Results tagged “Ghost Whisperer” from GoFugYourself

Wow, it's apparently National Sleeve Day up in here. Congratulations to Camryn Manheim on coming in for a safe and successful landing:


[Photo: WENN.com]

Later, I hear there are plans to take her to the park and fly her like a kite.

KELLIE PICKLER: Why, hello, Jennifer.

J.LO.HEW: Hi.. Kellie?

KELLIE: Yes, that's my name. You might remember me from American Idol, or all those stories about how I'm besties with Taylor Swift, even though she and Miley Cyrus pretended to be BFFs at the Grammys. We all know that's a lie. I mean, I am way more interesting than Miley! I'm older! Wiser!

J.LO.HEW: Are you, though? Because I confess, I didn't recognize you, because you made the decision not to look like yourself at ALL.

KELLIE: How do you mean?

J.LO.HEW: It's all that makeup, hon. You look like you're TRYING to channel Portia de Rossi in a mediocre Gwen Stefani costume that actually came out looking way more like Mary Cherry from Popular.

KELLIE: And YOU look really short in that dress. I don't think, if I had just broken things off with my fiance and lost 25 pounds, that I would have worn something with proportions that unflattering.

J.LO.HEW: But...

KELLIE: And, HA HA, what was with that carpet cape? What, did a ghost whisper that idea to yout? Did you run around all day singing, "I'm a Berber Girl, in a Berber woooooorld..."?

J.LO.HEW: Ouch.

KELLE: See? You are not the ONLY one who can tell brutal truths, beeyotch!

J.LO.HEW: I guess we'll never be friends, then.

KELLE: Guess not.

J.LO.HEW: Okay. Smile!

Listen, J.Lo.Hew, we have to talk.

[Photo: FlynetOnline.com]

Don't look at me like that, missy, because I'm only here to help. Here's the thing: I know times are rough right now. You just broke up with Liebgott from Band of Brothers, Us Weekly did a whole cover story alleging you are a neurotic mess who refused to wear anything that wasn't a size 4 or lower even when you weren't, you lost a boatload of weight you didn't need to lose in a really short amount of time that probably left you hungry and crabby all the time, you're stuck in this horrible storyline on Ghost Whisperer where they killed your hot husband and saw his spirit jump into a way less hot dude's body and your character is trying to date him, and you're in shock that it turned out that Jay Mohr was the glue of the show and that now he's gone things are bleak with Jamie Kennedy in there as his proxy. I get that it's probably really hard for you right now. And I wish it weren't, because I like you. But wearing rugs from the clearance rack at Cost Plus/World Market is NOT the answer. And it's a very slippery slope. First you're turning your throw rug into a cape, and then all of a sudden, you're hitting the supermarket in slippers with a bathmat wrapped around your boobs, and finally someone spies you at CBS parties in a Snuggie with your hair in curlers, smoking a hand-rolled cigarette stuffed with things from your spice rack and jammed into a holder you bought on eBay for twenty bucks at 3 a.m.

Don't let the bastards WIN, J.Lo.Hew. You can beat this. If you have to put on boots specifically so you can yank yourself up by their straps, then do it. Just take off the carpet first.

Thank God that Ghost Whisperer is starting up again -- and while it's entirely possible no one has ever said that before, my addiction to the weird stuff they put Jennifer Love Hewitt in is well-documented.

For instance, I am dying -- HA, see what I did there? -- to get to the episode where she runs around town in this:


[Photo: FlynetOnline.com]

Yes, Virginia, that IS a lady-tailcoat. But maybe I'm not giving the costumers enough credit. In abstract ways, she could be considered the Grim Reaper's foot-soldier, so I suppose it makes sense that she'd be wearing his livery.

Recent events on The Ghost Whisperer can not be ignored. No, I don't mean how they Rapidly Aged Camryn Manheim's son so that he can now date girls who have vindictive ghosts attached to them, or how Melinda seems to have abandoned the hilariously over-the-top nightgowns, bed-jackets and ballgowns of yore and now argues with the vindictive ghosts attached to the girlfriends of her employees while looking generally attractive and youthful and well-dressed-ish (for god's sake, please don't anyone actually LISTEN to us when we mock your beehives and bed-jackets. Don't you know by now that when I say,  "Dude, she's WEARING a LACE NIGHTGOWN to BINGO with a BOX on her head and a CUCKOO CLOCK for a PURSE!"  it actually means, "I love you"?).  No, this time I am speaking of something that was brought to my attention by several readers and at least one close friend.

Picture it: Southern California, 2008. I am wearing a box on my head, having just come home from bingo, and am settling in for a Sunday night marathon of all the episodes of Greek that have built up on my TiVo.  Just innocently looking forward to spending some quality time with that delightful Spencer Grammar and some moonshine. Then I check our GFY email to find several missives regarding Nikki Cox's appearance on The Ghost Whisperer this week, which inspired the following from your fellow readers:  several instances of "WTF??!!!?", a few folks wailing, "WHYY?!?! Right?", a brief but apt note opining, "IT'S LIKE THEY ATE HER HEAD," several comments indicating that the individual in question could neither look directly at her NOR look away, and one person who simply said, "OMG."

And I read these emails and I thought, "Nikki Cox is really cute! What's going on? And how bad could it be?"

Then I turned on the TV to this:

I caught an eyeball or two of Aisha Tyler at Fashion Week and thought to myself (as opposed to thinking to someone else. I haven't mastered that yet), in the following order:

"a) Damn, she is tall and good-looking. I hate her.
b) Is that Aisha's boyfriend? Hot.
c)  Is that GWYNETH PALTROW OVER THERE? No, that's a dude.
d) La Tyler's been dressing so well lately.
e) I just really love bagels."

And then this had to go and happen:

Yeah. This was not her wisest decision. I'd wager this hurts her more than that time the plane landed on her head on Ghost Whisperer and killed her off.

Friday is FINALLY here. We are thrilled; it's been a long week for us - we're currently traveling for work and blogging by candlelight in the wee hours, so thanks for putting up with our often hugely slap-happy ramblings, which for us feel scrawled on the back of our hands with a sinister blood quill a la Dolores Umbridge's torture method in the fifth Harry Potter book. Anyway, the net effect is that, in addition to getting behind on other things -- like sleeping, and eating vegetables -- I am lagging on a post I'd been meaning to do all week about Ghost Whisperer.

I know, you guys are probably sort of sick of hearing us yap about cheesy television shows you likely ignore but we love for inexplicable -- well, totally explicable, but maybe only to us -- reasons. But hear me out: I was way behind on my episodes, so I didn't realize that back in November, their rogue costumer struck again.

[Photo: My TV set and a digital camera]

Ahoy, Jay Mohr! First of all, what are you even doing on Ghost Whisperer? Don't you usually play a fast-talking jackhole, as opposed to the fast-talking family-friendly academic you're playing here? Granted, your snarky comments are becoming the show's only bright spot, but it's still really jarring to see you doing gentle weekend television and spewing stuff about the occult and the spirit world and Chinese takeaway instead of cussing out some poor schmoe. Second, please do tell us how you managed to avert your eyes from Jennifer Love Hewitt's insane shirt. It looks like her elbows are wearing a wedding dress. They are the brides of Fuggenstein. And third, are Jennifer Love Hewitt's arms actually that freakishly short, or is it just an optical illusion? It reminds me of the Seinfeld Puffy Shirt. If she's going on the Today show tomorrow to hawk it for charity, I will feel bad. But not as bad as if I'd been forced to wear it. I'm beginning to understand why actresses become divas -- it's to stop stuff like this from happening to them at the hands of other people who don't understand how long a human's arms are supposed to look.

However, this was not the most grievous offense of Rogue Costumer. That was merely the icing on this chewy, billowy, trouser cake. With apologies for the quality of the photos, behold:

Hello! I'm Jennifer Love Hewitt!

I just wanted to mention that it is PURELY COINCIDENTAL that I am snapped, fully made-up, reading with great and very apparent enjoyment each and every tabloid at least once a week.  It is also just pure chance that, whenever this not-at-all-staged photo is snapped, every week, I am gleefully holding up the magazine so that its title may be read clearly by anyone who happens to run across these pictures, especially if that person works for the magazine I am holding, and/or writes a feature called something like, say, oh, just off the top of my head, "Stars: They're Just Like Us," or something like that.  This is NOT AT ALL a set-up so that I can find myself back in the press, and I am, in fact, very offended that you would even think that. I would, however, like to inform everyone -- you know, just while I'm here - that I am already in wardrobe for that remake of I Dream of Jeannie that they're talking about, so if you want, I can totally do that for you and you wouldn't even have to pay a costume person, but if that doesn't work out, I'd also like to remind everyone that my boobs are very big and you can see them every Friday on CBS this fall in The Ghost Whisperer, in which I star. Yes, I am still alive, people are still hiring me, and if you feature me in your magazine -- based on these totally candid photos! -- I will probably make it worth your while! Thank you!