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October 30, 2007

Fugliette Lewis

Can you imagine how different Brad Pitt's life would be if he had ended up with Juliette Lewis as planned, instead of breaking up with her and then getting with Gwynnie and Aniston and Angelina?

I mean, maybe it'd be relatively similar -- he'd still be hot, after all. Maybe the big difference is that Jennifer Aniston might not have gotten her reputation as the sad, tragic, cuckolded waif. But do we think Brad Pitt would've ended up doing all the relief work and adopting or fathering a Benetton ad's worth of beautiful babies if he'd decided to betrothe himself to this woman?


[Photo: infdaily.com]

Nothing against Juliette Lewis -- I don't know her; maybe she really likes relief work and adopting children, or maybe her tears can cure cancer or something -- but I feel like if he'd gone this route for life, Brad Pitt might be taking a break from showbiz to hang out in the front row of all her concerts wearing spandex pants, stained tank tops, and a mullet. I guess the benefit of this outfit is that Juliette can't work up any of her trademark performance pit-stains, and I don't even hate the pants if I focus hard enough and ignore the Victoria's Secret Swimwear style bathing suit she's wearing under them, which I imagine will make it very difficult for her to go to the bathroom later unless she's wearing a Poise Pad. But I do find myself wondering why she was in such dire need of knee pads.

Perhaps she thought they were a precautionary measure:


[Photo: INFDaily.com]

Because when the Native American population decides to mess with her head by announcing that it is angry she paired a headgear homage to its fine culture with a red plastic jacket befitting a soldier in Michael Jackson's Neverland army -- which might not even be a trick, actually; would YOU want someone walking around with an echo of YOUR culturally iconic headgear while looking she's in a giant game of Cowboys & Indians with a famous cape-wearing man-child? Didn't think so -- then the pads will make it way more comfortable to drop to her knees and apologize.

Brad Pitt would've stopped her, though. Well, Today's Brad, anyway; I actually fear the bizarro Pitt would've been in the crowd wearing a matching outfit and screaming that he wants to be starting something.

Posted by Heather at 12:42 PM in Juliette Lewis | Permalink

August 20, 2007

Fugliette and the Licks

I don't know what Juliette Lewis has done to make me think, when first catching a glimpse of this photo, "did Bret Michaels dye his hair?", but it's either incredibly right or very, very wrong:

I particularly enjoy the Brooch As Navel accoutrement, which, admittedly, Bret Michaels would never wear, as I imagine he doesn't think much about accessorizing his navel through his shirt.  He's too busy thinking about roses, thorns, and how it's impossible to have one without the other, but that, despite the thorns, it ain't nothing but a good time. I also should have know this was NOT Bret Michaels, as he -- as I've learned from watching Rock of Love -- is never without a cowboy hat, a bandanna, a bandanna AND a cowboy hat, or similar headgear.

Oh, wait:

Nope, too over the top. Although this will come in handy when Juliette leaves rock 'n' roll to return to acting, in a role written just for her. Namely, as the wackiest member of a drum line in a gross-out college comedy about marching bands called Don't Rain On My Parade.  Her unrequited love for the dreamy drum major will provide the appropriate amount of pathos for the film, and the final moments, when she at last finds happiness in the arms of the mascot, will provide the heart.

Posted by Jessica at 12:04 PM in Juliette Lewis | Permalink

August 26, 2005

Celebrities Who Think They're Musical: Part Insanity Infinity

I love Jem and the Holograms as much as the next person, but I don't think we need a live-action replica:

Why is it that trousers are always the first thing to go? Does no one respect the pants?

Posted by Heather at 11:58 AM in Juliette Lewis | Permalink

February 02, 2005

Cape Fug

Well, at least she looks happy:

And by "happy," I mean both "insane," and "in pain."

PS: Nice gloves, Juliette.

Posted by Jessica at 03:16 PM in Juliette Lewis | Permalink

December 07, 2004

Fugliette Lewis

Image Hosted by ImageShack.us

"Whaaaaat? You don't love camel-toe and skintight metallic pants? You mean... I'm not in Aerosmith? Shut up. You bitches just aren't rock-and-roll."

Posted by Heather at 06:24 PM in Juliette Lewis | Permalink | Comments (2)

August 20, 2004

Fug Star: Celebrities Who Think They're Musical

Apparently, if you are famous and considered gifted at something, it's common to think you're therefore good at everything. That is why we think so many celebrities start their own bands.

It was endearing and quirky when Kevin Bacon did it. It was low-key when Keanu Reeves did it. And it was embarrassing when Russell Crowe, Bruce Willis, and Matthew McConaughey did it -- although to be fair, the latter was just in his house at a party, nude and high and banging the bongos [note: not a euphemism]. But we bet he was still pretty embarrassed, if only because he was arrested for it.

Now, a rash of female celebs have decided they're rock stars, and have apparently decided to dress the part -- which is to say, as if they are blind.

Consider Jada Pinkett-Smith:

Image Hosted by ImageShack.us

Now, I'll give Jada that she looks comfortable. But I don't think someone who is approximately four-foot-six should be wearing loose-fit jeans and a tie-dyed pashmina-type item that looks to be about as tall as she is. But, okay -- really, the most amusing thing about this photo is how she looks while in the impassioned heat of the musical moment. So, with the point made that Jada's biggest issue is just that she really needs to go pants shopping, we shall move on to Juliette Lewis:

Image Hosted by ImageShack.us

Juliette: You are not rock's answer to Wonder Woman. You should not wear a capri-length jumpsuit with red accents and matching crimson boots. Once you've crossed into that territory, it doesn't matter if you can sing. It doesn't matter if your lyrics are the most heartfelt expression of human emotion since Jewel so memorably crooned, "My hands are small, I know," or Bryan Adams pondered so seriously, "Have you ever really, really really really, for reals, yo, really, no I mean it, REALLY, like, totally really, loved a woman?" It doesn't even matter if people in the crowd appear to be enjoying themselves. Your actual level of talent is MOOT when you are parading around in a costume they tossed off the Thunderbirds set for being too cheap-looking. Steven Tyler is allowed to try things. Hair bands from the 1980s are allowed to do whatever they want. But you, Juliette, are not allowed to wear that.

By the way, that's a remarkable pit stain. Maybe next time you decide to thrash on a hot stage, you shouldn't wear full-body spandex, or... whatever that godawful substance is. And while you're at it, pose carefully, because that position makes it look like you're wearing a man's protective cup over your Triangle, if you know what I mean, and I think that you do, because it's very clear that I'm talking about your vagina and the lumpy, extra-dark quality that particular nether-part takes on in this costume.

Off-topic: Every time I look at her face in this photo, my first thought is, "Did Stockard Channing give birth to this woman?"

Posted by Heather at 05:24 PM in Juliette Lewis | Permalink | Comments (1)

 

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