Results tagged “Kentucky Derby” from GoFugYourself

May 4, 2009

Fugke Shields

Look, Brooke Shields, I really like you. And it seems like your children are adorable.

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But maybe -- MAYBE -- you shouldn't let them dress you, because that's when you end up looking like a life-size Barbie who is about to show up at Ken's wedding to another woman right in the middle of the ceremony, making everyone turn around and gasp and wonder why you're wearing white TOO, and why you look like a reverse Smurf, and whether you're going to yell that you object or just sit there crossing and uncrossing your legs while Ken stammers through his vows.

She also went a little nuts at a Derby party:

May 4, 2009

The Fug Hatters

This weekend, my visiting sister and I spent some time hanging around various places in L.A. and doing what we call Hat Watching -- which is to say, people-watching with a particular zoom on rampant asshats. You can imagine this is fairly specHATular in Los Angeles, although frankly, it's a meal pretty much anywhere in the world.

But today, thanks to the Kentucky Derby -- and its proud tradition of encouraging people to wear awesomely crazy things in the name of tradition, a la Royal Ascot and other big horse-racing events -- we get to do some Hat Watching that involves actual HATS. The wackier, the better. It's hard to judge people's headgear when they're EXPECTED to go nuts, but giggling at it is all part of the experience, which I remember from going to Royal Ascot and being too young to wear a spectacular accessory of my own but fully appreciating all the drunk people staggering around in king-sized hats full of wackitude.

So, let's get to some hats. Which anagrams to "shat," which has nothing to do with anything really, except that it would've been a perfect segue if somebody had worn millinery that looked like a creature had relieved itself messily on his/her (most likely her) hair. The first time I looked at Lynn Whitfield here, I flashed back to the last time I was in the gift-wrap aisle at Target, looking for the biggest and most obnoxious ribbon I could find to adorn the tiniest Christmas present I had to give.

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But I suppose I could also argue that a Fraggle emptied its bowels onto her coif.

As for what happened to Niecy Nash here, I do not know:

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