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April 26, 2007

Fugunion

God, Alexa Davalos, if you didn't want to be Josh Lucas's date for this thing, you should have just SAID SO. Showing up in your bathrobe is totally passive aggressive.

Posted by Jessica at 01:15 PM | Permalink

Las Fuggas

Molly Sims is on Las Vegas, right? I only knows bits and pieces about that show, like that Lara Flynn Boyle's character got blown off a roof top by a particularly nasty gust of wind, and that Josh Duhamel is on it, and he's extremely good-looking, though I prefer to remember him as Leo du Pres on All My Children, a character I was so fond of that I actually screamed "noooo!" when Heather gave me the sad news that they had killed him off (although! The body was never recovered. So he'll probably be back. But he'll have a totally different face. So I might be sort of out, you know?) (Also, I apparently wasn't fond enough of him to keep up enough with AMC to know that he was dead.) (It was still a blow.)

Anyhoodle, Molly Sims: Cover Girl, Las Vegas something or other, used to date that hot guy on Without A Trace, has a great house that I saw in In Style a few years back and coveted. That's the extent of my knowledge. Also, I know that this was a mistake:

I actually LOVE the fabric. It's very retro, but still modern and I think it's cool, and if the cut of the dress were different, I think I'd really like it. But this just isn't all that flattering on her. I mean, obviously, she doesn't look HIDEOUS or whatever -- she's working from a much higher degree of hot than the average Jane to begin with, which helps. I just feel like the peek-a-boob bodice makes her look both more squashed and more short-waisted than she actually is, because you've got SOOOOOO much shoulder and SOOOOOO much skirt and, like, nothing in between.

Let's go to the close-up:

Indeed. You know she is spending all night just tugging that up. This whole evening was a choreographed routine for Molly, one which all women have performed: glass in one hand,  clutch tucked under arm, other hand surreptitiously yanking your bodice back into position. She has the added degree of difficulty in that she has to make sure that her yanking hasn't repositioned those cut-outs right over her nipples. That's a lot to ask, honestly. Exhausting, even. Thank god she has that nice house to go back to.

Posted by Jessica at 11:14 AM | Permalink

April 25, 2007

Fug Cantrell

By now, many of our regular readers are familiar with GFY reverse-muse Blu Cantrell -- a singer whose style is so intensely insane that we're both frightened by her, and fascinated with her.

Her latest issues would appear to be borne of a follicular mid-life crisis. Here is Lady Blu before:

Okay, so the top of her hair looks kind of... greasy, maybe, and between you and me, her right pupil is freaking me the hell OUT, so perhaps I'm concentrating too hard on her weave. But overall, she's got some flattering waves around her face. It's subtle, and it's not overshadowing the rest of her, which is a good thing. Usually. Except maybe it needed to overshadow THE EYE, which ... seriously, is it just me, or is that thing dilating independently of the other one? Are they supposed to do that? Or is it just an optical illusion?

Ahem. Anyway, all ocular shenanigans aside, I think you'll agree that she looks better in the above photo than she has in the past few days. Let's start with this weekend.

Either the theme of this party was "Come As Your Favorite Olsen" -- in which case we'd obviously have gone as Nellie Oleson -- or Mary-Kate and Ashley do actually have a secret triplet. Although now that I stare at her, she also kind of resembles Lost's Emilie de Ravin, so maybe the party was in honor of all the old Roswell actors, in which case we'd have taken the controversial direction of dressing as the diction coach who finally got Shiri Appleby to say "thinking" instead of "thinkink" and the like. Regardless, it seems unwise for a lass like Blu, who hasn't had a hit record in a blue moon, to try and get attention by making people think you're someone else.

Not that Blu seems to mind, judging by the wig she sported a day or so later.

That thing is a giant pile of ass. Seriously, what is WITH all this cheap hair? It looks like she found it while rooting through a cardboard box of wigs at Courtney Love's garage sale, or bought it for $2.99 at Aaah's on Halloween because she wanted to try going as Julia Roberts' Pretty Woman character pre-heart of gold. Except even Prostitute Julia was able to afford a better wig. What gives, Blu? Are you just waiting for a dude in a borrowed Lotus to come by and give you $3000 to use his hotel hot tub? Because here's the thing: It kind of makes you look like a tranny. And I'm pretty sure that no matter how giving a mood Eddie Murphy is in these days, he's not going to be up for that kind of charity again any time soon. So you might want to reconsider the coif. Unless you're just short of cash, in which case, we'd be happy to loan you the cash for some of Ken Paves' over-the-counter hair extensions. They clip right in, and aren't even pre-owned. It's like magic.

Posted by Heather at 02:02 PM | Permalink

Fug Karfugian

Kim Kardashian is truly famous for nothing. She has no discernible job, nor has she ever done anything really noteworthy in the public eye, and yet I know a lot about her. She is Brody Jenner's step-sister. She's friends with Paris Hilton. Her late father was one of OJ Simpson's defense lawyers, though that was mostly just because he was friends with OJ. He didn't really do any lawyering.  OJ lived at the Kardashian compound until he turned himself in, so Kim may have some inside scoop on whether or not OJ actually Did It (ahem). And now one of the things you know about me is that I know A LOT about the OJ Simpson trial, primarily because a great deal of the legal shenanigans were aired on local television during a very warm Los Angeles summer that I spent stripping wallpaper for my mother.  And speaking of criminal:

Listen, girl. When you're dealing with those big old (fake?) boobs, you really can't just drape a tablecloth over them and call it a day, because it makes you look like one of those ladies on the prow of the ship. (Intern George has just informed me that those are called "figureheads."  He has an impressive breadth of knowledge, truly.) And while it is conceptually dramatic to come sailing into the harbor with the strength of thousands of seaman behind you, this is not a look that translates well to the red carpet.

Posted by Jessica at 12:37 PM | Permalink

Well Played, Paula Abdul

Victory in our time!

That's right, Paula, celebrate. You look ... cute! I KNOW! The dress is fun, the shoes are fantastic, and although your Botox problem has your "smile" looking slightly more like a twisted grimace, I also know that's just unfortunate timing on this picture and I can relate because I am horribly unphotogenic. Although it does sort of look like you are resisting while Craig Ferguson is trying to escort you quickly and quietly to your car so it can take you back to the loony bin, but whatever -- I'm starting to find your incoherence and faux-drunken shenanigans amusing (to the point where I wish you'd attributed your fashion pick to the little sprites who dance on your shoulders and really shine in their own light of special rainbows; maybe you did).

Also, I do believe I actually heard you give an OPINION on American Idol last night, something that wasn't just a regurgitation of whatever Randy said before you. Did my ears deceive me? I almost hit my head on the coffee table when I fainted, I was so surprised. So well played indeed, Ms. Abdul. Let's shoot for one more of those per show. Okay? Great. Baby steps.

Posted by Heather at 11:16 AM in Paula Abdul, Well Played | Permalink

The Sofugos

Edie Falco usually looks totally pulled together at formal events, but it seems that the Tribeca Film Festival has inspired her Inner Frump:

This whole look just screams "Clinically Depressed Mother of the Bride." This is what you wear when your daughter is running off with a member of al-Qaida, or maybe Kevin Federline, as it's just a step above mourning, but also seems like it would be forgiving when, after the ceremony, you and your husband drive 25 miles out of town to go to Claim Jumper and each eat a piece of Motherlode cake in total silence.

God, now I'm totally depressed. Sorry about that. The good news is that SHE seems pretty chipper, despite the tragedy-wear, so at least we can all rest assured that if a Motherlode was required, it did its duty.

Posted by Jessica at 10:15 AM | Permalink

April 24, 2007

Spiderfug 3

Oh, Kiks.

Ever since The Incident of The Glasses, I've sort of been falling in love with Kirsten Dunst. She's kooky and she often shuns The Holy Covenant of the Bra, but she seems like a good sport. Also, I just read this whole interview with her and Bryce Dallas Howard in Jane magazine and it was all sort of self-deprecating and charming and she seems to be bummed about her Boy Situation, in a very relate-able way, and she also uses the word "dude" a lot, as do I.

So, DUDE, KIKI:

You look cute: that dress fits you nicely and your bod looks great. I'm not entirely sure how I feel about the color on you, but it's all mildly fashion-forward, you look really happy, and you're definitely working it. BUT YOUR BOYFRIEND APPEARS TO BE WEARING MAN-LEGGINGS. And COWBOY BOOTS. And a VERY LOW CUT TEE. I'm seriously pretty sure that we just saw this EXACT SAME OUTFIT on Lindsay Lohan. And I'm sure if you wanted to date Lindsay, YOU COULD. 

Although I don't really recommend that.  Lindsay is not in a good place right now. You don't need her drama in your life.

BUT NOR DO YOU NEED MAN-LEGGINGS.

Posted by Jessica at 02:53 PM in Kirsten Dunst | Permalink

Virgin Fugatory

The other day, I was watching the reruns of The OC that they're currently airing on SoapNet, and thinking about Mischa Barton. Namely that even when she's dressed like a total nutjob or delivering a less than stellar line-reading, you can't escape the fact that she really is extremely pretty.  Which does help her get away with these sorts of pantsual shenanigans:

I think my feelings on super-high-waisted pants are very well documented, but the issue with these, as far as I'm concerned, is less "Ooh, if those are totally accentuating HER tiny saddle bags, I'd look like I was stocking up for a trip on the Oregon Trail in them," and more that they're total Mom Jeans. Not in the SNL Unflattering, Pleated Mom Jeans sense, but in the sense that I am pretty sure that my ACTUAL mother wore a pair like these when I was in pre-school. And so my reaction to them is very confused and visceral. On one hand, I think they're insanely unflattering and I hate them. On the other hand, I suddenly feel like I just had a nice long stint with finger paints, a peanut butter sandwich and a hug and I'm all ready for my nap. Which is quite pleasant really.

I think I shall resolve this quandary with a little Sesame Street.

Posted by Jessica at 01:04 PM in Mischa Barton | Permalink

Fugged!

It is well and truly established that I am quite fond of Miss Mandy Moore. She seems like someone you could be friends with -- actual Go Out For Beers With, Complain About Work To, Talk About Boys With, Borrow Going-Out Tops From Friends, as opposed to being someone who has solely Snort Coke With, Steal Parts From, Cheat On Boyfriends With, "Accidentally" Spill Wine on Your Favorite Top Hollywood-Style Friends.  And, apparently -- at least according to Elle -- she is both a lover AND a fighter, and who doesn't appreciate that in a girl? 

And, sure, maybe she's a lover and a fight with sort of unusually straw-like hair, according to his cover, but she looks cute and beachy in that dress, no? Imagine that with slightly healthier-looking hair. It works -- right? Sure. It works. Everything is working out fine for Mands. Let's take a gander at her on the inside, shall we?

Um.

That's... not such a great picture. In fact, I feel like if Mandy and I were Friends Friends, and I snapped that on my digital camera, she would squeak and force me to delete it. She doesn't look sultry as much as she looks sort of...well, let's just say that this is very, VERY similar to the look I had on my face last weekend when I was exhausted and hungover and the nice lady at the Coffee Bean told me that it would be about ten minutes before my coffee was ready because the coffee flux capacitor had blown a gasket (or something).

Mandy, I don't know what you did to the folks over at Elle, but -- as your friend -- I think you need to find some way to make it right. Now, can I borrow that white dress this weekend?

Posted by Jessica at 10:56 AM in Fug The Cover | Permalink

April 23, 2007

Since You've Been Fug

So, I am all about Kelly Clarkson. I love her, love her, love her. In fact, the night of the American Idol 1 finale, I told my co-worker Jenny that if Kelly didn't win, I was going to have to call in sick the next day, and I meant it. I was really invested.  So this definitely doesn't stem from some kind of misguided dislike of K. Cla. That kind of haterade simply isn't on the menu here at GFY HQ.

Um, okay. Dear, dear Kelly. I love your new haircut. Your makeup is great. This color is amazing on you. But we have to have a talk. I see what you're going for here, and I truly do salute it. However, the shape, on you, is not fantastic.  You're sort of bottom-heavy (I feel you), and this makes you look a wee bit shapeless and kind of -- maybe -- like you're the newest member of the Fruit of the Loom team of whimsical...you know, fruits, albeit obviously the most talented one (sorry, Grapes). You need something that sort of wrangles you into more of a shape. Because you HAVE a shape and I'm sure it's cute. It's just kind of lost and obscured in this dress, which just goes to show that you can have an ostensibly good outfit (I think the dress itself is really pretty adorable) and if it doesn't work on your body type, you're still SOL.

And I hate it when Kelly is SOL. She should be FULL of L.

Posted by Jessica at 11:58 AM | Permalink

 

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