It’s not that this isn’t pretty — it is. But I just don’t have anything to say about it. There’s nothing to say. It is the kind of dress that begs, “If you’re not going to get married in me, then at least project a bunch of electronic yada-yada onto me so that her pelvis becomes a movie screen.” How fortunate, then, that she heard what it was screaming.
As opposed to the Bahamian Country Awards, the Caledonian Country Awards, the Dubai Country Awards, the English Country Awards… but the thing is, this genre hands out so many different statuettes that all those ceremonies probably all exist.
There are times when I don’t think I can write another word about Carrie Underwood. But she just keeps showing up, and it’s hard to ignore her. I’ll start with this: As much as I liked Taylor Swift’s nude dress this time, don’t you wish SHE would turn up somewhere in sassy blue, or fuchsia? Did Underwood steal the rainbow or something?
It’s that time again: Carrie Underwood hosted an awards show that — seemingly — featured more of her costume changes than actual statuettes. So bring out your yellow lined notepads and Bic pens, and arrange your faces into your best impassive stares as you file into the box and consider the evidence before making a judgment.
If there’s anything you know we like, it’s Diet Coke, Sweet Valley High, Jon Hamm/Pacey/a predictable cadre of future GFY HQ interns, and sequins. So it will come as no great shock that I was fully on board this train…
… and then, presumably as I hopped between carriages in search of the bar car, I was rudely thrown from it and left by the side of the tracks with amnesia and a concussion. Booties are all well and good, but the ankle cuffs suggest she was recently released from a mental hospital with no time to shave under her soft restraints.
This photo reminds me of that time Steve Sanders grudgingly took Donna Martin to a dance, and she wore a giant red dress with a hoop skirt and needed constant wrangling all night because she couldn’t sit or stand without help:
Mike Fisher is doing a better job than Steve did of figuring out how to stand near it. And I suppose the overskirt is all artfully crinkled and smashed, so there’s nothing he can do to it that doesn’t look like it’s already been done. There’s something very pretty about it, and also something ” very pretty Monet depiction of a head wound” about it. Check her out solo and see what you think:
Is it just me, or does Carrie Underwood not seem all that jazzed about this?
Sure, she’s smiling, but it’s the stretched, tight grin of a woman who’s been told by a kinky saboteur not to complain or else her shoe closet will be set on fire. So she’s stuck out there in a murky bridal toga looking like her skirt lining got caught in her Spanx.
Fortunately for Carrie, she did come up with one way to keep herself legitimately entertained: