Fug File: misguided facial hair

Amusingly Played, James Franco

Remember when you heard that James Franco and Anne Hathaway were going to be hosting this year’s Oscars? (I hope so: that was just last week.) When I read that, I was kind of like, “really? Franco? REALLY?” I mean, I know he’s done almost LITERALLY everything else this year, so why not, but still. And then someone on our Twitter (we are @fuggirls) noted that she was hoping he’d host it in character as Franco, the Artist Whose Canvas Is MURDER (his General Hospital character and yes that is his legal name) and I was kind of on board with that, and then I saw THIS:

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WELCOME TO THE WHATEVER ANNUAL ACADEMY AWARDS. Can’t you totally picture this dude half-stoned and leering his way through Best Short Subject and, like, playing absently with this droopy little ‘stache while Anne talks, and then accidentally referring to Martin Landau as Walter Matthau or something, while everyone in the front row titters self-consciously? And then those of us at home will start playing a drinking game where every time the director accidentally includes a shot of someone important and musty in the audience making a “WTF is going on here? Where’s Billy Crystal?!” cranky face, we drink.  And then the next day — while we’re all super hungover – all the postmortems will either read, “that was bizarre but weirdly charming,” or, “that was the worst freaking idea since the Snow White debacle,” and yet somehow Franco will just shrug it off and be like, “yeah, and wasn’t my mustache HILARIOUS? Gotta go — my canvas needs some murder paint.” Now that I’ve pictured the way the whole thing is going to play out — as a refresher, it goes:  stoned, random, wrong, awkward, drunk, entertained, hungover — I’m kind of REALLY on board. Those kids aren’t going to top Jimmy Fallon getting Tina Fey to play Jon Hamm’s leg like a guitar while Nina Dobrev leaps out of doorways like a cat, but as long as Franco The Artist Whose Canvas Is Murder doesn’t remember to shave,  at least we’ll all have something to talk about the next day.


Fugcial Hair

When I saw this picture, I immediately put it up on my screen and showed it to Jessica.

“Who would you say this is?” I asked.
She frowned. “It’s sort of… Brad Pitt-y, in a way. Casey Affleck?”
Nope: It’s Zac Efron.
I KNOW. Is his next project a record full of musky guitar ballads written in coffee houses and hookah bars?


Teen Choice Awards Fug Carpet: Channing Tatum/Fug or Fab: Jenna Dewan

JENNA DEWAN: Hey, hubby. Listen, can we talk?
CHANNING: Sure, baby doll. What’s the haps?
JENNA: Remember when we met, on Step Up? And you had kind of a buzz-cut thing going on, and no facial hair?
CHANNING: Sure thing, chickadee.
JENNA: Yeah, let’s get back there. Because on you, the open shirt and greased long hair and drippy goatee just make you look like the Chazziest Chaz that ever Chazzed.
CHAZZING: Oh, SNAP, you are sass in a bucket! Are your legs tired, from running through my mind all day?
JENNA: See? It’s seeping into your brain as we speak.
CHAZZING: Sorry, lady-girl, I just can’t help it when you’re lookin’ so fine:

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Oscars Fug Carpet: Keanu Reeves

Despite how it may seem, we are not universally anti-beard at GFY HQ. We only rail against beards that are fugly and/or hide the pretty. Like this misbegotten outcropping from Keanu Reeves:

It looks like someone burned rubber trying to drive off of his face.

Golden Globes After-Party Fug: Jason Bateman

Tell me something, Bateman:

Does the planned Arrested Development movie have a Bee Gees theme? And are you planning to shove Jon Hamm in the bar line and then challenge him to a beard-off? And is it wrong that I hope that turns into some kind of weird shirtless shaving party that is videotaped and put on YouTube and then becomes the subject of some ribald Internet fanfic that will help me procrastinate my work? I hope not.

Fug Men

It’s unusual that I employ my stellar mind-reading abilities while on the job. I don’t need to know what celebrities are thinking — though I easily can, just by tuning into their ionic brainwaves, as captured by the photo lens — and it feels like a violation. However, I will make the exception in this case, as the subject involved happens to be on the top of my list of Male Celebrities With Whom I’d Gladly Be Trapped In an Elevator for a Weekend, Mr Jon “Jon Hamm’s John Ham” Hamm. LISTEN AND LEARN:

“Sweet loving fans, rest assured that this beard — though it does nothing to impair my righteous and impenetrable intrinsic magical hotness — is for A ROLE. I soon will return to your television sets, and I WILL look like Don Draper again. Take heart, people of earth: eventually, you will be enveloped once more by the loving embrace of my beautiful face, unimpaired by this well-groomed and completely inoffensive but FRUSTRATINGLY VAST facial hair. Will my Don Draper Face(TM) make a victorious return to all of humanity by the time I (possibly) accept my Golden Globe on Sunday? I cannot make that promise to you, treasured internet friends. Yes, I realize that of the three years I’ve been nominated for said Globe, I have: won but was not allowed to be seen by the public in my be-tuxedo-ed glory thanks to the writers strike; lost but looked appropriately dreamy (you’re welcome); and, this year, may be forced to beam my steaming hotness through a mask of hair. Yes, I know that seems cruel to my public. But if you love me as you say you love me, you can love me regardless of my facial hair. And LOVE ME you shall. See you Sunday, sweet darlings. HAMM OUT.”