April 02, 2008
Do It Fug
Hola. How are you? I hope you are hell. Just kidding, I meant "well." OH WAIT, NO I DIDN'T. I just wanted to say hello, and thank you for the generous baby presents that I assume you bought for me but which clearly got lost in the mail because one of you is too busy being BORING to write the address correctly and the other one of you is Ben. So, si, idiotas, I LOVE my MISSING PRESENTS so very much. As Marc said the other night, you put the "ass" in "Muchas gracias." HA HA HA HA. At least, I think that's what he said -- he was drinking a can of V-8 through two straws stuck on his incisors, but I am pretty sure I understood correctly because that is what love is about, people. Straws and red liquid. Because when you put those two together for a few days straight you get LOTS of horizontal mambo and then LOTS OF BABIES!
Oh, wait, what is that you are murmuring? You could only do ONE baby at a time? WEAK SAUCE, Mrs. Bennifleck! There is WOMB FOR TWO in this lady -- ha ha, that was Marc again, he is so funny when he's playing with his straw fangs! -- and I wore heels the entire time, and we haven't slept in 120 hours and I THINK maybe Marc is shrinking because his coat doesn't fit any more but I am HERE and I am swathed in a CURTAIN and I am your superior in every way! When was the last time YOU had two babies at once and then went right out and matched your eye makeup to your husband's best pair of shiny pants? When was the last time you even BOUGHT your Benfleck a pair of shiny pants? That's RIGHT, enemiga estupida, GAME, SET, AND CHECKMATE to ME!
November 07, 2007
[Photo: Splash News]
"No, Marc, let them talk. Let them guess! It is my little dance, my sensual gossip tango with the world. Am I pregnant? Or is this just a beautiful toga party? Is Robert Cavalli in trouble for revealing my little secret, or does he not know what he is talking about because he is MUY TONTO and a steaming pile of pureed idiot? Do not worry, Marc. Do not speak. Just take your vitamins and let me lead this rumba of mystery. IT IS MY GIFT TO MYSELF."
October 10, 2007
Fug It Well
[Photo: Splash News]
"That's right, everyone, soy yo -- Jennifer LAWpez! HA! Officer Drama of the Fashion Police! I'm a soldier of mystery, chumps! Just TRY and solve me! Dios mio, this is fun! What should I dress as tomorrow? A Magic 8-Ball? Signs point to si!"
October 09, 2007
Well Played, Jennifer Lopez, Mistress of Fetal Shenanigans
"Pregnant? Me? Stripey, sweet me? Ay, HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA, oh, it's so good, I can't stop, HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA. Does anyone care about Ben's Twiggy Wife and her womb this much? NO. I WIN I WIN I WIN. And I look fabulous in all my boots and dresses and hats because I am the ONE TRUE DIVA and I like to keep you guessing and you are EATING out of the PALM of my HAND.
"See? EAT UP, amigos! Am I pregnant? Do I just eat sandwiches because I fear NOTHING? Do I still look so hot that you can't tell? Maybe I don't want 70 percent of my flesh on display at all times any more! You don't know. Maybe I will never tell you. Maybe I will have a tiny Marco or Marca in my arms and I STILL won't tell you where I got it! And you will LOVE IT! Because I am fantastica. Now if you'll excuse me, Marc needs his snack. Does anybody have a pound of raw sirloin?"
October 02, 2007
Fuggifer Fugpez Fugoa Fugdd almost-Fugfleck Fugthony
"Bienvenidos, amigos, to my GLORY.
[Photo: Splash News]
"You! You down there! You are not drinking it in, tonto! Gulp with your soul! Chug with your eyes! If you stare at this long enough that they start to cross, you see Marc in a feathered headdress eating a banana. Or as they say in South Beach, HEAVEN. Dios mio, I feel fertile. I must get jiggy."
[Photo: Splash News]
"Si, amores, I might LOOK like the wife of a 70s drug lord, and something about my cleavage reminds me of the face of the wretched baby on that Family Guy show that makes all my girlie huevos depressed. And dammit, I keep tripping on these pants. Once I lost my Marc in them completely and didn't find him for a whole week. Ay, he was so crispy. But know this: My dance is a milkshake of fertility, and this fabric looks like the inside of a womb, so SHUT UP ALREADY, tabloid people, and also, get that Violent Assfleck and her perfect little dimples of destiny OUT of my FACE. I'm TRYING. WE ALL KNOW I'M TRYING. Now either become enthralled while I ring my bellbottoms, or go buy Marc a case of V-8. He likes to bathe in it."
September 12, 2007
New York Fugshion Week: Jennifer Lopez
ROBERTO CAVALLI: What a marvelous caftan. If I could smile, Jennifer, I would.
LA LOPEZ: Gracias, my tiny robot friend, you are too good to me.
CAVALLI: That outfit eats you in an explosion of frumpy glee. It looks like you're going to a polo party in the middle of the handbag section at Saks. I no longer need your mortal sleep, but if I did, your caftan would be a dream.
LA LOPEZ: I can't even let you SEE my hair, though, Robert. Dios mio, what a week! Between the parties and the preparation for my fashion show, I haven't even had time to wash my hair in Evian, like normal! I've been using tap water! Like a savage!
CAVALLI: ... Ooh, yes, savage! It's a SAVAGE dream! In which the Chrysler building pierces my navel while Salvador Dali watches. It's magic. Do you do parties? I must strongly consider stepping closer to you.
LA LOPEZ: Sigh. Could somebody please reboot him? Marc never needs to restart until dawn. I miss his wee undead cheekbones.
August 23, 2007
"Hola! Hello! You all look so worried! Listen, thank you for all your concern, amigos, but my feet are FINE. I mean, perdon, can't a girl randomly decide to dig out a pantsuit she bought at The Limited in 1996, before she was famous? Huh? Can't I just feel like wearing something badly tailored just to remind me where I come from, and that I am real? Does there have to be a dark secret? I just forgot to get a pedicure! And maybe my shoes aren't polished! Or I have a blister! You don't know! But it has NOTHING to do with, say, Marc developing a foot fetish and gnawing them in the middle of the night and forcing me to hide them the next day because they are HIS and only HIS, and also, grande chunks of my heel are missing. HAHAHAHAHA, that's so SILLY, tontos! Now, if you'll excuse me, my bodyguard needs to carry me inside. Not because it hurts to walk on my stumps, no, not at all, but because these sunglasses cost me like $500, and it's worth it because looking like a giant insect is totally in right now, but if I trip on my hem and fall and break them, Marc is going to take my big toe... I mean, wallet. Leave me now. Besos!"
July 27, 2007
Tell the truth. If I told you that the below picture was snapped while Marc Anthony was giving a toast at a wedding reception, while bridesmaid (and tragic victim of self-tanner) Jennifer Lopez looked on, you would totally believe me:
She's just waiting for him to shut up so she can hit the open bar .
Well, that part may actually be true.
March 29, 2007
Como Fuga Una Mujer
"Sequined chain mail? That's what you think of my shirt-shawl-drape-dress-poncho-thingy? Are you KIDDING me with that, estupido? Tonto, tonto, tonto, tonto, tonto, you are being GLIB with me. If you start talking about chain mail, you have to read the research papers about chain mail, which is what I have done. Chain mail is a pseudofashion. You do not know the history of chain mail. I do.
"Also, I don't know WHERE you got the idea, but there is NO TRUTH to the rumors that I am becoming a Scientologist. Nada. None at all."
March 13, 2007
To mi amor, Marc:
Gracias, my little neck-sucking husband, for everything you do. I love the way you start to cry when you're in direct sunlight and have to run away, because it shows me how deeply you feel things. I cherish how you told me the reason you never show up in any of the mirrors in our house is because you decided my reflection is too pure to share space with anyone else's, so you made special mirrors that will only show me. It gets me trembly with affection when you make me garlic chicken even though you're allergic to it and have to go lie down for 14 hours afterward with nothing but a raw piece of prime rib for company.
But, sweet tiny Marc, it touches me the most when you make me things with your own two hands. At first it was confusing when I walked into the basement and saw you shredding a moldy old rug with your teeth and screaming, "Who stole my stash of blood," but when you explained that I'd misheard and that you were actually saying, "Yippee, my wife will be so happy that I have made her this shawl for her next concert! Hooray! And if she doesn't wear it, my heart will turn to mud," it all made sense to me. You are so thoughtful, amor. You always care. And so even though this smells a little bit like something died in it a year ago, I am wearing it because that perfume of decay will always remind me of you. Te adoro!"