May 06, 2005

Welcome Back, Fuglee

Possibly realizing that his favorite daughter's angelic image was over the moment her leg went over Johnny Knoxville, quintessential creepy dad Joe Simpson apparently stopped forcing Other Daughter Ashlee to differentiate herself, and instead molded her back into a Jessica clone:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Cleavage? Check. Hearty, alarmingly orange "tan"? Check. Light hair in a bob? Check. Heavy eye makeup? Check. Ill-conceived clothes? Check, check, check, although Ashlee never had trouble with that one. (Unfortunately, singing sappy ballads is a bit out of her reach, as studies prove that whenever Ashlee holds a high note, the Earth's crust cracks, gas prices soar, and a kitten explodes. Ergo, Joe's going to have to make Ashlee brush up on her lip synching skills, which right now are about as polished as a junkyard Pinto.)

Maybe Joe is only trying to trick Johnny into knox-ing boots with this one instead of Jessica. That way, maybe the family cash cow will forced to consider returning to her starved marriage, thereby allowing Clan Simpson to milk her for a new show about about counseling and pre-nups.

Posted by Heather at 12:21 PM in Ashlee Simpson | Permalink

February 25, 2005

Nothing But a Fug Shirt On....

Poor J. Simp.

First, Paris Hilton's T-Mobile gets hacked and the entire world reads that, among other juicy tidbits, Justin Timberlake shot Jessica down and she had to settle for nailing Adam Levine, and that she's addicted to the power.* And now, this:

Sigh. The Scarf Tied Around the Leggings is this millennium's variation on the If I Tie This Sweater Around My Hips, My Ass Will Look Smaller epidemic of 1995. You might feel like some camouflage work has been done, but it's really just drawing attention to the very area you're trying to conceal.

And then, there's the shirt. In a way, it's supportive and sweet of Jessica to be wearing Ashlee's merchandise. On the other hand, man, that's a bad concert tee. If only Tee Shirt Ashlee was wearing a shirt that had Jessica on it. And if the Jessica on this fictional tee shirt was wearing a shirt that had a picture of Ashlee on it,, now my head hurts.

Let us not even speak of the Return of the Leggings. No. Hush. I can't handle that today.

*Allegedly. Look, I'm just repeating what I heard from Paris.

Posted by Jessica at 10:30 AM in Ashlee Simpson | Permalink | Comments (62)

January 05, 2005

You Make Me Wanna Fug Fug

Won't someone just put this girl out of her misery?

She's got a target right there on her chest already.

Posted by Jessica at 01:33 PM in Ashlee Simpson | Permalink | Comments (32)

December 15, 2004

Pieces of Fug: Part INFINITY

It's official:

Ashlee Simpson simply can not dress herself. Forget all the hoopla surrouding the issue of her ability to actually sing. Has anyone checked to make sure the girl can even see?

Posted by Jessica at 01:35 PM in Ashlee Simpson | Permalink | Comments (11)

December 07, 2004

Pieces of Fug. Again.

Dear Ashlee Simpson:

When Kelly Osbourne finds out that you're aping her look, she is going to kick your scrawny little ass. Sleep with one eye open.
We just thought you should know.

The Fug Girls

PS: No one's wearing pants that low anymore. We all got tired of having to get a Brazilian just to put on our jeans.
PPS: The sweater vest has never been sexy. It never will be sexy. It merely makes you look like you're a big Jack McFarlane fan, a goal we feel would be better accomplished through extensive use of jazz hands.
PPPS: Girls in ties are also over. I don't recall that look ever really working, unless you were Molly Ringwald or Shannen Dorherty as Brenda Walsh -- the former because, you know, she dressed kooky and latter because if you expressed dislike of her outfit, she'd cut you.
PPPPS: Hey, how's your acid reflux?

Posted by Jessica at 01:31 PM in Ashlee Simpson | Permalink | Comments (15)

July 22, 2004

Pieces of Fug

Such are the component parts of this Ashlee Simpson outfit from the MTV Movie Awards last month:

How do you take a boring blonde and differentiate her from her heinous fair-haired sister? Go through the bargain bin of bedsheets at a Cost Plus/World Market, fashion a "dress" out of one that's the color of cow's vomit, and cinch it with a giant leather yoke once used to rein in some oxen. Dye her hair, caution her not to wash it, and the throw in scraggly extensions that only go halfway around her head, serving to underline the natural lankness of her hair rather than thickening it.

Then give her those shoes: not a flat, not yet a wee kitten heel. An unholy way-station between two undesirable styles.

This is not the way to become the endearing Simpson sister.

Posted by Heather at 11:01 AM in Ashlee Simpson | Permalink | Comments (26)