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October 22, 2004

VMAs Latin America: Back to the Fug

Not to put too fine a point on it: what the hell is going on here?

Did she hitch a ride with Marty McFly on some less-publicized jaunt in the De Lorean, this one from 1985 to 2004? [I'm sure she was disappointed by our lack of flying cars.] In fact, I suspect that's McFly's demin jacket tied around her waist.

Coming directly from the past to the VMAs: Latin America Remix is the only thing that would explain:

a) The legwarmers. Seriously, are you an extra in Center Stage II: Left of Center? Then can the leg warmers, because they didn't look good on you in 1985, they didn't look good on you during their mercifully brief revival sixteen months ago and they don't look good on you now.

b) The polka dot Minnie Mouse skirt.

c) the dirty Chuck Taylors. Which, you know, I like Converse too, but there's a time and a place and the time and the place is usually Saturday, 11:15am, Starbucks and not AN AWARDS SHOW.

d) Did I mention the jeans jacket, in a wash and a cut not seen since back before we knew George Michael was gay?

The only thing missing is a puffy red vest.

Poor Natalia Lafourcade. Apparently, fug is her density. I mean, destiny.

Posted by Jessica at 10:21 AM in VMAs | Permalink | Comments (0)

August 30, 2004

VMAs: Fugly From the Block

Dear America,

I am Jennifer Lopez and I am so very happy! Look at me kicking up my heels in pure glee! Glee! I'm gleeful! And why? Have you seen my husband? [I haven't seen him tonight myself because we're sort of pretending we're not married, but come on, girl, you saw those paparazzi photos I released to the Star.] My whole life I've been dreaming about this man, you know? Our relationship is so, so real.

Oh, there he is! Lookit him! Look!

I have dreamed -- yes, mi amores, dreamed -- about someone like Marc. He's so... weensy and bird-like and man-tanned and Living Dead-y. What girl doesn't long for a man who looks embalmed? He's my own adorable little leathery Manoerexic, Tanorexic Marc! I tried to put him in this handbag I have here, but his left arm wouldn't fit, no matter how I tried. My handgun takes up a lot of space in there.

Okay, enough about Marc. Let's talk more about me, America. Are you not totally wild about my hat? I am. I wear it a lot. You've probably seen it before. It's part of my Zorro costume, the one that my stylist won't let me wear out of the house. She'll see the light soon enough -- and by "soon enough," I mean, "When the brakes on her Land Rover stop working." Hahahaha! I'm sorry, I don't mean that. Forget I said it. Forget it.

And check out the shoes! I carved them myself out of the ivory tusk of an elephant I had killed for me, and then I popped them into the toaster oven until they turned that nice nutty brown color. They're part of my new J Lo shoe line! And how do you like the ruffles on my dress-thing? They clash, don't you think? They're so kicky! Like my new movie, Shall We Dance, which will be in theatres in November. Go see it. Seriously, America. See it.

Speaking of the dress thingie, isn't taupe a deliciously festive color? Someone told me I looked like a walking See's Candies Butterscotch sucker, but I fired him. Do candies wear sparkling sequined belt? Do candies wrap themselves in spandex-satin that totally squashes their boobs down? No, sir, they do not!

How about my ugly jewels? None of them match! In fact, my entire outfit is all about not-matching. Because, and I don't know if you've heard this, but I'm totally real. Seriously, don't be fooled by the rocks that I got... because they're ugly! Hahahahahah! Did I mention how fucking happy I am? I'm so very really really happy. I am not upset about that whole no-wedding thing with WhatsHisName -- Bob Fleefleck? Bill Kerfluck? Brett Whoffleck? -- at all. Not at all. I am totally over it. Totally, totally over it. So over it. Write that down, America! J Lo: HAPPIER THAN FUCKING EVER.




Posted by Jessica at 04:35 PM in Jennifer Lopez, VMAs | Permalink | Comments (7)

VMAs: Are You Gonna Fug My Way?

This is a nice chest. Even though I hate Lenny Kravitz, I can appreciate a six-pack when I see one.

But... he is wearing wings. He is wearing a gigantic man-sized tassel, some jeans, and wings. And sunglasses that make him look faintly alien, in combination with the wings that he is wearing. Because he is, indeed, wearing wings. Scaly-looking fug wings.

Unless you are an angel, a bird, or a maxi-pad, you should not have wings.

Posted by Heather at 02:08 PM in VMAs | Permalink | Comments (8)

VMA Fug Carpet: Beyonce

It takes a very specific person to pull off hot pants. Beyonce is not that person.

Skin is not nature's trousers, lady. Cover up with something more than Jergens. [Or is it her stylist-mother Tina Knowles who has lost her mind?] I love Beyonce for not being a twig, and for having booty and thighs, but this outfit makes no sense. There are ways to sex up one's curves, and there are ways to make oneself look elephantine. Gold lame hot pants, on Beyonce, produce the latter effect. And the one-two punch of the big hair and huge collar is preparing to swallow her whole.

I don't quite understand the blonding up of Hollywood. Jennifer Lopez has gotten steadily more honey-hued, Carmen Electra showed up last night with blond locks, and Beyonce has gotten lighter and lighter, culminating in this totally overdone shade that just makes her look like some sort of tragic wig accident.

So listen up, Beyonc -- can I call you Beyonc? -- because I want to help you, and you obviously aren't getting any advice at home: Tresses dyed to match your outfit only worked when Gwen Stefani did it, and, let's face it, she didn't completely pull it off either. So you need to throw out the Feria and go get your hair tinted appropriately, and then start wearing clothes that don't look like a Victoria's Secret boudoir ensemble.

Posted by Heather at 01:45 PM in Beyonce, VMAs | Permalink | Comments (4)

VMA Fug Carpet: Jimmy Fallon

One can always count on Jimmy Fallon to bring a sense of ignorance to various proceedings. In this case, he appears not to know that he is at a fairly formal occasion:

Although he at least confortingly confirms that he knows where he is geographically -- unless that shirt was an accident -- it seems Jimmy Fallon, despite having been to numerous awards shows in the past, is laboring under the belief that he's never been to an awards show in the past. He looks bemused by all the glad rags. He's all, "Phew -- I was worried someone else would be wearing the same Gap khakis and t-shirt as I am. Thank GOD everyone else shopped somewhere much nicer than the gift shop at the Miami airport."

Jimmy, have you ever met a suit? Unless you are a rapper and/or have a posse of intimidating physical and membership size, then you're not supposed to put on any old crazy shit and call it an outfit -- hell, ninety percent of the aforementioned rappers/posse-bringers outdressed you, and that includes the many who wore oversized shirts.

Posted by Heather at 12:32 PM in VMAs | Permalink | Comments (0)

VMAs: Beating Fugorexia

If you've just come out of rehab for an "eating disorder" and you are making your first public appearance, perhaps it's not wise to a) look as if you are being held up by the comparative heft of your twin, and b) wear a shapeless sack made out of the tablecloth you stole from rehab so that you'd Always Remember. [Nice of Ashley to generously show solidarity by wearing a shapeless shift of her own.]

The rumor is that Mary-Kate came out of rehab ten pounds heavier. This dress choice makes it look like she lost weight. I really hope she just has no sense of style, and not that she's dressing this way because she's hiding her newfound obesity. Poor kid. CINCH IT, Olsen twin -- you have nothing to hide. Also, keep eating meatball subs. You won't be sorry.

Posted by Heather at 12:19 PM in Mary-Kate and Ashley Olsen, VMAs | Permalink | Comments (1)

VMAs: Fugs So Good

This picture raises so many questions for me:

A) Did Amy Lee not get the memo about how Uggs are over? And about how they make girls with calves look like they've got mega-cankles and stumpy legs? And about how, at any rate, they're not appropriate for any event fancier than "Hon, I'm running down to the Piggly Wiggly for some cigs. Do you need anything?"

B) Didn't Elaine Irwin tell John [Cougar] Mellencamp that he probably ought to change out of his Dad Jeans and into a suit? Because John [Cougar] Mellencamp looks like he was just lolling in the hammock in his back yard in Indiana reading a book about poker and drinking a beer while his kids ran through the sprinklers. Which is a nice and completely defensible look -- when you're in the hammock in your back yard in Indiana reading a book and drinking a beer.

C) In his defense, John [Cougar] Mellencamp looks totally confused about what he's doing, who he's standing next to, and why he even agreed to get out of his hammock in the first place. Damn it, he forgot to turn the sprinklers off.

D) John? Everyone misses the "Cougar."

Posted by Jessica at 12:01 PM in VMAs | Permalink | Comments (0)

VMAs: Put Your Fug Down, Flip It, and Reverse It

Why is Missy Elliot dressed like some sort of colorful Indiana Jones?

She must be seeking the Ark of the Fugenant. Shouldn't be too much of a search -- all she needs is a mirror.

Posted by Heather at 11:41 AM in VMAs | Permalink | Comments (0)

VMAs: One step forward, two fugs back

Despite the fact that her apparent Marilyn Monroe fetish is becoming a little bit unsettling, Christina Aguilera for once managed to pull herself together for the Fug Carpet:

Not too shabby, eh? The shoes are pretty cute. The dress is lacking in atrocity. The hair... well, this is a girl who went with a Dee Snyder look for a while, so I'll happily take the overly precious ringlets.

But then, Christina saw fit to change her ensemble for the actual telecast, and in doing so put the Fug back in Fuguilera. Here she is on-stage:

I know they went for an era-specific costume, but... From the neck up, she's at a funeral. Her torso and upper abdomen are onstage in Las Vegas. And either Montecore mauled her there and ate off her skirt, or her thighs are at Crunch Gym in LA.

Are those fluorescent bike shorts, or are they hot-orange knee-length hose? What is going on here? Even Nelly is staring at her like, "Bitch, your lipstick doesn't match your panty-shorts."

She ditched those for the after-party, for better or for worse:

What is up with people thinking that putting forty too many necklaces around one's neck is a fantastic, chic, MTV look? And what is she doing wearing crimson shoes with a green-and-black piece of lingerie?

Those necklaces are poised to throttle her. And so, despite her best efforts, Christina can't claw herself out of the Fug Pit for good. She's like Ziggy: Will she ever win?

Posted by Heather at 11:18 AM in VMAs | Permalink | Comments (6)

VMAs: The Little FugMaid

I don't even know who this person is:

The caption tells me that her name is Syleena Johnson and Google tells me that she's a singer of some sort. Her website tells me that she's got a pretty decent voice. No one, however, will tell me why, in the name of God, she's wearing something that most closely resembles something Tonya Harding might choose to wear if she decided to launch a triumphant return to figure skating as the star of Mermaid Whores on Ice.

I'd also like to point out that this is the second mermaid whore of the evening. Is this a trend? In Brentwood, is Tori Spelling frantically trying to reach 90210's second season costume mistress to see if she's still got Tori's mermaid costume from That Episode Where Kelly Dressed Like a Slutty Witch and Got Punished For It When That Guy Tried to Rape Her, Thank God Steve Thwarted Him? Because I don't know if I can handle that.

Posted by Jessica at 11:05 AM in VMAs | Permalink | Comments (0)


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