Golden Globes Fug Conference: Billy and Nancy

NANCY: GREETINGS EVERYONE FROM THE EXCITING GOLDEN GLOBES NEWSCAST STUDIO DESK THING! I AM NANCY O'DELL AND THE DUDE WITH THE STEEL WOOL SHRUBBERY COMING OUT OF HIS HEAD IS BILLY BUSH! HOW APPROPRIATE! HA HA HA HA HA!

BILLY: Well, now, Nancy, I think I look really sharp. Whereas your arms are different color than the rest of you by, like, a LOT.

NANCY: AT LEAST I DON'T LOOK LIKE A FULLER BRUSH SALESMAN DID MY HAIR!

BILLY: It really IS uncanny, actually, how much of a different color they are. Are you in costume as a color spectrum?

NANCY: ARE YOU IN COSTUME AS SOMETHING I CAN USE TO SCRUB MY TILE GROUT? WHEE! IT'S ALL FUN TONIGHT AT THE SUPERAWESOMEWICKEDCOOL GOLDEN GLOBES STANDING-UP PARTY AND READING OF NAMES!

BILLY: Let's stop insulting each other and do that thing we planned where we read the winner's name, and then talk about how we totally didn't think that person was going to win AT ALL, because it's going to be totally organic and real and not at all awkward when we do that. And then maybe we can totally mix up all our facts, like we don't cover this freaking industry every day of our lives or anything!

NANCY: YES LET'S FIRE UP THE FUN GUN AND SHOOT OURSELVES WITH IT BILLY!!!!! BUT FIRST I NEED TO CLEAN MY FINGERNAILS ON YOUR HAIR.

BILLY: Oh, Nancy, you are fierce. Give Willy Wonka my best.

NANCY: WOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Golden Globes "Golden Globes" Police: Sharon Leal

We love to see a girl with a soap background make good. It's especially important to us now, with all those actors on Passions about to be unemployed come August because the show was just cancelled, pouring into the market a stellar group of people who are experienced at acting opposite and/or as zombies, sinister sheds, the floating head of Adrian Zmed, talking candles, kidnappers masquerading as clowns, a living doll, and a witch who is beholden to the devil's minions living in her basement. Come on, Hollywood, scoop them up and give them a future someplace else. Or, if nothing else, The CW is probably desperate enough to pay Galen Gering to take off his shirt every week. They could give him his own show, and call it -- I'm just spitballing here -- Galen Gering Takes Off His Shirt. And each time someone new could show up to sit around and be shirtless with him while a random object in his "apartment" becomes possessed by a demonic force and starts hissing warnings at them. I'd watch.

At any rate, let's stop digressing: We were happy to see Sharon Leal, who was on Guiding Light ages ago, show up on the big screen in Dreamgirls as (spoiler!) The One Who Replaces Jennifer Hudson. She's a lovely girl and she's got pipes, and we hope this leads to more opportunities for her.

Including opportunities to put this behind her.

Methinks something is trying to liberate itself. Every which way Sharon stood, that side of her dress sagged dangerously and her right breast seemed ever more ready to run for the border. We appreciate a breast's desire not to be pinched, as this one appears to be (somewhat painfully, I might add), but once the boob is inside a couture gown on a red carpet, it kind of needs to suck it up and stay put. We don't think it ever actually did pop out, but this is a perfect example of why you should never commit to a strapless gown without first waving your arms around, jumping, stretching, and otherwise making a fool of yourself in front of a mirror to ensure that everything still stays where it should.

Golden Globes Post-Party Fug: Paris Hilton

Never let it be said that Paris Hilton is not resourceful:

Why, she made this entire dress herself, out of tin foil!

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Renee Zellweger

Oh, Renee. You've been in the cocoon of work for months and months now, and this is how you emerge? Wrapped in a shapeless green sheath that hits you at the wrong point on your leg, wearing your signature puffy, pursed-lip smirk and generally looking like you are allergic to fun? Sigh. What are we going to do with you?

Personally, I think you need a sandwich, a tailor, and a good lay, possibly in that order. But maybe a good belly laugh would do the trick with significantly less effort. Just try something, okay?

Golden Globes Red Carpet Fug: Well Played, Lots Of People

As many nits as there were to pick at the Golden Globes, there were a lot of people who looked glorious. And in the spirit of karma, I've decided to spotlight a few of them. Although it might just be the soothing back rub Intern George just gave me; he does put a girl in a good mood.

Let's start with Sara Ramirez from Grey's Anatomy.

In addition to being a Tony-winning performer who held her own in that original star-studded Spamalot cast (check out "The Song That Goes Like This"; it's funny, and she's got a great voice), she is also, in my opinion, really wonderful and tough and funny on Grey's. And here, she looks like an old-time movie star, utterly glamorous in ruby-red with a sweetly feminine coif. (See, Cameron Diaz? It's possible to wear red lipstick and not look like a five-year old smeared it on for you.)

It's also refreshing to see her working a real woman's body. Forgive me if this is a pale retread of Jessica's America Ferrera entry of yesterday, which was brilliant, but the point bears repeating: Remember on Ally McBeal, when all the actresses skinnied up because they had to go to work every day with Calista Flockhart and it made them insecure? Well, the Grey's set has so far avoided such catastrophes, with Chandra Wilson and Ramirez (and to a degree Kate Walsh and Katherine Heigl) balancing out the very tiny Sandra Oh and Ellen Pompeo. I dearly hope none of them start emaciating themselves in a McBeal vein; in an interview, Ramirez once admitted that it was hard for her to watch the show in the early days because she felt she looked hulking, and that the underwear-dancing scene was a challenge to shoot for that reason -- and so she hired a trainer and has felt better about herself. And that's great and all, as long as it's for her health and not because she thinks it's required of her by the viewers or anyone else. Because Ramirez has been smoking hot from day one on that show, and she doesn't need to change a thing.

Another stunner who got almost no attention on any of the red carpet shows: Edie Falco.

Grecian draping was in this year, and Edie's little-seen dress was one of the loveliest. It's a great color on her, and she appears to be in kick-ass shape. Up yours, cancer!

I was also pleased to see Jennifer Love Hewitt pull it together.

She looks really, really pretty -- she's propped up without popping out, and the color flatters her hair and makeup. The dress is sort of risky because it has a lot going on, with the waist-bow and the glittery pattern and the shimmery sheen, but somehow it all comes together and works beautifully on her hourglass.

And finally, this year's Jessica Alba is officially Jessica Biel. Remember when everyone was fussing over Alba at the Oscars, largely due to her bod and her glamorous image makeover? Well, welcome to Biel's world, because we are a flighty, flaky culture, and since she came along, does anyone even know where Jessica Alba is, or care?

Not so much. Because Biel and her bodacious butt have taken a very average, borderline messy hairdo that keeps falling in her face and gown that I'm not actually all that crazy about -- it's a bit disco -- and made the whole thing downright eye-grabbing. Nay, eye-assaulting. And generally I am not thrilled about anything attacking me in that general area, but here, no one can help but stare.

She should enjoy it while she can, though. By the Rule of Jessicas, next year it will be Jessica Capshaw's turn, and then, well, we probably won't need an ACTUAL Jessica D. because we're sure Lindsay Lohan will have changed her name to "Jessica Dohan" just so she can get a bit of the glory.

Golden Globes Red Carpet Fug: Rinko Kikuchi

Presenting An IM from GFY HQ:

HEATHER: Oh dear, Rinko Kikuchi.

JESSICA: It's like she's mocking us.

HEATHER: She DOES seem to be having a good time.

JESSICA: I know it's couture Chanel....

HEATHER: I know that I want to use it to apply my astringent.

JESSICA: I know that it reminds me of dust bunnies.

HEATHER: I know that I'm relieved she's not wearing spats.

JESSICA: I know that we probably both want her shoes.

HEATHER: Shoes are the great uniter.

JESSICA: Thank god for them.

Golden Globes Awards Fug: Dreamgirls

EDDIE: Just look suave, Eddie, just look suave. If you act cool enough they won't even remember you have another one of those fat-suit movies coming out in a few weeks.

JENNIFER: Wow, my hair really DOES look good this way. And I'm so glad I chose this navy dress -- I have to say, I feel pretty hot right now.

BEYONCE: Yeah, fine, smile it up, TV bitch - let's just all remember who only held back on her singing voice because they MADE her, because she was TOO FIERCE for her role. Was it you? NO. Was it the From Justin To Kelly chick? NO. Was it that other bitch? NO. CHECK IT, hos, it was ME.

JAMIE: Man, Hudson looks fine. Almost as fine as I do, although nobody could outfox the Foxx. Miss B over there must be pissed-- she looks so Las Vegas that her dress even has its own coin slot up there. HAHAHAHAHA, oh, Foxxy, you've still got the funny, baby!

JENNIFER: I hope Beyonce isn't mad at me.

BEYONCE: No, I'm serious, hos, are you checking it? You'd BEST. Because I can't believe I am playing second fiddle to some bitch Paula Abdul dug up out of obscurity. Seriously. The claws are coming OUT. And so is her HAIR.

JENNIFER: I also hope Beyonce doesn't try and pull out my hair. She keeps accidentally touching it and she looks kind of like she's plotting something. I can't help it that I have a great stylist and she just has her mother. I didn't do that to her.

BEYONCE: It is ALL HER FAULT that I didn't win. Lady, I could sing circles around your ass, and Simon Cowell would CRY and Randy Jackson would be all, "You're doing your thing, dog, and that thing is KICKING SERIOUS ASS," and Paula would go, "If I ordered a pizza right now they'd deliver it to Montana because that was so good you almost made me want to eat some mascara and there are rainbows here and where am I? Are you my mother?" ...

EDDIE: I wonder if they'll burn the print of my next movie if I pay them enough money.

BEYONCE: ...and then Simon would be all, "What Paula is trying to say is that you are perfection, and you're the best there has ever been and I don't need to see any more," and then they'd CANCEL THE SHOW because there was no way they could do better and THAT is how I would WIN American Idol, you sad little runner-up, you.

EDDIE: No, really. I don't want to be all Queen Latifah here, winning a major award and then having a craptravaganza like Taxi coming out right afterward. But at least I look smooth. What the hell was Beyonce thinking? If we hang her from the ballroom ceiling they can turn off all the other lights and have a real cheap electric bill.

JENNIFER: Oh, well, I'll just try not to think about Beyonce. After all, I've never felt this good about myself in my life. Seriously, I think I deserve to be very proud of myself.

BEYONCE: Ohh, yes, just get ready, you humble little trophy hound, you. It's COMING.

JAMIE: DANG, bitches, I'm glad I took my shades off -- I'll get a better view of the catfight this way. Come on, let's see some clawing and spanking. Y'all can mess up my tux if it means I see some girl-on-girl without having to go back to my hotel room first. Let's get it ON.

JENNIFER: Although... I really should remember to get that restraining order ready.

Golden Globes Well-Played: America Ferrera

There are many things I like about America Ferrera. For one thing, I think she's adorable on Ugly Betty, in a role that could too easily be cloying, or sad-sack-y.  I loved her in The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants, not that I saw that, or cried at it. And I love that she's probably the only actress her age in Hollywood currently sporting her own hair, breasts and teeth.

I also love her in this dress:

The color and the cut are both really good on her: they flatter her skin tone and her body without being boring. She looks tall and curvy. Which, by the way, I don't mean as a Euphemism For Fat. I hate the fact that "curvy" now means, in Secret Hollywood Patois, "tubby." For example, according to Star Magazine, Jessica Alba recently said to a journalist, "I know I'm curvy. I'm working on it." Fast-forward to Jessica Alba dropping ten pounds she didn't need to drop. CURVY IS GOOD, PEOPLE.  Curvy is sexy and feminine, not Marlon-Brando-In-A- MuuMuu-Fat. Women -- all women: naturally very thin women, naturally not so thin women, flat-chested women, big-breasted women, ALL WOMEN -- have, as we learned from America's debut film, some curves of some size somewhere on their body.  IT'S OKAY.

I was thinking about this yesterday (in between trying to figure out what our government should do about Darfur and meditating on the existence of God in the 21st century, obviously), and I came to the conclusion that I seriously think America is so freaking cute and fresh-faced, and her body looks GREAT here, and therefore, I really hate the idea that at some point, she is going to drop twenty pounds and start Mystic-Tanning the shit out of herself, just because someone told her she had to do that to be considered for more mainstream roles. Because you KNOW someone is going to do that. Because, as you may have noticed, as a rule, certain people in Hollywood tend to have their heads up their asses regarding the subject of How All Women Are Supposed To Look In Order To Be Considered Sexy.  When, really, America shouldn't do a thing: as Mark Darcy said to Bridget Jones, we like her very much. Just as she is.

Which, for the record, is adorable in a perfectly-tailored purpley/navy number.

Golden Globes Post-Party Fug: The Olsen Twins

This is about as much collective joy as I've ever seen on the faces of perenially pouty Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen. Aside from being thrilled she remembered her black tube top to wear under her turn-of-the-century PTA party gown, I suspect Ashley is mostly excited that with her new hair, she bears enough of a resemblance to the pretty but generic Kristin Cavallari that she can reignite her acting career by playing the Cavallari's little sister in something really classy, like, National Lampoon's Dick Orgy: Campus Private Eye.

Whereas Mary-Kate is just grateful that she's upgraded from mail-order bride to society madam.

Celebrity Terror Watch Golden "Globes" Police: Katharine McPhee

Undeniably, Katharine McPhee is a stunner. And now that she's working some leg muscle, she's done a good job picking edgy minidresses with plunging necklines that show off her new figure. Take this one, for example, from the American Music Awards earlier this year:

It's a tough dress to carry, but she's glowing in it. She looks happy and sexy and young, and I would really like to know what witch doctor she's going to for that thick, shiny hair, because I am totally up for turning over my tresses to the dark arts. Even if it means mixing the hair of a spider, the toe of a chicken, and Essence of Newt in my Le Creuset and sticking my head in it.

At a Golden Globes afterparty, though, Katharine decided to change up her look. Which I can understand -- there's only so many short skirts and deep vees you can wear in a row before people start to wonder if you're just dying the same one a different color -- except that I don't like the direction in which she went: upwards.

Her hair is still gleaming nicely -- that newt juice is a miracle -- but the dress, aside from being a frumpy length, is totally pulling a ScarJo on her breasts. They're hiked up higher than Paris Hilton's skirt on most Tuesdays. And Wednesdays. And Thursdays, and... look, essentially, they're WAY up there, in a really painful-looking way. Moreover, she doesn't need to be this obvious. She's got innate sexyness that was shining through much better without this desperate shove skyward. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for propping up the girls and working your assets -- seriously, if Salma Hayek gave a class, I'd go twice -- but this isn't flattering as much as it's making me afraid they're going to burst. And having cleavage that is literally explosive can really put a damper on a girl's evening.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore

HUGH: God, I hate the bloody blow dryers in the bathroom. Some prat turned it upside down and it completely messed up my hair.

DREW: Don't worry, Hugh, you still look like the kind of destiny that smells like flowers.

HUGH: Er, thank you. And it's very nice to see that you're propping things up this year as well. Nicely done.

DREW: Well, I wanted to be the architect of my own dreams.

HUGH: I see. And in this case, your dreams are your breasts.

DREW: And my breasts are my dreams. It's beautiful harmony in a brassiere.

HUGH: I'll say. Because... I mean... bit of a disaster there last year, eh?

DREW: I think people were just startled to see the full extent of my feminine expression coming to blossom.

HUGH: I think they were probably more startled to see them express themselves down by your knees.

DREW: But this year, pink is my soul aura. I truly feel as though I've been touched by cotton-candy angels.

HUGH: Indeed, and your aura looks lovely on you. Congratulations on a lesson well learned. Although you might want to put on some sunscreen -- the rays from your soul glow appear to be giving you rather a tan.

DREW: No, it's just my radiant spirit ballerinas pirouetting through my skin. This dress, this night, it all feels like flossing my teeth with tiny threads of joy.

HUGH: Quite. Now I must dash -- I'm suddenly in desperate need of a scotch.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Heidi Klum

Insert obligatory bit about how beautiful Heidi Klum is, how much we enjoy Project Runway, and how much we want her and Seal to make it here. But:

Last time we saw this outfit, Princess Leia was informing Obi Wan Kenobi that he was her only hope. To be totally honest, it really doesn't work without the ear-buns.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Beyonce

If you'd asked me two days ago what Beyonce Knowles might wear to the Golden Globes if she were feeling terribly predictable, I'd have said, "Probably something low-cut and gold -- really sparkly. With a slit. And a big ol' weave."

Looks like Fate tipped its Magic 8-Ball over and saw that it said, "Signs Point To Yes."

It's not that she doesn't look beautiful; she does. She's Beyonce. Being a knockout with a hot body is her trademark. But don't you feel like you've seen this before? I mean, on her, not just in the Pier 1 Imports upscale gift-wrap section? And don't you wonder why, precisely, it makes that tiny wee gap in the front just under her cleavage? And then do you think that maybe she's wearing it because it's secretly made of 1,000 mashed-up Golden Globe trophies and the blood of a unicorn, all as part of a voodoo ritual intended to bag her a victory and a surprise Oscar nomination? And for the Oscars themselves, do you wonder what the odds are that Miss B will wear a dress made of Jennifer Hudson's mashed-up Golden Globe and the blood of Jamie Foxx? Indeed, do you wonder if the scene-stealing Dreamgirl is going to find a beheaded chicken on her doorstep one day this week? Can Beyonce get an Oscar nod when she was outacted by her false eyelashes? And what was the wig and cosmetics budget for Dreamgirls, anyway?

Sigh. So many questions.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Cameron Diaz

"Why, HELLO, Justin!

That's right: this is what I would have looked like if we'd gotten married. You're not hallucinating: I AM dressed as your lunatic bride. Later tonight, when you're walking out to your car, you might see me sneaking down the street behind you, holding something sharp. I'm not saying that you will. I'm just saying you MIGHT.  Yes, I lost my other strap climbing up that vine outside your window this morning. I wanted to see what you were wearing. I like it. You could have worn that to our wedding. I know I always said I didn't want to get married. Maybe I was just saying that so I seemed like that totally cool girl who didn't care about getting married, because not caring about getting married went better with my reputation as That Girl Who Farts In Front of You and Watches Sports and Dances in Boys Underwear, but maybe I was lying, Justin. Did you ever think of that? Do you ever think about anything? DO YOU? DO YOU? DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT ANYTHING BUT YOURSELF?

Anyway, yes. This is what I would have worn to our wedding. The happiest day of your life, that isn't going to happen anymore. How do you feel, knowing that now you're not going to have the happiest day of your life? Does it feel GOOD? DOES IT? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?

So. Have a nice night at the Globes. I'm going to. I might just grab a PA and drive to Vegas and make an honest woman of myself. YOU DON'T KNOW."

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Sean "Diddy" Combs

It took all his self-restraint to keep Diddy from decking the celebrity assistant who snapped her fingers and asked for a pitcher of water and some coat-check cards. It would be the last time he borrowed anything from the hotel restaurant's maitre d', no matter how much his twins had spit up on his first jacket.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Mia Maestro

Obviously, the benefits to Mia Maestro's dress are multifold:

a) She doesn't need to carry a bag, as she can store an entire shopping bag's worth of paraphernalia in any one of her poofy layers

b) She will never suffer from the dreaded Numb Butt so often associated with events where you are required to sit for hours and hours, as her many poofy layers will act as a comfy cushion for her delicate behind

c) She can easily use one of those top layer flaps as a napkin, should she lose one. This is always convenient at a cocktail party, when you find yourself holding a giant prawn on a skewer in one hand and two glasses of champy in the other. If your napkins are attached to your boobs, that problem is solved.

d) Bloated? No problem!

e) Pregnant? No one will ever know!

f) Smuggling an Olsen? It'll just be your little secret.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Cate Blanchett

Even with that Madonna-chic lace sausage-casing around her arms, my least favorite thing about Cate's gown is the uneven hem. It's the fashion equivalent of a mullet: party in the front, business in the back. And let's face it -- where Fergie's gone, others should fear to tread.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Rosanna Arquette

I understand that I may be the only person in America who watches According to Brian, or What About Brian? or Where Are The Kumquats, Brian? or whatever that show with WhatsHisName from 7th Heaven is called. Anyway, because none of you are watching it, none of you know that Rosanna Arquette is on this show, as Brian's sister who just had a baby. Now, if you were to only see her on the red carpet here, you would think, "there's NO WAY that old lady is having any babies any more."

She's 48  in real life, but this unfortunate Mother-of-the-Bride jobber gives her an extra 20 years. And if 30 is the new 20, then 48 is the new 38 and she looks like the old 68, which means she's somehow transformed herself into her own mother, which is really not the kind of "Red Carpet Transformation!" US Weekly is always chattering about.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Sienna Miller

While it pains us to admit that we rather like Sienna Miller's dress -- the bodice looks like it's been painted with the kind of gold leaf used on expensive chocolates, which is actually a compliment, because we have never met an expensive chocolate we didn't adore -- we are really not terribly fond of her sloppy milkmaid-who-just-rolled-in-the-mountain-glen-with-a-randy-goatherd coif. We're all for clandestine trysts, but alpine afterglow isn't perhaps the most ideal red-carpet fashion statement.

Unless she's trying to communicate slyly that if you have something to be milked, her skilled fists can take care of it. If that's the massage -- oops, er, I mean message -- then, well, she'll be the most popular wench at the barn.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Elizabeth Perkins

Eek!

What this photo doesn't show is the burst of flames and smoke that facilitated Elizabeth Perkins's appearance on the red carpet; the broomstick she rode in on; Fritz or Franz, her flying monkeys; her cauldron; or the argument she had with Melvin, her stylist, who told her that wearing the traditional robes of the Witches of Endor would give away her big secret.

Listen to Melvin, Elizabeth: He has your best interests in mind.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Vanessa L. Williams

Vanessa L. Williams is so brilliant on Ugly Betty -- she's catty, she's cunning, she's stunning, and she's got a mean way with a quip. In fact, the more we think about her adding the "L." to her name, the more it confuses us. I mean, she's the primary Vanessa Williams. The original. The best. The only one you think of when somebody says, "Hey, Vanessa Williams looks totally hot for her age." Why should The Other Vanessa Williams -- the one who was on Melrose Place for about half an hour, playing one of the most boring characters the show ever created, which is saying quite a lot -- get to keep the name in Tinseltown, while the legitimately famous one has to switch up to the differentiating initial? It's unjust.

Unfortunately for Vanessa L., at the Golden Globes last night, the extra initial stood for "light socket":

That is some CRAZY hair right there. Wilhelmina Slater would be furious. She would look this up and down with an eyebrow cocked, scoff silently at the disco-silver tulle that's draped over this dress in unflattering folds, and then hiss to her assistant Marc that she's surprised to learn that Chaka Khan is designing hairpieces for Wal-Mart.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Anne Hathaway

I had to sit with this photo for a while before deciding to post it. Because, see, there are some celebrities to whom I just can't warm, at all, and Anne Hathaway is one of them. I put her in the category of people who, much like Miss Emmy Rossum, exude a certain aura of insufferability -- whether that is true to who they are or not -- that makes me instantly dislike them despite knowing almost nothing about them (except, in the case of the former, that I have yet to like her in any role, and in the case of the latter, that she was shockingly bad in Phantom of the Opera and needed to close her mouth, find an expression for her eyes, and stop sliding off key).

My point: I didn't want to fug the dress because of my arguably irrational lack of appreciation for the person wearing it. But then I realized: a) it's well-documented that neither Jessica nor I has a soul, and b) I really legimately don't like what she's wearing.

Can't a major designer (I think this one is from Marc Jacobs) do better than a one-strap, off-the-shoulder mid-calf prom gown speckled with sequins as if meant to embody a "Some Enchanted Evening" theme? I swear I saw this on the rack at Macy's. And while I have nothing against Macy's, I feel like a starlet's night out at the Golden Globes -- indeed, a starlet who is in a nominated film and who finagled herself a seat next to the director so that she could be as closely visually associated with the film's success as possible -- deserves, nay demands, something a bit better. This is nothing special, and does nothing special for her. You know how people say that TV and movie sets will have to get more lush once everything is broadcast in high-definition, because you'll be able to tell that the backdrop of New York City outside the window is actually just a bad painting on canvas? That's my analogy for this dress. It's not a real Globes-worthy gown; it's a cheap setpiece.

She also needs a new color of lipstick. I saw her lips half an hour before I could make out the rest of her face.

Celebrity Terror Watch: GFY Breast Police

By now, we're all aware of the unspeakable crime against mammaries that Drew Barrymore committed when she grabbed her emerald sheath off the rack and said, "Oh, to hell with it, my girls have always been able to support themselves." [Except she's kind of dippy, so it probably came out more like, "Womanhood is a bulging blossom, and those lady flowers have to grow and breathe on their own -- just like the wind, you know?"]

And, just like all of you, we watched with a wince as her breasts began a tortoise-and-the-other-tortoise race to hit the ground first. With one move, the left one would drop a notch lower than the right. Then, as she shifted position, Leftie ground to a halt and let Rightie snag the lead. By the time she had finished her spiel, an audience member allegedly muttered confusedly, "Huh. She's not very busty... but her knee caps sure look awfully swollen."

Drew -- who unlike Dr. Sunkentits does not have a name that anagrams to anything more exciting than, "Bra worry? Merde!" -- may have been the most visible shunner of undergarments, but it would be remiss to think she is the only person who disrespected her golden globes.

Consider, for instance, Heidi Klum:

Props to Heidi for her happy marriage, her cute kids, and for walking in a Victoria's Secret show not long after giving birth; however, I am disappointed that this post-pregnancy outing is of the "Incredible Sinking Breasts" variety. The collar-and-leash setup is violent enough, but the waistline of the dress coupled with how low the bodice sits makes her chest look like decrepit dunes that are slowly leaking sand. Indeed, that neck harness actually makes it look like she's trying to keep her feuding rack and nape separated so that they can just please get through the night without them starting an awkward catfight.

Along those lines: Emma Thompson, who is darling and delightful and whose shtick hasn't grown weary yet (although hereafter I am ignoring the existence of the nightmarishly named Nanny McPhee, just in case), didn't exactly flatter her assets either:

She looks like she's having fun, so I almost feel bad pointing out how pancaked her chest looks because the bodice is down around her ribcage. Those aren't breasts, they're a short stack -- and with how far down that platter they're placed, there's plenty of room for the rest of the Grand Slam breakfast.

So, chin -- and chest -- up, Drew. You're not the only one who seems confused about what to do with your friends.

Golden Globe Fug Parties: Chloe Sevigny

We didn't like Reese's dress. Melanie Griffith didn't look, or even really appear, off her rocker. Mary-Louise Parker the Monotonous Mumbler is suddenly a decorated actor. Yes, readers, it's true: These are scary, ever-changing times.

That's why it's so comforting when we see somebody who looks exactly as you want them to -- somebody for whom you have expectations, and who has risen to meet them. That somebody, at the Golden Globes, was Chloe Sevigny.

It's well-documented that we here at GFY HQ find it perplexing that so many people and publications laud Sevigny as blessed with unerring and fascinating taste. We think she's brutal. Exhibit ZZ, or thereabouts, is this dress. Aside from appearing as though she simply twirled around slowly while somebody wrapped her in purple cellophane, this outfit also harkens memories of a 13-year old girl attending her very first middle-school formal, hoping to sway side-to-side with her arms draped over the shoulders of her big crush while "Every Rose Has Its Thorn" played pseudo-romantically on the loudspeakers.

And that's exactly what we anticipated Sevigny would look like when her image popped up on our computer screens this morning. Hideous dress? Check. Hair pulled back into a severe bun? Check. Smug, chinny expression on her face? Check, check. All is right in the world.

Golden Globes Fub Carpet: Dayna Devon

Extra anchor Dayna Devon looks great, considering the fact that she had a baby like four months ago:

Sadly, the willpower that allowed her to get back into such great shape has a downside:  her powerful, long-denied desire for ice cream MUST find a way out! And thus, she turns to the harmful spectre of the  Salute To Neapolitan dress. Thank God her stylist distracted her long enough to pluck the oversized maraschino cherry hat from her head before she hit the red carpet.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Rosario Dawson

Do you think anyone predicted that Rosario Dawson would be the one to come out of Josie and the Pussycats with the closest thing to a real career?

Did you see Rachael Leigh Cook anywhere at the Golden Globes? Nope. Tara Reid? Ha! Parker Posey and/or Alan Cumming? Nowhere, although Cumming can be forgiven for his absence, as he's off being insane and doing insane things and then figuring out how to bottle Eau d'Insanity for his fragrance line.

And certainly, a while ago, I never would have figured that Rosario Dawson would be the more famous and upwardly mobile, career-wise, of this duo:

Jason Lewis is hot, and after playing Smith on Sex and the City, he seemed like he was going to be unstoppable. And then... he stopped. But even if he's not the more successful of the two, he is better-dressed. On the whole I don't love the all-black approach to wearing a suit, but I'll take it over Rosario's frumpy mono-sleeved sheath, which does nothing for her many assets -- one of which is her lovely, clear skin tone, which doesn't pop next to this muted peach shade, and another of which is her figure. She belongs on the lanai of her sensible South Florida split-level house, not on the red carpet. It's less Rosario Dawson than Rosario on the [awful] Will & Grace.

Celebrity Emaciation Watch: Paradis and Pompeo

We here at GFY believe in health.

Okay, fine, maybe not the peanut-butter-forsaking kind of health, or the Diet Coke-kicking kind of health, or even the vegetable-eating kind of health. Primarily, it is the non-skeletal brand of health we choose to support, and so as usual, we've spotted some people who deserve to be monitored as they waste away into Richiedom.

First up: Mrs. Johnny Depp, a.k.a. French singer/actress Vanessa Paradis.

I can sort of understand wanting to disappear when your hot husband resolutely refuses to appear in public looking sane. This is an improvement for him, generally speaking, but that doesn't mean he looks any less like a lounge lizard who's getting all warmed up for "Lady of Spain" with the accordion accompaniment before he brings down the house, and hopefully the pants of that slinky dollface down the bar, with a moving and monologue-riddled rendition of "My Way."

However, Vanessa is a lovely lady and seems to make Johnny Depp very happy. And she has children who need her, which is why it's especially alarming to see her up there looking so... well, narrow. Now, I know they have food in France. The country is brimming with rich sauces, meats, cheeses, and crusty loaves of bread, not to mention vats and vats of wine. I know that's supposed to be some sort of heart-seizing fad diet -- "Eat all fat all the time, and look like the French women who are all skinny!" -- but something tells me she has not recently known the pleasure of shoveling baked Brie into her face. Do it for the children, V. Do it so that we can bump you off of High Alert.

Next up is a lady who has actually come to be the definition of High Alert on our terror chart*: Ellen Pompeo.

She's even less wide than Vanessa Paradis. She's wearing a hideous nightie that covers her arms, but not her telltale collarbone and neck cords. [The wind is also doing her curls a favor here -- when the air was still, her hair looked awkwardly permed and stringy on the ends, and not in that "I've just been windblown" kind of way -- rather, in a "Please, for the love of God, eat some nutrients" kind of way.] The whole ensemble manages to be unflattering and bland, while cementing her appearance on this page along with sentence likes, "Meatballs are your friend!" and "Embrace lard!"

One final note: She is even sort of starting to look like Renee Zellweger, she of the dieting-and-running addiction and the squinty non-eyes who too often purses her lips when she smiles, probably because she is thinking so hard about whether the indulgent bran flake she allowed herself the other day has altered the fit of her gown. Renee doesn't own a category on the Terror Watch chart yet because, well, we're sort of over her, to be honest, and she at least has muscle mass, and gets gossip-interest points for marrying a gay alien. Ellen Pompeo just looks like she's trying to be as long and drawn as she possibly can -- a slip of a woman in a slip of a dress.

* Appendix: EMACIATION WATCH TERROR LEVEL CHART

SEVERE: Nicole Richie [Draw a stick figure. Then try and draw it again, half as wide. Instant Nicole.]

HIGH: Ellen Pompeo [McDreamy is the closest thing to McDonald's that's touched her lips]

ELEVATED: Ashlee Simpson [By our math, "Exhaustion" + preemptive stories about how she's not anorexic any more + hozpitalization + beginnings of a slimdown = headed for doctor-supervised loss of 20 lbs., of which we do not approve.]

GUARDED: Lindsay Lohan [Has backslid off her initial dramatic loss but we don't trust her yet]

LOW: Tyra Banks [Not sure if you've heard, but apparently, she likes her ribs. Go get 'em, Miss Tyra.]

Golden Globe Fug Carpet: Hilary Swank

"Hi guys. So. Yeah.  This is the first time I've gotten out of bed since Chad and I broke up.

I could barely work up the energy to put on my black, unadorned Don't Talk To Me dress. I definitely couldn't stand sitting there for like nine hours while someone did my hair for some stupid event that I have to go to by myself, so I just blew it out and crawled into the back of the limo and tried to nap on the way over.

Man.

I'm just so sad, you guys. I don't have any energy at all. I can barely even stand here. I just want to go into the ladies room and cry. I mean, obviously. If I had any energy I would have punched that Shaun Robinson right in the mouth after she asked me how I was DEALING with my DIVORCE. HOW DO YOU THINK I'M DEALING, SHAUN? HOW DO I LOOK? DO I LOOK HAPPY TO YOU? BECAUSE I'M TOTALLY DISTRAUGHT. And while we're talking about you and your SOCIAL INTERACTION PROBLEMS, I can't BELIEVE you TOUCHED Gwyneth Paltrow's BELLY. She doesn't even KNOW YOU.  WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM? I really did consider punching you. I KNOW HOW TO DO IT.

Man. Now I'm tired again. God.  I wish I were home on the sofa. In sweats. Watching Bridget Jones's Diary. And crying.  Hey, maybe I should go find Renee Zellweger. She just broke up with that little singer man. Maybe we can go can go get cheeseburgers after the show, like Chad and I used to. [long sigh]."

Golden Globe Fug Parties: Anne Heche

Oh my God,  you guys. Celestia is back:

This outfit is about one ginormous pastel satin bow away from jumping in the Jeep and heading up to Fresno to wait for the space ship to take it to heaven.

I'm sorry, Anne. I know we all decided to forget about your break with reality, but you've got to do your part.

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Reese & Ryan

People often ask us, "Hey, fug bitches, name someone you think dresses well!" And after we try and close off the hate valves that are so often jammed open in our little tar-ugly hearts, the answer we spit out usually involves the words "Reese" and "Witherspoon."

Alas:

She's a very pretty girl, if pointy is your thing (personally, I add her to my list of women -- Heidi Klum and Catherine Zeta-Jones among them -- who should be pregnant all the time), and she is one of the few women last night who wore lipstick that wasn't a) nude, or b) the exact color translation of the itching and burning sensations experienced by the streetwalker who last wore that shade.

However, I really, really don't care for the dress. It looks worse than homemade, like a cheap old-school slip she tried to convert into a wearable garment. Whatever that swatch of silver material is, it certainly shouldn't be hitting her mid-breast, and the sequins she bought at Michael's -- and let little Ava sew onto her dress as practice for the Girl Scouts of America merit badges she will inevitably win in a few years -- were a horrific idea.

As for the accessory on her arm, it needs to stop veering between "pretentious, sneering, miserable asshat" and "hyperactive wife-pawing 'family man'." Perhaps a shower would be a nice place to try and start his stabilization.

Golden Globes Fug Parties: Kristen Bell

Stumpy is the watchword:

For real, Bell.  You're as cute as a sassy little pixie, but when you're five foot nothing , it does you no good to bury yourself in smog-colored gauze, kinda maybe belt it, throw on a lairet and call it a day. You're all lost under all that stuff.

Or wait. Maybe you're undercover. Maybe someone at the Globes killed your stylist and you're in disguise and on the case. That explains a lot.

Golden Globes Fug Parties: Melissa George

Scenes from an IM conversation at GFY HQ:

Jessica: MELISSA GEORGE IS WEARING WHITE SATIN FORMAL SHORTS.

Heather: Ewwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww.

Really, what else is there to say? I guess I could note that it looks like she did her hair with an immersion blender.  Or that this sort of Lolita-look is kind of tiresome coming from a grown-ass woman in the twenty-first century. But I think I'll just stick with "ewwwwwwwwwwwwww."

Golden Globes Fug Carpet: Alanis Morissette

I don't know what the deal is Alanis Morissette.

Are she and Dreamy Ryan Reynolds into kinky role playing sex games? Because the last time we saw her, she looked, as Heather put it, "like Demi Moore circa 1987, if she'd been cast as Billie Jean King in a CBS Miniseries Event." Now, she's more like the oldest daughter in Eight is Enough, starring in a community theatre production of The Sound of Music, and this is her costume for the scene in which Captain Von Trapp throws the ball, and she's only supposed to be watching the children until they sing their little song and scamper up the stairs, and then the Baroness talks him into letting her stay for dinner -- mostly, of course, to vaguely humilate her and her convent-learned manners -- and she claims she has nothing to wear, and indeed puts on a this homespun looking little frock which pales next to the Baroness's shiny gold outfit, and of course, it doesn't matter, because Maria's spunky goodness is more than enough for the Captain to decide that there isn't going to be any Baroness, but in this instance, I think this is a little too All Natural Fibers Woven By Blind Carmelites, topped off with a haphazard salute to toplessness.

Globes Fever: Classic Fug

Aw. She looks so happy. I don't have the heart to tell her that, although the punch IS spiked, the Golden Globes aren't the same thing as prom night at the honky-tonk bar.

Globe Fever: Classic Fug

The day Sharon Stone stops thinking she's every man's dominatrix fantasy is the day Courtney Peldon wins a Golden Globe. Look at this woman -- she's a nutjob, and proud of it. Are those her nipples I can see through that shiny armor? Are those hot pants she's wearing under those strips of filmy fabric?

You know what? It doesn't matter. They are what she says they are, because she makes the rules, you weak little maggot, so get down on your knees and beg mommy for a cookie before she rips out a hunk of your hair and spanks you with a slice of Honeybaked Ham.

Globe Fever: Classic Fug

It's true that including Bjork on a Web site devoted to fugly fashion is a bit like including Michael Jackson in a game of Death Is Not An Option -- which is to say, unfair, because in the case of the latter, MJ will always lose, because nobody on Earth would actually want to sleep with him [and indeed if posed with something like, "Michael Jackson or John Madden?" would find a way, any way, to make death a very viable option].

My point is, when it comes to all things fugly, Bjork is an island -- The Island of Misfit Clothes. But it's such a fun island sometimes (I hear the hallucinogens are top-notch) that it's impossible to avoid visiting it completely.

This ensemble is from the 2001 Golden Globes. The red and pink shoes are a little frightening, and that bejewelled owl purse might give me nightmares, and the shawl looks more like somebody in the retouching department made a small error with the square brush tool. But what really puts this ensemble in the Bjork Hall of Fug is the glittering homage to Michael Jackson on her skirt. That little detail, that mysterious shrine to a plastic man (assuming that's who it is -- looks like Thriller-era MJ), pushes her beyond the woman on the left who is dressed in aluminum foil. What sort of statement is she making, exactly? What motivates a woman to decide that a wearable portrait of a half-man, half-alien pop star is the perfect complement to an award nomination? Does she find her outfit thrilling? Does she think awards shows are bad, bad, really really bad? Is it some sort of homing beacon for the mothership to pick up Bjork when the ceremony is over?

Whatever it is, one thing is certain: It's time for her to act again. We need her back on the nation's red carpets.

2005 Golden Globes: Lisa Marie Presley

Proving once and for all that a predisposition toward capes is genetic:

2005 Golden Globes: Mary-Louise Parker

This year, Mary-Louise didn't have the benefit of being fresh off the birthing table before accepting her award. To compensate, she chose a dress that would shimmer right over her womb and bunch at its emergency-exit hatch, reminding everyone about her incredible courage in the face of the three C's: childbirth, Crudup, and Claire. "Yes, Virginia," she would say, admiring herself in the mirror, "I do have a working vagina."

Does anyone else think that Adam Duritz looks like a Rastafarian Dan Ackroyd?

2005 Golden Globes: Natalie Portman

There's no more graceful way to say it, so I'll just blurt it out: What the hell is this?

Perhaps it's her Halloween costume from the legendary time she went as a dust ruffle. Or maybe Scarlett O'Hara ran off with the dress that's supposed to go over the petticoat, leaving poor Natalie with no option but to go as she was, dressed like a child bride on her wedding night.

Even Ms. Portman apparently knew she'd fugged it up bigtime: For most of the night after her win for Closer, she was wearing someone's suit jacket over this bizarre wifebeater-turned-sundress. That gives us some hope.

2005 Golden Globes: Diane Kruger

Modeling the latest from the Sears Designer Shower Curtain Collection...

...Diane Kruger.

2005 Golden Globes: Melina Kanakaredes

"Hi, up there! Hello, hello! Could you toss me a jacket, or something? I just realized that this dress totally clings to exactly the wrong section of my body. No, I have no idea why I thought it was a good idea, either. Maybe I was won over by the nifty built in ventilation. Yeah, I know I'm totally beautiful and could do better -- my mother already called me and chewed me out. Just throw down the jacket, punk!"

2005 Golden Globes: Paula Abdul

She seemed too strung out on the red carpet to put together a coherent thought, so maybe when she got dressed La Abdul was too zoned to notice that she grabbed her dress from the Juniors rack:

From the waist down... fine. Maybe a little bit like a stripper at the Aladdin in Las Vegas, but we'll tolerate it because of the more grievous atrocities occuring upstairs.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Sweet Jesus. She has quadra-boob, she has armpit cleavage... Did no one tell her that she's not an A-cup? Did no one gently point out that breasts look nicer when they're not being smashed? Did no one have the nads to suggest that she wear a gown in her own size? Did no one explain that your breasts really shouldn't become one with your armpits?

And did no one take a brush to her hair?

This bodes badly for American Idol -- as if the commercials weren't disastrous enough.

Classic Fug: Globes Fever

This is from 2004 as well, a.k.a. The Year of the Fugged-Up Kidman:

[Photo courtesy of Zap2it.com.]

Nicole Kidman spent much of the last year, and possibly beyond that, with altogether the wrong hair color. With the crrazy blond hair, her fair skin, and her commitment to emaciation, she ended up looking either crabby or slightly unhinged all the time.

Opinions were divided on this look; some thought she looked classy and ethereal, but I thought she looked like a deranged mermaid flapper. The dress in and of itself, while not my favorite, might have been less offensive if her hair were working for her at all, in any sense. But instead she added a dash of "early 1980s tennis star" to her coif, and the result is, for me, a very unsettling and unflattering getup indeed.

Eek. I wonder if the woman with the blurry face is laughing at La Kidman.