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September 05, 2006

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.

Posted by Heather at 10:57 AM in Emmy Awards, Random Fug | Permalink

August 30, 2006

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

Posted by Heather at 02:48 PM in Celebrity Terror Watch, Emmy Awards | Permalink

August 29, 2006

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.

Posted by Jessica at 04:14 PM in Emmy Awards | Permalink

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.

Posted by Heather at 10:40 AM in Emmy Awards | Permalink

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.

Posted by Heather at 06:51 AM in Emmy Awards | Permalink

August 28, 2006

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!"

Posted by Heather at 05:04 PM in Emmy Awards | Permalink

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.

Posted by Jessica at 04:53 PM in Emmy Awards | Permalink

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.

Posted by Heather at 12:21 PM in Emmy Awards | Permalink

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.

Posted by Jessica at 11:49 AM in Emmy Awards | Permalink

Emmy Fug Carpet: Tracey Gold

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

Posted by Jessica at 11:12 AM in Emmy Awards | Permalink

 

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