Fug File: ruffles

Freaky Fug Friday: THE WINNER!

Everyone give Christa a round of applause for her winning haiku!

I just love sushi
Salmon skin roll is my fave
Dress accordingly.


Fug or Fab: AJ Michalka

I have a whole new appreciation for the Michalkas after having just mainlined five episodes of Hellcats in a row. Seriously, that show is SO ENTERTAINING — and Aly Michalka (in other words, not THIS Michalka) is totally good on it. Although maybe not as good as Ashley Tisdale. Anyway, it’s totally enjoyable, which is a feat made all the more impressive thanks to the fact that its male cast mostly consists of a bunch of people you know from other teen dramas on the CW and by “other teen dramas,” I mean One Tree Hill, and one of them played a psychotic stalker who pretended to be Peyton’s long-lost brother but who actually ended up kidnapping her and imprisoning her in her basement on prom night and on this show he’s kind of the rakish townie charmer and it actually works. So, anyway, Hellcats is fab. But what about Aly’s sister AJ? WHAT ABOUT HER I ASK YOU?

Too ruffly? Just ruffled enough? Not enough ruffles? Too tulle-y? Not tulle-y enough? Just enough tulle? (Insert “tulle time” or “tulle academy” or “tulle shed” joke here — also, the more I type “tulle,” the less meaning “tulle” has. TULLE. I feel like the word is inching ever closer to being the name of a character on something like Hellcats. Meet the squad’s newest member, TULLE MALONEY! Right? Wow, I need to move on here.)


Fug or Fab (Who Am I Kidding?): Leona Lewis

I don’t even know why I’m putting this up to a vote.

BECAUSE THIS IS RIDICULOUS. This is what would happen if Peaches N Cream Barbie got kidnapped by pirates and was forced to be their entry into the Miss Universe pageant.


National Treasure: BOOK OF FUGRETS

The setting: GFY HQ East, a hotel room far above the city, covered in shoes and empty cans of Diet Coke.

The topic:




HEATHER: I know.


HEATHER: I don’t know.

JESSICA: It’s like a ruffled….

HEATHER: …yes.

JESSICA: ….milkmaid….?



HEATHER: Indeed.


HEATHER: I wish I knew.



I really WANT to like this. I am TRYING to like this. I am ENDEAVORING to like this:

But oftentimes when I am writing these posts, I think about what I would say to a friend if she emerged from a dressing room wearing whatever I’m writing about. And I cannot foresee an instance in which one of my girlfriends came out wearing this and I did NOT make my nose-crinkly, “EW, no! I love you, but what else have you got?” face. So, Jessica: Ew, no. I….tolerate you, but what else have you got?


Emmy Awards Fug or Fab Carpet: Ellie Kemper

One reason I’m optimistic that The Office will be fine without Steve Carell is how much I like Ellie Kemper. She’s a relatively new addition and she’s utterly charming on it, so maybe they can churn out a few more fresh characters who are as fun.

And I wanted to like this, really I did. Part of me still does:
It’s fluffy and frothy, exactly as her character Erin is on The Office. But it’s also eerily similar — in my head, anyway — to something Miss Piggy once wore in The Great Muppet Caper. And while Miss Piggy is in many ways a role model to all, it’s worth noting that what’s appropriate for one animal to wear while walking in a runway show and then fantasizing that both Charles Grodin and Kermit are singing an homage to her beauty while she performs a synchronized swimming routine, isn’t going to be right for everybody.

Who Fugged It Better (Or Worse, Or Not At All) at the Emmys: Julie Bowen and Jayma Mays

Navy blue was definitely the dominant color on the carpet Sunday night, so I figured, let’s compare two versions of it that were perhaps the most closely related to each other. Do I know how to show a nation a good time, or what?!? Right.

First up: Julie Bowen.
In our live-blog for New York magazine, I decided I liked Jane Krakowski’s froofy navy gown better than this one, and I still feel that way in the harsh light of this Tuesday morning. Jane’s put the “crack” in “Krakowski,” sort of, but it also fit better and seemed to understand itself more than this one does. I want to slap this gown onto a therapist’s couch and be all, “But how do you really feel,” and then two hours later, it will have confessed to me that the dippy neckline represents a rebellion against it’s mother’s tyranny, and that it broke out in frowning hip ruffles because it’s afraid to love.
Next: Jayma Mays.

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