Phoebe Price

January 30, 2009

Phoefug Fugice

It has been a while since I've seen get-up that actually caused me to cry out in pain. Until this morning. Thanks, Phoebe!

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[Photo: Splash News]

I KNOW. She looks likes Bobby Trendy styled her for a pimp funeral. In fact, it makes ME want to die.
Every time I write about Phoebe Price, I close the browser window and say to myself, "self, that's it. No more. No more Phoebe Price. She's bad for you. And you're only giving her what she wants. What has she done for YOU lately?" But P Squared is like the ex-boyfriend who only ever calls you when he's bored and you know you ought to ignore him, but you're curious and he's sort of entertaining when he's not making you sick. And the next thing you know, despite your best intentions, you're buying that guy a beer.

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And I am certainly not strong enough to resist posting a photo in which Price is wearing....well, this terrible thing.  You'd think she'd have been able to find red panties that matched a bit more expertly, but you'd also think that she'd be barred from attending the Emmys.  Guess the beer's on me, Phoebs.
DUDES. I am so over Phoebe Price. For a while, I found her excessive fame-whoring somewhat charming. Not charming the way, like, little baby booties that look like Mary Janes are charming, or the way tiny piglets are charming. But charming in the sense that it was SO blatant that it was sort of refreshing. Because it was so obvious. But now it's just tired. To wit:

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SIGH. P-Squared has invited photogs to snap pics of her recording an audio book of Scarlett May Blossom's Diary: Ceilings I Have Seen.  A book which isn't on Amazon, and therefore is not actually a proper book requiring an audio version, but in fact a book that has probably been mocked up for the exact purpose of this photoshoot, which is solely to make it seem like PP has a JOB, which we all know she does not, which of course once again makes us all wonder how she can afford the never-ending series of bizarre animal-patterned nylon frocks and hair extensions. If it were anyone else, I would think that Scarlett May Blossom's Diary: Ceilings I Have Seen was an ironic, winking reference to the fact that the bloggers and blog-readers of the world are pretty sure PP is actually the kept woman of some very rich but extremely unimportant person, but considering the source, I suspect she just thought it sounded like a good read.

The amount of work it surely took to mock up photos like this one, however, make me feel like maybe it would be less work for her to actually get an ACTUAL JOB:

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P: NO ONE BELIEVES YOU ARE IN DEMAND BY ANYONE IN THE ENTERTAINMENT INDUSTRY. (Being in demand by those of us bloggers who occasionally need material doesn't count.) This entire charade is a ridiculous waste of time and resources. You would be better served by actually getting an actual job instead of laboring so tirelessly at PRETENDING you are employed. Then you could be ACTUALLY employed and not have to continue this ridiculous idiotic play-acting. WE'D ALL BE SO MUCH HAPPIER. To quote R Kelly's seminal "Sex In the Kitchen:" Go get a goddamn job, dog. Shit, leave me alone. Get a job.

Also, I don't care for that dress. Just so we're on topic.
Let me refrain from beating around the bush: P-Squared is starting to look like she spends her evening drinking the blood of virgins, and not in that "she must have made a deal with the devil, she looks so beautiful kind of way." More like, "if a zombie and a vampire had a baby, 45 years later, this is what she would look like:"

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Photo: Splash News]

PHOEBE. GIRL. LESS IS MORE.
Could someone explain to me how and why Phoebe Price got invited to the Teen Choice Awards? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLE? She is far from being a teen, and surely is not the choice of any teen. Was she asked to attend as a cautionary tale? Be ye not a fame whore, my children, or this shall be thy fate?

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Because that actually kind of makes sense.
I like to think of this look as Lazy Phoebe Price:

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Like, she's finagled her way into attending something, somehow, without having to threaten to sue but it's been a long week already and she's feeling bloated. Surely, this is not the time for skin-tight mermaid gowns or zebra-print catsuits. It's time for a bag. But...bags aren't very PHOEBE PRICE. A girl in a stripy maxi-bag doesn't prompt questions like, "who IS Phoebe Price and where are her pants?" HENCE: A giant, random slit up the side, the better to aggressively poke her gams through. Also, a stupid hat and a side ponytail. Close enough!
It's always funny when paparazzi photos tell a different story than the one they --- and the subject -- thought they were getting. For example, I'm sure Favorite Fug Irritant Phoebe Price thought this series of snaps would beautifully illustrate her endless supply of charisma and glamour, thus leading to a starring role in a major motion picture. And I'm sure the paps thought, "well, there's no one else around. Might as well deal with Phoebe until someone actually famous shows up." And yet, these instead weave a tale of terror for one small boy just innocently trying to get a snack:

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"Who is that lady in the stupid hat?" he thinks. "And does her dress..lace up the sides?"

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"Mommy, I'm frightened. Why is that lady wearing those shoes to the beach? Hold me."

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[Photos: INFDaily.com]

"Order your slice quickly, my son! I have laid eyes on the Price, and we must make our escape!  Were you to become infected with her rampant FameWhoritis, why....I could never forgive myself! Never! She's posing with tabloids in front of a snack stand! ORDER! ORDER AND RUN!"

June 18, 2008

Get Fug

So, I knew it was apt when we stuck Phoebe Price in Fug Madness' Charo bracket, but every so often she reminds me just HOW apt.

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I mean, seriously, she is shaking that apt for all it's worth. I don't think that's what Charo meant by "cuchi-cuchi," sweetpea.
A Play in Three Acts:

ACT ONE: THE MEETING:
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PAULA: Hello....? Do I...? Are we....?

PHOEBE: Let's take a picture, Paula! Imagine how well a photo of two such classy celebrities such as ourselves will sell! You are a famed songstress, and I a brave warrior for the civil liberties of F-list celebrities!

PAULA: Have I been drinking?

ACT TWO: THE PRESS OP

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PAULA: Psst, you guys! Who is this person? Also, does the bodice of my dress look like I stuffed it with toilet paper? I can't tell.

PHOEBE: Guest-judge spot on Idol, HERE I COME!

PAULA: I feel like my face is making that bemused look but I can't control it.

ACT THREE: THE REASON FOR THE SEASON

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PAULA: OH! You're the Miss Golden Globe of this event! I GET IT NOW.

PHOEBE: Another step toward my world domination!

Don't kid yourself. Don't kid me. I know what you've been thinking. I know what was on your mind this entire weekend. It wasn't, "am I allowed to eat potato salad for breakfast?" It wasn't, "I wonder if that cute boy will call me." It wasn't even, "Oh my god, what am I going to do without Lost for the next six years or however long I have to wait for the season after this one." It was, "I wonder what that Phoebe Price person wore to Cannes?"  The good news is, dear reader, that I have answers to all those questions, and they are: yes, he better, cry, and this:

Not bad, considering her past, right? A little Most Expensive Gift Bag at The Container Store, but in comparison to her usual get-ups, kind of nice and understated.

But she was just warming herself up.

One of my favorite things about all these photos is how totally uninterested the photographers behind her are. If you look at pictures of like, Angelina and Brad, ALL photographers within a ten mile radius are screaming hard enough to induce a stroke. These guys are thinking about lunch. Or maybe just looking away from her kissy-face because they've heard the old French proverb, "If P-Squared thee kiss, thy wallet ye will miss." (How else do you think she affords the vast amount of patterned silk required for her Cannes wardrobe? It's all artful pickpocketry of one kind or another.)

This one is just eye-crossing, but I must applaud her artful use of the bikini top at a red carpet event. Clearly, she's avoiding the bottoms due to recent bathing-suit-related traumas:

But this -- though she clearly should be commended for artful recyling of Steven Tyler's old mic stand scarves -- was just the warm-up for the P-Squared Cannes Pièce de Résistance:

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