Don't 'Cha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Fug Like Me

So, there's this brilliantly terrible show on TLC called I've Got Nothing To Wear, in which a "celebrity" "stylist" I've never heard of goes through a person's closet, pulls out all their awful clothes, and takes it back to a tiny room where three "design prodigies" are waiting to turn all the junk into six brand-new outfits (two each, one for day and one for evening) -- all under the guise of a "master" designer whose claim to fame is working at the Fashion Institute of Technology by day, hawking wares on QVC by night, having nothing interesting to say, and sporting the most frightening plastic surgery on a man since Kenny Rogers. (Sorry about all the quotation marks, but seriously, the show's budget is like $5, so I'm dubious about all these claims -- especially when one of the "design prodigies" used his three days to glue scraps of fabric to a mannequin and then go home early to watch cartoons. I'm not kidding. He could not wait to get out of there. Although he may also have been from space. It's unclear.)

It's actually kind of a good concept for a show, except for the aforementioned fact that it's executed on the cheap and without anyone worth caring about on it (now, if Tim Gunn were there, it would be a different story, but he is too magnificent for a $5 show). But seriously, half the time, the new outfits are just as hideous as the old ones, like, say, the thick wool romper made from an old cream overcoat and, I think, bits of a pair of jeans. And it's amusing watching the person who owns the clothes try to choke back on her rising bile when she sees what's happened to them.

All of which, of course, brings me around to the Pussycat Dolls.

Because the more I see them, the more I feel like all their costumes were spit out by the I've Got Nothing To Wear chop shop by some blind, drunk, and blind-drunk prodigies with a glue-gun fetish. Note the conspicuous absence of Asia, the horrible winner of The Pussycat Dolls Present: Yada Yada Yada, New Band Member. Either she didn't work out so well, or she's terrified of wearing anything that's held together by staples and scotch tape. Man, she dodged a bullet.