February 2005 Archives

Thora Birch swung by an Oscar party on her way home from work at the insurance company.

THORA! Seriously? YOUR HAIR HAS GOT TO GO. You look like you wash it with undiluted chlorine.  Hot oil treatment! A trim! AN ACTUAL HAIRDRESSER. These are all things you need to look into. Please.

[Photos courtesy of Daily Celeb]

Somebody please tell Marley Shelton that the B in "B-list" doesn't stand for, "Bird, exotic." Then maybe she'll stop dressing like one in the hope of vaulting herself up the celebrity food chain.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

STOP TANNING, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD. People aren't supposed to look like that. I don't care if it's spray-on or sun-seared -- she's going to look like a pair of old boots when she's older. God. What's wrong with being flesh-colored?

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

After her nip-slip, Bai Ling may merely have wanted to be safe in the knowledge that her girls were under control when she chose this dress. But I can't help wishing that she could find a way to cover herself without opting for a billowing, barely tailored striped sheath that looks like a Victoria's Secret shopping bag as reconceived by Lance Armstrong's rubber-bracelet people.

Is she hiding Courtney Peldon in there? There's certainly enough room.

Oh, sweet LORD, this redefines the phrase "dripping with diamonds":

That is a lot of ice Beyonce is wearing around her neck. That is Antarctica in necklace form. I'm surprised Star Jones, who wouldn't shut up about how "Mrs. Reynolds" was clad in $500,000 in jewels, didn't run up on stage and punch Beyonce in the face for outblinging her. I really hope this absurdity puts a cork in everyone's quest to look like the most expensive mannequin in the room.

Somewhere, a rapper has died of jealousy.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

It seems Alexis Bledel is only now wandering back from Mardi Gras. Her face says, "Please don't ask me what I did to get iridescent beads. You really, really don't want to know. God, I need some Advil and a nap."

I'm so confused as to why Angelica Huston has dressed herself as a satin drawstring bag:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

The bottom part? Ill-fitting, but tailored to the Oscars. But the top is pure, bullet-colored pirate-wench couture. And not in a good way. If she flapped those things, she'd fly away.

The Oscars get us in such a tizzy here at Go Fug Yourself HQ that we figured we'd get a head start on anointing the fug and the fabulous.

Check out our red-carpet slideshow, courtesy of the good folks at MSNBC, but keep visiting us here because we'll be fugging the post-parties, and other assorted sartorial shenanigans from Oscar night.

Hold onto your hats, guys (unless they are trucker hats, in which case, discard them with a quickness): Bai Ling is -- gasp -- clothed:

Look! She's relatively covered! None of her sexual organs are hanging out for the world to see!

It's a mirac...

[Photos by Daily Celeb.]

Oh.

Figures. And to think, I was all atitter. ... Er, atwitter.

Poor J. Simp.

First, Paris Hilton's T-Mobile gets hacked and the entire world reads that, among other juicy tidbits, Justin Timberlake shot Jessica down and she had to settle for nailing Adam Levine, and that she's addicted to the power.* And now, this:

Sigh. The Scarf Tied Around the Leggings is this millennium's variation on the If I Tie This Sweater Around My Hips, My Ass Will Look Smaller epidemic of 1995. You might feel like some camouflage work has been done, but it's really just drawing attention to the very area you're trying to conceal.

And then, there's the shirt. In a way, it's supportive and sweet of Jessica to be wearing Ashlee's merchandise. On the other hand, man, that's a bad concert tee. If only Tee Shirt Ashlee was wearing a shirt that had Jessica on it. And if the Jessica on this fictional tee shirt was wearing a shirt that had a picture of Ashlee on it, then....wow, now my head hurts.

Let us not even speak of the Return of the Leggings. No. Hush. I can't handle that today.

*Allegedly. Look, I'm just repeating what I heard from Paris.

Remember that dorm-room couch you had in college? The one you bought for $50 from Goodwill that had hideous upholstery with putrid green undertones, which you tried to re-cover by tucking a blanket over it, but the blanket always slipped and sagged and left part of the original fabric exposed? So you jazzed it up with strange throw pillows and hoped no one noticed how left-by-the-side-of-the-road the whole thing looked?

"Actress" Kestrin Pantera is the embodiment of that couch:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

I particularly enjoy the massive boots, which -- if you stare at them -- appear to be giant thick shoes around which she wrapped some fabric to make it look like she stole the hats from two royal guardsmen in London and is stomping around with them over her feet.

Kate Bosworth is obviously depressed over the break-up of her relationship with Orlando Bloom. (Star Magazine put it best, I think, when they explained that "ORLANDO PICKED JOHNNY OVER KATE!" Apparently, she asked him to choose between being with her and doing Pirates II, and he picked Pirates II. Ouch. But I think we all know that you should never ask a man to choose between you and an eyepatch.)

Although I don't mind her tunic in theory, I do mind it with her cut-off demin capri-legging....thingies. In fact, I mind -off demin capri-legging....thingies in general. Especially with cowboy boots.  The "I'm Only Showing Six Inches of Leg,  And It's The Six Between The Middle of My Calf And My Knee" look isn't flattering on anyone -- it chops you up, and makes you look stumpy. Now, Kate Bosworth is too skinny to look truly stumpy, but she still looks....you know, choppy.

And depressed. Poor Kate.  Listen, doll, we've all been there.  Would it help if I told you, in secret, that I rather like your bag? Okay. But don't tell anyone I said so.  Here, have a bite of my sandwich. You need to keep your strength up.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Melinda Clarke is a lovely woman, and she's great on The O.C., but... unless that stands for The Octagenarian Crowd, then I'm not sure what she's doing in this caftan-esque garment. It's like she tried to cinch it or stitch in a waist to sneak it past us, but I'm not fooled. I know something Blanche Devereaux might wear when I see it. And since she's not swanning around on the lanai with Rose, well, I can't help wishing she'd left it at home on the hook behind her bedroom door.

There's 80s Retro Chic and then there's "caught in a Whitesnake video."

Even Brandon looks perplexed.

I don't know who this Dana Chaney is -- all Google returned on her was a post on a Bob Vila site that said, "I need a manual for a Sears Kenmore sewing machine, model # whatever" -- but I do know that renaissance faires nationwide will appreciate her efforts to spice up the genre.

I just want to know how she manages to sit down in this.

You know it's bad when even Stephen Dorff looks embarassed to be seen with you.

Semi-obscure blonde actress Diane Kruger (Troy, Wicker Park, National Treasure -- all movies you've heard of but which nevertheless have not made her any less a discount Naomi Watts) has appeared on this site before wearing mismatched halves of a dress.

This time, she's wearing two halves that technically do match, but...

The skirt, while not my personal taste, could come off as delicate and elegant -- even with that twee satin bow -- if she found a way to pair it with a different shirt. Something more form-fitting. But that matching and strangely tented tank top thing up there... no. Too much handkerchief, too much billow, and too much visible camisole. That totally shoves this ensemble across the fine line between ethereal and "eek."

Behold lovely former model and Duran Duran bride Yasmin Le Bon:

Yasmin is suffering from what we call....Overkill. All the pieces of her outfit, on their own, are lovely and unusual -- well, maybe not the cumberbund. I can't really get behind the cummerbund. But the shirt? How cute it would be with some hot jeans! The skirt? Well played, Yasmin. It would look divine with a less-fussy top. The fur shrug? Well, I'm sure you could figure that out somehow. But put together, it's a bit Today Is Laundry Day, So I'm Tossing This All On And Calling It Quirky, And I'm Very Beautiful And Once Was Married To Simon Le Bon, Shall We Talk About Him Instead of My Misguided Shrug? Yes, Let's. And that's hard to pull off. No matter how lovely you are.

I saw this photo and thought, "Oh my GOD. What has Avril Lavigne done with her hair?"

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Then I realized that this is actually Katherine Moenning, an actress from The L Word and an apparent aficionado of the looks Lavigne was sporting, like, two years ago. Moenenennoening was also in the WB travesty Young Americans, as the Girl Passing Herself Off As A Boy While Suppressing Feelings Of Lust and Causing One Boy To Question His Sexuality, and this photo makes me wonder if she left that show and forgot to divorce herself from the character. The tuxedo pants, the Hanes undershirt, the pasty expanse of skin, the skeletal, wan look... she's the very image of a weedy male rock star, or maybe an underfed young actor who's abuot to get in touch with his inner Scientologist. Add a fedora, for instance, and it's an outfit Jack White might sport; throw in a trucker hat and you've got Danny Masterson.

This isn't to say that I'm not fine with women wearing pants. Indeed, I love pants, and am currently wearing some. I just don't get the appeal of dressing to be as gender neutral as possible. But then again, I also proudly eat carbs, so maybe I'm the anomaly.

I don't mean to alarm you guys, but... Courtney Peldon -- Forever Our Fug Girl -- is back, and... well, she's not dressing like a two-bit whore:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

This ensemble clearly says, "Twenty-bit whore."

Actually, we have to applaud La Peldon for choosing something relatively tame for herself. Sure, she has some painful-looking camel toe, and we have minor issues with her shoe choice -- especially as it pertains to the handbag -- but, c'mon, this is Courtney Peldon here. We're lucky she isn't somehow dressed as a shoe.

Perhaps -- and I'm not advocating fashion terrorism here -- she got some the sense stabbed into her? I don't know.

And frankly, I sort of hope not. Because we here at GFY missed Courtney Peldon while she was recuperating from The Knifing Felt 'Round The World, If By "World" You Mean "My Living Room," and we would be lying to ourselves and everyone else if we said we wanted her to return from this incident with a sense of decorum.

Obviously the bathtub gin is getting to our heads. But we can't help it: We like our Peldon confusing, fugly, and inappropriate. We like her obscure. And most of all, if she does dress up as a shoe, we'd like her to be a leopard-print thigh-high boot, or a marabou slipper-stiletto.

We have a situation, people. It's serious.

You've probably heard the good news about Affleck.  He's managed to fight off the Bloat -- thanks, we suspect, to Jennifer Garner's good influence -- and, despite occasionally appearing in public dressed like nattier version of the Unibomber, seems to be crawling back to being the smarmy-hot Bffleck we hate to love.

Exhibit A:

What you know, however, is that The Bloat is like the plague: highly contagious and almost impossible to contain. It appears that Affleck infected fellow actor Jon Favreau, probably when he appeared with Garner on Favreau's show Dinner for Five.

Please note Exhibits B and C, recent photographs of formerly Chunky But Hunky Favreau. Be aware that these are graphic images.

Exhibit B: Favreau with wife at Hide and Seek premiere. He appears, in addition to having a severe case of The Bloat, to have contracted Lumberjackitis [note the misuse of plaid.]

Exhibit C: Favreau at the Be Cool premiere.

We here at Bloat Watch are very, very concerned about Favreau. Because he hosts the aforementioned Dinner for Five, and due to The Bloat's high level of contagiousness, it is certainly possible and indeed likely that he will pass The Bloat to countless celebrities unless his case is contained.

Therefore, we have catagorized Favreau's Bloat Level as SEVERE: MY GOD, MAN GET A HOLD OF YOURSELF, both due to its severity and due to the danger it poses to the Hollywood community. [For your elucidation, a complete chart of The Bloat Terror Levels is included in the Appendix.] We are asking all of you on the task force to be on the alert. If you see Favreau, please take precautions, such as throwing wheatgrass juice on him; chasing him away (which will both get you away from his contagion, and force him to exercise); or speaking to him seriously about the dangers of the Bloat, which include: death, ending up on the cover of The Star under the headline "LOOK WHO GOT FAT?", and being shamed into a recurring role on Fat Actress.

Thanks, guys. Be safe out there.

Appendix: BLOAT WATCH TERROR LEVEL CHART

[Photos by Daily Celeb.]

Fergie looks a bit like an intoxicated Girl Scout wearing a uniform redone by Project Runway...

... and selling cookies redone by Snoop Dogg, if you know what I mean, and I think you do...

... I'm talking about pot. In the Tagalongs.

Yes, Paula, we do, as long as you keep showing up in stuff like this:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

"'ello, guv'nas! I say, anyone for a fox hunt?"

Lately, Gwen Stefani has been scaring the hell out of me with her Harajuku obsession, and her insistence on styling her hair as if a vulture attacked from above and briefly became ensnared in her coif.

But I still trusted her not to ruin some things. Specifically, pirates. Everyone loves a pirate. And yet somehow, it never occured to me that Ms. Love Angel Music Fugly might want to pay tribute to them by making an unholy marriage of The Crazy and pirate chic... but, here she is on stage at the Grammys performing alongside Eve:

Eve, I believe, symbolizes the pirate's booty, even if she appears to have dieted her booty into oblivion. But she looks fine, if a little bit overeager for somebody to use her birth canal as a periscope (I hear if you look up it, you actually end up seeing things through her eyes).

And Gwen, singing her wretchedly bastardized "If I Were A Rich Man" cover, is apparently the pillaging swashbuckler -- except she looks like she's George Washington, rolling in after a night on the moonshine and drunkenly wondering where he left his pantaloons.

If only this photo showcased the effect when Gwen turned around and shook her ass -- which was, she looked like she was wearing a cloth diaper. And not a clean one. She seems happy about joining Sheryl Crow in the new "I'm A Twiggy, Muscular Shadow Of My Former Already-Thin Self" trend, but... does she have to shimmy around on-stage like a crocodile just coughed her up whole?

Strip away everything but the corset and the skirt, and there might be an outfit lurking here somewhere:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

But as it is, Renee Olstead decided to spruce up her ensemble with one of her favorite linen napkins, and a brocade suit jacket her mother wore on her Honeymoon thirty years ago -- a blazer she of course passed through a pair of scissors before she donned it.

Fraulein Maria might have sculpted something like this from the Von Trapp guest bedroom, had she suffered a head injury first.

Nikka Costa didn't get the memo about Formal Shorts:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb]

Namely, that such a creature does not exist. Short are for gardening. For running to Home Depot. For going to the beach. For barbeques, or an outing on your boat. For jogging. For practicing your dance routine with Patrick Swayze. Not for any event at which the press may be present. Not ever.

Clearly we need to write a book entitled, How To Get Dressed Without Really Trying:

The fugculus of this dress: Black mesh + black silly string - makeup and accessories * view of her birth organs. Want to know if she's ovulating? Just look.

I know she's standing strangely, but even if she weren't, this dress wouldn't flatter Mandy Moore:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

That hits her in the wrong part of her hips, giving the whole thing a frumpy look that's only enhanced by the crazy mix of silver purse and gold-hued jewelry. She looks like a young cocktail waitress turned lounge singer at the Naples Yacht Club, who borrowed a gown and some fixins from the local costume shop before her big performance of "Almost Like Being In Love" for the 5 p.m. night-owl crowd on Buffet Thursday.

"Hey guys, if I could just present this award real fast, because I have to pee?

Also, I know you're all wondering why I'm dressed like a walking banana with a big old bite taken out of it, but I can't tell you that, because, frankly, I have no idea what I was thinking when I decided I should borrow this dress from my neighbor, who was a showgirl at the Tropicana in 1974.  I guess I thought it would be festive. But everyone's going to slam me for it, aren't they? I should have known when Lance said, 'THAT is MY favorite mistake' when I came out of the bathroom. I thought he meant me, in general, but now I know he means my outfit, specifically. So, yes, I know, I look like a cross-dressing, jaundice-afflicted Iggy Pop, but I'm here to present an award, so let's just get it over with so I can get back to the line for the ladies room. I really don't trust Kelly Osbourne to hold my spot for very much longer."

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

How to make your own Grammy dress, courtesy of Blu Cantrell:

1) Find your grandmother's old shawl -- you know, the one she used to wear when she rocked you to sleep as a baby, and which was left to you in her will.

2) Cut that shit UP. If a garment doesn't look like a feral cat mauled you on the way to the party, then it's no good.

3) Grab that tablecloth you've always loved and wrap it around your ass. Hope fervently that it doesn't quite make it all the way around -- the better to flash some thigh, my dear.

4) Keep the tablecloth there by wrapping a swath of gold lame around your waist and safety-pinning it.

5) Sneak over to Crazy Cat Lady's house and skin twelve of her pets; stitch them into a coat/shawl type thing as carelessly as possible. It'll be fine -- she's got ten other cats, and besides, wouldn't these beasts prefer photographic immortality to a life in her stuffy old apartment, watching soap operas on the magic noise-making box and eating Friskies? So what if this coat's going to get stepped on by Kanye West and then probably sexed-on by Usher and his regular posse of eighteen, before being stuffed into the back of the closet along with all your old shirts that don't expose any of your stomach. So WHAT? It will look GREAT hanging from your arm -- kind of like you're a modern-day cavewoman.

6) Voila! Pair with aggressive earrings, and you're ready to spend the entire night tugging at various parts of your ensemble to ensure they're in place. It's every girl's dream.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Is somebody out there in pre-production on a hipped-up remake of The Wizard of Oz? Because I could swear Janet Jackson is trying to redeem herself by going all-out to win the part of Glinda The Good Witch.

Which won't work at all, because I'd like nothing more than to drop a house on Janet, and unfortunately Glinda's saccharine ass doesn't meet with that fate. Unless this is a really good remake.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Aaron Carter was pissed. Because he showed up at the party looking like an auto mechanic, he spent the whole night forced into changing the tire on Kanye West's limo and getting grease on his designer work boots.

I would suggest that this would teach him to show up for an awards pre-party looking like he just rolled in from filling some potholes, but I know better than to expect a teenage boy with delusions of talent to start pulling up his damn pants and take off his trucker hat.

Oh, Kelly. I hate to say it because you look happy, but... it's not funny:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

What are you doing? That wig makes you look like an extra in Hairspray, and not in a good way.

And, I've heard of matching one's shoes to one's dress, or even one's handbag or assorted accessories. But I've never heard of matching one's dress to one's teeth. In addition to investigating some industrial-strength anti-perspirant, Ms. Osbourne might want to pick up a pack of White Strips.

Oh, girl. No.

It is only the lack of the Inappropriately Sexy Heels that convinces me that she's not mid-Walk Of Shame: Boyfriend's Hat and Sweatshirt Version.

Flashback courtesy of The Sarah Jessica Diaries: 2004:

"Yeeeeeah, I'm sorry. I'm realizing right now that the sandbox-chic shorts and the sleeves just sort of make me look delusional, like I think I'm a kid again. But... I am really whimsical! Younger than my years! And Matthew told me I looked tomboyish in this, which means I'm super hot, because for some reason, he gets really turned on when I downplay my feminine side. It's just how he is. We're simple! Playful! Why, just the other day, I came home and he and some extra from The Producers were wrestling on the floor! We love being playful!

"And besides, I was Annie when I was a kid -- this is just adult moppet-wear, kind of like the blue knickers-based outfit Aileen Quinn wore in the movie version when she accidentally kicked Albert Finney in the knee and then told him to screw off with his adoption and his Tiffany locket because she wanted her real parents. So really, if you think about it, I look awesome and awesomely youthful in these evening shorts. And when I get home and put my hair into a ponytail, I know Matthew's going to get so hot that he insists we play a rousing (arousing?) game of Robespierre/Young French Revolutionary. I've tried to tell him that most revolutionaries were guys, but... I don't know, I think he's just progressive with his fantasies, you know?"

Um, Drew? Hey! Hi! How are you? Enjoying Fashion Week? Me too. Um, can we talk? Great, great. Um, how should I put this?

Look, you are so cute. You seem really fun and nice and I think you have an adorable little body. But, and I know it's Fashion Week and people get a little avant garde, but...tights are not the same thing as pants. They're just not. And I'm pretty sure you're wearing a shirt as a...dress? Is that what you're doing? I'm kind of not sure.  It's kind of not working. I think I have some jeans in the car! Do you want to borrow them? You can totally borrow them.

Because the thing is, I know you can look totally fab! See, look yourself earlier this week:

Fierce! Fierce and hot! So maybe later, when you're getting ready to go out again, you should hold the latter look -- fierce and hot! -- in your mind, instead of the former. Which was, I really hate to remind you, but it's for your own good, I promise, sort of, um...pantless and bizarre.

Okay! Loved you in Firestarter. Really!

A while back, Jennifer Love Hewitt spent a lot of time trying to convince people she was a rock star. We weren't fooled, nor were we interested. It didn't work.

Indeed, in the days thereafter and continuing through the present, the only press thrown J.Lo.Hew's way came/comes when she says something self-deprecating about her boob size. Which she started doing a lot.

You can whiff a bit of that desperation in her Grammy ensemble from 2004:

Her chest is very half-heartedly propped up by the peekaboo top, her thigh is presented to us like a Thanksgiving Day drumstick, and the whole thing looks a little bit like it was originally designed as a hybrid bikini/lounging dress for Kelly Taylor on Beverly Hills, 90210: The Beach Seasons. Indeed, if the Peach Pit After Dark ever opened a beach outpost, this is how the cocktail waitresses would dress.

Which is a shame for Ms. Lo.Hew, because as the number of stalled careers she's had begins to mount, it's probably best not to remind the world how well she'd do at the Grammys in 2005... as an after-party drinks server.

Candace Bushnell, there is but one woman who can wear a fur turban and get away with it. That woman is Joan Collins. You, Candace Bushnell, are no Joan Collins.

PS: If it's cold enough for a fur turban and a granny sweater, it's too cold for peep-toe shoes. Conversely, if you want to bust out the spring footwear, don't make up for the loss of body heat by dressing like an extra from Julie of the Wolves. You just look confused.

PPS: We're no longer obligated to match our bag and our shoes, as you are clearly aware. You may not have heard, however, that we were never obligated to match our bag to our hat, ESPECIALLY IF THE HAT IN QUESTION IS FUR.

PPS: As a favor to you, we're not going to mention the pants. But, seriously? Brocade? Nyet.

Yo, bitches. K Fed here. Some of you call me Cletus. That's a'ight. Listen, Meal Ticket over there made me pose for the cover of fucking Details magazine, dude.  She was all like, "blah blah hot, blah blah not a skeezebucket blah blah something something something." Like I listen. Anyway, check it:

[photo via the always juicy and delicious PageSixSixSix, and the divine Stereogum]

Dude.  I know.  When B saw it, she was all, something about me looking fucking sensitive, or some shit? Something about showing Justin something about her winning something? I don't even know, dude. I just tune out, yo. Wake and bake and tune the fuck out.

The thing is, dude, those bitches at Details? No clue how to appeal to the ladies, right? When you're on the prowl, dude, the facial hair has got to go. Get it all clean-shaven. All David Fucking "You Are So Precious To Me" Silver up in here. The ladies are gaging for D. Silver, dudes. Gagging. You got to get the grease all out of your hair. You got to look all so fresh and so clean.  You got to borrow a puppy from someone but not a little rat ass puppy like this one, like a MAN puppy like a retriever or some shit so you look all wholesome and responsible and shit. Girls love that. Maybe hang out with a baby, too. I told them I should be holding a baby in this picture, but they said something about not wanting to remind people that I was a "serial impregnator" or something? I don't even know what that means, but I told them I didn't have a criminal record except for that one time they got me for possession. But this is so not the look you use when it's time to get your van rocking, if you know what I mean. I look like a serial killer, yo. I look like I'm about to snap that rat puppy's neck and, hells yeah, I hate that dog but I'm not a dog killer, dude. I just lock them in their room and pretend they're not there. One day, I'm going to do that to Britney, too. HAHAHHAHA. I'm just kidding. Not really. Nah, I'm just messing with you. No, I'm not. No, really I am.

Anyway, B has this cover all framed and hung up in her "office" (which is where we keep the weed. I'm a professional toker, dude. Heh. Wouldn't it be rad if that was really a job? I'm qualified. HAHAHAH. Heh. Heh. Where was I?) but I'm going to hide it as soon as she goes out to the pool because seriously? I know. I know. It's retardo. I know.  It's going to totally salt my game, yo. Dude, just because I'm ringed up right now doesn't mean my shot clock has expired and shit, if you know what I mean. I mean, seriously, I just hope Paris Hilton doesn't see this because as soon as I've got B knocked up, P is next. Watch out, Paris, because Cletus is checking into the Hilton. Heh heh. God, I'm funny.

Aw, Christ. B is yelling at me. We're out of Cheetos. Gotta run, dude. Seriously, though, come by sometime. We've got a ton of good shit here. I have a bitchin' Playstation and we've got Pabst on TAP, dude. It's sweet.

Outtie,

Big Ups to Fresno!

Cletus AKA K Fed

[Photo by Daily Celeb.]

I love Melissa McCarthy on Gilmore Girls, but... she's dressed like a pack of Tropical Fruit Starburst, and it's making my teeth hurt.

Oh, Half-Pint, you are going to be in so much trouble when Pa finds out that you took the puppies for a walk and one of them almost slipped out of its collar -- that is, if the Unexplained Ruffles and Pancake Boob haven't already rendered him blind with rage.

Indeed, let me guess: Mary was the one who told you everything was in its place. You've got to stop listening to her when she tells you she can make out colors.

You've heard the phrase, "mutton dressed as lamb"? Well, Maria Conchita Alonso's mutton appears to be going places dressed as Mary's Little Lamb, all pastel ruffles and hankerchief hemlines.

She looks like she got caught in a freak tornado at Forever 21.*

*Please don't misunderstand: we here at Go Fug Yourself love and completely endorse Forever 21. Where else can you get four adorable sparkly halter tops for sixteen dollars? Forever 21 rules. However, we also advise moderation in all things, and that includes resisting the urge to wear everything you got at this weekend's Forever 21athon all at once.

British Glamour published its best-dressed list recently, and sneaking in at No. 10: Kirsten Dunst.

The magazine apparently thinks she is "quirky" -- with which we agree, if by "quirky" you mean "either saggy, or geriatric/homeless."

Check out exhibits A, B, C, and D.

Sarah Jessica Parker appears to be slightly disoriented by her fug:

[Photo: Splash News]

Indeed, after falling into The Gap, it's easy to lose your equilibrium, doubly harder when you swaddle yourself in a vortex of polka dots, tiny ruffles, and pearls on your out-of-nowhere red shoes.

And... I can't tell if that's just a collar, or a collar that's attached to the dress itself. All I know is, her right breast is slooooowly trying to escape by leaking out over the side.

I certainly hope this isn't a harbinger of any Bennifer 2.0 wedding dress:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

I think I preferred her ill-fated attempt at lace; at least that looked like Jennifer saw the gown and, however ill-advisedly, got caught up in feeling like a princess without actually considering that it looked like it came from Grandma's "Good Linens" drawer. But this one... Is this a nightgown? It's just... boring. Bland, shapeless, wrinkled.

And it accentuates the fact that Jennifer Garner doesn't seem to have a waist -- which is fine; I'm not saying she isn't a lovely girl. In fact, I have an almost boundless affinity for her, stemming largely from the fact that she'd probably be a lot of fun for a day of shopping, watching girly movies, and painting toenails while gossiping about boys. But she does tend to look a bit... boxy... especially when her shoulders are toned just-so. In the past she's worn dresses that create the illusion of curves, but here she's in a thankless shift that does her no favors. It looks like she's hiding. And what might that be, Jen? Do I smell Bumpwatch 2005?

Is it Halloween? Because if not, why is there a demented zombie flapper haunting the premiere of Hitch?

Not only does Amber Valletta's makeup give her a battered look -- did someone punch her in both eyes? -- but apparently, when she got off the toilet, her skirt became caught in her panties. How tragic.

You remember when cassette tapes were all the rage, and occasionally they'd go haywire in your stereo and all the tape would twist up and unspool and pull out of the plastic casing?

Well, "Regina King" -- I put her name in quotes because she looks so hard and mannish, it's entirely possible this is a male impersonator -- has kind of turned that scene into a coif:

Her stiff, confusing, bizarrely glossy mop of "curls" -- and I'm a curlyhead myself, so no bias here --evokes the sight of twirled tape hanging out of my Top Gun soundtrack. And she's glaring at me like, "Yeah, bitch, I'm wearing your Footloose and Dirty Dancing, with the Annie Original Broadway Recording -- BOTH copies -- thrown in for body and volume. WHAT OF IT?!?"

But I'm perhaps most disturbed by the fact that she has borrowed an old shirt of Michael Jackson's.

Julie Delpy gets deep into character for her next role, as a downtrodden, cankle-ridden middle school history teacher circa 1982.

Well, at least she looks happy:

And by "happy," I mean both "insane," and "in pain."

PS: Nice gloves, Juliette.

We've raged against the Regina Boot, and we're generally opposed to the reckless deployment of Ugg Boots; now, thanks to a generous and brave reader, Go Fug Yourself is pleased to share with you a boot horror that might have been, but mercifully never came to pass.

We present to you the Teva-Ugg hybrid:

Because we so desperately needed an athletic sandal for winter, this person mixed the clunky, chock-full-o-fur style you've come to revile in the Ugg boot, coupled with the rubbery sole and ugly foot straps from the world's most overrated outdoorsy shoe. [The entire concept of the "athletic sandal" is something we here at Go Fug Yourself find awesomely fugly, but that's a fug for a different day.]

We can imagine the designer sitting back with a satisfied sigh, wiping a way a tear of pride as he/she cooed, "Finally, my Ugg boots can go camping." Yes, finally, furry boots are sporty! Finally, Paris Hilton can go canoeing without sacrificing her sense of style! Finally, Cameron Diaz can head to the beach for some surfing and feel justified doing it in winter footwear! And if a Teva miniskirt would hurry up hit the market, then finally we could all hike in star style!

Evidently a few prototypes were released into the wild, but the boot was never mass-produced or officially sold. And I think we're all alternately grateful and crushed that the Teva-Ugg -- Tugg? Uggva? -- will never know the clammy foot-sweat of a morning-after Lohan. Grateful because there are enough fugly winter boots proliferating in warm climes, and crushed because, well, guessing which starlet would be the first to buy four pairs in custom colors -- or, better, to sponsor a custom-designed version for sale on eBay to benefit Project Foot Odor or something -- would have been a hell of a betting pool.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Clint Eastwood was angry about all the rouge painted onto his historically ruddy cheeks, but try as he might, he couldn't force his forehead to reflect that agitation. Indeed, he couldn't make it do anything at all.

Botox 1, Signature Scowl 0.

The following rather spectral vision of fug allegedly comes from a Cortana runway show in Barcelona, although conspiracy theorists may speculate that it's a government photo taken at a UFO crash site somewhere in the Las Vegas desert:

It's translucent, it covers everything, it's not clingy... You know, I think we might finally have found a frock that would flatter Maggie Gyllenhaal.