How I Met Your Fugger

It pains me to point my finger of judgment in the direction of the fine people at How I Met Your Mother, because without them, I would never have gotten to bask in the glory of Robin Sparkles, Marshall’s perfect punter’s calves, or the sheer open-palmed joy of a good slap bet.

However, I need to express my indignation at what Robin got stuck wearing last night. The following photos are brought to you by Jessica and her digital camera, which for some unknown reason (or so she claims) independently chose to christen them “Cookie Jar 001″ and “Cookie Jar 002.” I am certain this is actually because Jessica secretly is building up and photographing a priceless collection of ceramic cookie jars as an homage to the life’s passion of 30 Rock‘s great and powerful Jack Donaghy, but I prefer to think it’s because the camera is attempting to crack a joke about a lid being lifted to expose Robin’s baked goods.

In that cardigan and corset combo I am pretty sure that Robin is Mister Rogers’ ideal woman, but on our normal plane in which we don’t take trolley rides to imaginary lands, it’s completely insane. At first, I thought she was wearing a shirt that popped open by accident, but then I realized that the writers’ strike theoretically does not affect the crew’s ability to re-shoot a scene in which your lead actress accidentally steals the cookies from her own cookie jar (okay, fine, so that metaphor doesn’t make a lick of sense — blame Jessica’s camera). But then of course I noticed that it’s a shaggy, schlumpy cardigan, and the peekaboo is on purpose. Look, Inappropriate Cardigans are super comfy on a cold day when all you want to do is bundle up, drink hot chocolate, and watch Crossroads and weep for what might have been. They are not, however, ideal for actually going outside somewhere people might lay eyes on you, and are definitely not the best choice of attire for convincing your ex-boyfriend not to go on a date with his doctor (unless you are suggesting a rendezvous with your breasts as a viable alternative). Finally, they REALLY look pretty stupid with lingerie, or a shirt with an identity crisis that wants you to think it’s lingerie. A tank top would’ve fixed this little problem up right-quick.

Plus, if it’s so cold that she needed a mismatched cardigan in order to go to a friend’s place in comfort, why did she leave her cheese out in the wind in the first place? It’s just weird. I’ve never thought of wearing an elaborate bra as “layering,” but maybe in Robin’s native Canada they know different. Although if I had tried that when I lived there, I am fairly confident someone — like any one of my friends, teachers, bank tellers, or parents — would have choked on their own laughter before dragging me to the mall. If you still refuse to go to the mall, Robin, then at least let Lily shop for you.

Please note: I didn’t WANT to crop out Barney, but I was FORCED to –  as anyone who watches the show can attest, it’s impossible to focus on the negative when Neil Patrick Harris is visible anywhere in the vicinity; plus, this way, I get to imagine Robin On The Right forced to look at her own fashion mistake in perpetuity, like being caught in a loop of fug that no kid in an orange puffy vest with a MILLION time-altering DeLoreans could undo.

And, after the jump — where I put it because it doesn’t really have that much to do with anything I just said, except for the part about Robin Sparkles — you can see the video for “Let’s Go To The Mall.” Consider it today’s Fugment of Zen.

That first bit is practically a documentary, since of course every weekend I beseech Jessica and Tori — Spelling, naturally — to blow off their homework and meet me at the Beverly Center in their best leggings and hats. How did the producers do that? It’s like they KNOW ME.