It seems this year's winner of the Needless Multiple Costume Changes award at the People's Choice shindig was Carrie Underwood, who wore a relatively tame three different dresses -- I mean, if this were MTV, she'd have changed 20 times -- and I can't quite decide how I feel about any of them. So let's put her on trial, shall we?
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you Exhibit A:
The prosecution leaps to its feet and screams that this is a bit reminiscent of Sarah Larson's unpopular, shiny water-lilies-esque Oscar gown -- but as if this came from Monet's little-known Crabass Period where he threw a massive hissyfit over having to paint the same damn flowers all the time and rebelled by doing a portrait of the wallpaper in his mother's downstairs powder room. The defense narrows its eyes and points out that Carrie Underwood is seriously pretty and could make just about any old wallpaper look good, then casually asks if the pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive parked out front belongs to the prosecution, and sends a paralegal out to it with key.
Next up is Exhibit B:
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I present to you Exhibit A:
The prosecution leaps to its feet and screams that this is a bit reminiscent of Sarah Larson's unpopular, shiny water-lilies-esque Oscar gown -- but as if this came from Monet's little-known Crabass Period where he threw a massive hissyfit over having to paint the same damn flowers all the time and rebelled by doing a portrait of the wallpaper in his mother's downstairs powder room. The defense narrows its eyes and points out that Carrie Underwood is seriously pretty and could make just about any old wallpaper look good, then casually asks if the pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive parked out front belongs to the prosecution, and sends a paralegal out to it with key.
Next up is Exhibit B:
The lead prosecutor scratches her chin and says she's pretty sure this used to be a Laundry by Shelli Segal cocktail dress on sale at Bloomingdale's, and that Carrie just added a full-length layer to it because she was bored. The defense sighs that the color is rather striking, noting that Carrie Underwood is seriously pretty and could make any old piece of fabric look like a tall drink of limeade, and asking for a brief recess to order and eat a key lime pie. The drooling prosecution tries to whisper that maybe everyone could have a piece, and the defense leaps up and points out that clearly the prosecution doesn't even believe its own argument. This devolves into a melee in which both paralegals run outside with Louisville sluggers and the sound of smashing headlight glass finally silences the court.
And finally, Exhibit C:
[Photo: Splash News]
The prosecution is momentarily silenced by the awesomeness of Carrie's shoes, so the defense uses this time to leap up and note that Carrie Underwood is seriously pretty and could make any old bedazzled thing look amazing. The prosecution wakes up and asks what is UP with her obsession with short layers of fabric that sit over the rest of her dress, and suggest that this look is evocative of a tangerine that's been cross-bred with a Vegas waitress. The defense team's third assistant looks so galled that he jumps up with a penknife and runs outside; the prosecution, while calling its insurance company, triumphantly points out that the act of carving one's own name into the leather seats of a pretty little souped-up four-wheel drive is actually an incredibly stupid way to get arrested and convicted of vandalism, threatens to try Carrie separately for putting that idea into people's heads in the first place, and concludes that maybe next time Carrie should think before she bleats. The judge is appalled by that terrible attempt at wordplay, holding the prosecution in contempt and dismissing the jury to deliberate.
