There are so MANY mysteries in life. If there is a God, why has He taken so long to give someone the idea for Tool Academy? And how the hell did Naked Tool come up with the name "Matsuflex" for himself? WHY did making a really hilariously icky sex tape end in both Kim Kardashian AND Ray J getting their own reality shows? How did that company screw up remaking Knight Rider so badly? Why hasn't Saturday Night Live gotten the actual MacGyver to guest-star in a MacGruber spot? And what is that smell in my kitchen?
Another such eternal question, it seems, is, "Why is Amy Brenneman having so much trouble wrangling her boobs lately?"
If you missed our NY Mag slideshow last week, here is the outfit she wore to an Inauguration Day party:
And here is what she wore to the SAG Awards -- the name of which is unfortunate, given the subject of this fugging -- on Sunday night:
Another such eternal question, it seems, is, "Why is Amy Brenneman having so much trouble wrangling her boobs lately?"
If you missed our NY Mag slideshow last week, here is the outfit she wore to an Inauguration Day party:
And here is what she wore to the SAG Awards -- the name of which is unfortunate, given the subject of this fugging -- on Sunday night:
When I saw this, I thought to myself, "What a beautiful shade of... SWEET FANCY PANTS, WHAT IS HAPPENING TO HER CHEST? AGAIN?!?!?" I mean, her hair looks great. Her makeup is pretty. She's got some understated but lovely accessories. But then she's got some unruly twins who are ruining everything. If the dress were Sweet Valley High, Amy's right boob would be Elizabeth Wakefield, the sensible one who basically does what she's told -- even if she's deeply boring and wears barrettes way too often for a girl of her age -- and the left would be Jessica Wakefield, more amusing than Elizabeth but saddled with the propensity to: do the wrong thing ALL the time; refuse to clean her room; and trick Elizabeth into giving her the car so she can drive off somewhere secret to meet a totally inappropriate boy, who will then make her cry when he gets handsy. So while Jessica might be more fun to read about or watch, if she were YOURS, you would be pulling out your hair trying to get her to behave and wondering how long you can possibly ground her for refusing to obey your command. Ergo, points to Amy Brenneman for seeming a lot more composed than I would be if one of my boobs insisted on going wonkabout in the wilds of my ribcage. But next time she might want to investigate some more creative support garments (or in the case of this blue gown, a tailor who can better fit the dress to her torso). Failing that? Duct tape.
