Fug File: random-ass magazines
Uh, this is awkward. Where to begin? Well, as one of the readers who alerted us to this pointed out, Kate Hudson could NOT have been more awkwardly Photoshopped into this scenario. I’m not even sure if that’s actually HER. It might just be a Kate Hudson look-a-like, or a Kate Hudson cardboard stand-up which someone stole from the marketing department of whatever movie studio is producing the film in which she, apparently, is starring as one of the Real Housewives of Orange County. That would also explain why Hathaway is giving us that knowing, “KILL ME NOW” smirk. Also, perhaps because after suffering The Break-Up Of The Year, the last thing she wants to do is talk about weddings. If I were her, I would be asking my publicist if I could pose on the cover of, like, Can We Stop Talking About My Break-Up Monthly, or Yes, I DID Handle That Well; Let’s Talk About Global Warming Or Whatever Now Weekly or Probably Just Going To Be Single For a While, But Don’t Worry About Me, I’m Cool Review. That magazine has great book reviews, by the way. In case you were wondering.
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.
So, I was having my usual Monday night — deep-conditioning my hair, watching Gossip Girl, eating delicacies wrapped in bacon, drinking heavily, worrying about my investments, thinking about boys, and catching up on my blog reading — when I came across this particular delicacy (thanks to Girl With a Satchel). Cleo is an Australian magazine, and it looks rather entertaining, although I suspect I always think foreign magazines seem more entertaining than American ones just because I can’t find them easily here and they therefore remind me of the kind of kicky vacation I cannot afford. That being said, I am pretty sure — just from reading the cover! — that I HAVE “shoppers dysmorphia,” and also that I probably need to read about penis sprays, if only so that I can turn to my dining companions the next time I’m at brunch and go, “So I was reading this article about penis spray…” But we need to talk about J. Simp. Sweet merciful hot pants, I will give someone a dollar if they can get Jessica Simpson to appear on a magazine cover without looking like (a) someone just hit her on the head with a two-by-four or (b) as if she’s a Fem-Bot whose settings are stuck on KILL WITH EXTREME BOREDOM. Really, a whole dollar. I know it’s not much, but shouldn’t we all be taking what we can get right now?
In the interest of starting on a positive note, I must admit that if Aussie magazine Shop ‘Til You Drop were available here in the United States, I would totally be a subscriber. I am all about reading articles about fabulous bargains and what beauty editors are actually doing at home, and it goes without saying that I enjoy reading about the secrets of A List Hair (I suspect that in many cases, secret number one is: crazy expensive extensions). And if I were a subscriber, I can guarantee you that on the day I toddled downstairs to get my mail and pulled this out of the box, I would have said aloud to no one, “what is up with Rachel Bilson?” Because — while I love me some Bilson and think she almost always looks adorable — she truly could not look more perplexed here. Is the ginormo corset-belt impacting her ability to breath? Does she really hate that hat? Does she just want to get this over with and go home? Because that’s how it looks.
On the other hand, I like her skirt. So she’s got that going for her.
I guess none of ScarJo’s “Five Dads” taught her to avoid looking like a bizarrely coiffed alien on the cover of magazines? Huh. You’d think one of them would have covered that.
Okay, I have a confession. You guys already know about my secret, shameful love of The Ghost Whisperer, but that’s merely the tip of an iceberg called Embarrassing Things I Secretly Love, which also includes Flaming Hot Cheetos and the MacGruber skit on Saturday Night Live. This time, I must confess to you that I secretly love the low-rent city-centric magazines you get for free at the airport. Like this one:
(Las Vegas boasts like eleven of said magazines, all of which you can find in your hotel room and all of which also feature an interview with either Rita Rudner, Danny Gans, or Carrot Top.) Anyway, while I generally prefer snagging these sorts of rags while on vacation, I haven’t been to Vegas recently, so this little delight comes courtesy of an eagle-eyed reader who rightly noted that Gabrielle Union — on whom I have a total crush, if you must know. She’s really pretty! — appears to be checking to make sure she shaved her armpits this morning. You know, in a really photogenic way, but still. What is this saying about the fine, fine city of Las Vegas? VEGAS: DON’T FORGET YOUR PITS! Or, VEGAS: DON’T WORRY! WE HAVE LOTS OF VENUS RAZORS IN OUR FINE HOTEL GIFT STORES! Or, VEGAS: HEY, RELAX. WE DON’T CARE ABOUT YOUR BODY HAIR. BUT YOUR RIGHT BOOB LOOKS LIKE IT MIGHT BE ABOUT TO POP OUT. THAT’S OKAY, TOO! I guess, when it comes right down to it, all three of those things are true.