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January 14, 2008


On this day, when we would under other circumstances be, say, wailing over Keira Knightley's decision to wear a burlap sack and coconut earmuffs to the Golden Globes, or waxing lustily poetic over how dreamy Mad Men's John Hamm looked in his tux, accepting his award, it is a relief that Courtney and Brown Peldon have popped out of obscurity to both bring us great joy and to reassure us that they are alive, and appearing and directing (respectively) in some play called Publicityville, which has but nine friends on MySpace (one of which, at least, is Charlie Schlatter, whom I loved deeply when I was about eleven, thanks to his shortlived stint in the Ferris Bueller TV series):

And they look pretty cute, in that Generically Styled By Wet Seal's Annual Sale kind of way.  You know, the longer I work the desk here at GFY HQ, the more fond I have become of Misses Peldon and Peldon. They just want to make their perfumes, and put on the occasional show in a barn, and if their past  shenanigans include prancing around the woods in satin tunics, or short-lived engagements to George McFly, well, we are all only the richer for it. My goal for 2008 is to run into one of them -- at the post office, maybe, or waiting in line to try on $11 tunics at Forever 21 -- and feel the glorious thrill that comes with spying a celebrity a rare few civilians would even recognize. Kind of like the time I sat next to Brandon Davis at the movies. Sure, he was the worst smelling person I'd ever sniffed, but seeing him out in the wild was like the fugger's version of spotting a rare bird sitting in the camellia bush in your front yard - a delicious but easily obtained prize.

Posted by Jessica at 02:30 PM in Courtney Peldon | Permalink

November 12, 2007

STOP THE PRESSES! Peldon Sighting!

It was just the other day that we were bemoaning the fact that we haven't seen hide nor hair of either of the Peldon sisters in forever. How nice of them to hear our pleas and leave the house! With adorable animals in tow, no less!

Have I gone crazy with longing for them since last we saw them, or do they actually look pretty cute, notwithstanding the concept that Brown is walking around town with her cat in her purse? They're obviously riding high on the glee that comes from having a job, as, according to IMDb, they're set to appear in something called 2001 Maniacs: Beverly Hellbillys as "Rome and Tina Sheraton."  The movie also stars Talan From Laguna Beach (now his legal name), in yet another attempt to best Stephen From Laguna Beach in the acting wars, and seems to be about...maniacs? Whatever, it's just nice to see them out and about. I was worried they were getting overly obsessed with their Etsy Store and we'd never see them again and it was totally bumming me out. For whatever reason, in the three and a half years we've been writing GFY, I've become strangely attached to our Peldons, and I wish they at least had a livejournal, so I could check in occasionally and make sure that neither of them has been stabbed or has taken to her bed, distraught over news that Crispin Glover is squiring Hidden Palms. So thank you, ladies, for stepping outside and in front of a camera once more, so I can remove "wonder what happened to Peldons" from my To Do list and move on to "read the Gossip Girl prequel," like a normal person.

Posted by Jessica at 11:37 AM in Courtney Peldon | Permalink

April 13, 2007

Happy Fugday

Here at GFY HQ, Heather, Intern George, and I would like to wish our patron saint Courtney Peldon a very happy birthday. (There is conflicting evidence about which birthday it is. We think she's actually 26. She MAY be claiming to still be 25, but we don't want to tar her with the old lying about her age brush. Girl, we've all thought about lying about our age. But have you considered the fact that this is going to involve a lot of math, going forward? Think about that.)

No matter what your age, Courtney, we miss your shenanigans.

We miss those days when you used to attend almost anything, wearing something that involved a hot glue gun and sequins. Remember when you were a perfume magnate?  Or the time you got stabbed? Or the saga of your engagement to Crispin Glover? God, that was so much fun. But you don't seem to go out as much anymore.  It makes us sad.  Are you depressed, Courtney? Too heartbroken still to leave the house much? Just real sleepy? Whatever it is, our birthday gift to you is just this: the heartfelt wish that you get up, put on some hot pants and get back out there. You're 25(ish)!  Go out there and shake it! Shake it in the faces of those of us who are aesthetically opposed to hot pants! Get out there and show us up!

Posted by Jessica at 09:53 AM in Courtney Peldon | Permalink

November 10, 2006

Little Fugs in Fugly Boxes

COURTNEY: Forget being engaged to Crispin Glover! I've finally found what will make me famous! PERFUME! WE ARE GOING TO MAKE PERFUME!

KAJ-ERIK ERIKSEN: I have finally found what will make me famous -- this t-shirt!

BROWN: I have finally found what will make me famous -- being the better-dressed Peldon!

KAJ-ERIK ERIKSEN: I mean, come on, I kind of even look like Justin, right? Or maybe, like, his distant Canadian cousin? There's got to be some nepotism I can milk from this shirt, because meeting Girl On My Right on Boston Public didn't really work out so well for me.

COURTNEY: It's going to be amazing when the whole world smells like me! All 45,000 different scents are based on desserts that I used to look at longingly on the craft-service table! Cake, icing, truffle, buttercream, cookies... it's all there! God, I can't wait until we win an Oscar for these. "President Courtney Peldon, accepting on behalf of her company." YES.

BROWN: I mean, it's so easy! I'm basically just wearing a green sailor's dress with a satin cummerbund, and I look totally chic when you stick me next to Ms. Mothballs over there and Erik-Erik Erikerik, or whatever his name is, wearing that stupid shirt he made on Cafepress.

KAJ-ERIK ERIKSEN: Although, you know what, I'm on The 4400, so technically, I don't need this appearance. I have work.

COURTNEY: It was so awesome of my mom to make me this sweater out of my old ballet tutu! It's so multi-purpose. I can use it as Kleenex, I can use it to mop up spills with extra absorbency, and I can reach over a lit candle and accidentally tragically let the flame catch on my sleeves the next time I want my own mortal peril to make the news... "Perfume Mogul In Near-Death Inferno." Imagine the flowers I'll get at Cedars-Sinai!

BROWN: When do you think I should tell Courtney that she works for me? I mean, nobody's around town calling her a perfume artisan, or saying she is already "the best smelling woman on the set," which you KNOW is true, because I am always standing very close to people and they wouldn't let me if I wasn't totally aromatic. I mean, it's nice enough that I'm letting Courtney even stand NEXT to me in that stupid rag. I can't BELIEVE I have to let her think she's, like, involved. Just the other day I caught her practicing some stupid speech where she was all, "You can't spell Courtney without 'CEO,'" and it was seriously all I could do not to go on her IMDb page and add really embarrassing trivia to it.

KAJ-ERIK ERIKSEN: ... Wait a sec, and what is up with the name of this company? "Starring...!" I know all the stupid scents are named after types of actresses or whatever, but seriously, it reminds me of the time I met with that agent and said, "I just finished watching this TV movie, Little Girls In Pretty Boxes, starring my friend Courtney Peldon," and the dude just looked back and me, frowned, scratched his chin and said, "Starring... ???" I mean, come on.

BROWN: Whatever. If I stick with these two, people are probably going to start beating down my door in no time, because I look pretty cool by comparison. And I smell like vanilla dipped in sugar and rolled in pie-crust covered in cinnamon and drizzled in truffled things. What more could a girl want?!?

KAJ-ERIK ERIKSEN: My teeth are rotting from whiffing these twits. God, adding it all up, what am I doing here? Just stay cool, dude. Keep it together... it's almost over... almost... over...

Posted by Heather at 12:41 PM in Courtney Peldon | Permalink

September 18, 2006

Fugly Fugton

And we're back!  Heather and I had an amazing time at Fashion Week, and thank you so much to those of you who read our work over at NY Mag's Fashion Week blog. But now it's time to take off our stilettos and get back to stabbing people with them.

And who better to start with than our old friend and favorite, Courtney Peldon?

I know. I know.  Doesn't this look like a promotion photo for television movie -- set in 1992, like, check out her Kelly Taylor-style white bike shorts -- in which she's kidnapped and dragged into the woods by a deranged psychotic (played by Kevin Dillon), who fell in love with her during his daily trips to the local coffee shop at which she worked, and who then locks her away in a remote cabin and slowly tortures her, all in the name of love, much like that Sweet Valley High book where Elizabeth gets kidnapped by a crazy orderly at the hospital where she is a candy-striper.

Over the course of the movie, of course, her shiny purple tunic (oh my god, a shiny purple tunic) would get torn and greasy and dirty, and by the time her pals from the coffee shop (a sassy gay played by Nicholas Brendon and a sharp-tongued girl played by Sara Rue) convince the stern, yet handsome cop in charge of the investigation into her disappearance (Neil Patrick Harris, trying to stretch his range, but mostly looking like he's about to high-five someone) that the Coffee Shop Psychotic is behind it all, it will barely even be a tunic at all, which will be a blessing, both for her and for everyone watching this godforsaken made-for-tv monstrosity, which will be called Venti Latte With a Shot of Crazy: The Wendy Sue Ellen Maloney Story.

I really don't know if that's what she was going for here, but I'm pretty sure that, no matter what, our clearly de-engaged Ms Peldon should stay out of the woods.

Posted by Jessica at 06:10 AM in Courtney Peldon | Permalink

August 16, 2006

The Other Fugdon

We have an apology to make.

In all the brouhaha over Courtney Peldon's engagement, possible secret marriage, or devastating breakup, we completely overlooked one thing -- one wee, brown, pointy thing: Ashley "Brown" Peldon herself, the other vital cog in the family fug wheel.

Don't worry, Brown, we would never abandon you -- your leggings, skirt, and baggy orange eruption of a shirt are just as misguided as ever. So dry your eyes, okay, our darling Sateen Queen? We didn't forget. Couldn't forget. Our barbed, prickly embrace will always, always, be open to you. Welcome back to our acid harbor.

Posted by Heather at 03:15 PM in Courtney Peldon | Permalink

The End of the Fugagement

Folks, we've got more disturbing evidence in the case of Crispin Glover and Courtney Peldon's Doubtful Nuptials.

Exhibit A: Courtney Peldon was out AGAIN last night, with Brown in tow of course, attending the opening of Dirty Rotten Scoundrels here in Los Angeles. It appears she is back to her old schedule of attending the opening of anything she can. (No offense to cast and crew of that fine show, of course. I just suspect that La Peldon wasn't there due to a deep love for Lady Fanny of Omaha as much as she was there because her old habits, PRE-ENGAGEMENT habits, require that she go out every night. Lady Fanny of Omaha, naturally, deserves all we can give her and more.)

Exhibit B: She's out, and she's not wearing her engagement ring. Look:

NO RING. (Well, she appears to be maybe wearing one on her middle finger, but that doesn't count.) That's two sightings in a row, in one week, AND NO RING. My friends, I fear that her betrothal to Crispin Glover must be finitio.   [In her defense, this outfit is not bad - I mean, it's basic and kind of boring, and for whatever reason, everything she wears always looks made entirely of polyester, but it's a Tuesday night at the theatre, and all her bits are covered, and overall she looks kind of sweet. She'll find a new man soon enou -- oh, God. I can't take it. I can't believe she and Glover didn't make it! I mean it. I was really, really looking forward to seeing the photos from that wedding. I was gleefully anticipating her maternity wear. I wanted to see them grow old together.  God, I'm SO DEPRESSED NOW.]

Posted by Jessica at 10:39 AM in Courtney Peldon | Permalink

August 14, 2006

Mrs. Fugney Glover...?

Lest you be wondering, yes, the world is still turning properly on its axis, and I've got the photographic proof: Courtney Peldon, alive, well, and fuggin' it up, the way Mother Nature intended.

She is a delight, showing up in a shirt that doesn't even come close to fitting her. I guess that's what happens when you try at 25 to wear the same clothes you wore when you were 10 and thought you looked so grown-up in your fake pearls and pseudo-satin shirt, which you wore because your director on Harry and the Hendersons was your childhood crush Scott Baio, who was so convincingly and dreamily in charge for half of the 80s. ["I want Charles in charge of me," she would weep to her sister as her tears blurred the "Mrs. Courtney Baio" doodles on her Trapper-Keeper.] But, seriously, it's like she found this in her closet, finally rinsed out the leftover cologne smell that she's sworn she would never wash away until they got married, and donned it -- never once actually looking at how poorly it sits on her torso. You can tell by the hem -- low in the back, higher in the front because it's bunching on her breasts and straining to fit them. So what she imagines as a flirty, jaunty little exposure of navel and waxed pelvis is actually just a mistake.

And, not to stir up scandal -- but, Us Weekly won't, so I will: Check out the status of her left-hand ring finger. Last we saw, she was sporting Crispin Glover's engagement ring, but here, her finger is as naked as her abdomen. What gives, CP? Did you clean it and forget to put it back on? Did you loan it to Brown, and she lost it down the back of the couch? Did you pawn it for that prize breeding rat he so coveted, only to find out Crispin sold the rat to buy you some hair extensions? Please tell us your perfect union hasn't faltered, because we were really looking forward to your wedding dress, and to the arrival of wee baby Crispney.

And also... if that's what you chose to wear on your big night out back on the singles scene, then you need more help than we originally thought.

Posted by Heather at 06:57 AM in Courtney Peldon | Permalink

June 13, 2006

Return Of The Fug: A Peldon Surfaces

Well done, Brown. From a distance the gold decorations on your shirt look like very curious stains indeed, but I'm more fascinated by whatever's happening to your pelvis. [Heh. Your peldonvis. Haha -- see what I did there?]

Sorry. That was ridiculous, Brown, and I know it. It's just... you see, I'm a little giddy. I'm so excited to see you not only back on the red carpet, but completely confusing me to the point where I don't even know what that block of dark cloth even is, that I can't hold back the geekitude.

So tell me, sweet Peldon, is that a skirt? A layering tee that's way too long? A needless and unattractive extension of the brown shirt? A daring way to conceal the presence of an adult diaper? A new advance in cotton chastity belts?

Sigh. This is the family we know and love. Bless you, Brown.

Posted by Heather at 12:33 PM in Courtney Peldon | Permalink

May 17, 2006

My Fug School Musical

I can't tell if this is just an awful, awful homage to Olivia Newton John in Grease, where she deploys tight shiny pants and heels in order to win back big dumb lug John Travolta and thereby freeing him from the cruel freakish prison of a varsity sweater (the horror, the HORROR), or if Ashley Tisdale just figured that the premiere of a movie called Surf School didn't require actually getting properly dressed.

There is also something awfully Peldon about her overlong t-shirt that reads, "DEATH BEFORE DISHONOR" -- especially the way that, coming from her, you figure it's just a message for that bitch in her on-set chem tutoring session who tried to steal all her answers and then shoved her tongue down the tutor's throat even though she FULLY knew Ashley had called dibs on him, and they're never going to speak again and Ashley just wants her to know that she would rather DIE than disrespect the Rules of Dibs.

Speaking of the Peldons, what do they have to say about all this?

Nothing. Not a bloody thing. They had the gall to show up after two months on the lam, or whatever it was, and actually look decent. Normal, even. This photo reminds me of a box my parents re-use every Christmas: white cardboard, decorated on the sides, emblazoned on the front with colorful, huge letters that say, "DOES NOT CONTAIN WHAT YOU HAD HINTED FOR."

[Amazingly, never once in the 20-odd years we've used that box has it borne the frustrated red pen scars of a quick but vicious grammatical edit from My Mother The English Major.]

So in that sense, thanks, Courtney and Brown, because it's nice to see that you're still out there Peldoning about, but this photo does not contain that for which our APB had hinted (man, grammar is so awkward sometimes). What we really wanted was some crazy. Capital-C Crazy. We wanted "my stylist is Crispin Glover and my coat is made of rat tails, Q-tips, and the hair of a virgin" insanity. Come on! If we can't trust the Peldons to loon it up at the merest hint of red in a nearby carpet, then what or whom CAN we trust?

Posted by Heather at 04:04 PM in Courtney Peldon | Permalink


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