Logie Awards Fug Carpet: Dannii Minogue

So this got needlessly complicated:

That is a whole lot of curtain-inspired, rumple-y sheeted, fabric-y business going on from the hips down and while I appreciate the concept of a cape -- in any form! so dramatic! so glamorous! who doesn't love superheros! -- I feel like there is no way this thing isn't getting constantly stepped on and caught on door knobs and table corners and walking sticks and other sticky-out-y things (especially after a few cocktails) and therefore accidentally strangling Minogue The Lesser at a rate of approximately nine strangles an hour. Which is approximately seven too many strangles for anyone not starring in some kind of overly-dramatic soap opera, don't you think?

Logie Awards Fug Carpet: Abbie Cornish

I guess Abi Tucker is an Aussie singer/actress? Our image provider seems to think she's Abbie Cornish, but all things being equal, I'm pretty sure she's relived she isn't. Even if she IS wearing the following:

I think I speak for us all when I say that this is not flattering. Capris made of what appear to be shantung are best saved for your kicky Grandma who's dressing up for shuffle board because she's got her eye on a sexy new resident at the retirement home.  In fact, this whole thing is weirdly stodgy and droopy and matchy-matchy, in a way that feels sort of like it was originally the bridemaid's outfit for a misguidedly faux-casual wedding. Maybe we should be glad the shoes are not dyed to match.

MTV Australia Awards Fug Carpet: Lyndsey Rodrigues

Empirically, I know this is a flesh-and-blood person wearing a skirt over pants.

But I still can't help hoping that this is actually the very latest and greatest in Italian "FRAGIIIILE" leg lamps. That the poor schmo who gets this major award in the mail has a big fight with his wife in his future when he tries to put her on the bedside table.

MTV Australia Awards Fug Carpet: Charlotte Dawson

The bad news: It's not a hallucination. This TV presenter from Down Under IS, in fact, wearing a waistcoat with a skirt that looks like it's been tucked up into the world's only pair of baggy footless panty-hose -- and yes, those hose DO have built-in glittery leg decorations that would be more at home on the set of Xanadu: The Musical. And, tragically, she truly HAS stuffed her feet into crazy metallic slides that the costumer of Back To The Future II would have dismissed as "too ugly to be believably futuristic" right before he or she popped that urine-colored satin cape on Doc Brown.

The good news: She is only on TV in Australia. And while I admit that might not be so hot for our friends in Oz, for me and my weeping soul it's an immense relief.

MTV Australia Awards Fug Carpet: Wyclef Jean

Thanks to Google, I learned that when discussing his gig as the host of MTV Australia's awards ceremony, Wyclef Jean insisted that it was time for a little levity in all our lives.

That nugget of information explained so, so much. Like, say, why he put the award on his head.

[Photo: Splash News]

I'm not even kidding -- that IS the award, from what I can tell. I guess it's better than him lying about how it's not important and is going to go on his toilet/in a box in the garage/on the floor to be used as a doorstop. But I'm not sure what the antagonistic gestures are in aid of; he's the one wearing a cheap plastic trophy that makes him look like Darth Vadar attempting to go as a wastebasket for Halloween.

Maybe he was just exhausted by all the forced hilarity of the evening. After all, he started things off on the red carpet with something of a bang:

I know that's a wig, but I like to think it's a fur turban that he mistakenly washed and tumble-dried before the event (further proof that you should always, always check with Joan Collins when you are unsure how to care for your hugely aggressive hats).

I've already mentioned the esteemed Dr. Emmett Brown once today -- in a post I am publishing later, but whatever, it counts -- so I'll refrain from noting that Wyclef appears to be channeling what he'd wear to a Mad Scientists' convention in Las Vegas. Instead, I will applaud him. Because I do appreciate the giggles Mr. Jean is providing us all in these trying times of war, economic uncertainty, and the very real fear that any Ashlee Simpson/Pete Wentz spawn will be born with a kohl pencil in its hand and such stiff, spiky hair that it fatally stabs the delivery-room nurse.

So thank you, Wyclef, for cheering us up. Also, could you loan that thing to Renee Zellweger? I want to see if it's an improvement.

CMT Awards Fug Carpet: Nicole Kidman

We've been a little hard on Nicole Kidman occasionally, especially how she ALLEGEDLY seems to have jacked up her former face with so much paralyzing Botox. But I have to say, I am not one of those conspiracy theorists who believes she's faking the pregnancy, because a) that's insane; b) this is not Passions, as much as I wish it were and that Zombie Kidman would start showing up at events, although maybe she DID and that explains why Nic seemed a bit bodysnatched the last year or so; c) she looks pregnant in ways that are hard to fake, like her face; d) I can't think of a good reason why Nicole Kidman would need to go through all the rigamarole to fake something like that when she's adopted before, and also, again, NOT INSANE; e) she's got a glow lately, and it really suits her.

I don't really even care about the dress, although that ruby color is fantastic on her. What grabbed me was the loose, flirty, relaxed hair and what appears to be a genuine smile -- those are things she's been missing for a while, in favor of looking really pulled-tight and rigid and wan. Now if only she would get in line behind Nicole Richie at the Los Angeles Clinic For Looking Like Healthy And Lovely Like This All The Time And Not Just When You're Knocked Up, we'd be in business.

CMT Awards Fug Carpet: Fug Or Fab, Paula Abdul

Wow, Paula Abdul looks kind of great.

That's a nice, rich color, and I love her hair.

Of course... the sleeve is sliding off her shoulder on one side, isn't it? And the sparkly embellishments look a tiny bit like Spider Man threw a tantrum in her limo.

But it's PAULA, you know? I feel like it's a blessing if she even manages to wander into the correct party, on the right day, using real words in a believable order.

poll by twiigs.com

CMT Awards Fug: LeAnn Rimes

A comment we often make about LeAnn Rimes is, "Well, considering she grew up in the industry, she seems pretty normal, and somehow she got into her twenties without flashing her chamber of secrets all over town."

Here's hoping that was still true once the CMT Awards ended.

Wow, right? I'm also deeply unimpressed with the orthopedic Tin Man clodhoppers she's got on her feet, but mostly, I'm hoping that if LeAnn pulls a chain the scallops will descend like a window-shade down toward her knees so she can sit down without contracting anything.

She went with a similar risque theme during what I assume was her performance, but with a slightly more literal insistence that -- to borrow from Britney Spears -- she's not that innocent:

I didn't watch the CMT Awards so I don't know what this was in aid of, and frankly, I almost don't want to know. In my head, she performed a country-tinged salute to Annie and Chicago, in which a burlesque version of "It's A Hard-Knock Life" gave way to an elaborate plot to murder the lascivious, laundry-peddling Mr. Bundles. Whatever LeAnn actually did, it could never top my imaginary Cell-Block Tango verse about how she ruthlessly dissolved some Tide in his evening brandy.

CMT Awards Fug Carpet: Faith Hill

Faith Hill used to be something of a glamazon.

Now she's coming off more like Mad Auntie Fifi, who insists she hasn't aged a day since she played Sandy in her high-school production of Grease; loves to careen around her Palm Springs penthouse re-enacting the major scenes with the doorman; juices anything she can find in the fridge or the canned-goods shelf and drinks it with vodka; leaves a trail of cigarette ash around the house and in the waffle maker; uses half a can of hair spray before noon; and knows the name of every young bartender and maitre d' in town because she likes to show up at their parties and sing "(You Make Me Feel Like A) Natural Woman" on the karaoke machine.

However, somewhere in the middle of all that, I talked myself into wanting to hang out with Mad Auntie Fifi. I mean, I can just pretend to eat the Marlboro waffles, right?

Billboard Latin Music Awards Fug Carpet: Kat DeLuna

Seriously, every time I see Kat DeLuna, I think she's one of the Cheetah Girls, mostly because I don't actually know who the Cheetah Girls are:

She's not, and I'm sure she'd like to smack me for lumping her in with that crew. I don't know, Kat. I was alive when New Kids On The Block were popular, you have to forgive me these things. Also, please forgive me for this: you appear to have been dressed by a 1950s B-movie Martian with a beanbag fetish. I just thought someone should tell you.

Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards Fug Carpet: Random Fug

Actress Skye McCole Bartusiak is only 16. Therefore, she wasn't even ALIVE in the 1980s, so I will take a deep breath, empty a bottle of moisturizer on my crow's feet, ad try to give her a pass for not understanding that nobody should ever yearn for that decade except for maybe Andrew Ridgeley.

Being a teenager is a tough in front of the flashbulbs. Clearly Skye is trying some kind of self-expression, so I will be restrained and simply note: Her parents are hosed. No, seriously, their authority is totally compromised. In a year or two this girl is going to want to quit school and backpack through Western Europe for six months with her life savings and a Swedish bartender named Ulf, and when they try to stop her, she will scream, "OH YEAH? WHERE WAS THAT RED LIGHT WHEN I LEFT THE HOUSE LOOKING LIKE A CRACKED-OUT EMOTICON?" And they will be speechless, and off she'll go, returning a year later than expected with a wicked crepe habit and a tattoo that says "BITTE, BABY" on her left boob. I just hope they're prepared.

Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards Fug Carpet: Jennifer Love Hewitt

Jennifer. JENNIFER.

We'd been doing SO MUCH BETTER lately. And you finally darkened the hair! But for what? So you could wear one of Gretl von Trapp's performance dresses over a pair of jeans? Is your fiance planning to carry you out of the venue and up the stairs after you sing about how the sun has gone to bed?

The thing is, I could live with the dress -- it doesn't fit your chest tremendously well, but overall, I'd probably have ignored this completely if you'd just worn it bare-legged. And possibly with a stiletto heel rather than a wedge. But the jeans, J.Lo.Hew? THE NEEDLESS JEANS? Is this how you repay all the people who got you booted out of Fug Madness in the first round by voting for Scarlett Johansson? And why did my TiVo cut off the end of Top Model last night? How is it possible that I am out of Diet Coke? WHY MUST EVERYTHING BE SUCH A STRUGGLE?

Nickelodeon Kids' Choice Awards Fug Carpet: Hal Sparks

Because I don't get Showtime, I don't know much about what Hal Sparks did on Queer as Folk, so I just remember him as the diminutive but smiley guy who hosted Talk Soup after John Henson.

He was cute. And then he turned himself into Gene Simmons.

Nothing against Gene Simmons, who is a legend, and rightly so. But we already have a Gene Simmons and he's very good at being himself. So unless Hal Sparks is going to play Gene in Trump Vodka Presents Donald Trump's Celebrity Apprentice: The Movie, By Donald Trump, he might want to cool it. What works on Gene Simmons looks a bit like "cocktail waiter and low-level illusionist at Jack's House of Magic" on poor Hal here. I'm a little afraid that if he opens his mouth, a prosthetic tongue will tumble out  and get caught in his waist beads.

Independent Spirit Awards Fug Carpet: Eliza Dushku

You know, I'd been wondering what Eliza Dushku has been working on lately, so it's refreshing to know the answer at long last:

She's been moonlighting on the other side of the Phantom Tollbooth as Plussy Galore, by day the  High Priestess of Operational Voodoo and leading Symbols player in the Mathmagician's marching band, and by night the Dodecahedron's nimble mistress. No wonder she didn't have the energy to change her clothes.

Independent Spirit Awards Fug Carpet: Kerry Washington

If you're trying to decide whether a tight, shiny, stretchy turtleneck is a good or a bad idea, allow Kerry Washington to aid in your pro/con list.

Pro: No chance of a nip slip.

Con: Unsightly, unexpected perspiration in the face of flashbulbs. Am I crazy or does it look like her nipples are sweating?

Fortunately for her, it took me a while to notice that little problem, because I was wholly engrossed in the children's book illustration that is her outfit. I keep expecting The Very Hungry Caterpillar to pop out of that thicket and take a greedy bite out of her skirt.

Brit Awards Fug Carpet: Kelly Rowland

Kelly, Kelly, Kelly.

Bjork's had an actual face. And illusion netting. And an EGG PURSE. Were you even trying?

Brit Awards Fug Carpet: Two People Whose Names Will Escape Most Of Us Tomorrow

So, it seems pants were in short supply at the Brit Awards -- by which I mean, trouser-pants, and not underwear-pants, and it's important to clarify this point because of the great and almost impassable cultural chasm between this mighty nation and our parent country. Apparently when they landed here, "pants" took on a whole new meaning that didn't make it back across the pond, and suddenly merely saying something innocent like, "I'm just wearing pants and a sweater to the bar," became equivalent to dropping a ticking time-bomb of accidental nudism onto the kingdom that begot us. I don't know how we have managed to be conversant with them since. Fortunately, our t-shirt works in both languages; thank God we are fluent in both.

At any rate, leg-and-crotch coverings were  at times absent from the proceedings -- Abi Clancy being one instance and Alesha Dixon of girl group Mis-Teeq being the other.

It's here that Alesha learned that "Brit" refers to the country in which she lives, and not to Britney Spears -- and that, ergo, this ceremony was NOT an homage to the fabric-to-flesh ratio our cherished, troubled singer so frequently employs. I am pretty sure that dress is made of the foil lining from a box of Valentine's chocolates. Would that Alesha had shared those with us instead.

TV personality Fearne Cotton, it turns out, is TECHNICALLY wearing something trouser-adjacent. At first I thought it was a miniscule skirt, but no:

It is in fact a SHORTS-SUIT. A red, SATINY shorts-suit that's one part Little Rumpus Room On The Prairie and two parts cocktail waitress at Lucifer's House of Hate-Pies.

But hey, at least she's passionate about it. We can see through the jollity, though -- sure, we may be sitting at home in pajamas, but at the end of the day, she's stuck in a scarlet romper slinging Satan's rhubarb crumble for next to nothing and a lousy pension. Between being enslaved to the Prince of Darkness' satin shorts-suit and wearing flannel while watching Prince Humperdinck in The Princess Bride, I'm going with Buttercup's pig-fiance for sure. 

Brit Awards Fug Carpet: Abi/Abigail/Abbey Clancy

In light of this photograph, it shouldn't surprise you to learn that Ms. "Make Up Your Mind, Please" Clancy is: a) a former lingerie model; b) a runner-up of Britain's Next Top Model, dinged by the judges for being too "glamour," which is essentially UK modeling code for "soft-core porn"; c) a WAG, or more specifically, the on-off G of toothy giant Peter Crouch; d) was allegedly dumped once by Crouch via fax; and e) tried to solidify her career by allowing herself to be taken under the musty wing of professional exhibitionist and gold-plated nutter Janice Dickinson, purely for televisual purposes.

Given all that, it may surprise you that she bothered wearing panties at all. Didn't Janice teach her better than that?

NAACP Awards Fug Carpet Scrolldown: Christel Khalil

This picture of Christel Khalil from The Young and the Restless -- who played the daughter of crazy-hat-wearing Victoria Rowell, made out with her current boyfriend at her own divorce party, and had a whole storyline where she got gonorrhea, although everyone seems to have forgotten about that -- is technically not a scrolldown, because it was better at the bottom than at the top.

So I MADE it a scrolldown.

The color is fantastic, I love the train, the dress has so much potential.... and then, the accessories.

It's hurting my head to look at them this way, so let's flip her over again.

Still love the dress -- it fits her beautifully -- and on its own it might've saved the uninspiring hair. But those accessories are so over the top, as if her local Claire's store got sloshed on bourbon and threw up all over her head. The earrings, the choker, the two plastic-looking lengths of beads...

... and of course, a shoulder flower, because what this outfit needs is a fake fuchsia blossom that looks more like a tiny bird flew into her shoulder and met its grisly death. Seriously, looking at this close-up, you'd think she were attending the Union of Frontier Bordello Madams Local No. 102 annual meeting, where they're voting on a controversial proposal mandating regular syphilis tests and discussing a ban on nooses during foreplay. Y&R may want to consider a time-travel storyline to maximize the fact that she's already got the costume.

BAFTA Fug Carpet: Marion Cotillard

There is something very pretty about this outfit. And something very "Once upon a time, in a far-away land, there lived a prince and his girlfriend."

"They were the happiest couple in the land, or at least in the twelfth grade; she gave him a good-luck pin to wear on his breeches, and she was often to be seen running around the village with his Varsity Jousting Team Cape affixed to her shoulders. The girlfriend would go to all her prince's  tournaments, and in turn he would help run her campaign for class president and show up at fundraisers and let her auction him off for charity to handsy old women who wanted a hot dinner date. It was a match made in heaven, until she caught him making out with her best friend in the spear shed near the castle moat, kicked him in the gauntlet, burned his cape, and then went on to become the owner of the most powerful mead brewery in the country -- which bought his pro jousting team and then fired him. The moral of this tale: Revenge is sweet; capes are not."

SAG Awards Fug Carpet: January Jones

The first time around I missed a lot of Mad Men, because I couldn't watch them fast enough to keep my TiVo from replacing old ones with newer episodes. Now, if we're being honest, usually my reaction to heavily hyped stuff that passed me by the first time around is to get kind of overly aggravated by it and ignore it, until my defenses are so worn down that one idle day I sit down with whatever it is and think, "Okay, let's see how TOTALLY BAD this really is," ending of course with me completely on board and secretly admitting it's kind of great. This happened with One Tree Hill some time ago, with Dawson's Creek back in the day, and with wedge shoes. But Mad Men, I knew I wanted to see. And as I've been catching up piecemeal in reruns, the hype is totally not misplaced. It's very well done.

January Jones (who was indeed born in January; she should be relieved she wasn't a September baby), in particular, is great in it. So I really wanted to love whatever she wore to the SAG Awards. And indeed, I love her face, which thankfully she brought with her.

But:

I can't really get behind this. It looks like a homemade Valentine. And while that's great in elementary school, and one might argue that the SAG Awards are an elementary awards show only getting major attention because the Golden Globes were out sick and needed an understudy, I just wish January had gone for a gown that reminded me less of something I traditionally would've accessorized with a doily.

See? All that bright fabric everywhere, and then at the bodice it just limply erupts into a half-hearted ruffle. And no matter how great her makeup is, how tiny her waist looks, or how much I would like to call her up for skin-care tips, it's hard to root for a half-hearted ruffle. Either go big or go home, I say; it might not always work, but at least you went for broke. This way, it just looks like the designer was chiefly inspired by a napkin fan on the table of the Mother's Day Brunchtravaganza at his grandparents' yacht club.

SAG Awards Fug Carpet: Jena Malone

I've been staring at this photo for a few days now, and I still can't decide fully.

What do you think: avant garde...

... or wearable modern art entitled Aborted Straitjacket?

poll by twiigs.com.

SAG Awards Fug Carpet: Well Played, Amanda Bynes

Oh, Amanda Bynes. You're so nice and person-colored now.

And that gown is totally gorgeous -- love that peacock color, love the bodice, love the flirty layers at the bottom, love the way it fits her.  The hair might be a little twee, but you know what? I don't care today. That's right. Dare I say it, I'm in a GOOD MOOD, and looking at this dress only enhances it -- like frosting on an already really yummy piece of carrot cake. I am pretty sure that those boys in the background are trying really hard not to stare at her, but inside, are totally stoked that Hot Amanda Bynes is standing mere feet from them and are planning to tell all their friends tomorrow that they held her hand and that she promised they'd get married in 15 years. Or, you know, whatever it is that boys do. Having no brothers, I can't say for sure. Doodling your names jointly inside a big heart all over a spiral notebook and then frantically doing MASH, trying to cheat so that you end up married, living in a mansion, driving a Ferrari, working as a movie star, having three kids, and owning stacks of emeralds, seems like it's more of a girly response.

SAG Awards Fug Carpet: Sandra Oh

I'm not sure what's up with turning your boobs into a befuddling curiosity. It's not as if most people don't find a lady's bustline interesting in and of itself -- no, now it needs a gimmick. First Kate Hudson glides down the SAG carpet looking like a pigeon has flown headfirst into her sternum, and now Sandra Oh is joining the fray:

Actually, I just noticed that the black fabric has splotches on it that almost look like very organized raindrops, so staring at those is a diversion in and of itself that is terrible for my brow furrow. Mostly, though, I find the massive bow growing out of her chest sort of confusing. As if all this time, we never realized that all those gigantic ribbons people stick on their brand-new Lexus-- the one they secretly bought their partner for Christmas, drove home under apparent cover of deep night, and parked in the driveway, all totally unbeknownst to their unsuspicious and probably a tad unobservant spouse/parent/significant other -- are actually manufactured straight from Sandra Oh's mammaries. Once it's done you just clip it off and another one starts to form in its place. Kind of creepy from an anatomical point of view, but as performance art, it's a pretty impressive side gig.

** Okay, so this is what we get for being in midair during the SAGs, and cross-eyed with jet-lag today -- apparently Sandra is paying homage to traditional Korean garb called a hanbok. So I will resist the urge to strap her to a brand-new vehicle and gift it to someone by burying the keys in a pile of pancakes, and instead applaud her for getting in touch with her heritage while apologizing for the fact that I am out of touch with my non-pop-culture references. Next thing you know someone will show up in a bodice shaped like Eiffel Tower and I'll be all, "Hey, look, it's that casino in Las Vegas!" And then Jessica will have to behead me. It'll be so tragic.

SAG Awards Fug Or Fab: Kate Hudson

The first thing that strikes me about this photo is how much Kate Hudson looks like her mother:

The second thing is how pale and wan and unenthusiastic she looks. The third thing is that I feel like she wears this sort of dress ALL THE TIME. There is certainly something to be said for wearing a style of clothes that works for you -- which is why I wear so many turbans -- but there is MORE to be said for wearing something that doesn't prompt the reaction, "is this picture from like six years ago?"

polls by twiigs.com...

SAG Awards Fug Carpet: Angelina Jolie

Whether or not Angelina Jolie is actually pregnant, she sure knows how to make sure the rumors are swirling like the chocolate-vanilla soft-serve cone she might be dipping pickles and cheese into:

And Brad knows how to feed into rumors that he is in need of a three-day nap. But Angelina... I have to say, she really can wear almost anything and look fantastic. I still find myself wishing it were, say, blood red -- you know, since she doesn't have to worry about it being too matchy with her vial of Type AB or whatever --  but on the whole you could pleat a Hefty bag and Angelina would work it. Of course, if she's NOT pregnant, then this choice is a little more confusing. Surely she is be-fetused, though, right? It's Angie. She's not going to veer off the freeway at the Caftan City exit, past the Cheesecake Factory at the Rue McClanahan Rest Stop and Service Plaza, unless she's playing coy with the contents of her womb.

poll by twiigs.com

The SAG Awards Fug Carpet: Jane Krakowski

There's a lot I could say about Jane Krakowksi's unfortunate craft-fair bodice:

But the fact that our image provider has her uniformly labeled as "Marla Maples" kind of says it all, no?

People's Choice Awards Fug Couch: Joaquin Phoenix

At the People's Choice Awards, which I admit I did not watch, apparently all the acceptance speeches were pre-taped because of the writers' strike (no one actually attended except the host, Queen Latifah, who was probably terribly embarrassed she'd gotten stuck in this situation and got an eleventh-hour call from her lawyers that they couldn't find her an exit loophole).

Joaquin Phoenix decided not to employ actual speech in his speech, preferring to hold up a series of cue cards to express his "gratitude" for having been chosen by the people. This was his first mistake.

No, his first mistake was living so rough for the past however-long that he looks a bit like an accountant right after tax season: bloated, tired, and as if he's being scraped off the fender of a giant bus that's recently mowed him down.

Anyway, Joaquin's gesture was evidently his way of supporting the strike -- I'm not sure how, though, since somebody did actually WRITE the words onto a piece of paper. He does know it's not a speaker's strike, right?

Here's what I didn't know:

[Photo: Splash News]

Apparently, proofreaders are on strike as well. Or maybe now that text messaging is a series of largely illiterate abbreviations, the letter U is sick and tired of working so hard AND bringing all those Sesame Street episodes to you, and has walked off the job until it gets a pay raise, a massage, and at least two solo numbers in its next show.

Critics' Choice Awards Fug Carpet: Well Played, Katie Holmes

Certainly, there has been no shortage of moments in Katie Holmes' life in recent years that have made us go, "Wait, SERIOUSLY?" And that's just from the couch-jumping and the engagement and pregnancy and wedding and fashion-embracing and Posh-befriending; it doesn't even include anything that's happened behind closed doors. Not that we're implying her husband is odd or anything. He's totally normal to us. Everyone we know leaps onto their living-room set at least twice daily. Furniture is a thrill.

At any rate, all things considered, nothing should surprise me with her any more. Yet somehow I still caught myself saying aloud this morning, "Wait... SERIOUSLY? Since when did Katie Holmes become someone who could pull off a TOGA?"

Bear with me here, as we got a lot of e-mails from people who could not have hated this more -- and who will, in fact, greet this with a, "Wait, SERIOUSLY?" of their own. So let me clarify: The dress itself does nothing for me. It definitely has the whiff of bedsheet about it, like maybe her exuberant husband grabbed one off the bed and ran around her twice and then screamed, "GLORIOUS,"  before hitting his head on the four-poster and passing out cold.

But Katie IN the dress... this I like. Granted, her first best move was to realize that America loves Suri, and that she should reinvent her cranium in her wee sprog's image. They are seriously ever-more the spitting image of one another. As for the dress, though, it kind of takes on a Quality on her body. It's still kind of boring to me on its own merits,  and I think on a lot of people I'd be wailing and pulling out my hair. Katie, though, looks really rather pretty. The makeup is tasteful, her bod looks amazing -- I would very much like to borrow her shoulders, if she's looking to broaden her range of charitable acts -- and although the shoes are fairly standard, they ALSO appear to fit her, make her legs look fabulous, and don't overshadow the overall look. As a result, I glance at the dress, but inevitably my attention turns to her hair, her face, her skin, her figure, and the fact that I am pretty sure she is eleven feet tall. And that's how it should be. The dress isn't wearing her; she, bluntly put, is wearing the shit out of it. So you go, Suri-Kate Holmes-Cruise. In my eyes, you won this one.

And feel free to have another kid, because you did a bang-up job the first time. I'm just saying. Think of our needs.

poll by twiigs.com

Critics' Choice Awards Fug Carpet: Fug or Fab: Brad and Angie

I don't know about you, but the first thing I thought when I saw this picture was, "HOLY [REDACTED FOR THE CHILDREN], BRAD HAS HAIR!" I totally forgot that newsboy hat of his isn't permanently attached to his head.  (That being said, as you probably already know, Brad is now selling versions of That Newsboy Hat of His through his charity Make It Right, which is helping rebuild the Lower 9th Ward in New Orleans, which got hit badly by Hurricane Katrina. In addition to being a very worthy cause, there is a video of Brad posted on that site in which he a) wears that newsboy hat of his and b) is simultaneously screamingly hot and all CARING about HUMANITY and stuff, which is really hard for me to resist. And! Since I'm already going all parenthetical on you here, do you think it's possible that Lindsay Lohan could possibly see the success Brad has had selling his hats and start selling a line of leggings to benefit something she really cares about? Like...the care and upkeep of Kitson or something? Here's hoping.)

What was I talking about? Ah, yes -- Brad and Angie and Brad's lush head of hair and luxurious display of gray-toned checks:

I don't know.  There's something about this suit that squeals, "sexy English professor who will peer at you intently as he takes off his glasses and mutters something like,  'Your understanding of Yeats is unparalleled.  I never thought to find such a brilliant mind in such a beautiful woman. God, this is so unprofessional of me -- SO WRONG -- yet I MUST KISS YOU,' and then you guys run off to Capri, where he writes things and you do a lot of standing on the balcony in glamourous tunics drinking Kir Royales whilst being flatteringly backlit." I can't resist that. I LOVE Kir Royales.

As for Angelina, while she often wears black, I also suspect that her look could be a preview of the It Wouldn't Be Right To Be All Wildly Gussied Up At An Event During The Writers Strike epidemic that may currently be sweeping closets all over Hollywood.  Jewel-toned cocktail frocks languish in closets throughout the 310! There is a mad run on somber dresses and black shoes! Starlets compete to look The Most Seriously Appropriate! And I guess that could be fun, too. You just know Bai Ling will show up somewhere in a nun's habit, and everyone wins when that happens.

polls by twiigs.com...

American Music Awards Fug Carpet: Alicia Keys

There's a lot I don't understand about Alicia Keys. Like, say, why I am so sick of all her songs, or why she's on the cover of Entertainment Weekly and I still can't muster up the energy to read anything more than the headline on her story before I flip ahead to the big ol' dishy piece on Gossip Girl (although I'll grant that last one probably says a lot more about me than it does about Alicia, and parenthetically, if that show would just give in already and hire Joan Collins to be some kind of grande dame of English society trying to infiltrate the Upper East -- possibly as man-whore Chuck's unexpectedly British grandmother -- I would die happy).

Chiefly, though, I don't understand why Alicia would decide to change out of this:

[Photo: Splash News]

To this:

Nothing about Alicia Keys' music screams "jazz hands" to me -- or even jazz hands' awkward prepubescent cousin, spirit fingers. But I really don't get why she's decided that her "most personal album YET," or whatever tedious, desperate sales-speak she's using, demands slinky flared jumpsuits that might've even gotten her laughed out of Studio 54. Is Alicia Keys' soul addicted to one-piece outfits? Is it curled up in footie pajamas at night and cavorting in rompers by day, begging for external recognition of its proclivities? Is she just completely freaking crazy? Or did she sell her soul to Satan in exchange for better eye makeup and a few good hair days?

Not that I want to imply anything -- personally, I suspect the answer lies somewhere in option C -- but there might be some evidence lending credence to the latter theory.

See? A cloven hoof. Maybe it IS the work of the devil.

American Music Awards Fug Carpet: The Ladies Knowles

Listen, we all know Beyonce is bodacious -- or bootylicious, if you want to get into quoting Destiny's Child, which I'm sure Those Other Two Girls would appreciate since otherwise they're not getting a tremendous amount of love these days. And I remain eternally pleased that, rather than keep to the Dreamgirls-era stories of "How Beyonce Gave Up Fried Chicken" and "Beyonce's Sexy New Body," Miss B has in fact put the ten pounds back on and returned to her sexy OLD body, because she is not mental, and thereby understands that a life without fried chicken is not a life anyone should have to lead.

Still: Why satin, B?

This woman should look glorious in everything, all the time, and instead she gravitates toward the kind of grandiose satiny confections that end up buying property and building a mansion on the trashy side of divalicious. Also, Beyonce, you're all lovely and curvy, so don't detract from that by wearing a dress that bunches and pulls like it's a size too small an your mom struggled to sew you into it an hour ago, and told you not to DARE drink or eat anything, or else GOOD LUCK GOING TO THE BATHROOM.

Not to mention that the poor, brave halter strap is doing heroic work up there. I hope she's encouraging it with a lot of compliments and other positive reinforcement, because the second it feels bitter and taken for granted, it's going to pop and then the club won't be the only thing that's bouncin', bouncin'. (You're welcome AGAIN, Those Other Two Girls.)(Edited to add that, apparently, they won't be thanking me because the club is "jumpin', jumpin," which is a whole different chestal-region issue indeed. Oh well. You get the point: They're going to fall out of there, and I don't like Destiny's Child.)

Apparently sartorial tragedy runs in the family -- no surprise since mama Tina Knowles fancies herself a designer and stylist. Check out what that other forgotten girl, Beyonce's sister Solange, decided to wear:

We're all really happy they're letting you out of the house, honey, but don't belt a gift bag and think you're making yourself our Christmas present. For one thing, it makes you look like you could only fit through a door if you side-stepped, which I'm sure is not true; for another, there isn't enough egg nog in the world that could erase the embarrassment of sitting down in the theater and watching your skirt arrange itself around your thighs like a giant gold-leaf wedding cake at Celine Dion's next lavish vow renewal. And let's face it, if Santa popped by to drop you down my chimney, that skirt would fly clear up and all we'd have under our tree would be a pair of legs and some sooty knickers. And nobody wants that. Unless of course we're watching it on Lifetime and it's called Jingle Buns.

American Music Awards Fug Carpet: Rihanna

Oh my god, Rihanna:

I'm pretty sure this is...supposed to be layered over something. Like an actual shirt, say.  In a way, I have to commend you for going all-out with your theme here (apparently, it is Clothing Items Which Are Missing Whole, Vital Pieces of Themselves LIKE FINGERS Or A THIRD OF YOUR BOOBS) and I appreciate how fresh and relaxed your hair and make-up is, but...okay, listen. I'm going to cut the complimentary crap for a sec. Sure, you're cute and young and have a huge hit song and are probably now richer than God, but all that means that you have FAR MORE resources than the rest of us schmoes (like money, and advisors, and the best reflective surfaces said money can buy and the best handypersons available to hang them) , and, ergo, should not find yourself out in public with a quasi-vest non-shirt that comes complete with clear plastic straps designed to prevent your nipples from making a desperate run for it.

American Music Awards Fug Carpet: Carrie Underwood

For someone who seems like kind of a classy girl -- she doesn't talk much about her personal relationships in the press, she seems to wear all the appropriate undergarments, and she can certainly wail -- sometimes Carrie Underwood shows up places looking like she just raided Tabitha's Tack-o-Emporium and Ice-Dance Fire Sale:

I mean, okay, I'm glad she's not showing off her traditional Bustier-With-Train-Over-Jeans look, and, sure,  her legs look fantastic, but Lil' Miss Before He Cheats here also looks like she's about fifteen seconds away from strapping on ye olde figure skates and showing us all how to perform a proper double axel.

American Music Awards Fug Carpet: Kid Rock

Dear Kid Rock:

WE GET IT. We didn't love it when you did it in stained tank tops and a quasi-mullet, we didn't care for it when Keith Urban took on the partial version of this look, and we STILL think it's stupid and vain even though you have cut your hair and borrowed Timberlake's fedora. The brunette, who looks like she's wearing a matching sling on her back for you to slide your hand into when it's cold, is not helping either. We GET that apparently you want us to look upon your life as one long beer commercial, okay? POINT MADE. Now can you please INVEST IN A SHIRT? Seriously. LOOK INTO FABRIC. YOU ARE MAKING ME SHOUTY. LOOK HOW LOUDLY I AM YELLING NOW.

A keg would quiet me down, though, I think. I'm just saying. It's not that I can be bought -- it's that I can be made too blurry and confused to notice that your chest is not a shirt.

CMA Awards Fug Carpet: Jewel

On first glance, everything seems normal with Jewel.

I mean... she's Jewel. This is what she does. She has the wavy hair and the cleavage; the hands that are small -- she knows -- but which are not yours, they are her own; and the constant threat that she'll break into a poetry recitation at the slightest provocation.

But... wait, jump back to the cleavage for a second.

OUCH. Love the smoky eye, but I'm concerned that it will soon be covered in mammarial matter that explodes from the pressure cooker that is her left breast. The right one is no picnic either, but man, Lefty looks like it's about to have the kind of inopportune tantrum the likes of which I haven't thrown since my mom would have to drag me into the Crying Room at church when I was four. Or was that 24? At any rate, much as I'm sure my fellow churchgoers would have preferred, I think I'd like to be hiding under my covers with a good book and a Diet Coke when this one hits its boiling point. I will also be taking a moment to apologize to my own chest for anything and everything I might have done to it accidentally, but that's between me and the girls.

Teen Choice Awards Fug Carpet: Eve

Usually, Eve looks pretty age-appropriate, so I can't figure out what possessed her to show up at the Teen Choice Awards -- where, presumably, teens are trying to tell us what they like, because 184 million viewers of High School Musical 2 still felt ambiguous -- in what amounts to cocktail pajamas:

Granted, I covet the shoes a trifle, but overall the effect is less "young vixen" than "Cougar salivating over her prey as she lasciviously licks caviar off a cracker." Or she's simply wearing the uniform of a long-lost martial art in which she's a black-belt -- say, the kind where she can slice off your head with a well-timed leg spin without so much as spilling her bourbon. Rrowr.

Still, I can see one advantage: The only hint of her Anklet of Legal Woes is in the bunching of the evil pants' drawstring hem, so perhaps she thought cloaking herself in fug would distract us from the Lessons Of Her Past. No dice, though, Eve. Also, The Lessons Of Her Past would actually make a great Lifetime movie if you added a few colons in there, like The Lessons Of Her Past: I Drink, Therefore I Can't: The Eve Jihan Jeffers Story.

I might have to eat all those words with a side of paté, however, because here she is demonstrating the more current fashions of the day and I'm not sure it's an improvement:

[Photo: Splash News]

It's a bathing suit, a minidress that could well be on backwards, footless tights, and of course her Anklet of Legal Woes -- all of which I feel like I've already seen on Lindsay Lohan. It's sort of like she's the host of The Grim Reaper's MTV Back-2-Skool Summer Wake and Pool Party Jam, which I parenthetically and amusingly just misread to myself as "Panty Jam" (either the world's worst-selling condiment, or a Playboy party you'd get Cameron Diaz to host while Fergie performed).

This is like a Sophie's Choice of catastrophic outfits. I don't think I can pick a winner, but I know who the loses are: our retinas.

poll by twiigs.com

Teen Choice Awards Fug: Jessica Alba and Dane Cook

JESSICA ALBA: I want to die. Why am I here? At least I can wear this shade of yellow. Even in my doldrums, my own beauty comforts me.

DANE COOK: I'M HILARIOUS!

JESSICA: I hate him. And I hate his shirt. It looks like someone threw up on him.  I hate everyone. I hate myself.

DANE:  I SLEPT WITH THAT GIRL! AND THAT GIRL! AND THAT GIRL! I'M A STUD! A COMEDIAN STUD! SEE MY NEW MOVIE WHATSITCALLED WHEN IT OPENS WHENEVER!

JESSICA: Maybe I shouldn't have broken up with my boyfriend in order to pretend that I'm maybe sort of seeing Loudmouth over here, for publicity. But he was boring, anyway. Was that wrong?

DANE: YEAH! AW YEAH! BOO YEAH!

JESSICA:  Sigh. I have to stop this. Thinking gives you wrinkles.

BET Awards Fug Carpet: Random Fug

This woman is bravely providing Exhibit A as to why one should never knit one's own clothes while watching Season 1 90210 reruns on SoapNet. It all seems fun at first, but then you find yourself gawking at Brandon's fluffy mullet and screaming indignantly at the galling way Brenda gets upset and climbs onto the moral high-ground when the 25-year old she's been secretly dating dares to be upset that she lied about being of legal age. Then suddenly Andrea is going on about  The Blaze being the top-ranked high-school newspaper in the country (ha!) and Kelly uses the word "dorkmeyer" and Brandon's ex from Minnesota tells him he's a "wonderful lover" and then he becomes a total self-righteous douchebag and you're yelling at the television and rolling your eyes so hard that they quit working and you're catatonic for a few days... and then, you wake up one day and the dress you were slaving over only has half a skirt. And because you've been so immersed in their world and their clothes, you start to see nothing wrong with wearing it anyway, over a pair of cuffed  knee-length jean-shorts, because hey, Kelly wore some over polka-dot leggings and she was still popular.

Don't let this happen to you. Oh, don't get me wrong, you should still watch the re-runs -- I believe today is mother-daughter fashion show at which Brenda learns Kelly's mother is a cokehead. But just don't mix the Walshes with your wardrobe.

BET Awards Scrolldown Fug: Lil' Mama

Everything seemed to be going so well. The shirt is cute. The pants... might be cute if they didn't make her right leg look like it had sustained a wound from a Star Wars laser blaster.

But the shoes. The SHOES.

Or -- since, with the Dr. Moreau reference, this is apparently Marlon Brando Week here at GFY -- one might gasp, "The horror. The HORROR."

Anything this bad deserves a closer look. I think that's the Second Law of Fuggodynamics.

Let's take this in order.

1) They're wedges. And gladiator sandals. Together. Gladiages? Wedgiator sandals? See, if they don't have a mellifluous hybrid name -- like Brangelina, or ... Brangelina -- then those two things aren't meant to be combined. I believe that's actually something Us Weekly is seeking to add to the Constitution of the United States.

2) They are tied, and way too loosely I might add, OVER HER PANTS. Did we learn nothing from Sienna Miller doing the same? Don't encourage Sienna, please, or else she'll get back out there and keep trying.

3) Wow, this woman needs a pedicure.

4) Are those rhinestones? Are they BEDAZZLED wedgiator sandals?

5) I don't actually have a #5; I'm still just gaping at how she stuffed her jeans into her shoes. It means Lil' Mama went to a LOT of trouble to put these on and debut them for the world at the BET Awards. Which in turn means she must have sat at home going, "I can't wait to wear my new ass-kicking wedges. I just need the perfect outfit... OH MY GOD I KNOW, I'll wear them with my Skin Disease Jeans!"

I may need to lie down. But first I'm going to go thank all my shoes for not looking like these.

BET Awards Fug Carpet: Random Fug

Well, I suppose it was only a matter of time before Formal Shorts placed a touchy-feely hand onto the knee of The Dreaded Manpri and gave it a loving squeeze.

What's next? We've already seen hints of man-leggings on the catwalk. Will Dress Over Pants be caught copulating greedily with a second pair of pants, giving rise to Pants-Over Pants? Oh, I can't look. It's like The Island of Dr. Moreau over here, except with cotton and no aging, corpulent overlord. And no creepy person-animals.

So really, maybe it's more like the annoying garage chem lab of that girl on Hidden Palms. Either way, I repeat: I am afraid to look... yet cannot look away.

BET Awards Fug Carpet: Beyonce

I've looked at this photo of Beyonce for like twenty minutes, and I can't decide if she looks crazy, or AWESOME:

Is it subtle? No. Is it restrained? No. Is it impossible to sit down in? Probably. Could this be one of the costumes from the grand finale of the Xanadu musical? (Warning: that link takes you to possibly the most mesmerizing Flash intro ever) We hope so. And yet, something about how over-the-top it is is also kind of FABULOUS. It's so....shiny. And futuristic. And weird. And ballsy. And probably really hot in the sun -- if you want to hug her, you probably have to wrap a beach towel around her waist to avoid being scalded, like how you sometimes need to use a dishrag to handle your steering wheel during a heat wave.

But this metallic extravaganza is nothing compared to what B wore to perform in:

She's like C3PO's Dream Woman! Who's also apparently f'ing LOADED, because these leggings cost like, seriously, $100,000 (they're Balanciaga, and I assume they also do your laundry and babysit your children, for that price). And while I am concerned that one of her breasts is about to pop out (which, I mean, of course it's much more difficult to yank up a bra composed of precious metals than it is a little cotton number -- what are you gonna do?), you have to give the girl credit for FULLY COMMITTING to a vision.

BET Awards Post-Party Fug: Blu Cantrell

Much in the way it smiles upon the work of ancient Greek and Roman craftsmen, I think history will look back at Blu Cantrell and revere her as an artisan of fug. Just when you think she can't elevate her game any higher, she straps on a rocket pack and shoots up into the fugtosphere.

Of course, the drawback of the rare place in history she's carved for herself is that our children's grandchildren might look back and think we all wore jeans that made us look like we were either pregnant, or that we bloated ourselves for sport. And I don't particularly want my memory any more tarnished than it already will be by the photos of me in stirrup pants in grade 9.

Still, it takes a special woman to wear something that renders the hideousness of that hat -- and the retina-peeling wrongness of that lipstick -- totally beside the point. I wouldn't be at all surprised if she left the house in a year wearing pants that button at the armpit (assuming her necklaces don't strangle her first), which would a) essentially bind her in a denim bodystocking, thereby contradicting the notion of freedom her shirt purports to advocate; and b) serve as the ultimate "FU" to her body and to the world.

poll by twiigs.com

Tony Awards Fug Carpet: Marcia Gay Harden

I've been staring at what Marcia Gay Harden wore to the Tony's for a day and a half now, wondering why exactly I couldn't put my horror into words. Her sleeves broke my brain.

I mean... why, Marcia? Why? You are a handsome woman. You are not an elderly society dame. You are not a former silent film star who swans around her tony L.A. mansion smoking cigarettes out of long holders while your manservant irons your turbans, and braying to the young screen-writing lover you've somehow entrapped that eyes are the window to the soul and pictures were better before actors started talking in them. So I can't see any reason why you've chosen to Go There. Especially with sleeves that could double as a young girl's petticoats. Pants are not sleeves, no matter how much they look like it after a few gimlets.

MTV Movie Awards Fug Carpet: Meagan Good

I just experienced Meagan Good's performance in Stomp the Yard on Saturday, so her fresh-faced good looks are, er, fresh in my mind.  Which why this feels particularly tragic:

She looks like a cocktail waitress (complete with pockets for your swizzle sticks) at a 50s-by-way-of-the-80s themed diner -- the kind with lots of neon accents --  and I think I might be able to maybe see her nipple.

MTV Movie Awards Fug Carpet: Heidi from The Hills and Amanda Bynes

At the MTV Movie Awards this weekend, we saw a few egregious changes that we would do well to investigate. To that end, let's play a fun game called BEFORE AND AFTER, the rules of which I would happily explain, except I think they're pretty obvious.

We'll begin with Heidi Montag of The Hills. My disdain for Heidi's douchey boyfriend Spencer has been well-illustrated, and you can imagine what a great idea I think their "engagement" is. But, hey, who DOESN'T have an ill-advised first marriage in her past? Just get it out of the way, Heidi. Then you can arrange for MTV to create a reality show called Getting Over Spencer Pratt, a Bachelorette meets Flava of Love type show in which other Hollywood scensters compete to be your next husband. It will be hilarious!

Anyhoodle, in case you don't watch as much of The Hills as I do, this is what Heidi used to look like:

And this is what she looks now, a year later:

New fiance, new nose, new boobs, new lingerie-inspired wardrobe. Now, while I get that the girl wants to show off her investment -- and her new breasts ARE sort of mesmerizing -- I am pretty sure that she's ACTUALLY wearing lingerie. Like, not lingerie-inspired. Lingerie-lingerie. Wow:  the more you type the word "lingerie," the weirder it looks.

Anyway, I just hate the idea that, in one short year, the kid went from being sort of fresh-faced and natural looking to...you know, wearing lingerie as a dress. I blame Spencer.

I also blame Spencer for Amanda Bynes's new look.  I doubt the two of them have actually met, but I am sure he is somehow to blame. Behold, the new Amanda:

I mean, don't get me wrong. She's still very cute. But she's sort of....generic Hollywood looking here. And there's been a big change in her look from a year ago:

Same cute figure, new blonde hair, crazy-more tan. And while there is absolutely nothing wrong with sexing it up for the VMAs,  isn't the Blonde Extensions Super Tan Giant Diamond Choker look awfully obvious, in a mildly Old Britney kind of way? I always thought Ms Bynes was less likely to go for the whole Anonymous Starlet look. But I have certainly been wrong before.

poll by twiigs.com...

MTV Movie Awards Fug Carpet: Victoria Beckham

You know we love us some Posh. We couldn't be happier that she walks among us in Los Angeles, because it significantly increases the odds that we can bump into her at somewhere kind of pretentious, like the Urth Cafe, and convince her to go shopping with us so that we might better understand how her mind works. Because right now, we're in the dark, and we suspect that borrowing Edward Furlong's Terminator 2 haircut and bleaching the hell out of it might have scrambled her brain.

We haven't deluded ourselves into thinking Posh's taste is always upscale. I mean, the woman's blood type is O-Tacky. But a plastic-looking zebra-print dress with a hot pink bra deliberately showing? Vicky, Vicky, Vicky, that is so Latter-Day Britney of you (although we appreciate the omission of fishnet tights that are slowly rotting around your thighs).

Are you trying to call out to Britney? Are you trying to imply that you have much in common, and yet still much to teach? Are you going to take her under your wing and help her grow an equally outdated short coif so that she stops with the cheap weaves? Because honestly, I could get behind that. If Angelina Jolie is still too busy figuring out how to adopt Lindsay Lohan, then I can't think of another celeb whom I'd rather see yank Britney up by her bootstraps and slap some sense -- or at least, some different crazy -- into her. Can you imagine? They'd eat at The Ivy (or, in Posh's case, just sit there and stir a salad), they'd shop, they'd go to David's L.A. Galaxy games wearing giant sunglasses and cut-up tank tops, and they'd write a book together called The Sister I Never Had, forgetting of course that they both have sisters.

But, Vicky, be careful: Please stop short of hooking Brit up with one of Becks' teammates. We don't need her naming her next batch of children things like Beverly Hills and Sunset Boulevard and Hamlet.

Academy of Country Music Awards Fug Carpet: Sarah Buxton

Country singer Sarah Buxton is very cute:

For the most popular girl in school, circa 1986.

I wonder if she's going to regret leaving her Swatches at home, though.

Academy of Country Music Awards Fug Carpet: Faith Hill

I know, empirically, that I need to accept that this really is Faith Hill and Tim McGraw. But the more I stare at this photograph, the more it feels like these are just poseable wax replicas yanked from the Madame Tussaud's exhibit down by The Venetian and propped up on the red carpet. Because... well, first, I wouldn't be at all surprised if we learned in about ten years that Tim McGraw is actually a recluse who only leaves the house to perform live, leaving the rest of his public duties to a host of stuffed, animatronic, or plastic facsimiles. He always looks the same and holds himself the same way, like someone shoved a memory chip into the back of a Cowboy Ken doll, all beefcake on the outside but with none of the hidden sausage.

Faith Hill, though, just looks... off. She looks stiff and misshapen, kind of like the aforementioned bastard children of the waxworks museum that are near enough likenesses to look familiar, but far enough off to be completely creepy and inspires me to run away. That dress makes her boobs look malformed. And I'm pretty sure that Faith Hill is supposed to be hot, and not like the product of a novice pulling an all-nighter on the wax wheel (okay, so probably the Tussaud's people don't make things on wheels, but it's more fun to imagine that a Demi Moore type was staying up late to try and finish Faith Hill's torso and got distracted by the ghostly caress of her tragically deceased man-bitch, which I guess means one possible theory for Faith's misplaced lady lumps is that they got kicked around by some wicked coitus).

So in sum, I have no idea what I'm talking about, except that something is awry here with country music's favorite couple. But we'll know soon enough if my wax-replica theory is correct -- wearing what appears to be the family turtle around her neck will either result in Faith's head being slowly sawed off, or a rapid application of healing salve when the chafing on Flesh Faith's neck makes her crazy.

Academy of Country Music Awards Fug Carpet: Laura Bryna

Usually, as Jessica mentioned already, we are all over Google when it comes to the Country Music Awards and the spangly, nameless figures who scamper along the red carpet in a blur of eye-shadow. But I had no need to look up Laura Bryna. I know exactly who she is.

Meet the founding officer and current treasurer of the Texas Hairdressers' Association Big-Time Family Fun Marching Band. She also leads the baton-twirling corps -- that is, when she's not needed to fill in on the piccolo.

Academy of Country Music Awards Fug Carpet: Tiffany Fallon

Before I did my Magic Google Action on Tiffany Fallon here, I assumed that she was a lower tier country singer I hadn't heard of. In fact, it turns out she was Playboy's Playmate of the Year in 2005, and did some sort of Miss USA-type thing. So...I'm not entirely sure why she's at the Country Music Awards.* But she is, and equally perplexingly, she's dressed like Vanna White circa 1987. But nakeder:

I would say that women best known for being naked are maybe at more of a loss when presented with an event that requires clothing, but I suspect that Tiffany here maybe just really loves both Wheel of Fortune and Roman history, and therefore has gotten herself a dress that combines the two in one spectacular blinged-out, toga-fied mish-mash. This is a dress suitable both for a Roman orgy AND for patiently waiting for someone to buy a vowel already. It would appeal both to Pat Sajack AND the Roman Emperor. It allows the range of movement required to gesture gracefully at a sailboat (I miss the Wheel of Forture prize packages. Remember when the winners got to pick out, like, table lamps from a revolving turntable o' prizes? That was awesome) and to vigorously give a sub-par gladiator the big thumbs-down. In fact, I would venture to say that the versatility of this ensemble is probably being wasted at an awards show. I mean, I don't really watch the Academy of Country Music Whatevers (sorry, Host Reba McEntire. It's not your fault. I love you. I'll never forget the time I got drunk with some people and we ended up at the Kinko's on Wilshire because one of my drunk friends needed to photocopy something and Kinko's was closed, and as my friends stood and stared into the darkened Kinko's trying to figure out why the hell it was closed, since Kinko's are supposed to be open late, that being the whole point of Kinko's, I just sat down on the bus stop bench in front of the building and stared out into the street. And then a Porsche pulled up to the stoplight right in front of me and Reba McEntire was in the passenger seat and, because I was drunk, I stared at her and yelled at my friends, "It's Reba McEntire!" very subtly and she totally read my lips and then she smiled at me really big and gave me a huge wave. It was awesome.) but I imagine there are no gladiators or word games involved.

*Apparently, she's married to one of the dudes in Rascal Flats. Our readers know all kinds of things!

Logies Fug Carpet: Jeanne Little

Jeanne Little is apparently a very-well-known Australian personality. (Today is the day that I make assumptions about Australian celebrities based on small blurbs I read on the internet, so mark your calendars.) The words I have encountered about her most, so far, have been "beloved" and "zany."

I can see that:

You sort of have to hand it to a woman who's so clearly stoked by her ability to fashion a ruff out of one of those sun guards you unfold and stick across your windshield.

Logies Fug Carpet: Allison Cratchley

The Logies are, as far as I can tell, the Australian version of the Emmys, with a heavy splash of The People's Choice Awards, as it seems that many of the awards are fan-voted. (Thanks, Wikipedia!) All I know is, I would like to vote for Allison Cratchley (who, it seems, appears on All Saints -- the Aussie soap, not the girl group -- as  Dr Zoe  Gallagher) in the category of Most Egregious Misappropriation of Art:

Though if you think this is bad, you should see her Mona Lisa culottes.

Phugtom of the Opera

When I was little, I loved Sarah Brightman. Loved her. Primarily because I was a musical-theater nerd who didn't really care about the actual quality of the musical (hence: saw Cats three times), and I saw Sarah as the original Christine in Phantom of the Opera, which then-hubby Andrew Lloyd-Webber wrote just for her, and I loved it because she was so pretty with her hair and the costumes and the yearning and all that. Plus, in England they often (or at least used to) release songs from hit musicals onto the pop charts. So in addition to being on the West End, Sarah was also all over my very favorite show EVER, Top Of The Pops (rest in peace, little buddy), and I was constantly presented with opportunities to watch the video of the musical's title song, in which a masked man boats a beautifully dressed Sarah across a dry-ice river while they sing about how the Phantom of the Opera invades your mind. It was all very romantic. Never mind that the boater was a man in a mask that was a) strangely not the same mask they use in the musical, but some sort of red and gold full-face version that would be more at home in my nightmares, and b) said masked man was psychotic and wanted to lock her up in a basement. Although when you're 9, there's also something very romantic about being locked in a dungeon while you happen to look gorgeous and can make a man weep with your perfect voice, while the rest of the world ceases to turn on its axis until you are found. Hot.

Ahem. Anyway. There are still things I love about Sarah Brightman. Like, I'm pretty sure she's had some good plastic surgery over the years, and she divorced AL-W after getting what she needed out of him, which is good because otherwise she might have been associated with things like Sunset Boulevard.

But what I find most charming about her is her modesty and sense of occasion.