Go Fug Yourself: Because Fugly Is The New Pretty

Fugsha Fugton (Seriously, Girl, You Need To Work On Some More High-Profile Projects Soon For The Sake Of Our Headlines)

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accessories to the crime

You know what, Mischa? I'm out.

I don't even know what to say any more. If this is how you want to live your life -- as some sort of footsoldier in the Headband Army that's led by General Blair Waldorf and Brigadier General Aubrey O'Day, with an assist from Colonel Mary-Kate Olsen and the toolshed that is 90210 -- then I need to accept that I'm powerless to stop you. But that doesn't mean I have to LIKE IT. So every day when you're trying to decide which woven halo of nonsense to roll onto your head, and how much stringy hair to fluff out around it ("Hmm, shall I go full Bjorn Borg today, or something more severe?"), just know that I am SERIOUSLY DISPLEASED.

Random Fug (To Us): Kate Miller-Heidke

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Right next door to my shop that helps you avoid red-carpet mishaps, I'm going to put its polar opposite: a gauntlet of sorts that spits you out the other end fugged up beyond all reason.

Step 1: Pound three generous shots of tequila -- the kind you get in bars that give 'em to you in actual cocktail tumblers.

Step 2: Sit in an office swivel chair and spin around for five minutes.

Step 3: In twenty seconds or less, grab five items from a closet full of clothes and accessories donated by, say, Kelly Osbourne, Cyndi Lauper, Katy Perry, the local arts-and-crafts store, and Sarah Ferguson.

Step 4: Run through a winding hallway while dodging a barrage of random accessories laced with superglue.

And finally, step 5:

Leave quickly before you sober up again.

Your Fugment of Zen: Days of our Fugs

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Tragically, we just found out that James E. Reilly -- the former head writer of Days of our Lives and the chief scribe on the defunct soap Passions -- passed away at the ripe young age of 60. Anyone who reads this site regularly knows of our fondness for Passions, and Reilly gets the credit. He wrote a show that had: poisoned wedding rings; a mysterious shed that inspired dialogue like, "I TOLD YOU NEVER TO ASK ME ABOUT THE SHED," and of course, "I could NEVER forget The SHED"; talking candles; the disembodied head of Adrian Zmed, wearing a tri-corner hat; a doctor who specialized in every conceivable kind of medicine, including administering lethal injections in prison; kidnappers who dressed up as clowns; a living doll (rest in peace, Timmy); a scene in which a local house was sucked into Hell; a zombie character; a She-Male serial killer who later got pregnant with its own father's child; an army of lesbian nuns; a castration and subsequent botched penis-reattachment that resulted in it being stuck on backwards; countless scenes about how any stimulation of said wonked-up wang would result in DEATH; a whole storyline about how Whitney couldn't sing jazz because her father felt you would never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy than in a JAZZ CLUB; a murder mystery in which character did things like carry around books called How To Murder Your Sister And Get Away With It, or something; a little girl who communicated via cartoon thought bubbles; a witch who Saw Things in her magic bowl; and in the end, a suddenly active volcano in the middle of New England that threatened to destroy the town (spoiler: it didn't).

Reilly also wrote a character for an orangutan. No, really:

Precious was the nursemaid to crazy old Edna, and fell in love with Luis (understandably), which required the actor and the male orangutan -- BamBam -- to shoot a series of elaborate fantasy sequences where Luis was making Precious some banana milkshakes and waltzing with her before proclaiming his love:

There was even one where Precious played Alexis Morell Carrington Colby Dexter Rowan. Apparently, the show tried to get Precious nominated for a Daytime Emmy, but they were denied because of some stupid rule that only humans can win. I mean, REALLY. Sigh. That orangutan was dynamite.

But tragically, we can't find any of those montages on YouTube. What we did find, though, is even MORE historic:

Continue reading Your Fugment of Zen: Days of our Fugs.

Austin Fuggers: International Fug of Mystery

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I don't know why Liz Hurley wants to prove SO BADLY that she's still got it.

[Photo: Splash News]

I mean, the woman is a knockout. She could've worn something that actually fit her, instead of a dress that mashes and shoves her boobs around so much that they almost look like buttocks. Absurdly pert buttocks, maybe, but buttocks nonetheless. And now the word "buttocks" is doing that thing where I've typed it enough times that it doesn't mean anything to me anymore, which is how I know it's time to turn it over to you:

poll by twiigs.com

Fug Design

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Just when I think to myself, "Self, surely Kelly Wearstler will never be able to top the get-ups she wore last week on Top Design," THIS happens:

Wait! Let's get a look at the close-up!:

Wait! Wait! Wait! Let's look at the wide shot!

YES. It's an honest-to-God turban! And masses of jewelry! And a square dress made from a pile of leaves! I kept expecting her to grab someone's palm and be like, "I see a trip over water... a mysterious, dark-haired man... a paddle ball tournament... and an incident with Baked Alaska." Sadly, that dream was not realized. Nor was my dream of seeing reaction shots of the rest of the judges from the first time they see Kelly walk out of her dressing room. India Hicks would be silently nonplussed. Jonathan Adler would do that tight, painful smile he does when he's thinking mean things about your design but doesn't want to be cruel and then say something cheerful like, "That turban reminds me of a lamp I once designed!" And Margaret Russell would just smile, nod briefly, and then silently walk away. Come on, Magical Elves. You know this is a good idea. Make my dream a reality. It would be almost as awesome as that turban.

Yet More Fug Ling

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metallics

Yes, we've already fugged Bai Ling once today, but you know what they say -- when it rains, it pours, and far be it from us not to play in the puddles:

Also, frankly, the woman deserves credit for all that she does. Only Bai Ling and her Band-Aids of Truth could find an outfit that unravels from the MIDDLE.

Save Me From My Fug

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Well, I can't see what's under the cute coat.

[Photo: WENN]

But if this is all the enthusiasm SHE can muster, something tells me I don't want to know.

PS: And that's a big no on the lipstick shade, C.Ag. You look like you've been making out with an ice sculpture.

PPS: How much foundation does it take to cover not only your face, but all that cleavage? In these trying economic times, might it be a good idea to make cuts in your decolletage budget? Just wondering.

Fug 2: High Voltage

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underboob and sideboob

Just yesterday, I was complaining that Bai Ling wasn't attending LA Fashion Week and it seems she decided to prove me wrong:

And with a wee bit of underboob cleavage as well, bless her heart. Because nothing goes with a stocking cap and a dress made of Wrinkle like a splash of underboob. You know, things just don't feel right around GFY HQ if someone isn't squealing, "Oh, BAI LING!" on occasion. In fact, we're all wearing I HEART BAI LING Band-Aids on our calves right now. I'd take a picture, but I haven't shaved my legs today. Or -- who am I kidding -- showered. You don't need that.

Fug My Sons

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Apparently, there were a bunch of Scientology protesters outside the theater on the official opening night of All My Sons -- including a few with signs that read "SAVE KATIE + SURI" and "KATIE WHAT HAS SCIENTOLOGY COST YOU?" and all that. I love imagining that one of these people had the romantic notion that Katie would see that message and be like, "Sweet Xenu, IT HAS COST ME EVERYTHING," and run off to catch the first flight to Belize.

Now, I do realize that Katie probably didn't anticipate protesters. But I ask you: Is this outfit really what you'd wear to prove your sanity and stability to a bunch of concerned citizens with too much time and too many art supplies on their hands?

[Photo: WENN]

Because to ME, this outfit says she's losing her marbles. That she has not eaten anything with a calorie content since about May. And that she's blinded by an insomniac insanity that's led to her spending every waking hour -- many of them in the middle of the night, in the attic, alone, while Tom is encased in his hyperbaric napping chamber or whatever -- rubbing any lamps, canisters, martini shakers, propane tanks, or other lidded vessels she can find in the hope that a genie or other mythical wish-granting creature will pop out and release her from the bonds of Holy Crazymony. And I am just not sure there's enough ink in a Sharpie to rescue her from that.

Fug the Cover: Sarah Jessica Parker

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I was made aware of this particular cover thanks to our friends at Girl With a Satchel, and....oh, SJP. It almost seems as though her eyes are looking in two different directions. Neither of which are at us.She just looks so tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiired. And I get it. Hasn't she been promoting Sex and the City in one way or another for the last fifteen years? And now they're all blah blah blah sequel blah blah blah prequel blah blah blah books blah blah blah LET IT GO. SAY GOOD-BYE. NOW MIGHT NOT BE THE TIME TO MAKE A MOVIE ABOUT $1200 SHOES, YOU KNOW, CULTURALLY SPEAKING. Let your super-spendy time-capsule franchise take a wee vacation. Like the one SJP looks like she needs here. Girl can't even rouse herself to do anything about those roots. On the other hand, at least her top provides ample room for snack-related bloatery. I can't complain about that.

LA Fugshion Week: Lady Victoria Fugvey

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LA Fashion Week is kind of sad, as we've mentioned before. It has a lot of issues that need to be resolved, and one of them is the fact that hardly any good celebrities come out to play. And they LIVE HERE. I mean, they're RIGHT DOWN THE STREET getting waxed or something half the time. Like, BAI LING doesn't even come. Instead we get like quasi-quasi-celebrities like Lady Victoria Hervey:

I just have to wonder, is she dressed like Tinkerbell for a REASON, or was that just a happy accident?

Fugbrey O'Fug

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Let's look at the plus side here: SHE LEFT THE DOG OUT OF IT THIS TIME.

WOO! I'm so relieved about that, I almost don't have the energy to care about the rest of what she's wearing. But then I spy the headband, and the cheap-looking top with what appears to be her nipple poking through, and I realize there is still work to do. Clearly, someone needs to throw a How I Met Your Mother-style intervention -- complete with banner, naturally -- to explain to Aubrey why she needs to incinerate her entire wardrobe and then scatter the ashes over the nearest Wet Seal store. Maybe if they invite Barney Stinson, he can use one of his patented fireball tricks to torch the whole thing "accidentally."

Back To Fugsics

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When it came to Christina Aguilera, I used to think to myself, "Honey, a little hoochie goes a long way." And now I'm saying the same about Pucci.

Not that she wants to hear it, as evidenced by her spectacular "TALK TO THE HAND, bitches" face. But you know what, Christina? I WILL talk to your hand. I will look it in the palm and say, "Look, Hand, you did good work buckling those hot shoes. For real. But the pattern over her boobs kind of reminds me of that scene in Star Wars where they identify the Death Star's key weakness and how to exploit it. And the shirt, the bangs, and the makeup are so aggressive that she doesn't even look like herself any more. Know whose fault that is? YOURS, and your little friend on the other side who helps put all this stuff on her in the first place. So DIAL DOWN THE BETRAYAL, Hando Calrissian, because everyone knows that pawns of the Dark Side usually end up dead anyway."

She really is almost unrecognizable. Let's go in for a close-up:

Continue reading Back To Fugsics.

NYFug.com: We Were So Right About The Project Runw... Zzzzz...

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Project Runway

The Project Runway finale has been kind of a letdown before, but this is the first season we can remember where we felt actual relief that the whole thing was finally over and we could commence getting excited to become slaves to Top Chef.

Jessica: It was really sloppy. And, seriously, so boring. Good for Leanne. I want one of her petal skirts. Otherwise, I don't care at all.
Heather: I wonder when or how that happened. Any show goes through rough spots, but people started defecting from Project Runway since last season. I have bread that's taken longer to go stale.
Jessica: I am kind of at the point where I don't care SO MUCH that I don't even care why I don't care.

Drop by the rest of our column for our thoughts on how Heidi could take a page from Tyra, and other musings on last night's episode.

Zig-A-Fug-Ah

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"People of Earth, I -- an envoy from the Spice Belt of a galaxy far, far away -- walk among you to deliver a very important message."

"Can I borrow a cup of sugar? Because my boss, Her Highness the Intergalactic Warrior Queen -- you may know her as Grace Jones -- said she was going to fire the next handmaiden who failed to deliver her morning waffles on time. And GUESS who forgot to go to Trader Bjork's yesterday for supples? You'd really be doing me a solid, here, Earthlings. In return I promise not to abduct any of your planet's tiny entertainers in my hood. Although I confess I'm REALLY tempted by that Tom Cruise person. He'd make a wonderful addition to the Imperial Senate's Supermassive Sasshole Subcommittee... Wait, what's that? I can just take him? Huh. Actually, to be totally honest, I'd kind of prefer the sugar. Thanks."

Fugsha Fugton (Seriously, Girl, You Need To Work On Some More High-Profile Projects Soon For The Sake Of Our Headlines)

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Random Fug (To Us): Kate Miller-Heidke

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Your Fugment of Zen: Days of our Fugs

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Austin Fuggers: International Fug of Mystery

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Fug Design

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Yet More Fug Ling

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Save Me From My Fug

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Fug 2: High Voltage

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Fug My Sons

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Fug the Cover: Sarah Jessica Parker

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LA Fugshion Week: Lady Victoria Fugvey

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Fugbrey O'Fug

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Back To Fugsics

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NYFug.com: We Were So Right About The Project Runw... Zzzzz...

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Zig-A-Fug-Ah

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