Beyonce

April 24, 2009

FugSESSED

Okay, I have a LOT to say about this:

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First of all, how WRETCHED does Obsessed look? Wretched HILARIOUS. I don't know if you read the Vogue cover story on Ms Beyonce here (she looks great on the cover, actually -- well done, Conde Nasties) but whoever wrote it did not care for the movie. The whole article was peppered with comments along the lines of, "Beyonce will have a successful film career....as long as every print of Obsessed is confiscated and burned," and "Beyonce's screen presence is a potent one...although not in Obsessed, which makes Plan 9 From Outer Space look like Citizen Kane," and "Beyonce has the talent to be a wonderful actress....although not in movies like Obsessed, which she must have been convinced to do whilst under a the spell of a powerful and evil wizard." Like, they HATED IT. Which I think means it's probably awesome. I mean, have you seen the trailer? It's terrible. People are thrown off balconies and Jerry O'Connell is there. I can't wait. BUT ANYWAY: I assume the level of horribleness of this ensemble was carefully calibrated in order to match the horribleness of the movie because otherwise I just do not get it. LESS IS MORE SOMETIMES, BEYONCE. A strapless dress that is also a sequined miniskirt that also has a ruffled train is JUST TOO MUCH. Pick ruffles or minis or strapless or sequins and go with it.

On the other hand, from the neck up, you look great. So at least there's that.
February 26, 2009

Oscar Fug Carpet: Beyonce

From The Desk of Etta James:

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"Sunday, Feb. 22, 2009. Afternoon. Watched Oscar red-carpet. Read in Us Weekly that Jessica Biel's stylist wanted her to start the day with a hike and a sauna; noted that lack of mention of scheduled shower time might explain her coif problems. Suspect stylist should not have said that out loud to a reporter. Saw that cow Beyonce doing her thing, waving her stupid hand, holding her stupid robot pose where her other arm doesn't touch the rest of her body. Took vitamins with shot of tequila. Nice to see that, at last, Beyonce's dress sense has not come along. HA HA. I slay me. Looks like she took a black gown and did a brass rubbing over it. Paid pizza delivery boy. Still can't fathom why that Beyonce diva is toting a tuffet around behind her. Who does she think she is, Little Miss Muffet? I wish she would Little Miss MUFFLE-It! DAMN, Etta, you are on fire tonight. If that woman sings so much as ONE LINE of my song at the Oscars, vow to throw knives at my damn wall. HATE."

"Sunday, Feb. 22, 2009. Late evening. Woke up from rage-induced coma. Now spackling holes in the wall. Plan to send disrespectful strumpet a care package of curds and whey with a tarantula in it. Must remember to water plants. Also, add arsenic to curds. Just to keep it interesting."
December 10, 2008

Fug The Covers: Elle

We'd gotten plenty of e-mails about Beyonce's dual Elle covers, but nothing prepared me for seeing it fly through my mail slot and land in my foyer. I might have yelped.

First, though, let's look at the newsstand cover -- the one, presumably, that Elle thinks WON'T send people running screaming to Marie Claire:

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[Photo: Splash News]

This picture is fine, I guess. I'm not sure about the painful-looking art-deco napkin rings she's wearing on her left arm, and her random sash kind of jumps out at me as something you would wear if you were feeling really bloated that day and wanted some camouflage, rather than something that actually looks good out in the world as part of that outfit. Oh, and her smile reminds me of nothing so much as the triangular grins they draw onto South Park characters, which in turn reminds me that I haven't watched Woodland Critter Christmas yet this season.

Overall, it's resoundingly average. But what tickles me is that the way that, in these troubled times when all I want is positive reinforcement, Elle is reaching out and saying, "Listen. You ARE kind of a disaster. And let's face it, you probably won't get that much better. But we promise we will expend minimal effort to make you marginally less tragic." They're looking into whether there's a fat gene that may or may not make your waistline inevitable (subtext: dieting might NEVER WORK so just QUIT until you're sure), there's hairstyles they SPECIFICALLY say are for hopeless people, and the entire issue is themed as "MAKE BETTER." Not "makeover," or "make fabulous," or even "how to feel fabulous even though we're all freaking poor and waiting for the sky to fall." I would like a little optimism with my recession. Instead, it's tips for people who don't feel like putting in that much work, and are willing to reap the minute rewards of the lackluster seeds they're sowing. In short, this cover needs Prozac and maybe some caffeine.

Still, any objections I had to Beyonce's styling were quickly put to rest when the postman shoved Sasha Fierce's subscriber cover through my door. With apologies for the crappy color quality -- my scanner must have some kind of hangover -- feast on this:
December 3, 2008

Fugba and Knowlfugs

They say three is a trend, so we're two-thirds of the way there with a really weird little accessory that's popped up in the past few weeks. First let's study its most recent incarnation, on the midsection of the misguidedly banged Jessica Alba:

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Ignoring for a moment the giant bow on her shoulder, the shoes that kind of look like they were fashioned out of a booth at Johnny Rockets, and the fact that the overall cut is reminiscent of a badly home-sewn oven mitt, I can't quite figure out the point of all that hoo-ha at her waist. It looks like a junk drawer in an antiques store, where they toss all the stuff they can't be bothered to fix. It doesn't help that her facial expression is about as thrilled as if she actually DID accidentally glue her great aunt's jewelry box to her midriff and now has to figure out a way to sneak the dress back to the designer without having to pay to fix it. Indeed, were I a designer, I'm not sure I'd be that stoked to have her wearing my clothes, if the only facial expression she can muster says, "The only thing I cherish MORE than a root canal without anesthetic is this f'ing dress." Fix the bitchface, is what I'm saying.

Anyway, back to the belt. Beyonce Knowles did something similar earlier in the week:
November 25, 2008

I Am Sasha Fug

INTERIOR - BEYONCE'S CRANIUM - NIGHT

While on-stage at the American Music Awards, BEYONCE suddenly re-emerges in the middle of a performance by her alter-ego, SASHA FIERCE.

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BEYONCE: Oh, no. NO. NOT AGAIN.

SASHA: Yes, yes, YES!

BEYONCE: Sasha, I swear to God, if you keep putting me in granny panties every time you take control...

SASHA: You'll what, B? Anything you do to me, you do to yourself.

BEYONCE: Well, what if I just pull on this here hairpiece REALLY HARD?

SASHA: Amateur.

BEYONCE: Oh I'm only just getting started, sweetpea. I refuse to look like a department-store lingerie ad. Seriously, were these on sale at Macy's? In the section that sells control-top underwear for women over 65?

SASHA: Oh, pipe down, Prudey Huxtable. Honey, why did the Lord give us inner thighs if he didn't intend for us to show them off?

BEYONCE: That doesn't even make sense. I mean it, Sasha -- keep this up and I'm going to wear pants every time I go outside.

SASHA: Then I'll wear nothing but hot pants and bras.

BEYONCE: Did I say "pants"? I meant "turtleneck jumpsuits with huge sweaters and boots and thigh-warmers."

SASHA (gasp): You wouldn't DARE.

BEYONCE: WATCH ME.

SASHA: But you said I could have half the songs on the album and do it MY WAY! JUDAS.

BEYONCE: Yes, but it's my body, Crazy Lady. So, please, keep singing. I'll just be here hanging onto this ponytail, in case you forget yourself.

SASHA: THIS ISN'T OVER, BEYONCE. I'm only just getting STARTED.

BEYONCE: We'll see about that.

SASHA: YES WE WILL.
You know what? Never mind. There is nothing wrong with this.

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I mean, just because Planet Spaceball is critically short on air, it doesn't mean it can't have lounge singers.

November 6, 2008

Sasha Fug

So, Beyonce looks good, right? Or do I have to call her Sasha Fierce now? Parenthetically, I feel like I also need a professional alter-ego. I plan to force Heather to call me Jennifer Fug on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and alternate Sundays.  But, anyway, way to go, Bey -- hey, wait a second:

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What is that on her hand?

October 15, 2008

If I Were A Fug

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[Photo: INFDaily.com]

"Maybe I'll backcomb Solange's hair and then dip it in glue. Oh, wait, but it might be so much more touching if I wrap all her feathered outfits around a cardboard cutout of her and then light it on fire. Tough call. All I know is, it will be so SATISFYING to get revenge on that little cow. I mean, stepping on my career is one thing, but stealing my clothes? Forcing me to wear one of her little... THINGS... that look like what Donna Martin would wear to a funeral? I DON'T THINK SO. I am BEYONCE f'ing KNOWLES, people. I do not wear hand-me-downs from my sister, or a geek-loving bottle-blonde who barely graduated because she can't hold her champagne, or ANYONE ELSE. So all that's making me happy is imagining Solange's face when she realizes this this will be the last time she crosses me. Oh, yes, it's going to be dreamy. Should I spike her bagel with full-fat cream cheese, or just taze her? Or.... ahhh, so many options..."
I'm starting to think the Knowles family needs to retreat to Sedona for some meditation, family therapy, and an afternoon of communicating only in "I" statements. For example, Solange could say, "I am desperately attempting to self-actualize by wearing things that make it impossible for you to overlook me in a crowd."

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[Photo: Splash News]

A lot of people ask us why celebrities stand like this on the red carpet, because it does look a little bit like she chugged a Double Gulp in the limo and desperately needs to find a portable toilet. From what we've heard, they're told this body position streamlines the figure because it takes the attention off the leg on which you're putting all your weight. It's supposed to be slimming for your body even if it implies your bladder is fat. But the problem is, NOTHING streamlines your body when you're wearing a giant funeral wreath that's raining hoo-ha. We've said it before, and we'll say it again, Solange: You will not rain on Beyonce's fame parade by disguising youself as an actual storm cloud.

For her part, Beyonce's important therapeutic admission would be something like, "I can't stop agreeing to share the spotlight with living-legend singers and then trying to one-up them by proving I'm totally the better, newer, awesomer version that has rendered them obsolete." First she tried that with Tina Turner, and now Etta James is her unwitting victim:

BEYONCE: Hi, Mommy! Thanks! Thanks for the dress!

SOLANGE: Yeah. That's good. Rub it in.

BEYONCE: Whatever do you mean?

SOLANGE: Oh, nothing. Just that, once again, Mom lets you wear some giant ball gown, and I get to wear a glorified freaking shirt with shoes that look like a five-year old made them. Awesome.

BEYONCE: You're so cranky.

SOLANGE: Wouldn't you be? It's like a funeral tent. Although I don't even like your dress that much. It looks a bit like wet sand at the beach got all over it. HA!

BEYONCE: That's real nice, there, Solange. Real mature. I think I look pretty.

SOLANGE: And your highlights look like refried Tina Turner from this angle.

BEYONCE: It was an homage! For our performance!

SOLANGE: Uh-huh. Right. Mom lets you do all that to yourself, and doesn't let me wear pants.

BEYONCE: Silly child. You have to EARN pants.

SOLANGE: Oh, is that so? Like you did on stage tonight?

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