Emmy Parties Fug Carpet: Rachel Griffiths

We hold this particular truth to be self-evident: that the Cocktail Party in the Front/Charity Ball in the Back mullet gown is rarely as flattering as either of those silhouettes would be on their own. It is likewise true that if you're going to rock the mullet -- either on your head or your body -- it is a prerequisite that you COMMIT to it, making it clear to on-lookers that you're PROUD of your multi-level wonder and that if they don't like it, that's THEIR untold tragedy.

Whereas Rachel Griffiths here just seems to be thinking, "if Jeremy Piven steps on my train ONE MORE TIME, so help me God, I'm going to slap the eyeliner right off his face. Now take my damn picture."

Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Laura Bennett

We here at GFY HQ would like to congratulate Project Runway's Laura Bennett on being the valedictorian of her graduating class at The Macy Gray School of Shameless Self-Promotion.

Like the skirt. Love the hair. Covet the genes that let her be that trim after popping out six children. Wouldn't refuse the earrings. And might want the whole shebang if she hadn't turned the top into a vexing, iridescent flesh-toned billboard. Google can't confirm for me whether "Dress Like You Mean It" is the slogan of her and Nick Verreos' MSN Style Studio project [edited to say: it apparently is, and these fabulous boys said Laura and Nick were each asked to wear the slogan somehow, so maybe this is her way of saying, "That is such an annoying request that I will get all up in their faces with it," which would be funny and reinforce my love of her. But let's keep going here as if I never found any of that out], or if it's just a mantra that came to her while she was meditating in her closet in a brief moment away from her rowdy boys.

It's certainly an incredibly vague piece of advice, open to many varied and terrible interpretations. If I go to the supermarket in Crocs, an evening gown, and leggings placed jauntily on my head, is it acceptable as long as I MEANT to look like Joan Rivers' court jester? If Tim Gunn decides to wear jellies and a skirt made of ties on any day other than Halloween, is it all good simply because he fully intended to spent the day as a tragic tribute to From Justin To Kelly? What if Mandy Moore -- Heaven forbid -- decided to forego panties and then slide sloppily out of a limo, all because she really MEANT to welcome the world into her labial folds? Does the fact of her intent make it okay?

I am not sure I can live in that world. Well, except maybe the one where Tim Gunn not-so-secretly digs From Justin To Kelly, because then we can get together and talk about why anyone in the world would be wooed by a series of text messages made up of very few actual words. Otherwise, though, I'm out.

poll by twiigs.com

Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Paula Abdul

I realize that Paula's dress is like this on purpose. I do. And in theory, I don't disapprove.

But in practice, it's PAULA ABDUL. She has to know that, simply by dint of being Paula Abdul, people would take one look at this and blindly assume not that her dress was designed that way, but rather that she was too busy drinking butterfly tears from the hoof of a centaur to know that her sparkly undergarment was showing. And when you're Paula Abdul, surely at this point you are tired of people staring at you with furrowed brows, wondering things like whether you can complete a sentence, or if anyone in your inner circle thoughtfully dosed you with mind-altering drugs to erase the memory of your vanity-project reality show. SURELY, given ALL that, you would want to wear something safe, something that couldn't possibly make anyone leap to the conclusion that you are in a constant state of confusion.

Then again... well, I said it already: It's PAULA ABDUL. Nothing is certain except that she enjoys how you've grown, both with your soul and in your cup of Coca-Cola that the angels rained onto your heart. Plus, at this point, it's possible she can't wear anything without us finding a reason to scratch our chins and ponder her clarity of mind. We should probably be content with the fact that she's fully clothed and didn't have any lines during the telecast.

Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Phoebe Price

Because I KNOW you were wondering:

Unfortunately, the rumor that I owe an armoire bearing a strong resemblance to this dress is not at all exaggerated.

Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Well Played, Kristen Bell

So, we've given the erstwhile Miss Veronica Mars a hard time around these parts, to the extent that I actually checked to see if she had her own category (and if this entry had gone the other direction, I suspect she would have gotten herself one). But lo and behold if she didn't show up at the Emmys wearing a dress that works on her wee proportions, in a beautiful, flattering color, which doesn't appear to have been purchased at Granny Gretel's Dress Emporium and Denturteria:

She is working it. Even Adrian Pasdar behind her appears to be thinking, "thank God that little Veronica Whoshername girl pulled out the stops tonight! I wonder if I can get her to talk some sense into Hayden. Speaking of attractive people, I'm certainly a handsome man, aren't I? I am. Debonair, even. Not many men my age can grow hair like this. I suspect I'm actually out-tressing Dempsey. He's here tonight, don't you think? I'm going to find him and pay people to debate which of us have a better head of hair. Watch out, Loverboy. Here I come."

Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Sara Ramirez

Sara Ramirez is a dish. Every episode of this past season of Grey's Anatomy caused me pain, because Callie is a) so cute b) so saucy c) so loaded d) so trapped in a relationship that's doomed to failure because -- oh, God, I can't get started on George right now, since I just talked myself into not canceling my Grey's season pass, and I don't have time to have that conversation with myself all over again. However, there's something about this dress that just doesn't light my fire and I can't quite figure out what it is:

Empirically, it's a perfectly serviceable gown. I just feel like she's both looked better, AND less like a bridesmaid. Also, I really really really really want to go up to her and poke my finger through that hole over her hip. I bet you twenty bucks that by the end of the night, almost everyone she knows -- and several people she does not -- will have come up to her, drunk, and prodded her. She is going to have a wee, finger-shaped bruise right there. In fact, if I were her, after a drink or two (or even just if the ceremony got boring), I'm pretty sure I would start at prodding my hip myself.

poll by twiigs.com...

Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Well Played, Ellen Pompeo

At first, I couldn't decide if this look frightened or thrilled me.

Ultimately, I decided on the latter, in part because she no longer looks so frail that I'm afraid an errant elbow from somebody's PR rep will snap her in half. But mostly, I decided that I cherish the hair. That is a seriously ballsy big coif -- and not in that way where you suspect she had three people backbrushing it for an hour before using four cans of hairspray. No, it's almost a bit regal, like she's a secret Scarlett O'Hara fangirl.

That's got to be it, right? She even has a curtain-tie around her neck -- a gold-dipped tribute to Scarlett's most famous fashion moment. If she didn't have that, she'd look kind of boring, frankly. It's the perfect loopy touch. And besides, who can blame her for wanting to emulate literature's most marvelous Southern belle? I can practically hear her internal monologue now: "Great balls of fire -- there's that mealy-mouthed Kate Walsh, thinking she can swan around with her red hair and her wedding ring and her new spinoff. As God is my witness, that show's not going to lick ours. Even if I have to lie, cheat, steal or kill the power on their studio. Where shall she go then? Whatever shall she do? Oh, if I wasn't a lady, what I would say to that vixen! Sigh. This is getting me overexcited. I can't think about it any more today. I'll think about it tomorrow."

Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Well Played, Heidi Klum

So, Heidi Klum would look good in a potato sack cinched with baling wire, obviously, although that sounds both stabby and scratchy, but I feel like she kind of outdid herself here:

Do I love the hair and makeup? I don't know. Do I wish Seal had properly fastened his tie and collar? Yes. Are they still one of my favorite couples? Yes, especially since he brought his own camera, which I always find charmingly normal. Do I want to run up to her, distract her with something shiny, and somehow manage to talk her into trading her dress for what I'm wearing (jeans, a tank top and a UCLA hoodie -- extremely chic for the red carpet, no? Very Deconstructed Post-Collegiate Athletic Fan, VERY au courant, tres, tres merveilleux, darlings, perfect for fall, you MUST have it.)? Yes. Yes, I do. I want to wear it everywhere.

Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Hayden Panettiere

Hayden Panettiere looks AMAZING...from the neck up. Hard for her not to, really -- she's so pretty and young and nubile. Which is why I question her decision to raid Little Dakota Fanbelt's closet:

While I absolutely applaud her decision to go modest and demure, if I were as young and nubile as she is, and heading to the Emmys, and recently broken up with my boyfriend, I might have gone for something a bit less Napoleonic Courtier in the Third Trimester and something a little more self-contained.  Although perhaps this is all part of her plan: she wanders into the awards and takes a seat near a dreamy young producer (or assistant, or actor -- it's good to be open-minded about these things), who promptly trods/sits on her dress.

"Oh, I'm so sorry" says the dreamy young man.

"It's no problem at all!" says Hayden.

"Say, aren't you....?"

"Why, yes. Yes, I am."

"I love your work. Tell me all about Jack Coleman."

And thus begins a beautiful new relationship. Clever. Very clever indeed.

Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Vanessa L. Williams

If I've learned anything about Vanessa Williams since she took her job on Ugly Betty, it's that she likes to make sure you see her on the red carpet. Well, okay, I've also learned that she's much better with bitchy humor than the abomination A Diva's Christmas Carol previously indicated -- in which, for real, she ended the movie by telling a baby, "Nobody pees on the Diva" -- and that whatever she's doing to look so fantastic at her age, it's working. I hope she e-mails me her secrets, and that they involve a strict eating plan mostly consisting of Diet Coke and cake.

She's toned it down follicularly since the Golden Globes, but her dress is no less pregnant with drama.

The little angel and devil on my shoulder -- although the devil is really just one of many, dispatched by his posse to represent them in this argument because they're on a dinner break -- are locked in an endless debate about whether this is so nutty it's amazing, or just way too much.

ANGEL: It's a gorgeous color on her!

DEVIL: Sure, but several relatives of Big Bird had to die to make that skirt possible.

ANGEL: Oh, relax. It's just bold. It's soap-opera bold. You love soap operas!

DEVIL: Only the ones in which Satan possesses psychiatrists, murderous she-male blackmailers hold a town hostage with its evil deeds, floating heads in powdered wigs make fun of the town witch, and people wear eyepatches despite not being pirates.

ANGEL: Well, this dress would look great in one of those.

DEVIL: It looks like the top part is molting. That thing is going to shed itself stupid all night long. You'll always know whether Vanessa's been in your bathroom stall.

ANGEL: Hmm. That's true. And I am kind of allergic to feathers.

DEVIL: See? You'd be in big trouble if you were sitting next to her.

ANGEL: I'm SURE she packed some Claritin in that purse... But wait, you know they're not REAL feathers.

DEVIL: So what? You're faltering. I WIN.

ANGEL: Fine. I admit it. The first time I saw it, I wondered which showgirl wedding in Vegas was missing a bridesmaid. Happy now?

DEVIL: Yes... Although, hey, at least she tried. So many other people looked boring.

ANGEL: Let's just go open a bottle of wine and watch Center Stage.

So yet again, a vicious battle within my brain ends in a stalemate and a ballet movie. However, now that I've had a soothing glass of shiraz and Jodie Sawyer has changed her entire costume and makeup without ever actually leaving the stage, I'm leaning toward siding with the devil. Vanessa's dress was a delicious idea that, sadly, turned out a little trashier than I like to see her.

poll by twiigs.com

Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Jenna Fischer

My first thought when I saw Jenna Fischer at the Emmys was, "Yay, I'm so glad her broken back is better. I love her."

My second thought, unfortunately, was, "Too bad she was styled by Bed, Bath, and Beyond."

Also, I keep being distracted by Jane Krakowski in the background, where she's looking fantastic and pointing at some dude next to her. I like to think Jane is saying, "Remind me to ask Jenna how much that thing cost -- I NEED that shower curtain for my guest bathroom."

Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Elizabeth Perkins

There's a fairly painful commercial running right now for Martha Stewart's new line of stuff -- obviously not effective, since I can't remember what store it's being sold at -- in which Tim Gunn is eagerly holding up bedsheets to a woman's body and crowing about what awesome fabric it is for a dress. And of course Martha has to stroll up and look at him like he's an escaped mental patient, separating him from his poor victim by dragging him off to kitchenwares and rolling her eyes that maybe he'll get ideas for hats from her pots and pans. And wacky ol' Tim trots on after her, cooing about how much he loves hats. While we all sympathize with that in this post-Dynasty era of humorless millinery, the commercial makes me yearn for the days when people didn't ask Tim Gunn to do anything beyond Project Runway, because I feel like he's too polite to say no when everyone loves him so much, and that's what leads to ads like that.

Elizabeth Perkins, though, has made me wonder if the ad is more of a documentary than I realized.

The longer I frowned at this picture, the clearer it became: This is what you'd get if someone asked Silly Ad Version Of Tim Gunn to make an Emmy dress for Ma Ingalls using only what he can find in Martha Stewart's kitchen collection. Even Elizabeth seems vaguely hacked off that she's wearing a tablecloth, as if a photographer just asked her whether the coordinating napkins are sold separately.

Daytime Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Gina Tognoni

I get what Gina Tognoni was going for; really, I do.

It's a statement, yes? It's her way of saying, "I was roped into coming here," right? I mean, that's got to be it. Because I can't think of any other good reason to wear a dress that makes your left breast look a good three inches higher than your right.

Okay, I thought of one: Her ugly stepsisters locked her in a cupboard to keep her from shopping, and a cheerful pack of mice had to make her this dress on the fly (which would also explain all the other random pieces of fabric hanging from this thing). But I'm pretty sure that's not the case. I mean, everyone knows the Three Blind Mice don't do awards shows, and they're the only rodent tailors I can think of who would let a girl out of the house in a gown that looks like the right half of it mysteriously shrank.

poll by twiigs.com

Daytime Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Kimberly McCullough

Aw, everybody loves General Hospital's Robin Scorpio!

Everyone, that is, except whoever told her this dress would hang fine if she just cinched the hell out of it. Listen, Robin has enough problems, what with the HIV and that whole befriending-an-alien thing in 1990, and the fact that both her parents have been presumed dead at one point or another in her young life. She really doesn't need people coming up to her on top of all that and gently asking if she's got a hip tumor. Which you can tell the guy behind her desperately wants to do, because he probably also loves Robin Scorpio and just wants her to be healthy and happy. Clearly, he was not there when she was trying on gowns.

Daytime Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Peggy McCay

It's hard out there for Days of our Lives' Caroline Brady. I mean, the woman was poisoned and died in a church while praying, only to be secretly transported to some terrible, creepy Island of Misfit Characters, where all the "dead" were secretly alive and, in some cases, watching their loved ones back in Salem having sex with other people. As you do.

Unfortunately, having an alter-ego with a rough life doesn't explain why the actress who plays her is wearing a giant scarf that looks like she bought it at IKEA under a sign that said, "HJÅARTEN: $5.99."

Maybe -- even though actually watching the whole Fake Island fiasco was as painful as ripping off my own feet -- the actress secretly yearns for those glory days of listening to Dr. Marlena Evans Brady Black Whatever sob about John and Kate getting it on all over poor faux-dead Doc's sensibly decorated penthouse apartment, if only because it gave her something to do other than pull pints at the Irish pub as a glorified extra. Indeed, perhaps Peggy is sick of dying of boredom now that Caroline is back behind the bar, and would prefer to die of something else. Heatstroke, perhaps? That's the only sense I can make of pairing a long-sleeved ankle-length dress and panty hose with a thickly knit ode to Twister... on a Los Angeles afternoon in June.

So come on, Victor Kiriakis. Take some pity on your bored, overheated former paramour. Put your right hand on red.

Daytime Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Nadia Bjorlin

Nadia Bjorlin played Chloe on Days of Our Lives, which I watch only sporadically (like when Marlena gets possessed by the devil), but I do recall a rather fantastic couple of weeks when she was skulking around town wearing a cape and a hood, so as to disguise the terrible, terrible disfigurement she'd suffered in some kind of terrible, terrible incident that I didn't catch (car accident? acid bath? tragic oil rig explosion? freak avalanche? big fight with her evil twin? attacked by birds? lava thrown in her face? I don't know).  However, as far as I know, she's not really on the show anymore, so I'm not sure why she was at the Emmys this year:

Other, of course, than to provoke her former coworkers to come up to her and threaten to unwrap her like one of the strawberry bon-bon candies in a Hickory Farms gift basket.

Daytime Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Ellen DeGeneres

Like Heather, I love Ellen DeGeneres. Just  last week I found myself watching Mr Wrong, even.  (It's not good, in case you were wondering, and yet I watched the whole thing.) I love her AmEx commercials. I find her talk show charming, and it never fills me with any kind of rage, the way that Oprah sometimes does (like, you know, the four or five times she told everyone to read The Secret). I would never want her to show up at any event all trussed up in a frock. It's just not her. And yet, I'm not entirely sure THIS is her, either:

While Portia's working her high-waisted pants nicely, I'm concerned that Ellen's been spending her weekends in Headwaiter School with Constantine. I'm not entirely sure what kind of cuisine her establishment specializes in, but I suspect there's a portion of the evening where twirling plates are balanced on sticks. And if there's anything I know in this crazy, mixed-up world, it's that Ellen DeGeneres is too good for prop comedy.

Daytime Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: ManShirt Mishaps

While watching the Daytime Emmys on Friday night, I remarked, "Mario Van Peebles is really aging well! He looks GREAT." And so he does (he's 50!). However, I was so taken by his youthful face that I didn't notice until this morning that he seems to be holding on to the misguided trappings of youth sartorially, which isn't working out nearly as successfully as his skin care regime, whatever it may be. To wit, a sheer gray shirt:

The last time I saw a sheer shirt on a man who was not appearing in the International Male catalog, it was on a file photo of Michael "Sorry About the Daddy Issues, but at Least You Got 'Daughter to Father' Out of It, Right?" Lohan, which I just spent twenty fruitless minutes looking for.  Needless to say, Michael Lohan is the last person that anyone ought to be imitating in any way, and I hope this doesn't mean that the wee Van Peebleses are going to start driving into trees.  However, it could have been worse:

Now, now, Constantine fans, save yourself the carpel tunnel -- I know y'all love him, and I'm thrilled for him that he's now appearing on The Bold and the Beautiful, which, judging from the clips of it shown during the Emmys, is chockful of Jack Wagner storming into weddings and kidnapping people. But even you must admit that here, he looks like a very Zen headwaiter at a restaurant where you find a lot of hair in your food.

Daytime Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Two Ladies from Pine Valley

CHRISHELL STAUSE (right): God, I'm cute.

MELISSA CLAIRE EGAN (left): I'm so excited! It's my first Emmys!

CHRISHELL: Yeah, I can tell. I mean, you're LOVELY and all, but look, even that weird muse in Xanadu with the penis hairdo would dismiss your dress as "too disco."

MELISSA CLAIRE: You think so, Vegas bride?

CHRISHELL: Hey, at least I look kind of cool and sexy, and not like somebody gift-wrapped me after burning a copy of Saturday Night Fever and then snorting the ashes. And... I'm sorry, but is that a front panty-line, or is your dress just trying to mess up your photos?

MELISSA CLAIRE: This all seems very uncalled for from a girl who plays the once-unloved, now kind of wussy daughter of Janet From Another Planet on All My Children.

CHRISHELL: Janet is just misunderstood.

MELISSA CLAIRE: She's a psychotic baby-napper who threw her twin down a well; somehow convinced her twin's husband to fall in love with her after the sister went blind, got her sight back in A Christmas Miracle, and then eventually died; and then killed him years later and threw him in a deep-freezer.

CHRISHELL: You're so judgy. And shiny. Did you grease up your chest?

MELISSA CLAIRE: At least MY character is LOVED.

CHRISHELL: By who? Ryan? Please. He was married to a girl named GREENLEE, for God's sake.

MELISSA CLAIRE: So? He's the hero of the show. Every single script makes sure that somebody says so.

CHRISHELL: Well, he should have saved you from that dress.

MELISSA CLAIRE: Whatever. If Ryan's the stud then I am the AMC sweetheart. Suck on THAT.

CHRISHELL: Just don't come crying to me when your tube top starts to chafe. Smile for the camera!

MELISSA CLAIRE: Yeah, you won't smile so wide when I remind you that I am BIG TIME because I was one One Tree Hill once, as a cashier or something... so take THAT.

CHRISHELL: Pshaw. If Chad Michael Murray didn't try to propose to you, it doesn't count.

MELISSA CLAIRE: ... Dammit.

Daytime Emmy Awards Fug Carpet: Miss Tyra

When I was watching the Daytime Emmy Awards the other night -- look, we all know I love soaps, and we all know I REALLY love awards shindigs, so it was a pretty marriage of my favorite things -- I did a double-take when Ellen DeGeneres won for best talk show host. Not because I didn't think she deserved it; rather, it was because when she got up to accept the award, she walked past what appeared to be a giant cake, and high-fived it.

My first thought was, "Wow,  I love Ellen. I mean, if that woman is hanging out with person-sized baked goods, clearly I need to be in her entourage." Then I thought, "No, her Ellentourage. HA!" And then I realized I was a) making bad jokes out loud while totally alone, and b) sitting on the couch on a Friday watching an awards show without any of my bitches around, all of which made it even SADDER when I noticed that the aforementioned cake was not a delicious dessert treat but, in fact, one Miss Tyra Banks.

The good news is, Tyra has found a way to conceal the wig tape.

The BETTER news is that if Lindsay Lohan keeps wetting the bed all over her once-promising career, pretty soon they'll reunite so that Tyra can recycle this dress as the living doll in Life Size 2: Sleeping Booty.

Unless this was a challenge for the next season of America's Next Top Model, wherein the girls had to learn what it takes to be Tyra by hiding under her gown. That skirt could conceal at least ten model-sized people -- nine and a half if she has a fake plus-size person in the group. And that is why we love Miss Tyra. Why wear enough dress for one person when you could wear one the size of Luxembourg?

Random Fug: Courtney Marit

I don't know why this woman is holding an Emmy.

.

Her only credit, as far as the all-seeing eye of IMDb can tell me, is that she was on Survivor. And that didn't win. But more importantly, why is she at the HBO Emmy party wearing a harness and a dirty wedding dress?

Maybe she's pitching a new show to the network. Maybe it's called 'Til Death Do Us Art, about a morbid performance artist who agreed to marry her fiance while bungee jumping, and then decided that she didn't have any interest in yoking herself legally to a jackhole who wanted to get married in a wet suit while swinging under a bridge. So she runs -- through a wood, and I suspect a barn -- and vows never to remove her dress, so that others might see her as a living work of art denouncing hasty commitments. And jackholes. And harnesses. Billed as the anti-Big Love, it will feature her trying to convince people not to get married. Courtney Love will ultimately star, of course, since this getup is basically inspired by Hole's first hit album. And Scott Bakula will make his triumphant return to television as the dry cleaner who follows her around begging her to please WASH that damn thing before it starts to smell. Her old art-school T.A. whom she saves from a wrong-headed wedding to a socialite before falling in love with him herself? Why, Bill Pullman, of course.

Can't wait. But I don't know that wearing your pitch to a post-awards party is the best way to get it greenlit.

Celebrity Tanorexia Watch: Lucy Davis

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE: Office Worker Overly Inspired By Goldenrod Copy Paper

LOS ANGELES -- British actress and known tanorexic Lucy Davis, best known for playing Dawn on The Office, has been upgraded to "Tanorexia Threat Level: Severe" after accidentally tragically falling into a vat of iodine prior to walking the red carpet at the Emmy Awards.

Observers close to Davis called the incident a ghastly affair.

"It was a ghastly affair," one of them said, on condition of anonymity. "If she weren't my daughter, I'd have laughed and laughed, and laughed some more, but instead I had to pull her out."

Davis, 33, was once a nice, normal color, as exhibited here in a photo from 2005.

But sources say Davis became a self-tanning addict since her success on the UK comedy; recently, when her concerned family confiscated her spray-on bottles and had her barred from Mystic Tan, Davis tried to take matters into her own hands.

The results of her attempted tanicide were devastating.

Davis's discoloration is so bad, photographers say they witnessed a duped Gene Wilder wandering up to her on the red carpet and idly asking if she would please get back to twaddling the vernicious knid epidemic in the factory before they ate through his crates of Wonka Bars. He then demanded a command performance of "Oompa Loompa Doompety-Do."

"Nonsense," scoffed Davis's rep. "Everybody knows vernicious knids don't eat chocolate."

Despite concerns that the new skin tone ages her 10 years and frightened a small child, Davis's stained skin earned her at least one fan: The Fruit Of The Loom company plans to invite her to star in a series of commercials in which an orange joins their motley gang of singing, joking characters.

"It'll be perfect -- we won't have to pay a makeup artist," said a guy in a giant red apple costume, who didn't give his name.

If you spy her wandering around town, GFY HQ advises, attack her with a bottle of sunscreen, blindfold her, spin her around 40 times, and then release her into the wild too disoriented to find the nearest spray-on salon.

END TRANSMISSION.

Appendix: TANOREXIA WATCH TERROR CHART

SEVERE: Suri Cruise -- as in, find her inescapable prison and lock yourself in it until your flesh tone returns.

HIGH: The Simpson sisters

ELEVATED: Jennifer Aniston

GUARDED: Hollywood Starlet whose agent gave her four gift-certificates to Mystic Tan

LOW: Sane, sensible person

Emmy Awards Fug: Candice Bergen

Look, we're not going to pretend that Candice Bergen isn't totally rad.  Who didn't love Murphy Brown  (I myself often think of the episode in which it is revealed that Faith Ford's character, Corky Sherwood-Forrest, keeps a diary in which she records what she wears every day. The joke totally worked, but at the same time, I feel like this is not the worst idea anyone ever had)? Or, if you're too young to have watched Murphy Brown -- therefore making us feel ancient -- who didn't watch her guest spots on Sex and the City and think, "jeez, that older lady is a babe. I hope I age that well. "  She's a silver fox, all right? AND YET ("and yet" being the watchword here lately, as Heather so wisely pointed out earlier):

I love, love the color of the skirt, and Bergen can rock the collared shirt like no one else, but oy! The belt! It's so "Hey there! I'm your really cute and spry Grandma who wears jeans and lives in Arizona and grows a lot of herbs and just bought a wagon wheel coffee table for kicks!"  But although that Grandma is awesome, she would never wear that belt to the Emmys. She knows better. And so should La Bergen.

Emmy Post-Party Fug: Paula Malcomson

Okay, I have no issue with the shirt and the jeans in and of themselves, but would it have killed her to dress up a little for the party? Maybe a skirt?

I know that on Deadwood, Trixie might have counted putting on her very best "Look, ****s*cker, If you don't **** off I'm going to rip off your *****" expression as getting dolled up for a fancy night out, but Hollywood is not the same world of whores and powermongers that Trixie's from -- I mean, in Hollywood, people shower more.

Emmy Post-Party Fug: Frances Conroy

Frances Conroy has a tiny but brilliant role in Dirty Rotten Scoundrels -- the poor woman never saw Ruprect coming -- and so no matter how weary of Six Feet Under I got, I will always kind of love her.

And yet...

[Wait, wow, is it just me, or have we had a lot of "and yet" statements on this site lately? "We like her... and yet..." It's the Julie Chen "but first" of GFY; I am looking forward to the day when delicious Evil Dr. Will returns for Big Brother All-Stars 2: Hot, Pale Dermatologist Boogaloo with a "But First" and an inexplicable "And Yet" shirt that two mysterious bloggers have sent him... maybe along with one that says, "Sack UP, ho," just for good measure.]

Ahem. End of aside.

Anyway: And yet, I'm sad to report that Our Lady of "Why Does He Have A Cork On His Fork?" showed up dressed for the funeral of her own fashion sense.

Ms. Conroy seriously looks like she wandered over to the HBO Emmy party right after she got her velveteen frump-funk on at the Rock Star: Supernova taping. Perhaps that's Gilby Clarke's guitar strap slung so bizarrely around her hips, hurled triumphantly from the stage; indeed, I hope that's it, and that she's just another crazed, loafer-clad fan of Supernova's humdrum riffs and half-naked horndogs. Because, as it's horrendously unflattering, there really is no other good reason for that belt -- nor, indeed, for the rest of the outfit.

These are desperate, confusing times. To bastardize a line from War Games, that classic ode to the olden days of the Interwebs: We are at F.Con 1.

Emmy Fug Carpet: Debra and Eva

Any time you hear Debra Messing being interviewed about working on Will & Grace, she usually cops to being the most humorless person on the set.

... Okay, maybe that's my paraphrasing, because I'm predisposed not to like her on account of all the rumors that she's a prickly harridan. But she has gone on the record as saying her wit is by far the slowest out of that crowd. And there's nothing wrong with that -- not everyone has to jockey to be the funniest person in the room -- but that insight does make it rather fitting that she bored the pants off me during her final red-carpet trot in the name of Grace Adler.

My first, incredibly eloquent thought when I saw this was, "Well... all right. I guess. Snore." I'd have liked to see a necklace to add interest, or an updo that didn't look quite so thoughtlessly thrown up; you can't see its ragged edges here, but suffice to say it did put the "mess" in "Messing," and I blame her entirely for failing to captivate my imagination and forcing it to wander into that awful, punny place.

Something about it isn't quite right, an elegant idea oddly executed -- the fit is a tad wonky, and the fringe looks surprisingly cheap. It's as if she were the model for a picnic-supply themed Project Runway challenge, and Jeffrey "If He Made My Mother Cry I Would Have Bitch-Slapped His Undersized Head, Which Looks Like It Was Squeezed Out Of A Tube, And Then Throttled Him By His Neck Tattoo" Sebelia had one night to cobble it all together out of bulk-bought paper napkins.

Speaking of paper napkins:

Tony Parker just looks pleased that his attorney happened to be tall enough to loan him an old suit. Whereas Eva -- who, I must clarify, is not wearing shoes of two different colors; it's a trick of the lighting -- is swaddled in a crispy, crunchy white papier-mache ode to Pac Man that is kind of swallowing her whole.

And why, WHY GOD WHY, do people feel the need to go so tan and golden that their skin and hair ends up more or less the same burnt-sienna shade? Where's the contrast, Eva?

I suppose it's no coincidence that her name anagrams to, "Voila! Orange!"

Emmy Red Carpet: Cheryl Hines

Consider my enthusiasm curbed:

I hate this so much. The color is great, and from the front it looks lovely, but I seriously hate the back.  This sort of thing can be done, but it has to be done carefully, or you look like a junior level figure skater who's lost her way. Remember Cate Blanchett in that amazing Galliano hummingbird dress? This one:

That's how you do formal back shenanigans. It's whimsical, but it's understated.

This is neither whimsical, NOR understated:

This looks like the formal gown version of the alphabet icing you buy in the Baking Sundries aisle at Vons.  You know. This stuff:

Add that to the fact that her Back Icing looks like the shiny, crazed smile of the fearsome Three-Eyed Jewel Monster, and I find myself, frankly, creeped out by the entire thing.

Emmy Post Parties: Jeremy Piven

Just 15 minutes before his call time on the red carpet, Jeremy Piven had just rolled home from a six-day bender, thrown on a shirt, covered up his hickeys with a random satin scarf he would try to call an "ascot," and had his mom refresh his hair plugs with some Elmer's glue. Fairly certain he still smelled like skunky booze and feet and pretty much positive he was still drunk, he resolved to go ahead run with it: Wave to the fans, blame his beer sweats on the heat, and wash off the tequila funk some other day.

Now, if only he could remember why he was holding the pointy and gold naked lady...

Ah, of course: for imitation body shots.

Emmy Fug Carpet: Vanessa Minnillo

I have SUCH a mental block against Vanessa Minnillo. As I've mentioned here before, I thought Nick Lachey was dating Christina Milian up until about a week ago. I am incapable of pronouncing her name correctly: I keep calling her Vanessa Milliano.  Every time I see her, I think, "THAT'S Vanessa Minnillo?" Because apparently I think she looks different than she does.

She probably wishes she HAD looked different than she did last night, too:

I like the color, but otherwise: yikes. It's so...Vegas Vacation. She looks like a high-class Wayniac.

Emmy Fug Carpet: Tracey Gold

If Tracey Gold is Peter Pan, does that make Kirk Cameron Wendy?

Emmy Fug Carpet: Simon Cowell

Oh my God, dude, put it away:

What would you say about you, if you were me? I feel like we'd get a little, "No one needs to see that," and a bit of, "look, I'm sorry: it's just not working for me at all. Horrendous. Horrendous," and then maybe an unfunny gay joke about La Seacrest, and then a barb about the 70s and/or Burt Reynolds. Not even Paula could find something nice to say about this. Nonsensical, yes. But not nice.

Emmy Fug Carpet: Paula Abdul

In these crazy times -- these wild, unpredictable times -- we are grateful that until she is recaptured by the doctors whose straitjacket she slipped out of a few years ago, there will always be Paula Abdul.

And sure, this isn't as loony as half of what she wears, but the pattern is a trifle young for Ms. A -- it's much more befitting, say, an 8th grader at her very exciting graduation into high school than a talent-contest judge.

And, no less, a talent-contest judge who probably never had an 8th grade graduation, because you can't very well pass Language Arts when your idea of a complete sentence equates more to my three-year old niece's rudimentary finger-painting than, say, Claude Monet. [Although, at least my niece has a vision when she's smearing paint around.]

Emmy Fug Carpet: Tyra Banks

Listen, Tyra, I've got no beef with you wearing a wig all over town, especially since your wigs are good ones:

See, I LOVE wigs. I am a huge fan of wigs! When I'm an old lady, I plan to wear a rotating series of wigs: platinum blonde for Monday bingo nights;  long, dark and curly for Tuesday's dialysis appointment; short and red and flippy like Ginger from Gilligan's Island for Wednesday night's cocktails at the Assisted Living Centre with my girls;  a giant Afro for Thursdays, when the pool boy comes. Et cetera.  And let's face it: you're a babe. However, you're also a babe who's got loads of cash and more contacts in the hair-and-makeup world than the rest of us would make in twenty lifetimes. So why aren't the edges of your wig EVER EVER EVER properly blended into your forehead? It's not like you don't have the acreage up there, and we know you know that.

Check out the close-up after the jump:

Don't tell me you can't do better than that. That is so...whatever the opposite of fierce is.

Emmy Pre-Party Fug: Patricia Arquette

I feel like Patricia Arquette is constantly making me groan, "Ooooh... so close." For instance, she's a lovely woman who rocks her healthy, normal figure, but then she'll show up somewhere in a tight satin sheath that is hard for anybody to wear without accentuating the negatives.

Or, she'll throw a red sash around her waist and let it hang there limply, helping no one and doing nothing but cup her stomach:

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

If she'd worn this hair with the other dress, we might've had a winner. But instead she wore the horrible coif with the nice frock, and the sleeker 'do with this satin atrocity from the J.Lo/Anjelica Huston School of Fug. She also can't get her straps to behave -- the one on the left up there is staying put when it shouldn't, while her Emmy ceremony dress strap dropped clean off in the middle of her acceptance speech. The woman can't win.

Well, except for the Emmy.  And her slowly debloating life partner. But her closet is a giant rack of suck.

Emmy Pre-Party Fug: Alice Evans

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

Oh, honey. Even Dorothy herself would have surrended that old thing. So unless you are attending a theme party that is under the mistaken impression that the Emmy Awards are an homage to the unsung courage and dedication of Auntie Em herself, then you should probably deep-six the pumps, the homemade capris, and the frock before somebody throws you over a picnic table and serves a buffet of sanwiches and potato salad all over your torso.

Joely Richardson is all, "I am standing next to her ALL NIGHT.  I look FANTASTIC." 

Emmy Pre-Party Fug: Cynthia Garrett

Ever since her show Life & Style got cancelled, Cynthia Garrett has apparently been living life in the style of a homeless hippie-cowgirl:

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

I always suspected that working with Jules Asner day in, day out, would drive a person into a state of unbrushed boho insanity. It's okay, Cynthia. We know. We don't understand what Steven Soderbergh sees in her, either -- or, well, we do, but we just don't understand how he lives with himself during those moments when they're forced to have a conversation. We're here for you, Cyn. You're free now -- it'll get better, we promise. Step away from the hat and don't let the fringe suck you into its poisonous lair.

Emmy Fug Carpet: ENOUGH ALREADY, Tess Smith

Okay, "Tess Smith," if indeed that is your name. I know you're doing this for publicity, and that I'm playing right into your grubby, grasping hands, but I can't ignore you because you have made that impossible.

Apparently, you had such success looking like a desperate head-case last year that, in 2005, you've taken the shredded look just far enough to make it clear precisely how Brazilian your wax job is. You look like an extra who wandered, drunk and clueless, off the set of a porno called Julius Pleaser: Eh tu, Bootay?

Look, I'm sure you're a sunny person. And I know some people will applaud your moxie and invite you into all the cool after-parties, because you are essentially naked, and all the people who wish Teri Hatcher would wear that are going to stare at you instead, as she and the other Desperate Housewives at least have enough combined modica of class that they don't run around letting their labia flap in the breeze.

But at the end of the day, when everyone wipes the powder -- legal and otherwise -- off their faces and goes home to take a shower and gulp Aleve with their hair-of-the-dog raspberry mojitos, you'll just be remembered as that sad, embarrassing Tinseltown cliche who makes Pamela Anderson look like the very image of restraint, taste, and elegance. Is that really the label you want? Really?

Emmy Fug Carpet: Naima

Heidi Klum's pregnancy wasn't a fashion statement, so hopefully other people will stop using it as the green light to dress as if they're expecting.

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

America's Next Top Drapery winner Naima clearly needs a refresher course from Miss Janice Dickinson about posing. But the clothes aren't helping -- she looks straight out of Sense and Sensibility, wherein everyone is clad in garments that are tailored to be scandal-ready. Surely somebody could have helped her choose a dress that doesn't give stomach where no stomach exists.

Emmy Pre-Party Fug: Courtney Peldon

Sometimes it's not the clothes that fug up the Peldon -- it's what's beneath them.

In this case, La Peldon seems to have parlayed her D-list status into getting a D-list tan, one as orange, uneven, and blotchy as a pubescent Oompa-Loompa.

Doesn't it kind of look like her mismatched, normal-colored face has been Photoshopped onto another body? Like someone's been having a little pictoral fun with our Courtney -- perhaps even Courtney herself, trying to cover up that she actually wore something far more hideous to this Emmy pre-party?

But no -- no chicanery here, except on the part of the sunscreen/tanning salon/bloated Davis brother who snapped on the protective gloves and slobberingly rubbed in her self-tanner. This is truly La Peldon in all her heinous Burnt Marmalade glory, apparently so greedy for attention that she's even trying to redefine the term "Brown Peldon" so that it no longer applies to her sister.

Emmy Fug Carpet: Patricia Arquette

Oh, Patricia Arquette.

What is with the hair? It's like Marie Antoinette by way of Rosie the Riveter. What are you hiding in there? The latest Medium script? State secrets? Snacks for later? [Not a bad idea when the show is nine and a half hours long.]

Just don't.

Emmy Fug Carpet: Mary McCormack

Mary McCormack is very, very confused. She seriously was pretty sure when the limo pulled up that she was being ferried to her senior prom, circa 1984:

Hey everybody! Where's the punchbowl?

Emmy Fug Carpet: Macy Gray

On a night when many of the Emmy attendees were frustratingly well-dressed, thank God we can still turn to Crazy Macy Gray:

It doesn't fit! The shoes don't match! The dress itself may, in fact, be composed entirely of a cast-off set of drawing room curtains from the set of Scarlett: The Sequel to Gone With the Wind, starring Timothy Dalton! It's certainly totally flammable. And for that, Macy Gray, we the Fug Girls salute you. Anyone who shows up to an awards show looking both baked and bake-able is okay by us.

Emmy Fug Carpet: Kirstie Alley

"Yeah? So I ate some cookies. A whole lot of cookies. Wanna make something of it, bitch? Want to come over here so I can REARRANGE YOUR FACE? Huh? I didn't THINK SO.

Yeah, this IS my bitchface, BITCHES. I'm making a comeback, and it's BITCHY. I'm like the fat Shannen Doherty. I will MESS YOU UP. MESS YOU UP!

You think I look like a what? A pumpkin? Some kind of squash, is that what you said? I will squash YOU. Yeah, I'm talking to you, skinny girl with the pigtails. Aren't you the kid that took those pictures of me eating a Double Double in my car? It was PROTEIN STYLE, you know. I don't know why you people DIDN'T MENTION THAT.

For your information, I wore this dress to the Renaissance Faire last year and got A LOT of compliments on it, so why don't you just SHUT YOUR FAT FACES! Yeah, I said FAT. Like my new show on Showtime, Fat Actress, please watch it."

Emmy Fug Carpet: Jane Kaczmarek

I understand that Jane Kaczmarek had a baby, but I don't understand why she decided to emaciate herself afterward:

She looks slim in the body, but her face looks downright... wrong. It's too narrow somehow. Maybe Bradley Whitford, caught up in one of the endless tight squeezes he gives her to show the world They Are Married And Are Hollywood's Real Love Story, hugged too hard and crushed her skull. Not sure. It's also possible he likes to sit on the porch at night and strum her neck cords, so she dieted herself a neck ukelele.

If you have, er, sharp features, then you shouldn't lose too much weight (see: Cox, Courteney), or else people will start trying to slice bread with your nose or chin. If you have hair, any hair, you shouldn't go all Señorita Lucille Ball with it. Ever. And if you have access to this dress, you shouldn't wear it. After staring at this photograph for thirty seconds, I immediately got the teeth-gnashing accordion melody "Lady of Spain" in my head, and that pretty much sealed Lady Jane's fug fate.

Emmy Fug Carpet: Jennifer Garner

I'm one of those people who just likes Jennifer Garner, for whatever reason, and doesn't really care who she's boffing as long as she's happy.

I do, however, care about reckless uses of doilies and sashes:

She looks like a karate bride; a black-belt in ancient and sacret art of Pulling A Scarlett O'Hara With Granny's Best Lace Curtains. Whoever told her to cinch the dress ought to be slapped. I'm sure tomorrow I'll find out that the scarf belonged to a dead relative/starving child/Ben Affleck, and that she wore it as a tribute, but even if that's true, I maintain that the honoree would take one look at her deployment of said tribute scarf and weep tears of sartorial grief.

And if those are flat shoes under there, and if the dress indeed has the hidden trouser element at which it hints in this photo, then she's going on my list. All the Krav-Maga in the world can't defeat a vigorous fugging.

Oh, Jen. Can't we go back to the days when ill-fitting corsets and the ensuing quadra-boob were your only problems?

Emmy Fug Carpet: Those Girls From 8 Simple Rules...

Those poor girls from Eight Simple Rules... They have some serious issues. I'm not talking about Dealing With The Tragic Death of Jack Tripper, although, yes, that was sad and I was sad about it then and am still sad about it now, because who didn't like Jack Tripper and sad sad sad sad sad, but I think I speak for all of us when I say that Jack Tripper would not have approved of these get-ups:

They look both square and old. These girls have slim, lovely figures, but they appear to be going to a Golden Girls garden party as Dorothy and Rose. Red appears to be wearing her maiden aunt's nightgown -- sexed up a bit around the cleav -- and Blonde is wearing the fabric equivalent of a Chinese lantern.

Dressed like this, these teenage girls would be lucky to get the time of day from someone, much less a date.

Emmy Fug Carpet: Tess Smith

Meet Tess Smith.

Meet Tess Smith's entire naked body.

I do not know who Tess Smith is, but I do know that her waxer does good work.

I don't know about Tess Smith's personal life, but I do know that she enjoys a good loincloth.

I am not familiar with Tess Smith's professional career, but I suspect she might just be a professional, if you know what I mean and I think you do.

Emmy Fug Carpet: Barbra Streisand

Babs looks like an overly formal drawstring bag.

[Photo courtesy of Zap2It.com.]

Emmy Fug Carpet: Maria Menounos

Poor Maria Me"no-no"s:

Nobody told her that she wasn't in a third-grade production of The Fugcracker, so she showed up swaddled in tulle with a corset so tight it made pancakes of her breasts. When she was shot from the side during interviews, my chest spontaneously began to hurt -- she was droopier than Eeyore. I wanted to grab her by the bodice and yank upward.

The outfit looked even worse when she was interviewing people on the carpet, because most people around Maria had a glamorous floor-length dress, and she looked like Glinda the Good Witch at her high-school prom. Apparently the only thing Ms. M learned from Lara Flynn-Boyle's Hooker Ballerina look at the 2003 Golden Globes was that knee-high lace-up slippers are a bad idea. I suppose we can be thankful for that small mercy.

Emmy Fug Carpet: Helen Mirren

Helen Mirren: great actress, crazy dresser.

[Courtesy of Zap2It.com.]

I love the sari itself. It's lovely. Except for the part where it's totally a weird choice for Aging British Actress Helen Mirren [unless, of course, she is celebrating India's freedom from Great Britain's tyranny, circa 1947. In which case... okay, but at the Emmys?]

I think Mirren looks -- facially -- fantastic. If she's had work done, it's brilliant work. She's aging beautifully. Good hair, even. But... I just don't get the sari. It's a beautiful piece and she doesn't look bad in it, exactly, although she does look maybe a little shapeless. I just don't GET IT. I guess it's not "fugly" so much as it is "confounding." What is the theory behind this outfit? Is it "funky multiculti that also hides my unsightly bulges?" Is it "the cleaner shrunk my Dolce and Gabbana and this is the only thing in my closet that's vaguely sparkly?" Is it, "oh, what the hell! I'm bloody Helen Mirren and I can wear whatever I like?"

Emmy Fug Carpet: Courtney Peldon

[Photo courtesy of Zap2It.com.]

We're really busy at Go Fug Yourself this morning, thanks to the Emmys, so this one is a DIY. Fill in the blanks: [ADJECTIVE] [ADJECTIVE] Peldon [VERB] [DERIVITIVE OF FUGLY] [SYNONYM FOR DRESS] at the Emmys. [INSERT VERSION OF "WHO IS SHE, ANYWAY?" HERE] Peldon [VERB] [SYNONYM FOR CRAZY AND/OR BLIND] and [ADJECTIVE SUGGESTING POSSIBLE MENTAL ILLNESS]. Peldon's [SYNONYM FOR OUTFIT] [VERB] [SYNONYM FOR UGLY]. [INSERT SNIDE COMMENT SUGGESTING PELDON MAY BE ATTENDING EMMYS AS A SEAT FILLER.]