Fug File: misguided facial hair

Fug, je t’aime

[Photo: BauerGriffinOnline.com]

PETER SARSGAARD: Maggie. Maggie, Maggie, Maggie.

MAGGIE GYLLENHAAL: Yes, Dad? I mean, Peter?

PETER: I don’t look THAT old with this thing.

MAGGIE: Certainly not. But, just let me know if you want me to proofread your Gettysburg Address.

PETER: Oh, how interesting — I didn’t think cavepeople could read anything that wasn’t scrawled on the wall in picture form. Congratulations.

MAGGIE: Touche, Tom Hanks. Give Wilson the volleyball my best.

PETER: I will! I would tell you to give my regards to Old Mrs. Henderson’s beloved cats, but I suspect they have shuffled off this mortal coil. In related news, your hairy life preserver smells like Whiskas.

MAGGIE: God, all this passive-aggression is getting me hot.

PETER: Let’s clasp hands and think about passion.

MAGGIE: And shaving.

PETER: Sure.


Celebrity Skeeve Watch: Adrien Brody

“Dude, what? This isn’t the ‘Raid Ant-And-Roach-Killer Present: A Tribute To Vincent Gallo’ party? DAMMIT. I AM SO GULLIBLE.”


Iron Fug

Okay, I’ve been ignoring this, in the hope that I would wake up and find out it was all a dream — that the men’s gymnastics all-around wasn’t crazy sloppy, that my TiVo didn’t forget to record Big Brother, and that Robert Downey, Jr., looks the same as he ever did. But alas, it’s time to wake up and smell the mustache wax.

[Photo: Splash News]

Oh, you can try to smile, Robert, and you can try to charm your way back into my heart. And you will probably succeed, because let’s face it, you are awesome. The entire reason I took to the whole Denny Duquette character on Grey’s Anatomy, at least initially, is because Jeffrey Dean Morgan kind of resembles you, and if you two were to play brothers in something soon, the resulting fiery conflagration would be due to America’s collective loins burning with approval.

No no, Robert, do not look so pleased with yourself. Because there is the matter of that thing on your lip. It’s true that I tend to be predisposed against mustaches. I’m an anti-stacheite. There are exceptions — Tom Selleck is an icon, and although I do not find this man attractive, Victor Newman on Y&R would be NOTHING to me if other characters could not refer to him derisively as The Mustache behind his back — but for the most part I am always going to question the need for a lip sweater. And you, sir? You don’t need one.

[Photo: Splash News]

Hang on, don’t interrupt me — let me finish. I realize the mustache might be for a role, or something. But unless you are playing a porn star, starring in The Young and the German: The Victor Newman Story, or WAY ahead in planning your very detailed Magnum P.I. Halloween costume, there are very few roles that would be worth it. It’s like when Lindsay Lohan dyed all the awesome red out of her hair, never to be the same again; she did it for a very small role in Prairie Home Companion for which I think they could’ve found a work-around, but no, and now she’s blonde and a tired-looking echo of her gross mother and it makes me sad.

So please, reconsider. Because I can’t bear to see you like this any more:
Read More


The Butler’s In Fug

So Patricia Arquette is off in Paris at the couture shows, looking arguably far fiercer than ever before (possibly because she’s being dressed by people who know what they’re doing):

Meanwhile, back at the ranch, her husband Thomas Jane has apparently taken the phrase “meanwhile, back at the ranch,” FAR TOO LITERALLY:

Read More



Wait… somebody DID tell Zachary Levi that the strike ended, right?

Or he just getting an early jump on his SAG-walkout-beard? Because unless his character Chuck has quit the Buy More to live under the 101 Freeway, I’m pretty sure he’d never be on board with being just a few crazy gold medallions shy of Barry Gibb.



Picture it: it’s early. I have not yet consumed my customary metric ton of coffee. I am looking at pictures of celebrities, bleary-eyed and not really concentrating (I am thinking instead about American Idol and how boring it is this year, or something equally profound).  I see this:


I think, “WHAT is Justin Long WEARING? And that’s not DREW BARRYMORE. Did they break up while I was on vacation? WHAT IS GOING ON?”

Ten minutes (and a cup of coffee) later: “OH GOOD LORD. That was ROSS. What is WRONG with me? What is wrong with HIM? What is with that TIE?”

Half an hour later: “Seriously, Justin Long. I’m so sorry. You only look like Ross when I am severely under-caffeinated and a little blind. Although maybe this means you should think about a haircut. Schwimmer, I apologize to you, too — I guess I briefly forgot you existed. And we had some laughs together. Remember that time someone at work ate your sandwich? That was a good time! And at least I took you for someone way younger than you… right? Swap out the tie and hit the Mach-5 and everything will be fine! I promise!”