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June 27, 2007

BET Awards Scrolldown Fug: Lil' Mama

Everything seemed to be going so well. The shirt is cute. The pants... might be cute if they didn't make her right leg look like it had sustained a wound from a Star Wars laser blaster.

But the shoes. The SHOES.

Or -- since, with the Dr. Moreau reference, this is apparently Marlon Brando Week here at GFY -- one might gasp, "The horror. The HORROR."

Anything this bad deserves a closer look. I think that's the Second Law of Fuggodynamics.

Let's take this in order.

1) They're wedges. And gladiator sandals. Together. Gladiages? Wedgiator sandals? See, if they don't have a mellifluous hybrid name -- like Brangelina, or ... Brangelina -- then those two things aren't meant to be combined. I believe that's actually something Us Weekly is seeking to add to the Constitution of the United States.

2) They are tied, and way too loosely I might add, OVER HER PANTS. Did we learn nothing from Sienna Miller doing the same? Don't encourage Sienna, please, or else she'll get back out there and keep trying.

3) Wow, this woman needs a pedicure.

4) Are those rhinestones? Are they BEDAZZLED wedgiator sandals?

5) I don't actually have a #5; I'm still just gaping at how she stuffed her jeans into her shoes. It means Lil' Mama went to a LOT of trouble to put these on and debut them for the world at the BET Awards. Which in turn means she must have sat at home going, "I can't wait to wear my new ass-kicking wedges. I just need the perfect outfit... OH MY GOD I KNOW, I'll wear them with my Skin Disease Jeans!"

I may need to lie down. But first I'm going to go thank all my shoes for not looking like these.

Posted by Heather at 02:14 PM in Misc. Awards Shows | Permalink

BET Awards Fug Carpet: Random Fug

Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time before Formal Shorts placed a touchy-feely hand onto the knee of The Dreaded Manpri and gave it a loving squeeze.

What's next? We've already seen hints of man-leggings on the catwalk. Will Dress Over Pants be caught copulating greedily with a second pair of pants, giving rise to Pants-Over Pants? Oh, I can't look. It's like The Island of Dr. Moreau over here, except with cotton and no aging, corpulent overlord. And no creepy person-animals.

So really, maybe it's more like the annoying garage chem lab of that girl on Hidden Palms. Either way, I repeat: I am afraid to look... yet cannot look away.

Posted by Heather at 01:21 PM in Misc. Awards Shows, Random Fug | Permalink

BET Awards Fug Carpet: Beyonce

I've looked at this photo of Beyonce for like twenty minutes, and I can't decide if she looks crazy, or AWESOME:

Is it subtle? No. Is it restrained? No. Is it impossible to sit down in? Probably. Could this be one of the costumes from the grand finale of the Xanadu musical? (Warning: that link takes you to possibly the most mesmerizing Flash intro ever) We hope so. And yet, something about how over-the-top it is is also kind of FABULOUS. It's so....shiny. And futuristic. And weird. And ballsy. And probably really hot in the sun -- if you want to hug her, you probably have to wrap a beach towel around her waist to avoid being scalded, like how you sometimes need to use a dishrag to handle your steering wheel during a heat wave.

But this metallic extravaganza is nothing compared to what B wore to perform in:

She's like C3PO's Dream Woman! Who's also apparently f'ing LOADED, because these leggings cost like, seriously, $100,000 (they're Balanciaga, and I assume they also do your laundry and babysit your children, for that price). And while I am concerned that one of her breasts is about to pop out (which, I mean, of course it's much more difficult to yank up a bra composed of precious metals than it is a little cotton number -- what are you gonna do?), you have to give the girl credit for FULLY COMMITTING to a vision.

Posted by Jessica at 12:26 PM in Beyonce, Misc. Awards Shows | Permalink

BET Awards Post-Party Fug: Blu Cantrell

Much in the way it smiles upon the work of ancient Greek and Roman craftsmen, I think history will look back at Blu Cantrell and revere her as an artisan of fug. Just when you think she can't elevate her game any higher, she straps on a rocket pack and shoots up into the fugtosphere.

Of course, the drawback of the rare place in history she's carved for herself is that our children's grandchildren might look back and think we all wore jeans that made us look like we were either pregnant, or that we bloated ourselves for sport. And I don't particularly want my memory any more tarnished than it already will be by the photos of me in stirrup pants in grade 9.

Still, it takes a special woman to wear something that renders the hideousness of that hat -- and the retina-peeling wrongness of that lipstick -- totally beside the point. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she left the house in a year wearing pants that button at the armpit (assuming her necklaces don't strangle her first), which would a) essentially bind her in a denim bodystocking, thereby contradicting the notion of freedom her shirt purports to advocate; and b) serve as the ultimate "FU" to her body and to the world.

Posted by Heather at 11:38 AM in Misc. Awards Shows | Permalink

Well Played: Kristen Bell

Oh, Kristen Bell. We've had some hard times, no? So I'm pleased to note that this time, we're handing out love nuggets, rather than hate kernels.


Okay, I don't really like the bag, but that's just because it reminds me of one of those huge bows attached to a barrettes that some of us used to sport in junior high (EVERYONE DID AT THE TIME, OKAY?)  But seeing as you're not wearing it in your hair, I'm going to let it pass, and instead give you some props for rocking a summery, flattering dress that is actually not overwhelming your wee little frame. Shall we enjoy this uneasy truce while it lasts? I fear you may show up for Gossip Girl press wearing a fez.

Posted by Jessica at 08:42 AM in Kristen Bell, Well Played | Permalink

June 26, 2007

Fugger Again

Kelly, we hated the bodysuit tops and the unflattering pants when you wore them while promoting your last two albums. Why must we go through it again?

We love you, but from what we hear, your third album needs a little more help than the others did; wearing a terribly ill-fitting shirt and painting a bird on the crotch of your even MORE terribly ill-fitting pants isn't the best way to convince me to buy it. For one thing, we here at GFY HQ aren't terribly enamored of birds, unless they are parrots sitting on the shoulders of remarkably hot, surprisingly well-showered pirates -- and the parrots are wearing socks. For another, it's making me wonder if those pants are chafing you somewhere you don't want to be chafed. And finally, the shirt looks like it has a tongue that is lapping out over your zipper, which might scare The Children.

However, I'm glad you went back to being a brunette and grew your hair long, because it completely works. I know that complimenting you here might seem incongruous, but consider it a measure of how much I care. Also, I want to flatter you into never wearing those pants again. I hope it succeeds.

Posted by Heather at 02:24 PM | Permalink

Harry Fugter and the Order of the Phoefug

EVANNA LYNCH: Oy, Rupert -- thanks so much for the pants and shoes! You're a peach. It's my first movie, and without you to loan me the proper clothes, I'd have had no idea what to wear in the photos. 

RUPERT GRINT: Don't worry about it, I've got plenty of ratty things you can borrow. The key is to look as grubby as possible, yeah? That way women want to hug you and take you home and clean you up.

EMMA WATSON: I look the best! I look the best!

DANIEL RADCLIFFE: God, this is uncomfortable. How am I supposed to smile with all this itchy cotton on? How am I supposed to show off my pelvic bone, then?

KATIE LEUNG: Bjork's new line of tights and matching shoes is SO GOOD. Seriously, Evanna, you should look into it.

EVANNA: No, Rupert told me I should look like a street urchin. Just because you were in the last movie doesn't mean you know as much as he does.

KATIE: At least I brushed my hair.

DANIEL: I mean, Harry's getting older -- isn't it about time we saw more of his manliness?

EVANNA: At least I'm not wearing a glorified drawstring sack, KATIE.

EMMA: No, seriously, you guys, pay attention to me -- I actually look the best of everyone! This is FANTASTIC! I DID IT!

RUPERT: Come on, ladies, don't you all just want to run your fingers through my messy hair and wash my clothes? Admit it.

DANIEL: I wish they'd take my clothes. They really get in the way of promoting your acting roles.

KATIE: Really? Because I actually have a whole second outfit hidden underneath my skirt.

DANIEL: Don't these people want to create buzz? Look, Evanna's dressed like the Artful Dodger. Maybe she can STEAL my clothes.

EMMA: Oh, shut up, Daniel. We're tired of hearing about that thing with the horse.

DANIEL: All I'm saying is, this suit MIGHT be rigged so that if you pull it in the right spot, it all drops off me.

EMMA: No thanks. Everyone already thinks we all fancy the pants off each other. I'm not giving them any picture evidence. Now shut up and smile.

 

Posted by Heather at 12:09 PM | Permalink

Fug de la Huerta

Below, Paz de la Huerta kindly demonstrates the difference between sexy bedhead and BEDHEAD bedhead:

I'm all for the Mussed Tousled I Just Crawled Out of Your Bed And I'm About to Crawl RIGHT BACK IN look, but at least have the decency to attend to the sweaty bangs before you leave the house.

Posted by Jessica at 10:14 AM | Permalink

Fug Poets Society

Here at GFY HQ, we're constantly nagging Intern George to get off his firm, well-sculpted duff and do stuff for us: unload the crates of Lean Pockets and Diet Coke out on the dock, rub our feet, or work on the Go Fug Yourself Time TravelR 3000. Once that little number is up and running, we've got a whole list of things to take care of. I'm going to zip back to 1998 and tell myself that Dawson's Creek's Katie Holmes is going to marry Tom Cruise, if only to see the look on my face. Then I'm going further back, to 1996, to tell myself to STOP CUTTING MY OWN HAIR YOU DON'T LIVE ON A COMMUNE, GOD, and also not to go out with that guy with the soul patch in my Poli Sci class.  Then I'm going way, way back, to 1992, to tell myself that, one day, I will be mere feet from Luke Perry at the Chinese theatre, and if I can JUST HOLD ON, it'll be worth it. And finally, I'll stop off in 1997 to inform myself that this Dreamy Ethan Hawke:

Is going to turn into this guy:

YOU can cut your own hair, if you want to, Ethan. Just lose the mullet, for the love of little green apples. You're KILLING my adolescent fantasies. Just because you're a "writer" now, or whatever, does not allow you to disregard the Holy Covenant of Hotness, which says that if you are hot, you owe it to society -- nay, THE WORLD -- to UPHOLD YOUR HOTNESS so as to bring succor to the bummed out of the world.

Posted by Jessica at 08:33 AM | Permalink

June 25, 2007

Don Fuggle

DON CHEADLE: Wow, Victoria, I almost didn't recognize you without a shrunken hat on your head!

VICTORIA ROWELL: That's funny -- I almost didn't recognize YOU without the tarnish of that terrible fake cockney accent you were using in Ocean's Eleven!

DON: Hey, I completely toned that down for Ocean's Thirteen.

VICTORIA: Was it at the expense of your eyesight? Because, I mean, those are a LOT of different blues you are sporting.

DON: At least I'm not wearing a baseball cap with a suit.

VICTORIA: I'll have you know I'm going for the sexy pilot/astronaut look, like I just walked out of a really important smart-casual seminar.

DON: At the University of Southern Maine? Did you even GO there?

VICTORIA: No, but I'm at least FROM there, which means I could at least DO THE ACCENT if I needed to -- you know, in case anyone wanted me to play a sneaky woman from Maine in Ocean's Fourteen and they want actual AUTHENTICITY in the performance.

DON: Didn't your soap character just fall off a cliff or something? Did you throw all your wee hats over with her? Is that it?

VICTORIA: Don't dis tiny headgear, pal -- it might actually help distract from all those stripes. Seriously, it's hurting my eyes. What are you, the Snow Meiser's dorky absent-minded-professor cousin? Got a pocket protector under there anywhere?

DON: Relax, it's not my fault you're having a bad hair day.

VICTORIA:  But at least if somebody's bored during your movie here, they won't ask if they can borrow my shirt for a game of Tic-Tac-Toe. I'm just saying.

DON: Yeah? Well, call me the next time you're even in a movie and I'll wear it again. I could make a fortune at a buck a game.

VICTORIA: ... Can I get a cut?

DON: 70-30?

VICTORIA: Done. Nice doing business with you, Poindexter.

Posted by Heather at 02:02 PM | Permalink

 

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