When Intern George isn't rubbing our feet, scrawling "Mr. George Fug Girls" on his Trapper Keeper, or peeling grapes that he then feeds us from a silver platter -- as we lounge on our chaises and swoon, "Dahling, WHITHER the fug today, I shall simply PERISH if Mischa Barton doesn't soon leave the house in a Value Village tee!" -- we sometimes let him answer our mail. And today, we decided to let him print some of his answers. We swear on all things holy (so, on George himself) that these are all VERY real e-mails we've received at GFY HQ, with names removed to protect the somewhat innocent.

---

E-mail #1

Subject line: Not Above The Law

This is to say paris your  not above the law !!!!!YOur  driving that way  and  more than one time is  pathetic ,  you  could  of killed  someone and hurt them  very badly .Can ya  deal with that ????Hope the  law  gives you the  most penalty  that  can be  given ,  you  deserve it totally , no  sympathy for you  period .  And there's  no  muff for your  tiolet  seat  either , so enjoy  that !!!!!!!Get it  good !!!!Not a  Fan  !!!!!!!

Dear Friend,

Playing Sherlock Holmes for a second on this vague, veiled missive, I am sensing feelings of rich disdain. A very wise person once told me, "The sum of your feeling equals the number of exclamation points you use when you're in a wicked strop." Here's a hint: Her name started with "M" and ended in "other Teresa." I thought we'd topped the scale at 14, which were the number she used in a handwritten missive to me raging against the cancellation of Models, Inc., but your 23 push things into the next stratosphere. Such passion! My toes are curling, pet. And you're right, if there's one thing that scaly heiress needs, it's a tiolet seat sans muff. But that doesn't mean I can't knit one for myself...

Getting it good,

G

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E-mail #2

Subject line: (none)

hey can u tell amanda bines to stay out of my garbage can thanx

Dear Friend,

I understand your concerns; Anne Heche was once in my garbage can for three weeks. It was awkward, but she wove me potholders out of my old Coffee Bean cups, so how could I begrudge her? I urge you, put on your empathy pants and consider things from your visitor's perspective: Did it ever occur to you there might be a reason Amanda Bynes is in your garbage can? Maybe she was just passing by, and lost an earring. Maybe you threw out a sweater she thought would make a great piece for her clothing line. Maybe she's rooting around to try and find your Social Security Number so that she can steal your identity and run off to Fiji to escape memories of Sydney White. Gosh, maybe she saw an intergalactic wolf-sprite peeking out at her, begging her to return with it to another galaxy and save the world by spawning a new civilization with Andy Dick (although I've heard that before, ahem, ANNE, and it didn't happen, so tread carefully if Amanda tries that old chestnut).

My point is, stretch out your arms and embrace the unknown -- in this case, the reasons a Hollywood starlet is standing on your lawn nape-deep in your trash. There is nothing a hug of curiosity can't answer. But bring noseplugs if you ate fish recently.

Feeling whiffy,

G

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E-mail #3

Subject line: words "Go Fug Yourself" sure is a fashion reject

the words "go fug yourself" sure is a a verbal fashion reject. it has very BAD connotation.  you probably thought you were oh so cute, but it is a blight on the culture. here you are, pointing out the errors of others, with a blattant business name that is depressing and demeaning.

Dear Friend,

It is? It does? Bless, you sweet peach of knowledge -- I learn so much from reading the GFY e-mail. For instance, I only found out the other day that Britney is just like the rest of us, and that Hilary Duff needs her head shaved by someone who cares. But consider me your knight in shining tuxedo. Once I explain this to the girls, we'll have a renaming summit, going for something that really sends out positive vibes. We'll get all the best cuddle-monkeys in the business together -- David Cassidy, Faye Dunaway, that Verizon guy... It's going to be  magnificent. Gird your loins, Officer Sweetpea of the Reject Police, because it's going to set them aflutter and the ensuing round of hugs will shake the smog layer clean out of Los Angeles.

HappyFashionPancakes.com,

G

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E-mail #4

Subject line: hi

I am interested in know an famous people do you can help me ? Thanks

Dear Friend,

I can do better than that. I can hold you. I can sate your thirst, and sup on your elixir of yearning for some celebrity sparkle. My name is George. I wear many hats, but my most cherished is the Intern headdress strapped to my grateful cranium every time I get to man the bar at GFY HQ. I cherish sarcasm, pigs, human rights, and silk pillowcases. Sometimes when I close my eyes, I can whiff the world, and it smells like truffles. Hugs are my kryptonite but also my moisturizer. Feel this. Know me. Let's buy each other dinner and then watch it get cold, to remind us that the piece of our hearts we gave to one another lives somewhere else.

I must go. Celebrity Apprentice beckons like a post-coital sandwich.

You're hired,

G

SAG Awards Fug Carpet: Jena Malone

I've been staring at this photo for a few days now, and I still can't decide fully.

What do you think: avant garde...

... or wearable modern art entitled Aborted Straitjacket?

poll by twiigs.com.

Fug the Cover: Rachel Bilson

It's no secret that I am a huge fan of Rachel Bilson's style lately. She goes out to get some ice cream and I want to pop up and hand her a Well Played. I just think she's been dressing so well lately. And she's so tiny, but never shows up looking like she just stepped off the midnight train from Stumpyville. So why did Seventeen decide that it would be an awesome idea if she recreated a Seventeen cover from when I was in 8th grade?

SO 8Os. The only way I will approve is if the inside ALSO recreates the Seventeen of my youth, specifically including a photoshoot I have never forgotten despite the fact that it is probably nearly twenty years old: Johnny Depp, wearing a striped shirt, holding a puppy. You know how they say that when you die, one of your loved ones comes out of the light to escort you to heaven? I think it's very possible that when I finally fatally overdose on chalupas or whatever, Johnny Depp is going to emerge from the sky with that puppy to carry me home. In other news, I imagine overdosing on chalupas isn't the #1 Secret to a GREAT BODY, as per that headline, but what are you gonna do?

Fug or Fab: Lake Bell

We've already mentioned how crappy the Lake Bell/Eva Longoria (Parker)/Paul Rudd flick Over Her Dead Body looks, like Paul Rudd tripped and fell into an ABC Family movie.  And I'm incline to extend the same judgment (crappy) to Lake Bell's look at the premiere:

I like that color on her, and she's certainly very pretty and well-toned, but I really really really am not a fan of those shoes and I suspect that in the final analysis she resembles nothing so much as a robot cocktail waitress. But my judgment might be clouded by the fact that I'm totally gripped with fear that, one day in the future, I'll be stuck on a plane watching this terrible movie with only the emergency exit doors as an escape.

polls by twiigs.com...

The Bionic Fugger

Katee Sackhoff was the only amusing thing about NBC's ill-fated Bionic Woman remake -- so, of course, the last few episodes they showed didn't have her in it, because why roll with what works?

Indeed, Katee may have applied that philosophy to her wardrobe. At the premiere of Over Her Dead Body (which, parenthetically: How BAD does that look?!? Could someone out there please go ahead and pay Paul Rudd's mortgage or something, so he doesn't feel like he has to stoop this low? He's too good for it, and also, I don't want him to develop a hunch), Katee whipped out this little number:

[Photo: flynetonline.com]

Hopefully Katee is waving to the person who fought his or her way through the crowd with her coat. Not only is the dress washing her out, but the color is radioactive. You could ball it up, shove it into your DeLorean's secret reactor, and hit up 1955 for a sock hop.

Also, that fabric is notoriously unforgiving if you plan to sit down in it -- the limo ride already gave her some creases -- but it lends credence to my secret theory that she is merely going through the motions here and plans to bolt as soon as the lights go down in the theater. Perhaps she, too, does not want to remember Paul Rudd this way.

Hi Fug

This is Kellie Hoggart, who used to be an Australian pop singer and is now on some children's program there called Hi-5, which I'm sure brings great joy to Australian children and terrible pain to their parents, the kind of pain that comes when you find yourself standing in front of the copier at work idly humming a song from the show and then realizing that you've been singing it for THREE DAYS:

Leaving aside the fact that she looks rather like Courtney Peldon to me (a revelation which led to my wondering if perhaps she has a marginally less-well-known, darker-haired sister and a sadly broken engagement to a quirky actor in her past), I must express sincere concern about her midsection, and what tragic event led her to her decision to wrap it up like a package of Jordon almonds at a particularly frilly wedding.

SAG Awards Fug Carpet: Well Played, Amanda Bynes

Oh, Amanda Bynes. You're so nice and person-colored now.

And that gown is totally gorgeous -- love that peacock color, love the bodice, love the flirty layers at the bottom, love the way it fits her.  The hair might be a little twee, but you know what? I don't care today. That's right. Dare I say it, I'm in a GOOD MOOD, and looking at this dress only enhances it -- like frosting on an already really yummy piece of carrot cake. I am pretty sure that those boys in the background are trying really hard not to stare at her, but inside, are totally stoked that Hot Amanda Bynes is standing mere feet from them and are planning to tell all their friends tomorrow that they held her hand and that she promised they'd get married in 15 years. Or, you know, whatever it is that boys do. Having no brothers, I can't say for sure. Doodling your names jointly inside a big heart all over a spiral notebook and then frantically doing MASH, trying to cheat so that you end up married, living in a mansion, driving a Ferrari, working as a movie star, having three kids, and owning stacks of emeralds, seems like it's more of a girly response.

Fug's So Raven!

Could someone please email me and explain to me how Raven-Symone has turned into a 40-something woman in the last six weeks?

I mean, she's one sexy 40-something, right? Like, I'd love to see this woman move into the gated community on The Real Housewives of Orange County and shake things up. I suspect, judging from this get-up, that her character would secretly running a call-girl operation out of her McMansion, which - I think it goes without saying -- would be AMAZING.

But as our R-S is only 23 years old, you'd hope she'd be showing up places looking a bit more Gossip Girl and a bit less MILF. I'd tell her so personally, but I'm scared she might deck me with that dinner-plate ring and I can't afford the cosmetic dentistry to repair the damage it would inflict.

Well Played: Joy Bryant

Remember the last time we saw Joy Bryant? To say this is an improvement is an understatement:

I wonder if she's got some kind of multiple personality thing going on -- a la Bai Ling but with less nudity (also, doesn't "a la Bai Ling" sound like an option on the menu at some poncy restaurant, like, "the chicken can also be served a la Bai Ling for a surcharge of $8"?). One night, Joy's wardrobe selection is driven by the girl who REALLY loves dressing like an extra from a poorly-produced Lifetime movie about pioneers, the next evening it's propelled by the one with simple, glamourous taste. If I may offer some advice, Joy, see if you can do something about getting rid of Girl One and hang on like cold, grim death to Girl Two.

Lindsay Lohan LeggingWatch2008: PART A MILLION

We got an email from one of our attractive and insightful readers this morning, along with this photo of Lindsay, remarking that it looks like Lindsay woke up "and went insane," and I have to say that I agree, although perhaps it's closer to the truth to say that she woke up and continued to BE insane:

[Photo: infdaily.com]

And yet there is something about this that I almost kind of love. I know, I know, but it's just because she's SO over the top with the HAIR and the FUR and the BAG and the f'ing shiny endless leggings and the PRODUCT PLACEMENT that it's almost hilarious. For one thing, it's so low-rent to accept a surreptitious contract to promote a stop-smoking gum or whatever the heck it is that she's flinging around. For another, I feel like this secret celebrity product placement thing opens up a whole world of possible hilarity for those of us who enjoy celebrity-sighting: ScarJo ostentatiously gulping a Slurpee as part of her secret contract with 7-11, Katie Holmes waving around a package of Tampax, Paris Hilton gallivanting about with a giant bag of Baked Lays over her head.

So potentially, Lindsay has lulled me into an acceptance of her Leggings Habit, as I also think she looks sort of cute here:

[Photo: infdaily.com]

I mean, those could be tights, right? She totally has a skirt on under there, yes? I can think she looks cute without one of you coming over to GY HQ to shake and slap some sense into me, right? Right? Right? Or do I need to go into rehab of my own?

polls by twiigs.com...

Fug or Fab: Kylie Minogue

Okay, so a lot of you were divided on whether Kylie looked great or ghastly -- we do love our alliteration here at GFY HQ -- in the purple outfit from last week. Since our polling function was down that day, I'm making it up to you with this little number; I'm curious to know whether the following will be just as divisive, or whether we will all soon be hugging each other and sobbing about how that gulf between us was simply too painful to endure.

[Photos: Splash News]

On the pro list: It fits her. The shoes are good, as are her shoulders. Her waist is tiny. She appears to have shaved her legs. Oh, and her face is mobile enough for an ear-splitting grin.

Cons: Its fabric resembles nothing so much as the upholstery on the patio deckchairs at the Scotsdale Golden-Age Retirement Villas and Shuffleboard Training Facility.

Oh, and there's one more.

Although this WAS once an award-winning bum, so perhaps the taffeta tourniquet was just somebody's way of deeming Kylie's backside Best In Show.

poll by twiigs.com

Fug Ling

[Photos: Splash News]

Oh, Bai. Don't be so bashful.

See? I know it's a muddle when camera-shy Personality No. 10, the Haley's Comet of your psyche, makes her one appearance every eon right in the middle of No. 2's achingly sensitive tribute to Shania Twain. But one of the other ones always eventually emerges the victor. Plus, let's face it, No. 10 is still a chip off the old Bai -- there's no way she doesn't secretly enjoy strutting around like a giant embodiment of the fingerless gloves I wore in fourth grade for Halloween. I was Madonna; too bad I threw them out three years later, or else someday I could've gone as you.

SAG Awards Fug Carpet: Sandra Oh

I'm not sure what's up with turning your boobs into a befuddling curiosity. It's not as if most people don't find a lady's bustline interesting in and of itself -- no, now it needs a gimmick. First Kate Hudson glides down the SAG carpet looking like a pigeon has flown headfirst into her sternum, and now Sandra Oh is joining the fray:

Actually, I just noticed that the black fabric has splotches on it that almost look like very organized raindrops, so staring at those is a diversion in and of itself that is terrible for my brow furrow. Mostly, though, I find the massive bow growing out of her chest sort of confusing. As if all this time, we never realized that all those gigantic ribbons people stick on their brand-new Lexus-- the one they secretly bought their partner for Christmas, drove home under apparent cover of deep night, and parked in the driveway, all totally unbeknownst to their unsuspicious and probably a tad unobservant spouse/parent/significant other -- are actually manufactured straight from Sandra Oh's mammaries. Once it's done you just clip it off and another one starts to form in its place. Kind of creepy from an anatomical point of view, but as performance art, it's a pretty impressive side gig.

** Okay, so this is what we get for being in midair during the SAGs, and cross-eyed with jet-lag today -- apparently Sandra is paying homage to traditional Korean garb called a hanbok. So I will resist the urge to strap her to a brand-new vehicle and gift it to someone by burying the keys in a pile of pancakes, and instead applaud her for getting in touch with her heritage while apologizing for the fact that I am out of touch with my non-pop-culture references. Next thing you know someone will show up in a bodice shaped like Eiffel Tower and I'll be all, "Hey, look, it's that casino in Las Vegas!" And then Jessica will have to behead me. It'll be so tragic.

SAG Awards Fug Or Fab: Kate Hudson

The first thing that strikes me about this photo is how much Kate Hudson looks like her mother:

The second thing is how pale and wan and unenthusiastic she looks. The third thing is that I feel like she wears this sort of dress ALL THE TIME. There is certainly something to be said for wearing a style of clothes that works for you -- which is why I wear so many turbans -- but there is MORE to be said for wearing something that doesn't prompt the reaction, "is this picture from like six years ago?"

polls by twiigs.com...

SAG Awards Fug Carpet: Angelina Jolie

Whether or not Angelina Jolie is actually pregnant, she sure knows how to make sure the rumors are swirling like the chocolate-vanilla soft-serve cone she might be dipping pickles and cheese into:

And Brad knows how to feed into rumors that he is in need of a three-day nap. But Angelina... I have to say, she really can wear almost anything and look fantastic. I still find myself wishing it were, say, blood red -- you know, since she doesn't have to worry about it being too matchy with her vial of Type AB or whatever --  but on the whole you could pleat a Hefty bag and Angelina would work it. Of course, if she's NOT pregnant, then this choice is a little more confusing. Surely she is be-fetused, though, right? It's Angie. She's not going to veer off the freeway at the Caftan City exit, past the Cheesecake Factory at the Rue McClanahan Rest Stop and Service Plaza, unless she's playing coy with the contents of her womb.

poll by twiigs.com

The SAG Awards Fug Carpet: Jane Krakowski

There's a lot I could say about Jane Krakowksi's unfortunate craft-fair bodice:

But the fact that our image provider has her uniformly labeled as "Marla Maples" kind of says it all, no?

Extenuating Fugcumstances

Take a moment, dear readers, and behold our delicious intern, George:

Is he not suave? Do you not wish to bathe in his manly aura? Don't you have several inappropriate and double entendre-laced questions to pose?  That's a good thing, as extenuating circumstances have conspired -- both circumstantially and extenuatingly -- to prevent us from posting until a bit later today. Please hold tight as we sharpen our claws and whip things into shape, and please check back later for SAG-y deliciousness. Thank you. Have we mentioned you look fantastic today?

The Year of Getting to Know Fug

You'd think the worst thing about Sharon Stone's new look was her "I did this by myself with my nail clippers at four in the morning after six Harvey Wallbangers and a cup of gravy!" haircut, wouldn't you?

But that's only because you haven't seen the rest of it:

Sharon, Sharon, Sharon. You're supposed to be ADVISING Lindsay Lohan, not taking fashion tips from her.

Mixed Fugs

I once went to a focus group screening of the film in which Rita Wilson got her one leading role: the Steve Martin/Adam Sandler/Parker Posey/Jon Stewart/Nora Ephron stinker Mixed Nuts. I clearly recall waiting to get into the movie and one of the studio flunkies dramatically yanking the guy in front of me out of line and tossing him out of the screening. "YOU'RE A FILM STUDENT," the flunky screamed (the news that they didn't want film students in the screening in addition to the usual banning of journalists and whatnot was a bad sign). "HOW DID YOU KNOW THAT?" the student screamed back. "YOU'RE WEARING AN ERASERHEAD TEE SHIRT!" the flunky spat. And the student had to admit defeat in the face of this stunning evidence and slunk away.

The movie WAS bad, although I seem to recall that Rita wasn't terrible. She may, however, want to make like that student and skulk off in the face of this photo, though:

On its own, each of these pieces is not that terrible -- well, the sweater is very reminiscent of something you'd see on an overly invested floor manager at Talbots, the one who is only half-joking about fire-bombing the Chico's across the food court -- but as a whole, she rather looks as though she just fell, fully-formed, out of the mid-nineties, where she is just months away from deciding to bin her beret in order to staunch all the Monica Lewinsky jokes she's been hearing. But cheer up, 90s Rita. You're about to get a big part in a Steve Martin movie!

NYFug.com

We're not sure how the folks behind the Razzies do it, but somehow, they manage to distill a whole year of Hollywood hackery into just a few nominees for its awards celebrating the very worst in film. And since the one thing we haven't missed about this somewhat aborted awards season is the industry's aura of self-congratulation, we couldn't help but weigh in as to who we think will walk away with what is arguably the statuette in this town most richly deserved by its winner than any other. 

Worst Supporting Actor Nominees: Orlando Bloom, Kevin James, Eddie Murphy, Rob Schneider, Jon Voight.

Not to ruin his moment, but we dispute Orlando's inclusion: He looked smoking hot in Yet More Pirates of the Caribbean, and that's truly the most supportive an actor can be. Chuck & Larry's problems go way beyond poor Kevin James, and, let's face it, there's no way Rob Schneider was any worse in that than he is in anything else. That leaves Jon Voight in Bratz (oy) and Eddie Murphy as Mr. Wong in Norbit, another of those parts he hogs because he's a whore for latex makeup. But it's Voight's Razzie to lose, if only because seeing his name next to the word "bratz" makes us want to crawl back into the womb.

If you're in the mood to see what we make of the other acting nominees, click here to read the rest of the piece.

Fugice Combs

Sometimes I think that if I were at Sundance -- or if I could afford to be more fabulous at February's frigid Fashion Week in New York -- I would go all the way down the road to Campville and get togged up in exactly what Janice Combs is wearing.

Then I tear myself away from the furry splendor of her turban and jacket, and realize Diddy's mother is wearing A JUMPSUIT made of COTTON SPANDEX -- like the unholy spawn of leggings and unitards  -- and that I have become suddenly delirious.

The Fug Fuggerer

Friday is FINALLY here. We are thrilled; it’s been a long week for us – we’re currently traveling for work and blogging by candlelight in the wee hours, so thanks for putting up with our often hugely slap-happy ramblings, which for us feel scrawled on the back of our hands with a sinister blood quill a la Dolores Umbridge's torture method in the fifth Harry Potter book. Anyway, the net effect is that, in addition to getting behind on other things -- like sleeping, and eating vegetables -- I am lagging on a post I’d been meaning to do all week about Ghost Whisperer.

I know, you guys are probably sort of sick of hearing us yap about cheesy television shows you likely ignore but we love for inexplicable -- well, totally explicable, but maybe only to us -- reasons. But hear me out: I was way behind on my episodes, so I didn’t realize that back in November, their rogue costumer struck again.

[Photo: My TV set and a digital camera]

Ahoy, Jay Mohr! First of all, what are you even doing on Ghost Whisperer? Don't you usually play a fast-talking jackhole, as opposed to the fast-talking family-friendly academic you're playing here? Granted, your snarky comments are becoming the show's only bright spot, but it’s still really jarring to see you doing gentle weekend television and spewing stuff about the occult and the spirit world and Chinese takeaway instead of cussing out some poor schmoe. Second, please do tell us how you managed to avert your eyes from Jennifer Love Hewitt’s insane shirt. It looks like her elbows are wearing a wedding dress. They are the brides of Fuggenstein. And third, are Jennifer Love Hewitt’s arms actually that freakishly short, or is it just an optical illusion? It reminds me of the Seinfeld Puffy Shirt. If she's going on the Today show tomorrow to hawk it for charity, I will feel bad. But not as bad as if I'd been forced to wear it. I'm beginning to understand why actresses become divas -- it's to stop stuff like this from happening to them at the hands of other people who don't understand how long a human's arms are supposed to look.

However, this was not the most grievous offense of Rogue Costumer. That was merely the icing on this chewy, billowy, trouser cake. With apologies for the quality of the photos, behold:

When she hopped out of the prop car in these pants, my friend and I quite seriously started yelling, “PANTS! PANTS! PANTS!” and had to pause the TV to stare at each other, frantically gesturing our amazement because we had completely lost the power of speech. They are, in a word, bad. So, so feet-munchingly bad.

Why would you put a curvy girl in those? For one thing, they don't fit -- she's in the middle of a scene, she's wearing a belt, and she's STILL desperately hiking them up a bit. For another, they are so wide-legged, you could fit an extremely impressive arsenal of weapons up the legs (a rifle here, a bazooka there), perhaps for use against the next person who tells you, "NO,dude, wide-legged pleat-front jeans are SO HOT RIGHT NOW."

And finally, because it bears repeating, they look dreadful on her. Camryn Manheim is putting on an effective game face, but she also appears to be holding the "Sold" sign firmly away from the vicious trousers in question, so as not to imply to readers that she is in any way sold on them as a garment. Those pants destroy poor Jennifer's hips, and I can't help but hope that she marched into the costumer's office and threw a full-on fit.

Okay, fine, I can't blame the costumer entirely. Lady Lo.Hew should've stuck up for her figure, or else she wouldn't be in this mess in the first place. I just can't believe this show sucked the joy out of Melinda finally being dressed in seasonally appropriate garb -- usually, in this scenario, Camryn would be in a wool coat and Jennifer would be wearing a strapless sundress. Frankly, I'd take that if it meant these pants would be buried forever, somewhere that not even the most skilled conversationalist with The Great Beyond could attract their demented, bloating, hip-mangling spirit.

Fug House

Okay, I know we haven't talked about this yet, but we just HAVE to:

What is Stamos doing? I stopped watching ER, so maybe this is one of those A Character's Downward Spiral Is Reflected In His Facial Hair beards, or perhaps he's growing it so as to donate it to Beards For Bros, a charity I just invented which benefits college dudes who try desperately to grow facial hair but totally fail and instead lope around campus scratching their ill-seeded, patchy cheeks, wondering if their tragical bread configuration means something bad about their testosterone levels.

poll by twiigs.com...

Fugdia Schiffer

It was so thoughtful of these men to hustle Claudia Schiffer so quickly out of Valentino's Paris haute couture show.

One simply can't expose one's supermodel self to public scrutiny when one is evoking the most famous fought-over, virginity-surrendering Spring Dance gown of all time. Kelly Taylor would claw her nose off, Brenda would promptly slam the door in Claudia's bloodied, pulpy face after screaming, "I HATE YOU BOTH. NEVER TALK TO ME AGAIN," and Dylan would be stuck cooing, "Relax, Bren, you know the drill -- I don't start digging blondes until you go to Paris," while David Silver busts a convulsive groove in his loud silk shirt. Somewhere, six feet under, Aaron Spelling's body is twitching with yearning for this missed reunion-movie opportunity. And Valentino is wondering how he ever got mentioned in the same sentence as Beverly Hills, 90210. You're welcome, V.

Eva La Fug

Have you ever won a ribbon for a special achievement -- say, a cook-off,  three-legged race, or perhaps a consolation prize because, while you were not Best In Show at the county fair, you were at least Zuckerman's Famous (and Humble) Pig? And have you ever admired said ribbon for approximately 20 minutes before stuffing it into a box, never to be seen again, despite your secret yearning for excuses to remind everyone you were named Best Socks -- Men's Over-20 Division at your country club's annual Geek-Off? Well, no longer. Eva La Rue might have an avant-garde answer for you.

The way she's preening about in those sleeves, I wouldn't be surprised to learn one of those wacky embellishments actually says on the back, "Best Straight Face In A Role That Requires You To Look At Disgusting Fake Corpses Without Barfing All Over Your Expensive Loaned-Out Shoes." That might also account for how huge they are. Big honor, big words, BIG ribbony ruffles.

Cashmere Fug

Dear Lucy Liu,

Bjork you are not. Just thought I'd let you know.

Cheers, Jessica

Randy Fugd

Oh, Quaid. You are many, many things. Talented, yes; robustly bearded, clearly. Possessed of a last name that's really fun to say, and that I recently wished very much would count as a word in Scrabble? Indubitably. Thanks to things like Vacation and, let's face it, Days of Thunder, you were already a double-word score in my heart, but creating a part of speech from your last name so that I could reap the rewards would've made you a triple. [Maybe I can help in that regard: "I totally quaided my audition" could mean that one brought husky, somewhat slurry humor to it; "Those shoes are totally quaid" might recall the white shiny loafers your character gave Clark Griswold; "That quaid over there totally checked me out"... well, that might get a little confusing, thanks to Dennis, so let's just work on the noun a bit longer.]

So as I said, you are a whole lot of good. But one thing you are not...

[Photo: infdaily.com]

... is Sharon Stone. So tread carefully and don't let yourself get so Stoned -- yeah, yeah, I know, but lousy puns are my specialty -- that you further mold yourself in her kooky, lukewarm-diva image. I mean, the last thing we need at this point is you getting arrested in Park City when, during a copycat rejection of knickers, you leave your quaid out in the wind while uncrossing and recrossing your legs. Although yours did just inadvertently help me find that noun I was looking for, so thanks for that. Never thought I'd find it in your trousers, but what can I say? It's Hump Day.

How She Fug

Rutina Wesley here stars in the new movie How She Move, the IMDb description for which reads like a Teen Movie Mad Lib: "Following her [SIBLING]'s death from [TERRIBLE THING], a high school student is forced to [DO SOMETHING UNPLEASANT THAT WILL PLACE HER DANCING-ADJACENT] where she re-kindles an unlikely passion for the competitive world of [KIND OF DANCING]."  But what [TERRIBLE THING] has placed her [ROMPER-ADJACENT], I wonder?

Whatever it was, I hope it kept the receipt.

Alice +Olivfug

Alice + Olivia designer Stacey Bendet Wienet certainly designs extremely cute, Gossip Girl-y dresses, many of which I covet:

So you'd think someone would be nice enough to tell her she's spilled Orange Crush all down her front.

Fug Paves

"Dear Jessica and Ashlee: You never call. You never write. When you text, it's always, ' I LUV PETE 4EVA,' or 'ROMO ROX,' or 'WHAT'S A TOUCHDOWN?' or even, 'REFS IN VERTICAL STRIPES SO CUTE!!!!' No more coming to my salon to pour your heart out while photographers snap pictures outside; no more going to lunch, or shopping, or to the movies, and pouring out your heart while photographers snap pictures of us walking. No more hawking those "HairDo Clip-In Blah Blah Blah And Ken Paves" extensions that are our love child. And no more asking me if I miss your old nose. Is that how it's going to be? Were you two USING ME? Well, ladies, I have news for you: I DON'T NEED YOU ANY MORE EITHER. I have this other blonde person with wavy hair hanging off my EVERY WORD. I can comb my OWN chest hair, I can peel my OWN grape for lunch, and I can smear my own self tanner all over myself for HOURS without you whining about how it makes me smell like a beach sewer. I'm like Marc Anthony meets Jay Manuel meets Renee Zellweger's hair and I have NEVER FELT BETTER. Instead of sleeping, I bathe in a vat of orange juice. So don't come crying to ME the next time Pete steals your eyeliner or Tony Romo gets frustrated because you asked him to take you to his father's rib joint and throws his helmet against the wall. Because I MIGHT BE BUSY MARKING OFF ROADWORK ON THE HIGHWAY. That's right, bitches, I'm giving back to the world. You snooze you lose."

St. Fuggian's

I don't know who the dude is with Mischa Barton here, but I do know one thing: I wish his strange shirt had hypnotized her OUT of her shorts (ew, not in THAT way) rather than INTO buying a guitar and trotting it around town like she's part of the Von Trappuccinos, a Sound Of Music-inspired coffeehouse band that specializes in close-harmony angst-metal.

[Photo: flynetonline.com]

It's like my grandmother always never said: When the rise on your pants is that much longer than your inseam, you might as well just slap some suspenders on and call 'em lederhosen. Although either way, Mischa owes her midsection a heartfelt apology.

The Prizewinner of Fug, Ohio

Julianne Moore, you delightful redhead. I adore you and your russet mane. I also like saying "russet mane," as though I were a romance novelist, because that seems like it would be a fun job to have, if only for all the euphemisms you'd get to come up with. There is a bit of romance missing, however, in Moore's latest dress:

SO close, and yet not quite -- sort of like the clothing equivalent of your field goal clonking off the uprights in the wrong direction. I myself am rather up-and-down, so I feel her pain, but there's something about this that just makes her look slightly boxy and a bit bland. Kind of like a mini-wheat.  I hate to sound like David Spade in those old SNL skits about the Gap salesgirls (fellow elderly readers know of what I speak), but maybe she needs to just cinch it with a belt? Awesome necklace, though. Very romance novel worthy. I can see those gracing the cover of Roderigo's Windswept Family Jewels, easy.

Million Fug Baby

Okaaaaaay:

I have been rendered (temporarily) speechless right here.  This is like some kind of bizarre bare-midriff compromise, like Hilary really REALLY wanted to wear a skirt and a bikini top, and Mr. Armani was like, "Hmmm. That is an INTERESTING idea. You are clearly...inspired. Yes. That's what we will call you. Inspired. Why don't we save that for some other time?" And Hilary was like, "NO! We are only on year six of my Ten Year Hilary Swank: SHE SO GIRLY Master Plan. BIKINI TOP! BIKINI TOP!" And Mr. Armani was like, "God, drama queen, okay. Settle down. Can I distract you with some illusion netting? Nothing is more feminine than figure skating! Or doilies! What do you think?" And then he waved those shoes in front of her face and she was hypnotized and agreed.

Fugjou Phillips

Leaving aside for a second the temperature in Utah right now, I don't understand why Bijou Phillips would pair a floaty, flirty peach nightie...

... with heavy black tights and shoes that someone's Granny Hazel wears at the retirement palace on Meatloaf/Meat Loaf night (room and board  = a fortune; chowing down on slabs of ground beef and then dancing cheek-to-cheek to "Paradise By The Dashboard Light" with the dude her girlfriends call Liver-Spots Pete = priceless).

But also, you can't totally ignore the weather, because she's at Sundance and it's been something like 25 degrees (or -4, for you Celsius lovebirds out there). It seems unfair to the rest of her that her ankles and toes are the only things receiving extra consideration for the fact that it is not summer, she is not in L.A., and she is not ninety and sleepwalking. Although, I've never been to Sundance -- maybe it's like that scene in Gone With The Wind when they attend the Wilkes' barbecue at Twelve Oaks, and all the girls go upstairs halfway through to undress and take restorative, ladylike naps in their modest skivvies. Maybe Bijou just woke up from a quick kip all flush with thoughts of getting revenge on somebody, and momentarily forgot to put on the rest of her clothes.

Or maybe she woke up a vagrant:

Hooray for the scarf. But the coat just seems like a glorified -- or horrified -- sweatshirt. The entire thing now evokes That Homeless Lady Who Sleeps At The Bus Stop. In short, this is so Chloe Sevigny circa 2004. Fresh crazy is troubling enough; stale crazy is just not even worth sticking in the toaster to see if you can salvage it.

Fab AND Fug: Paris Hilton

If GFY had a currency, like Disneyland, or Canada, surely one side would be FUG and the other, FAB, enabling us to make decisions like, "are Ugg boots okay, if it's seventeen below zero?" And on this coin, I can't help but think, would be someone much like Miss Paris Hilton, who is currently at Sundance, surely because she is nothing if not a great patroness of the art of film.

This would be the FAB side:

Okay, technically, it's fab tinged with a hint of Star Trek's Rocking New Year's Eve Party, but she looks cute. I like shiny.

This, of course, would be the FUG side:

PARIS. Stop wearing clothing with pictures of yourself splashed all over them, or with your name on them. Coming from some people, that sort of thing can be sort of self-deprecating  (like when Winona Ryder appeared on the cover of W in a "Free Winona" shirt after her whole shop-lifting to-do), but you can only pull that off when the general public is willing to believe that you can spell "self-deprecating."

Suger and Fug

When I saw this portrait of Mena Suvari at Sundance, I naturally assumed she was in costume as her character in Mysteries of Pittsburgh AKA -- if you listen to that charming master of PR Sienna Miller -- Mysteries of Shitsburgh. (Don't email me, Pittsburgers -- I have not been to your fair burgh, but I would NEVER speak ill of the home of the Steelers, especially as it is also the city where ketchup was invented. Take it up with S. Mil, and tell her I sent you):

HAS to be a costume of some sort, right? RIGHT? But then:

She's wearing on the streets! As brazen as you please! Like someone from a Ratt tribute band! I know it's cold out there, but surely the brain freeze shouldn't kick in this early! It's only like day three at Sundance or something! Look at all the exclamation marks I've been forced to use to discuss this! Do you think she's looking at a photo of herself and thinking, "dang. The studded gloves WERE too much. I KNEW IT!"?

Please say yes.

Well Played, Kylie Minogue

Here's the thing: I almost made this a "Fug or Fab," until I realized that I pretty solidly come down on the "fab" side when it comes to this outfit.

[Photo: Splash News]

It's a beautiful color on our  favorite tiny Aussie superstar, and she's glowing. It's kind of hard to believe Kylie is almost 40, and that it was a full  twenty years ago that I was sitting in my bedroom wailing along to "I Should Be So Lucky," wishing I had her hair and thinking that crazy hat from the album cover was probably the coolest thing anyone had ever put on their body in the ENTIRE history of bodies (hey, I was young, she was my favorite, it was the 80s... a lot of things I  felt strongly about were, in retrospect, completely ridiculous). Indeed, I should be so lucky as to look that great at 40 AND after surviving both a harrowing medical condition.

My only real moment of concern was whether the tulle wrap shooting out of her right boob was too much -- whether it ended up overwhelming her. But then I decided I didn't care, because she's so regal and pretty and there's something deliciously old-movie about that piece of fabric. Back in the day when people would dress for dinner, getting all fancy whether they were going to a club for dancing and a meal or just coming back downstairs to eat it at their table, I could totally see Kylie swanning in wearing that dress and puffing on a superlong cigarette holder (since of course back then nobody knew or cared that cigs were so terrible for you), dangling a brandy glass from her fingertips and drawling words like "darling" and "devilish" in conversation with the local rogue, whom she will of course end up marrying. Maybe she should MAKE that movie somehow.

Fuglissa George

I suppose one can argue that Melissa George's getup here is at least very striking.

[Photo: Splash News]

Unfortunately, it's also very severe. And so very, very red. I love red, don't get me wrong, but when you have to hire a bodyguard to keep the Heinz Ketchup people from covertly slapping a label on your back, you might have gone too far with it. Although if Cirque de Soleil ever wants to rustle up a Valentine's Day-themed show along with the other approximately 4,327 performances they currently have going in Vegas, Melissa here would be an ideal featured performer. Assuming she isn't afraid to fold herself in half or hang from her ankle off one of Cupid's arrows.

Fug or Fab: Michelle Trachtenberg

Hey, I like Ice Princess as much as the next person - Math makes you skate better! Of course! This is why I can neither perform long division nor an axel of any sort! -- but that doesn't mean I approve of any cockamamie thing that shiny-haired Michelle Trachtenberg does to her poor innocent midsection:

Conceptually, I kind of like the Paper Bag Waist Thingie. In execution, it sort of feels like there's something very very wrong with her skirt and it MUST BE CONTAINED by that belt, or the WORLD WILL END.

polls by twiigs.com...

The Real Fug.C

So, it seems like the rumors that Kristin Cavallari will appear on this season of The Hills must be true: she hasn't been seen out and about in ages, and all of a sudden, she's showing up at a movie premiere that L.C. and Speidi and Audrina are all also attending? Very interesting. If Lauren and Kristin team up to take down Spencer....I will watch the heck out of that. Okay, yes, I will watch The Hills even if it's more of Lauren and Brody staring at each other over dinner and not saying anything ever. But it will be better with The Return of Kristin. She was so awesome on Laguna Beach.

This is less awesome:

By a lot. I mean, Kristin is quite lovely. But not even the loveliest girl can really pull off something that seems to be inspired by my bedroom's window treatments. Like, I'm pretty sure that under-dress has a tiny pull-tag attached to it, so you can raise and lower it at will. And we all know how I feel about anything which transforms your crotch into a be-curtained stage: very negatively. Your womanly delights are not a play. (Okay, maybe The Vagina Monologues. And the play I'm currently working on myself, Try It, You'll Like It: The Britney Spears Story. But that's it! )

Fug's Anatomy

Oh, holy HELL, Pompeo.

I don't even know where to start. The makeup that's overpowering her eyes? The satin top, picked up at a David's Bridal separates clearance sale? The gloves, clearly inspired by Karl Lagerfeld but deployed more in the vein of Michael Jackson? The skirt, which looks like it was fashioned after one of those drive-through car washes that uses rubber ribbons to wipe off the muck?

She looks ripped from the pages of an old-timey Agatha Christie mystery novel --  Murder On The Shell-Station-Super-Plus-Wash Express, or The Wing-Mirror Crack'd. Maybe Evil Under The Soft-Cloth. Regardless, I'm pretty sure there is either a pistol hidden under her passenger seat, or a vial of cyanide tucked up inside her spare tire. Trust me: The butler did NOT do it.

Lindsay Lohan LeggingWATCH2008 Part III

Dear Lindsay,

[Photo: Splash News]

ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?

Bless,

Jessica

NYFug.com

Crazy Tom Cruise is back in the news, thanks to what is allegedly a Scientology indoctrination video from 2004 that got yanked off You Tube and then reposted by Defamer (and is now the subject of a copyright-infringement lawsuit of some kind; we're not sure, as we're currently trying to bleach most of the video from our brains so we're too busy to look it up). Seriously, it's 9 minutes of creepy. Some of which might be the editing, in how it smashes together his statements without giving the preceding question, but most of it is from Cruise's wicked cocktail of intensity, oddball charisma, deranged cackling, and directionless rambling.

We wrote a bit about it for New York's web site this week.

Obviously, the world will never embrace Tom Cruise as the same dreamboat from the Top Gun poster tacked above our beds in junior high. That guy didn’t jump on Oprah’s couch, or engage Matt Lauer in a war of words about whose knowledge of psychiatry was more encyclopedic. He was not, at least publicly, the guffawing nutjob we see on this latest Scientology leak. His sweaty, intense proclamations of infatuation with meek little Katie Holmes officially turned our girlhood crush into someone we feared encountering in a dark furniture store (or a shrink’s office). Next time we play MASH, Tom Cruise is so totally off the “husband” list.

There is always a "but," though -- if you're so inclined, click through to "Tom Cruise: Crazy Like A Fugging Fox?" to see what we had to say about whether Andrew Morton's sure-to-be-bestselling, sadly-n0t-all-that-muckraking, still-totally-unauthorized biography might help or hurt the Cruise camp.

Fugdi Montag

So, the popular rumor now is that in addition to inserting softballs into her chest and shaving off part of her nose, Heidi Montag has started plumping up her lips. And I have to say, strange things do seem to be afoot on her face.

Observe:

Something isn't right. And I suspect it's the fact that her upper lip is all numb and swollen from whatever she shot up in there, and it hurts to smile. Somehow, the subtle stiffening almost renders her unrecognizable. It's like all this whittling, from the rhinoplasty to the booboplasty to the mouthoplasty, has taken a face that was distinctive and turned it into something ever more generic. She looks less like Heidi, The Two-Faced Hills Vixen With Crappy Taste In Men, and more like HeiDee, The Blonde Barbie With Crappy Taste In Men Who Has Decided That, At Age 21, She Is Too Washed-Up To Meet A Man On Her Own And Instead Needs To Go On The Bachelor.

Seriously, she looked slightly off all night.

"Dammit. Pretty soon someone's going to ask me why I can't part my lips. This sucks. I can't believe I let Spencer talk me into this when we're not even going to end up together. We're not, right? Not even I can believe I would be that stupid. Man, though, this was a bad idea. It's like I have a stone plate under my nose."

 

"Ow, this is SO HARD. Did my lip even move that time? Wait, I think it did. Oh, GOD, it burns. Just one more... one more second... If I can just crack it a little..."

"Spencer? Honey? I think I'm stuck. I can't talk through my freakin' teeth all night. You're going to have to move my mouth back in a second so that cow L.C. doesn't think I'm smiling at her. I can't BELIEVE I listened to you. YOU, a guy who asked to borrow a friend's credit card to buy my engagement ring that probably wasn't even real. Please, God, can we start shooting season 4 so that we can have a dramatic breakup."

Sigh. If ONLY her internal monologue were so self-aware about Captain Toerag up there. But the fact remains that something is up with that top lip and it's making her whole face look immobile. Abort, Heidi! Activate the ejector seat. On all of it.

Well Played: Ashlee Simpson?

Just the other day, I was wondering what Ashlee Simpson was up to. Not in a, "Do you think she's brushing her teeth? Ooh, maybe she's flossing!" kind of way. I am not a stalker. And if I were, I don't think I'd pick Ashlee Simpson as my stalkee.  I would be more likely to stalk, like... I don't know. Ian Ziering, maybe. You know, for one thing, he'd probably appreciate the attention. Plus everyone loves Steve Sanders. Win-Win!

Anyway, it appears that she was actually off dying her hair and buying one of those big-ass clutches that I've decided I want (it fits a lot of stuff, AND it's easy to smack people with):

I don't know, you guys! I think she's kind of working it. But I also suffered a head injury this morning when a box containing a pair of wooden heel boots fell off the top shelf of my closet and onto my head. Does she actually look sort of cute - in that prim way that I dig -- or is it just the giant hematoma talking?

poll by twiigs.com...

Fug Moss

Oh, Kate Moss. Happy birthday, I guess.

[Photo: Splash News]

It has been quite a year for Kate, eh? With all the Doherty drama, for one thing. (I wonder if she ever reads pieces in the paper about Johnny Depp -- like that recent story about how he spent several hours reading to the kids in the pediatric ward of the hospital that treated his daughter last year, wearing his Captain Jack Sparrow costume, which basically...I mean, come on. That's awesome. -- and wonders what would have happened to them if they'd stayed together.) And, you know, all that cocaine stuff.  Not to mention just being Kate Moss: Poster Child For Models With Bad Taste In Dudes And Other Stuff. That sounds totally exhausting. I think it would be enough to drive any girl to a starry, starry jumpsuit. (Oh, yeah, those are pants. I know. ) And, um, child-like/Bowie-esque face paint. Despite being neither a child, nor nowhere as cool as David Bowie. You know, some people would say that a starry, flowy pantsuit accessorized with face paint was appropriate only for an elementary school student at their school's spring carnival in 1985, but don't worry! I read that memo about how Kate Moss is a stylistic genius who can do no wrong NO MATTER WHAT SHE WEARS. A barrel as a dress: AWESOME.  Pants as a scarf: PERFECT FOR FALL! Crocs as earmuffs: UNMITIGATED BRILLIANCE! Therefore, I will not tell you all that I am totally over Kate Moss and think she looks ridiculous, and instead just say, if you want to wallow in the almost incomprehensible dreaminess of this look, I suggest making a run to Joann's Fabrics first off. Try to get there early, before Sienna Miller realizes what she's missing and buys out their entire stash of pajama material.

Fug The Cover: Zac Efron

Sigh. We knew it would happen. It had to eventually. It's a tactic as old as time: Wholesome, cherubic young actor wanders onto the Dark Side for a magazine cover and article, in the hope that the industry will suddenly take him/her super seriously and that it will all lead to an Oscar -- or better, an Oscar gift basket -- magically turning up in his/her hand. Britney, minus the Oscar hope (although Crossroads was REALLY GOOD, people, and she DID have to act the hell out of it in order to convince us she'd never paraded around in her bra in front of a dude before), did that sort of thing on magazine covers all the time back in her heyday. And now it's Zac Efron's turn.

We're all familiar with Zac's floppy-haired, Good Boy, let's-hold-hands-under-the-lunch-table visage; now drink in the brooding, adult version who would really like to defile you in his Camaro and then roll you a cigarette.

[Photo: Splash News]

"Disney's Boy Wonder" even goes so far as to drop an f-bomb or two in the interview -- you know, just to prove he's got edge, when in fact he generally has all the sharp corners of a Mini Babybel. I also enjoy how the cover-line placement on his shoulder makes it look like his ensemble is supposed to be part of the tips for dressing like a leading man, despite the fact that Zac appears to be squeezed into The Jeans No Man Should Ever Own (in this case, quite possibly women's low-rise skinny-cut).

But really, I think Zac is just trying really hard to convince you, and his agents, and directors, and probably also Disney, that he's secretly someone else. Specifically, this person:

Even Claire Danes is all, "Really, kid? Jordan Catalano? Because I KNOW Jordan Catalano. I've kissed Jordan Catalano. I've angsted over Jordan Catalano. And you, pipsqueak, are no Jordan Catalano."

poll by twiigs.com

Well Played -- And Yet Not -- KatieBot

This is so exciting, y'all. Okay, so the shirt is all over the place --a billowy and occasionally unfinished-looking mess. In fact, it looks a bit like she's mourning the death-at-sea of her favorite pirate (but don't worry, honey, I have it on good authority that death cannot stop true love; all it does is delay it for a while).  But there's something more exciting at work here to compensate.

Check it out!

It FEELS! It really feels! Number Five Three is ALIVE!

In Two Weeks, Our Fug Child Is Born

So, this is it. After months of gestation -- growing, changing, expanding, turning into something recognizable -- we're finally ready for our book to hit stores. It really IS like having a baby, minus the mess. And the sharp surgical instruments.

Still, behold the cover of Go Fug Yourself: The Fug Awards.

If you're yearning for the Golden Globes and the Oscars end up similarly imperiled and/or embarrassingly lame, then you can sate your awards-show cravings with our book. It's all new material, even if a handful of the pictures are some old favorites (like, say, the shot of Scarlett Johansson mangling her boobs in that cocktail dress, or Fergie and her follicular flagella). And designer Jane Archer created a special statuette for every award category, which really does elevate the whole enterprise. We wanted to design them in Intern George's glorious image, but of course ultimately he is too full of hugs and perfection to be immortalized in Fug Award form, so we settled for consulting him every step of the way. Currently he is taking a nap with an advance copy of the book nestled under his head.

Officially, the book is released on Tuesday, Feb. 5, but you can also pre-order it in all the usual places -- Amazon, Barnes &  Noble, through a BookSense retailer, etc. Soon we'll be updating our masthead to reflect a link to the new GFY store on Glarkware, as well as a link to a page dedicated to the book, and any updates about promotional appearances we might be doing if we can pry ourselves off the couch and face actual sunlight.

Here is where we would really like to conclude with something appropriately snarky about all this, but honestly, we had such a blast with our book every step of the way; we just sincerely hope anyone who buys it truly enjoys it. We couldn't have done it without you guys. Well, you, and a lot of really bad clothes on some really blind famous people. We're grateful for them, too.

Fug The Cover: GQ

Just to be clear, I am not saying Rachel Bilson or her figure are fugly, or that dudes won't see the cover of this magazine, proclaim her the perfect woman, and buy two copies to stash around the house.

[Photo: Splash News]

It's just odd to me. Rachel has been doing so well with clothes ON lately. And then GQ sticks her in a bikini like it's July 4 and Uncle Sam is offering up a patriotic beach-party showcase on The Price Is Right -- with Rachel curled up on the prow of a really small powerboat while the contestant jumps up and down screaming and then overbids by $4000 -- and suddenly she seems totally plastic and out-of-proportion. Maybe the designers were too busy crafting the cover lines about squirrel rampages to notice. I mean, obviously, yes, Rachel Bilson is naturally tiny; it's not like I expected her to put on a bikini and suddenly be my size. But I'm not sure why this photo of a lovely, genetically tiny person still called for so much airbrushing that Rachel has turned into a crazy pageant-zombie bobblehead with one leg that looks weirdly small compared to the other. Her face looks frozen in place and as if it's been Photoshopped onto someone else's body.

Also, I hope nobody misinterprets the cover and shows up at work in this bikini, thinking Rachel is saluting this as "The Modern Business Suit." Although it might help you ace a job interview.

Fug For Lashes

Musician Natasha Khan performs under the name -- I can't tell if it's a group, or just her with some backing musicians --Bat for Lashes. I like to think that means she fights really hard to get all her false eyelashes for free, but alas, I don't know the true story.

What I DO know is that Natasha is apparently REALLY late to the paratrooper wedding at which she's the maid of honor. She'd better hope a rogue gust of wind accidentally dumped the bride somewhere in Arizona, or else she's going to get punished by being forced to do her next jump with Handsy Uncle Jack while catching the dreaded bouquet.

Fug or Fab: Kelly Osbourne

Oh, Kelly Osbourne. Part of me loves you in this -- black and blue! So French! So like a bruise, but in that "You Should See The OTHER Guy" kind of way! So flattering to your pretty skin! And part of me, I must confess, said, "is that a MEMBERS ONLY JACKET?" except I sort of said it in with a shamed "because I might need it" tone in my voice rather than the perhaps expected distain.

On the other hand, I fear that aggressively pleated hem may lead to disaster, in the form of cocktail weenies or cocktail shrimp or cocktail quiches falling off plates at parties and getting buried deep in there, unnoticed, only to be discovered later after a harrowing afternoon in which Kelly tears through her entire closet saying things like, "Something smells TERRIBLE in here! Did I step in dog shit? WHAT IS GOING ON?!"

I may be concerned about this because I recently found a potato chip in my bra. I had not eaten chips (yet) that day. Ergo, maybe this is just a touchy subject. I DON'T KNOW.

 

poll by twiigs.com...

Lindsay Lohan LeggingWATCH2008 Part II

Ladies and gents, welcome back to LILO LEGGINGWATCH2008: YET MORE LEGGINGS. Our intrepid heroine has ventured out several times in the last few days -- didn't she recently say she was going to be spending more time in Long Island with her family? Was that a fib? Or was that just a way to get her mother off her back? Or is she avoiding Dina? Is that good? Or are we reading too much into this, needing our daily dose of soaps now that Passions is kaput? If so, does that mean I am also going to start seeing the floating head of Adrian Zmed everywhere I look? -- treating us to YET MORE DELICIOUS BLACK LEGGINGS. Honestly, people, I am getting to the point where I don't even care that she's wearing leggings. LEG IT UP, I say. I DO care that she's ONLY wearing leggings.

To wit, on January 11th:

[Photo: infdaily.com]

Is it me, or is she working a sort of weird Bret Michaels look here? I'm sure it's just the Tight Pants + Long Weave Under Funky Headgear look, but I am beginning to wonder (hope) if the "album" she's supposedly "working on" "in the studio" "right now" is ACTUALLY full of covers of "Every Rose Has Its Thorn," rendered in different moods -- crabby, hungry, happy, wistful, coke-pants-wearing, bitter, etc.

We get a brief respite from the LEGGINGS on January 13th in the form of this:

[Photo: Splash]

Do you think this is better?

poll by twiigs.com...

I know! I'll bring the Capri Suns, if you'll bring Handi-Snacks and we'll talk about how LiLo reverted to the LEGGINGS on the fifteenth:

[Photo: infdaily.com]

Also, a wig. That makes her kind of look like Britney. Because who doesn't want to look like Britney right now, am I right?  I thought so.

And then, later on the same day:

[Photo: Splash]

LEGGGGGGGINGS! Nothing is more frustrating than seeing this girl SHOPPING and yet BUYING NO PANTS. In fact, if Lindsay Lohan LeggingWATCH2008 were on the local Los Angeles news, this is the part of the broadcast where we'd cut to some Man on the Street and he'd say something like, "Yeah. Those are some leggings. Why doesn't she buy pants, man?" and then we'd cut back to the newscaster, who would shake her head ruefully and chuckle, and go, "Why, INDEED. And now, the weather."

Random Fug (But Not For Long)

Relative newcomer Jess Weixler stars in an upcoming movie called Teeth about... well, there's no easy way to say this, so I'll put it simply: Her character's genitals have teeth. Her crotch is a Venus Flytrap, and it is no vegetarian.

Given that, maybe this all makes sense.

Maybe if one of us had to be associated forever with having little shop of horrors in our pants, we'd ALSO shave half the skirt off a Disney Pretty Princess costume and layer it like body armor over a black skirt. Maybe we'd WANT to distract from being The Pretty, Pretty Face Of Vagina Dentata by borrowing a color scheme from a particularly nasty bruise. Honestly, no one knows what the appropriate reaction is, because no one else has ever been faced with being so closely identified with an angry lady-maw.

Well, except for Disney, since I just dragged them into this. If Minnie Mouse starts wandering around Burbank in something similar, we'll be well on our way to a new, groundbreaking understanding. Also, we'll put in a warning call to her gyno.