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August 06, 2007

Fug the Cover: Lindsay Lohan

Which do you think Elle is feeling more red-faced about today?

That they're promoting the successful rehabilitation of poor little Lilo -- maybe the pull quote should have read, "I'm glad I went to rehab -- I needed to get away from everyone and I didn't know now. In fact, I think I'll go back!" -- or that they've made her look exactly like Dina "The 'Everyone' Lindsay Needed to Get Away From" Lohan?

Posted by Jessica at 11:29 AM in Fug The Cover, Lindsay Lohan | Permalink

July 25, 2007

I Know Who Fugged Me

There are many signs that you're having a bad week;  you end up shaving your head in a rage, for example, or your hosting service goes down for a couple of hours, along with LiveJournal, thus preventing you from discussing the finer details of Harry Potter with people, or you get word that Madame Tussauds  has undressed your wax figure in order to dress you like a prisoner of the long arm of the law -- before you've even been arraigned!

God, Madame Tussauds, ever heard of innocent before proven guilty? It's not like getting caught for a DUI and possession of cocaine, like, a week after getting out of rehab that was mandated by the last time you got caught driving drunk with cocaine in the car, while wearing an alcohol-monitoring ankle bracelet that you made a great big loud self-congratulatory deal about and chasing a woman in car is THAT BIG A DEAL, right? I mean, COME ON. And adding insult to injury, it's not even a NEW set of jailbird rags -- they're totally Paris Hilton's cast-offs.

Much as I assume Lindsay's tragic court-mandated sobfest will be. Lindsay, Lindsay, Lindsay. That you're reinacting Paris's sloppy legal shenanigans seconds is maybe the most pathetic thing about this entire pathetic mess.

At least Madame T's didn't make you wear sneakers.

Posted by Jessica at 10:50 AM in Lindsay Lohan | Permalink

May 22, 2007

Georgia Fugs

LINDSAY: So wait... where am I again?

KARL LAGERFELD: Imagine an astral Woodstock, pet. A DIFFERENT PLANE.

LINDSAY: Uh, dude, I'm getting on ANOTHER plane? I just got off this one.

KARL: No, I mean an EXISTENTIAL plane. Where are you? No: Where AREN'T you? I need to feel your elbows NOW.

LINDSAY: What the hell am I wearing?

KARL: What AREN'T you wearing, you PISTOL of GLORY! A dolphin, that's what!

LINDSAY: Why did I trust you to staple a sequined trash bag around my waist? God, I look so bloated in it.

KARL: Bloat is for sad people. DANCE!

LINDSAY: I can't. There's a bike chain on my head and it's giving me an f'ing headache, dude.

KARL: Then tighten it and climb inside. You're FASHION, darling! BE the bike.

LINDSAY: What I would like to BE is lying down on the astrology plane or whatever you said before, and NOT auditioning for the new Hell's Angels ballet. I think this is turning my forehead green. And the gloves itch.

KARL: It's like I told Michael Jackson: "If you can't love your glove, then GET OUT OF MY SIGHT, and also, only floss with real unicorn hair."

LINDSAY: Mom! MOOOOOM! Oh, wait. She's NEVER awake before midnight. God, I feel so alone.

KARL: Like an owl, she flies only at night...

LINDSAY: Hey, I actually understood that!

KARL: Well, accidents are the blueprints of fashion, luscious. Now SMILE before I staple a beak to your face.

Posted by Heather at 08:39 AM in Lindsay Lohan | Permalink

May 10, 2007

Fuggia Rule

Dina Lohan, if you want to be the next Oprah or the next Ellen or the next Rosie, or whoever it is you said you wanted to be (I don't listen to you much), you've got to do one thing. Okay, two things. First: step in and fix your kid. If Lynn Spears could manage to band together with Kevin freaking Federline to get Britney into Promises, I feel like there's got to be some way you can prevent Lindsay from being photographed snorting blow. I mean, at the very LEAST convince her to do it in private. The girl is ruining her career AND her septum. The other thing you need to do is throw out your culottes:

I have a pair of those. They are SHAMEFULLY comfortable, but I would wear them in public only if my house burst into flames. I got them at Urban Outfitters three years ago. And I think it's safe to say that if college girls have stopped wearing something to 8am classes, you need to stop wearing that something on the red carpet.

Or people are going to look at you like this:

Posted by Jessica at 10:32 AM in Lindsay Lohan | Permalink

April 16, 2007

Georgia Fug

I seriously feel like my relationship with Lindsay Lohan is sort of like the blogger/actress equivalent of a Lifetime movie, wherein she keeps doing dumb shit (the flashing, the serial dating/stalking of inappropriate dudes, the claiming that she wants to play Princess Diana, the rumor that she's dating K. Fed), and I keep making excuses for her.  Lately, we've been at the point where I don't even make the excuses here anymore, because I know y'all will be like, "GIRL. You have GOT to MOVE ON. She is BAD NEWS. This is just going to HURT YOU." And I don't want to hear it, because I secretly STILL LOVE HER.  So I make the excuses in my head. "She's just dating K. Fed because she wants attention. It's a cry for help, really. No one understands her the way I do. Everyone else is so mean." I know: it's a sickness. Next thing you know, Lindsay will stab Tori Spelling with a vegetable peeler or release a new Blackberry missive titled, "Mother, May I Sleep With Danger?" ("Danger" being Kevin Federline and "Mother," I assume, being self-explanatory) or start an affair with an underage student as a means to forcing him to murder someone and then I will really have some justifying to do. Until then, I think I can handle this one:

It's....really cold where she is. And that's why she's wearing an incredibly long sweatshirt UNDER her cropped leather jacket. You can't expect someone to choose form over function in the arctic conditions of a small boutique! God! No one understands her but me.

Posted by Jessica at 02:02 PM in Lindsay Lohan | Permalink

March 27, 2007

Adventures of a Teenage Fug Queen

Originally, our little LiLo had planned to wear her Shakespearean get-up to the premiere of The Tudors, but realized that perhaps she was being a bit too literal.  So she went for a deconstructed homage to the chainmail of Henry VIII's knights instead:

This pit-chain also has the benefit of acting like a de facto leash, in case she runs into anyone at the party that she'd like to have lead her around by the boobs. You never know: those Hollywood parties get KEE-RAZY.

[Insert obligatory statement about how at least she's wearing cute shoes here.]

Posted by Jessica at 10:09 AM in Lindsay Lohan | Permalink

March 09, 2007

Fugly Fughan

It's widely publicized that Todd Haynes is making a movie about Bob Dylan that features several celebrities playing the part of the gruff, grunty, nasal "Like A Rolling Stone" singer -- including the highly female actress Cate Blanchett.

We can only assume, then, that a jealous Lindsay Lohan is trying to bask in the glow of Blanchett's risky genius by garnering attention for a project she thinks will bring her similar acclaim.


It will be a biopic of Poison's Bret Michaels, starring none other than LiLo as the man who made 7th grade girls everywhere swoon over the romantic joys of "Every Rose Has Its Thorn," because it was a slow song and sounded so full of worshipful yearning that none of us bothered to listen to the actual words.

Now, the brilliance of her plan is: If, in light of his upcoming reality show, Bret Michaels is deemed too much of a sellout to be immortalized in an edgy movie of his life, she can easily segue it into The Sebastian Bach Story: 18 And Gilmore Girls To Go. Or perhaps a little something about the Nelson twins -- after all, she's had experience playing dual roles in The Parent Trap. Just get Dennis Quaid on board as the stern but lovable manager who had their best interests at heart all along and was heartbroken when they cut off their hair, and you've got some serious marquee value.

Posted by Heather at 01:41 PM in Lindsay Lohan | Permalink

January 15, 2007

Fugly: Fully Loaded

Dear Angelina Jolie,

We here at GFY would like to congratulate you on all your humanitarian work. We are happy you've made philanthropy the new black; there are worse things to make trendy, that's for sure. Like, say, formal shorts. So well done for giving a nice chunk of your personal fortune to international causes, and for opening your heart and your home to children in need.

Indeed, Angelina, it's the latter quality that has prompted our letter. There is somebody in desperate need of a mother, a real one, and since you seem to care about your children very much, perhaps you can widen the sexy Jolie-Pitt familial embrace to include one more person in peril.

Warning: This photo isn't safe for work, or for Maddox. So send him out to play on his ATV with Brad before continuing.

Angelina, this girl needs adopting. Fast. She seems cursed. She's jumped through all these hoops to claim she's sober now -- although it's not auspicious that she talked about how she's been to AA for a year in the same breath with which she trumpeted being on the wagon for all of seven days -- and yet she is still having no trouble going out in public and doing something regrettable. Like, say, not checking her opacity levels. She's inviting all the world's armchair plastic surgeons to weigh in on whether they're real, fake, formerly fake and now deflated, or formerly fake, deflated, then reinflated. As insane as it sounds, there are SOME people left in Hollywood who hadn't seen her nipples before, and didn't need to, and indeed hoped she would use that newly vacant drinking hand to pick up a fistful of dignity.

We hate to say it, but she's starting to spend just enough time in Tara Reid territory (well, except for how she gets work and has real talent) that she might start owing rent soon.

You can see now how much help she needs, right, Ange? Sure, she has a mother, technically, but we don't think she'd notice if you handed her some adoption papers -- especially if you delivered them by stapling them to the abs of a virile 22-year old. Frankly, we considered doing this ourselves. But we think you are a better fit for her. Sure, we think strapping her to a couch in front of 90210 reruns might be good for her -- especially because we're getting to the part where Brenda finds out about Dylan and Kelly and screams at them that she hates them and never wants to talk to them again -- but on a grander scale our advice wouldn't quite come from the same realm of common experience as yours. Consider it -- you too were a wild child with prodigious talent, like your prospective daughter here, but you managed to come out the other side. (We hope. It certainly looks good.)  And you have the cash resources to help clear Lindsay's head. We don't, and we wouldn't want to take her into our homes and make Promises we can't keep, if you get our subtly capitalized drift.

Anyway, please consider our proposal. Just think of it as an investment in babysitting -- if you turn her into a responsible human being, you and Brad can have all the free weekends you want. It's a bargain!

Good luck.


The Fug Girls

Posted by Heather at 09:25 AM in Lindsay Lohan | Permalink

December 07, 2006

Confessions of a Teenage Fug Queen

Because she's cranky that the media will no longer kowtow to her demands that she be its darling, Lindsay Lohan has fired off another classic missive punched frantically into her BlackBerry.

Before we elect her the official ambassador of "how our society should be educated on," however, we thought we should put this budding young teacher to the test by taking a red pen to her screed**. And, sure, everyone makes mistakes now and then -- we certainly are not immune -- but we do feel that anyone calling us to educational arms (among other things) should be fairly well outfitted with weapons herself.

Click to see large, legible versions.

** It's worth noting that there are only so many battles one can fight, only so much ink in a pen, and only so much space on a page. Ergo, the scribbles in red should be considered reflective of a larger and more involved path Ms. Lohan should take, and not the fully exhaustive edit and grammatical bitch-slapping that is likely required. We would, however, like to suggest that Dina Lohan stop yapping about looking out for Lindsay and instead take action via some Learning Annex classes. We hear DeVry can also help.

Posted by Heather at 03:57 PM in Lindsay Lohan | Permalink

December 06, 2006

Fug Girls

Dear Lindsay Lohan,

You've had quite a year.  Star Magazine claims you OD'ed at the Chateau Marmont before Thanksgiving, and that the doctor who allegedly revived you allegedly found a ton of alleged drugs in your  alleged room. You're allegedly going to AA (considering that your rep has confirmed this, apparently the second A stands for "actors"), but that doesn't seem to be taking.  You're allegedly a cutter -- something I learned all about from such Lifetime movies as I Cut Myself So I Can Feel Again, Not Without My Exacto-Knife, and Ow! I Really Hate My Life.  People made fun of you when you wrote a heartfelt note about Robert Altman's death and misspelled "adequate." Come on -- that was kind of funny! You kicked off the current parade of Starlet VaJayJay that we're all suffering through. You broke up with like nine dudes. You called Paris Hilton a word we can't reprint here -- ON VIDEO! -- and then told us all that you don't know why everything thinks you dislike her. You got publicly reprimanded for tardiness and a poor work ethic by the people at Morgan Creek. You crashed your car at least once.  I'm sure other stuff happened that I don't currently recall. Basically,  you are a MESS.

And while I love the color you're wearing here, I'm pretty sure that wearing a  pillowcase is not going to make you feel much better about yourself. 

We miss the Mean Girls you.



Posted by Jessica at 02:06 PM in Lindsay Lohan | Permalink


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