Results tagged “Desperate Housewives” from GoFugYourself

August 4, 2009

Dana Delanfug

Dana Delany is a foxy lady. And I really, really wish she'd use that foxy-lady-ness for good. Instead, we get this:

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It's all a bit, "It was Miss Scarlet. In the Library. After the bake sale but before the PTA cocktail hour. With the rope."

Because of COURSE you would use the rope: the knife, the revolver, the wrench, the lead pipe, and the candlestick all involve the probability of blood splashback, see? And although Dana's outfit would conceal that admirably, it's murder to get out that kind of stain without having to "disappear" your dry cleaner as well.
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ROSARIO: Pssst, Hatcher -- what's up with the belted bedsheets? We're not in your hotel room! HA HA.

TERI: Could've fooled me, Rosario -- I mean, you DID try that cocktail dress on over your nightgown and then forget to change out of it, right?

ROSARIO: YOU ARE A DELIGHT.

TERI: NO, YOU ARE.

ROSARIO: Do we even KNOW EACH OTHER?!??

TERI: DOUBT IT! HA HA HA!

ROSARIO: Yeah, laugh it up, beeyotch. I'm going to have Will Smith destroy her later.

TERI: I'm going to have Nicollette destroy her later.



November 4, 2008

Dana Defugny

Move over, Hedwig -- it's time for Dana and the Angry Twelve Inches.

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Honey. HONEY. That pattern is as busy as the fugly rug on which you're standing, and it makes you legs look so very disproportionately wee. Why is that extra foot of fabric tacked onto the bottom? Why? It looks like the makers of Space Invaders created a sequel about the Eiffel Tower.

Imagine the dress without it -- try to pretend it stops where that swatch starts. It'd be about knee-length. We'd see some leg. She'd look taller. Truthfully, there's no denying that the entire thing is very "It was a Chico's kind of day," but without the bottom piece, it would be MARGINALLY better -- say, a Chico's kind of hour, or maybe a Chico's kind of brunch.

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MARIO LOPEZ: EVA LP! WHAT UP!

EVA LONGORIA-PARKER: Hey, Mario.

MARIO: Hey, I've got an awesome idea. Let's talk about ME.

EVA: Okay. What's new?

MARIO: Nothing.

EVA: Then why did you want to talk about yourself?

MARIO: To avoid talking about what you're wearing.

EVA: What's wrong with what I'm wearing?

MARIO: You've got GREAT LEGS.

EVA: That's...wrong?

MARIO: I'm just avoiding the question. Hey, did you know that the Tampa Bay Rays have a player named EVAN Longoria? Every time he --

EVA: Yeah. I KNOW. Trust me. But, seriously, I thought this dress was kind of cute.

MARIO: Tim Gunn would say it's a whooooole lotta look.

EVA: I don't know if I trust a dude who spent like fifteen years wearing tank tops and patterned Hammer pants on morning television to give me style advice, honestly. You, I mean. I would trust Tim Gunn.

MARIO: It also makes me think you might have a bun in the oven.

EVA: Seriously? You're going there?

MARIO: I do work for Extra now. So, how about an exclusive, old friend? Got cookies in your jar? Is there a tuna fish sandwich in your lunchbox? Have you got soup simmering in your Thermos? How many olives are in your martini?

EVA: THOSE AREN'T REAL EUPHEMISMS.

MARIO: But seriously.

EVA: I don't like you anymore.

We touched on Marcia briefly in yesterday's NY Mag piece, but it bears repeating: This dress evokes nothing so much as memories of my sixth-grade Science Fair project.

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It was called "Spoil Spores," because even at that age I was a sucker for a terrible pun, and it was all about mold. I grew it in different conditions and on different substances: bread, cheese, orange juice, and pieces of wet cloth, and let me tell you, the penicillin mold that bloomed in my glasses of Tropicana were utterly magnificent. Had they not smelled musty and strange and been gaggingly furry, I probably could've swallowed all of them and become invincible. So whenever I see Marcia up here, it conjures images of going into the laundry room every morning to check the fridge and the windowsill and the shelves to see how far my mold had crept along overnight. And I'm not sure embodying the fruits of a third-place science experiment is exactly what Marcia had in mind.

However, she has inspired me to take "Spoil Spores" to the next level: a ballet. In that twee, stumpifying tutu, Marcia could play the lead -- a rogue mold that falls in love with the food she's supposed to ruin, culminating in a heartbreakingly luscious pas-de-deux that ends in death. Bring Kleenex, people. It's going to change the way you look at those pita pockets that have been sitting on the counter for two weeks.
It's always unfortunate when someone takes a color risk, and then shows up and learns that another actress took the exact same risk -- a bit like, say, if you showed up at a Halloween party dressed as the magic mailbox from The Lake House, and ten minutes later someone else with the exact same idea arrived, but they'd decided to add a plastic house and a driveway to the costume, and suddenly, you were just the sad person with a large metal compartment sticking out of your stomach. (I am sure that has happened to many of you out there.)

In the case of the Emmys, it's tough to decide which is which, but I think Mariska Hargitay here might be Mailbox: Original Flavor, because her interpretation of canary yellow lacked any bells and whistles.

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I mean, it's FINE, and everything -- it fits, her junk is covered, and her skin tone is right for the bright hue. But it's definitely toga-adjacent, and frankly, kind of a snore. Although perhaps it's hard to judge, because when you are standing in front of Kynt and Vyxsin (the neon goths from The Amazing Race) and one of them appears to be wearing shoes with springs on the soles, you are always going to look totally boring. Parentheticaly, I sort of feel like Vyksin is staring at Mariska and wondering if it's worth challenging her to a duel, with the fate of the Earth's solar system at stake. In fact, I have it on good authority that as soon as Mariska hit the red carpet, nine round things spontaneously appeared and began orbiting her at different speeds.

This all makes Teri Hatcher version 2.0 -- the more elaborate version of the same basic thought:

So, after it turned out that Eva Longoria had to cut her hair for her role on Desperate Housewives, I figured sooner or later we'd see her doing something a bit more stylish with it.



In fact, I rather like it now. And this dress isn't bad, either -- I think that's actually a necklace laying over it, which in a weird way kind of works, especially because it's way less Fun Ship Cruise than most of what Eva wears. Seriously, if she worked at Friday's, she'd totally be that girl who not only managed to fit a thousand pieces of flair onto her uniform, but has a completely different batch for every weekday.

At the ALMA Awards, though, things went downhill from here. Jessica and I were just talking about how stupid this tradition is of having your awards-show host swap clothes every two seconds. The first big one I remember is when Sarah Jessica Parker hosted the MTV Movie Awards in 2000 and they made a huge deal out of the fact she wore 15 different things, and now, it's just not a party if there aren't double-digit costume changes. And since Eva L-P not only hosted the ALMA Awards but also served as the executive producer, you'd think she'd at least procure herself a rack of AWESOME clothes to change into -- but you'd be wrong.
I may be a tad late to this party, but apparently over the weekend Eva Longoria-Parker took some hedge-clippers to her hair and tried to Katie Holmes herself with a brand-new bob. Let's see if we think it worked.

First, let's just all refresh our memory with what she looked like before.

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The guy behind her is thinking, "Such long, lustrous locks! I wonder if her L'Oreal hair-dye campaign reps would be pissed at her if she cut them off." Good question. And we are probably going to find out. Here is a photo of her hair now:

June 3, 2008

Over Her Fug Body

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TONY PARKER: Honey? Are you drunk?

EVA LONGORIA PARKER: HOW DARE YOU? Why would you even ASK ME THAT?

TONY: Well...you look kinda drunk. And it would explain the eye make-up.

EVA: WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?

TONY: I am kind of scared of you. I wonder if there is someone here who could...help me.

EVA: WHY WOULD YOU NEED HELP? GOD!

TONY: Because I am worried one of your boobs might make a run for it out of that dress. Or that you might pass out. It is kinda tight, don't you --

EVA: WHAT ARE YOU SAYING? JESUS!

TONY: ...anyone? Help? Please?

June 2, 2008

Desperate Fugs

She looks about as happy as I would, if I were forced into this:

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[Photo: Splash News]

It's like formal wear for prisoners in an old-timey movie about lady chain gangs. All she needs is a ball and chain and a sob story.

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