND the actress I fought for won her category, too, which is really like me scoring two trophies on one night. But you know, I don't need to bring that up, because I don't really need to be the center of attention here -- I mean, I'm not even going to campaign for myself to get an Emmy nomination for my really long guest-turn on Ugly Betty, which by the way was in ENGLISH, bitches, and that's not my first language EITHER and yet you all managed to love ME in it, but of course I'm not going to say that to Penelope because it will just make her feel bad about her own failures and we are VERY CLOSE friends, and oh LOOK, there she is up there staring at me. THANKS FOR THAT, producers, because it reminds me that I'm so pleased for Penelope that I even put on my very biggest fake bangs for this announcement and it has NOTHING TO DO with wanting to hide my eyes at all, because they are full of nothing but thrilled thrilledness that my VERY BEST PAL got an Oscar nomination for prancing around with lots of eyeliner on and wearing a prosthetic ass, and seriously, I am so happy. SO HAPPY. Did you not hear me scream before? I AM REALLY, REALLY HAPPY. STOP LOOKING AT ME."

Posted by Heather at 09:02 AM | Permalink

January 23, 2007

Fugly Moore

Why so angry, Mandy? Did you not get that part in The Crucible you were angling for?

Or are you simply mourning for the box-office prospects of your irritating-looking new movie with Diane Keaton, I Don't Even Care Enough To Look Up What It's Called? You know, the one that looks like a maddening and icky hybrid of two OTHER Diane Keaton movies, Something's Gotta Give and Hanging Up? Is that it? Yeah, that would upset me, too. It's tough when the only work Diane Keaton is getting these days are in a movies that are basically all about how much she needs to get laid. But hang tight -- someday you'll be in something good again, and you can stop lashing out at us via misplaced black tights, prim shoes, and grouchy, overlong, frumpy jumpers.

Posted by Heather at 01:20 PM | Permalink

Fuggifer Connolly

Oh, Jennifer. We told you to put your leggings in a trash bag...

Not put them on under a trash bag. Please listen more closely next time.

Also... those can't be mesh shoes. Can they? Would you really do that? Are you that untrustworthy now? Do we need to ground you until you can see reason more clearly than we can see your feet? Oy, lady. You're giving me a headache.

Posted by Heather at 12:22 PM | Permalink


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