Fug File: Look Into Pants

Random Fug

This photo is from an event held in support of David Carradine Memorial Fund.

I didn’t know this was something that actually needed to be spelled out for people, but here goes: even when the deceased in question died under suspiciously saucy circumstances, you are NOT ALLOWED to attend anything that involves the phrase “memorial fund” dressed like a streetwalker. And that’s not hyperbole. I have actually seen prostitutes hanging out in front of the Donut Hole on the corner of Highland and Melrose WEARING THIS. DIAL IT DOWN, HONEY. For your own good. 


Fugger Face


[Photo: WENN.com]

You’ll never guess! You’ll never, never guess. You’ll simply never, never, never never never never hazard a guess. IT’S SUCH A CONUNDRUM!

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BET Awards Fug Carpet: Melody Thornton

Dear Melody “Pussycat Doll” Thornton:




You have scarred me into only speaking in monosyllabic words and common acronyms. This…is not…. It needs…. There ought to be…. MORE. MORE OF SOMETHING. MORE OF EVERYTHING.


Tales of a Teen Age Fug Queen

So, this weekend was Lindsay Lohan’s 23rd birthday.

[Photo: WENN.com]

Happy birthday, Lindsay! I bought you a present! Guess what I got you!?

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Fugly Port

[Photos: Splash News]

I know what you’re wondering, looking at this. You’re thinking, “I wonder who’s texting her.” Well, thanks to the miracle of modern technology, I can tell you. The computer wizards here at GFY HQ intercepted a series of texts between Whitney and her mother, which I exclusively present to you here:

MAMA PORT: Whitney. Go home and put on some pants. My god.

WHITNEY: What R U talking about? I’m WEARING pants.

MAMA PORT: Those aren’t pants. So ashamed right now.

WHITNEY: I bought them @ Bergdorfs. Says “TAP PANTS” right on the box.




WHITNEY: How can U even C me?

MAMA PORT: Please use complete words when you text me.

WHITNEY: Fine. How can YOU even SEE me?

MAMA PORT: It’s called THE INTERNET. Have you SEEN your rear view?

WHITNEY: I don’t have eyes in the back of my head, Mom.

MAMA PORT: Find a mirror. I’ll wait.
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Fug Magnolias

OH. DARYL HANNAH. Honey. Honey, no. No, no no no. Noooooo. That skirt. That is….really short. Like, Lisa Rinna-style short and even she wore tights with it.

Just…I don’t even know what to tell you, lady. This shit ain’t right. We both know that. Don’t tell me you don’t know that. EVERYONE knows that when your skirt reveals the soft, tender flesh of your inner thighs as they delicately kiss one another, IT’S TOO DAMN SHORT.

The good news is, this event appears to be at Stella McCartney’s store. She TOTALLY sells pants. Or skirts. Or longer dresses. So help is close at hand.


Riley Fugough

Riley Keough is Lisa-Marie Presley’s daughter, and hence, the grandchild of Elvis. As I was born the exact day and year of Elvis’s death, and therefore clearly am the reincarnation of The King (I love peanut butter, I want you to love me tender, and as you might imagine I own several hundred white leather jumpsuits that are studded… come on, WE ARE ONE), you’ll have to forgive me if I’m impelled to display a little grandparental concern here.

[Photo: PacificCoastNewsOnline.com]

You’re… OKAY, right, Riley? Because surely you understand why I might be worried that you’re wearing a Mr. Rogers cardigan underneath a jacket, without any demonstrable presence of pants, and that your two-tone thigh-highs seem to come with knee pads. And that I have reason to suspect you did your makeup with a Sharpie. If Elvis were here — and HE IS, through me — he might be concerned you’d be arrested for, ahem, “street-walking,” at which point everybody in the whole cell block would quit dancing to the jailhouse rock and start wolf-whistling at your pantsless body. And that’s not what a grandfather likes to imagine, okay, sweetpea? Take it from me. Here’s a Werther’s Orignal. Now go home and find some trousers.