June 29, 2007
Let's see: Since the glory days of Full House, we're well aware of what the Olsen twins have gotten up to, and obviously, we know Stamos (siiiigh) is on ER and married Rebecca Romijn, and then they split up and he became both a yearning bachelor hungry for love and everyone's default guess for just about every blind item that ever was. (He has since ceded that throne to Lindsay Lohan.) Saget is hosting 1 vs 100 when he's not busy telling you all about how he met your mother, Candace Cameron married a hockey player, and Uncle Joey went up in everyone's estimation when we found out Alanis Morrissette was actually upset when they broke up.
But what of Jodie Sweetin? Well, there was a very sad few years of a meth addiction (we are very happy she kicked that) and a recent sober stint hosting Pants Off Dance Off, which features -- yes -- footage of people dancing in front of music videos while taking off their pants. [I imagine this is a lot like going out on the town with Paris Hilton.]
And somewhere in there, Jodie got these:
I don't know if she can blame the funbags on the drugs, but if she can't, she might want to think about dabbling in a little revisionist history. Those are too big for her. I feel like surgeons probably offer them under the title, "Pammy Jr."
But what's really distracting is how she's showing them off in that alarmingly twee brassiere, which looks like it's ripped from a Playtex line called "June Is Busting Out All Over." Maybe Jodie just hasn't met the shirt that can contain those things. Maybe they broke the zipper on that jacket and burst forth of their own accord. Otherwise... is it possible we're entering an era where people who aren't Britney Spears are using their bras as shirts? Because I don't think I can get behind that.
Unless it's Halloween, and you're in costume as Jodie Sweetin. Or you're in a posse that's going as Britney Through The Ages. Which, by the way, I would love to do, but frankly, it's hard to find a red vinyl jumpsuit these days.
Posted by Heather at 02:05 PM | Permalink
BET Awards Fug Carpet: Random Fug
This woman is bravely providing Exhibit A as to why one should never knit one's own clothes while watching Season 1 90210 reruns on SoapNet. It all seems fun at first, but then you find yourself gawking at Brandon's fluffy mullet and screaming indignantly at the galling way Brenda gets upset and climbs onto the moral high-ground when the 25-year old she's been secretly dating dares to be upset that she lied about being of legal age. Then suddenly Andrea is going on about The Blaze being the top-ranked high-school newspaper in the country (ha!) and Kelly uses the word "dorkmeyer" and Brandon's ex from Minnesota tells him he's a "wonderful lover" and then he becomes a total self-righteous douchebag and you're yelling at the television and rolling your eyes so hard that they quit working and you're catatonic for a few days... and then, you wake up one day and the dress you were slaving over only has half a skirt. And because you've been so immersed in their world and their clothes, you start to see nothing wrong with wearing it anyway, over a pair of cuffed knee-length jean-shorts, because hey, Kelly wore some over polka-dot leggings and she was still popular.
Don't let this happen to you. Oh, don't get me wrong, you should still watch the re-runs -- I believe today is mother-daughter fashion show at which Brenda learns Kelly's mother is a cokehead. But just don't mix the Walshes with your wardrobe.
Celebrity Terror Watch: Eric Balfour
Add Eric Balfour to the Big Bad List of Celebrities Who Look Like They're About to SNAP and Murder You:
He looks way crankier at the Pink Taco opening than any man ought to look at the opening of a pink taco. ZING! AND SOMETIMES THEY WRITE THEMSELVES.
Ahem. Sorry. The coffee was overly strong this morning. I mean, really -- a Pink Taco/pink taco crack? What I am, like, a twelve year old boy, who just discovered TastelessEuphamisms.com? I'm so ashamed. Please, look away.
I knew this would happen. In many ways, I hoped it would, kind of like how the best way to make your food come at a restaurant is to get up and go to the bathroom, or the quickest way to get someone to call you is to give up on them and turn off your phone and go sit in the hot tub. And the best way to get Chloe Sevigny to confuse the hell out of you is to tell her you like her orange dress.
Welcome back, Chloe.
I actually sort of like her shirt -- longer, and it'd make a cute vintage-looking white summer dress. But of course, Chloe being Chloe, she would rather wear it with the spawn of a pair of leggings that spent one confusing, sweaty summer night in the barn making frenetic, hay-coated love to a pair of jodhpurs.
That's our Sev. Which would be a nice title for a sitcom based on her crazy fashion antics and the group of saner friends who just sit back and shake their heads in wonder at her inanity -- when they're not busy acting on all the sexual tension, of course.
Peter Saaaaaaaaaarsgaaaaaaaaaaaurd is clearly thinking, "don't ask me about what she's wearing. Don't asking me about what she's wearing. Don't ask me about what she's wearing. God, I hate standing here. Are my pants a hair too short?"
Maggie, Maggie. Leaving aside the issue that your dress is sporting a mock turtleneck(!) and seems straight out of one of those Lifetime movies from the 80s where Meredith Baxter Birney fights sexual harassment in a series of outfits with floppy little lady-ties, what's with the hair? I get that it's probably hot in New York right now, but must you schlep out of the house to these things looking like you just jumped out of the shower and are running down to the Post Office before it closes? You know, even when you don't look actively unhappy, you generally seem so brimming with disdain for these sorts of events. If you hate gussying up and attending things, here's a suggestion: don't. And if you have to go to them for work, maybe pretend you don't hate every single second of it, just so people don't think you're sort of a cranky sourpuss. It's called ACTING, and you're usually much, much better at it.
June 28, 2007
From a distance, I thought the lovely Angela Kinsey was taking this break from her staid Office character to show a little leg with a miniskirt. And I thought to myself, "Well, the shiny shirt fabric seems kind of casual with that skirt, and the lengths don't go together at all. Which is too bad, because she is so pretty and happy. I wonder what went wrong."
I should have known. What always goes wrong?
It's not a miniskirt. It's formal shorts. It's always friggin' formal shorts. Does your head hurt? It's formal shorts. Got acid reflux? You'll need Pepcid F.S., because it's formal shorts. Wondering why On The Lot sucks so very hard? Yep: Formal shorts. And the host. And roughly 90 percent of the contestants. But we suspect formal shorts are somehow, nefariously, behind the whole nightmare.
So Angela Kinsey had better take one for the Office team and burn those suckers before they do some real damage.
Posted by Heather at 01:52 PM | Permalink
Vivica A. Fug
I once read an article about Vivica A. Fox in which she claimed to have decided to us her middle initial professionally so that when people talked about her, they called her "Vivica: a fox!"
Upon reflection, I maybe would have gone with Vivica A. Huge Goldfinger Fan or Vivica A. Statuette for a Minor But Tacky Awards Show or Vivica A. Showgirl or Vivica A. Touchstone For All That Is Pure, Chaste, Demure and Understated in This Crazy Mixed Up World of Ours.
Okay, maybe not that last one.
Posted by Jessica at 01:06 PM | Permalink
Listen, I understand the glories of having a casual workplace. I'm a
blogger. Occasionally I change out of my pajamas in the morning and
into a different pair of pajamas. But even a slug like me has a sense of occasion; conversely, I fear that what I imagine to be the grubs-friendly confines of Saturday Night Life might be teaching Andy Samberg some habits he just can't shake.
Honey, not every day is a Lazy Sunday. The very least you could do is wear something to a premiere that you didn't pull out of his laundry pile an hour earlier.
Somebody please buy this kid some nice shirts. And a comb.
Posted by Heather at 11:30 AM | Permalink
Spice Up Your Fug
At today's announcement of the VERY MUCH ANTICIPATED (at least by us. And George) Spice Girls reunion:
POSH: Oi. My tits are killing me in this thing.
SPORTY: I am just SO HAPPY you guys didn't make me wear that tracksuit!
GINGER: Wait. Is this OUR reunion announcement? Shit. I thought I was going to the photoshoot for the Stevie Nicks tribute band I'm in on weekends. Okay. Just be cool, Geri.
BABY: Baby Spice is HAVING A BABY! Doesn't that make you feel OLD? I'm also wearing a teeny tiny cape. Just for fun! 2 become 1!!
SCARY: SUCK ON THIS, EDDIE MURPHY.
POSH: When this is over, I am calling Karl and telling him never to do this to my breasts again. Of course, then he'll say something totally surreal like, "BOOB TAPE SHALL BE YOUR HAN SOLO" and what do you say to that?
SPORTY: You know what? I'm not going to do any of those karate-style high kicks anymore, EITHER. It might mess up my cute new hair. Everyone can just DEAL.
GINGER: I hope Mel wasn't serious when she told me to get my Union Jack dress back. I mean, she had to be kidding, right? Those slags at the Hard Rock are totally not returning my calls.
BABY: Ziga zig AH!
SCARY: Geri better get that Union Jack dress back. If she quits the band again, I swear I'll kill her.
June 27, 2007
Well Played: Bai Ling?
My boobs COULD pop out of this. But they won't. No. I'm sorry, carbon-based lifeforms. Tonight, Personality Number 16 -- the BORING ONE. Sorry, 16, but it's TRUE -- picked our dress out. She wanted to look "pretty." She's got seven heads on Planet Zolton, so when we beam down to earth, it's like this whole big deal. And she made me use double-sided taped. That's why I look so glum. 16 has nice taste, but she's no fun to party with."