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September 14, 2007

VMA Fug Carpet: Lil' Mama

Okay, so this is a bit belated, but after it slipped past us once we couldn't allow Lil' Mama to escape again. 


[Photo: infdaily.com]

Of course, now that I've caught her, I'm not sure what to do with her. She might respond to being confined to her playpen for the afternoon, or merely forced to sit in the corner and reflect on the dangers of walking around unsupervised with something in her mouth. What if she fell? Imagine the dental bills THEN, Lil' Mama. You'd better hope your record company has a good insurance plan for you. Also, don't run with scissors, play with matches, take candy from strangers, or read Judy Blume's Forever until you're totally sure you're going to understand what a penis is and what mysterious things it likes to do.

Although I guess, in some ways, I have to give it up to her -- obviously she feels very strongly that this is an important statement to make. But I just can't figure out what that statement IS exactly. What the hell is this even saying?


[Photo: infdaily.com]

Does she need nursing? Is it naptime? Does she want us to know she's been naughty and requires a firm spanking? Is fellating a pacifier her way of telling us, secretly, that her upcoming album totally sucks? In six months are we all expected to wear bedazzled baby toys as earrings?

I give up; I don't get it. Obviously it's just all too subtle for me.

Posted by Heather at 11:44 AM in VMAs | Permalink

September 10, 2007

VMA Fug Carpet: Kid Rock

We're still at Fashion Week, but nothing can keep us from eye-balling the VMAs.

And topping the short list of People You Want to Spy Out of the Corner of Your Eye Wearing a Belly Shirt at the VMAs is TOTALLY Kid Rock:

Right?

Posted by Jessica at 06:54 PM in VMAs | Permalink

VMA Fug Carpet: Shia Le Boeuf

Honey, we get it: You're grown up now. No need to style yourself like an extra in the Key West Reperatory Theater and Steak Den production of Guys and Dolls. You're a man; you're in Indiana Jones. We know. Now grab a Mach-3 at your local drugstore and raze the reedy pubic 'stache before the old lady at Table Four tries to pay you a shiny quarter to mow her lawn.

Posted by Heather at 01:02 PM in VMAs | Permalink

VMA Fug Carpet: Paris Hilton

Dear Diary,

What? Just because my sister Nicky had a big fashion show in New York City, and my parents were there, and her boyfriend was there, and it was really important to her, you expect me to just DROP EVERYTHING and GO? This is the VMAs, beeyotch, and I don't know if you HEARD me when I was writing sensitive things about homeless people, Diary, but I was in PRISON FOR A LONG LONG TIME. What's a cougar to do?

What, I can't be a cougar now? Who cares if I'm not old enough? Since when am I not allowed to be fashionable? Demi Moore and Kim Cattrall are, like, all up in the young ass right now and everyone LOVES IT. So I figure, if I dress like a desperate matron, I'm IN. I can look 40! For real! See? Dina Lohan WISHES she looked this old and Up For Anything! That Shia Le Boeuf seems like he's in the market for an older woman to teach him the ways of a lady. He doesn't have to know I'm not that much further along than he is.

God, you're such a spoil-sport, Diary. Did Nicky put you up to this? She's so boring. I'm totally throwing you away.

BOOO,
Paris

Posted by Heather at 10:03 AM in Paris & Nicky Hilton, VMAs | Permalink

September 05, 2006

Don't Cha Wish Your Girlfriend Was Fug Like Me?

While I'm stunned that the Pussycat Dolls managed to win an MTV VM-Eh award, I'm always happy to see this anonymous gaggle of "singers" prowling the red carpet.

Lead Cat -- we know she's the lead because she is allowed to stand slightly ahead of the rest -- actually looks okay, as does the blue sparkly one next to her, who resembles an Apollo 13 wife on her way to a launch party but is at least managing to make retro-chic work for her a bit. Well, except for the bun, which I suspect cost $13, and may actually be a pastry with cheap hair extensions wrapped around it.

Duff Cat on the left up there continues her remarkable embrace of all things Hilary Before Her Good Makeover -- down to the little extra-cinched hem on her dress, which echoes something Hil has already worn. But she should fire whomever chose a dress for her that has built-in wrinkles; ditto Bland Cat, second from the right, who looks like she shook it out from a crumpled heap in her neglected dry-cleaning pile and figured that no one would notice because one of the other cats was bound to look worse. (She was half correct.) And Posh Cat on the far right, whom I once thought bore a passing facial resemblance to everybody's favorite footballer's wife, was obviously erroneously inspired by Lindsay Lohan's Shakespearian bloomers. She barely coughed up a hairball's worth of original fug.

Aged Cat, meanwhile, looks like the cocktail waitress at the Playboy Mansion's Senior Bunny Texas Hold 'Em tournament. I mean, she's sporting a VISOR with her dress. A VISOR, PEOPLE. You know who else wears visors? Kevin Federline. And come to think of it, there's a slight facial resemblance to him in this photo. So until she earns her way back out of this reeking bog, she's known to me only as Federfeline. And being a groin-licking mewling version of Mr. Spears is a sad, sad fate indeed.

Posted by Heather at 01:56 PM in VMAs | Permalink

September 01, 2006

VMA Post Party Fug: Paige Davis

Behold Paige Davis -- or, to use her legal name, Mindy Paige Davis Page:

Leaving aside the perplexing fact that the former host of Trading Spaces is going to VMA parties -- please tell me that they're bringing her back for a special celebrity season, and, like, Ludacris and Axl Rose are going to trade spaces -- can we talk about this dress? Who puts this on and thinks, "shiny...shapeless...sold!" I don't think she's pregnant (the side view seemed very bump-free), and I subscribe to the theory that, unless there's a bun toasting in your oven, you probably should shun the poncho-dress, or, as I like to call it, the droncho. Let's trade the droncho for something more flattering,  shall we?

Posted by Jessica at 04:14 PM in VMAs | Permalink

VMA Post Party Fug: Lil' Kim

Welcome back to the world, Lil'. We're thrilled to see that doing hard time in the pokey hasn't blunted your erogenous zones' need for unimpeded ventilation. I mean, without the constant threat of being exposed to your fabric-averse ladyparts, where would the fun be?

Posted by Heather at 01:58 PM in Lil' Kim, VMAs | Permalink

VMA Fug Carpet: Jennifer Lopez

Dear Rat-Faced Pipsqueak Jesse McCartney,

You want to know if I'm pregnant, you Howard Stern-blabbing poster boy for runny-nosed puberty accidents? You want to tell everyone I quit Dallas because my Mark ate a sandwich one night and had the strength for two minutes of egg-scrambling ecstasy before he passed out in his coffin again? FINE. Take a look up my uterine pipe YOURSELF, squirrel! Mira! Here it is! Do I LOOK like I caught a raging case of incurable Violet Affleck in my woman-sauna? Could a PREGNANT LADY pull off dressing like the star of Gloria Swanson On Ice? If I was slinging around a bag of womb-fruit, tonto, do you think a hundred Hollywood writers would be sitting around my photo RIGHT NOW falling all over themselves to create a movie for me about a future in which society is populated with a robot race of synchronized swimmers who are not only the most respected citizens of the world, but who double as the intergalactic military, and whose captain -- ME, acne brute! -- saves the world with a specialized blend of sass, leg splits, and choreographed aquatic gymnastics... while also learning to have her cold metal heart feel things deeply in a deep, deep way? NO! I THINK NOT. (Matt Damon, you want the lead? Llamame! Don't tell your oaf friend!)

So, Jesse McCartney, stick your THUMB back in your BLABBY MOUTH, pathetic peach-fuzzed wussy child, and RUN AWAY, before I flap my puffed sleeves down to the Dallas set and cut off all your girlfriend's Lucy Ewing hair. Then she will have to copy my turbanesque head scarf and WHO WILL HAVE THE LAST LAUGH THEN, EH, TOOTHPICK CHILD? HAHAHAHAH!

Also, catch me on LL Cool J's new single, in stores now!

Kisses, runt,

J.Ant

Posted by Heather at 12:03 PM in Jennifer Lopez, VMAs | Permalink

VMA Fug Carpet: Vanessa Minnillo

I never would have figured that Big Brother's Chicken George and MTV's Vanessa Minnillo would have anything in common. And yet, here it is, proof of common ground between beauty queen and buffoon: Both enjoy wearing scrunched-up aluminum foil. How sweet.

Posted by Heather at 11:16 AM in VMAs | Permalink

VMAs: Paris Hilton

Paris Hilton, in her continuing attempt to become a singer, shows up at the VMAs in an homage to Bjork's infamous Trumpet of the Swan:

I especially enjoy the expression on the man sitting behind her. It's as though he started applauding for her, and then, actually catching a glimpse of her, has stopped mid-clap to think, "Sweet cracker sandwiches, what is she wearing?"

Good question, Perplexed Clapping Man. What IS she wearing? Let's take a closer look:

  1. Bangs sculpted into a careful homage to Conan O'Brien
  2. Wee little bows tried around her wrists like the world's twee-est handcuffs
  3. De riguer giant belt
  4. A skirt composed of equal parts duck feathers and the rejected scraps from Madonna's "Like A Virgin" costume. When Madonna and Bjork discover this fact, they will put on matching purple leotards and cartwheel over to Paris's house, where they will beat her severely with a sock full of quarters.
  5. Black ankle boots, of course. Because what else do you wear with your fluffy white party dress? She's so ROCK AND ROLL! But what else would you expect from a songstress whose album includes the hardcore lines, "Girls and boys are looking at me/I can't blame them cause I'm sexy," or "I'm hot to death and I'm so, so, so sex-ee." I mean, the girls has CHOPS, am I right?

Is it wrong that I sort of just indulged in a fantasy wherein she walked right off the end of the stage, cracked her head, gave herself amnesia, forgot that she was supposed to be busy destroying the very fabric of our nation, and disappeared forever? That's what we're all hoping for, really, right?

Posted by Jessica at 10:18 AM in Paris & Nicky Hilton, VMAs | Permalink

 

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