The Moore-Kutcher-Willis Clan

RUMER: I can't believe I didn't get to be Miss Golden Globe.

EMILY: But you look the prettiest I've ever seen you!

RUMER: Whatever.

EMILY: No, really.  I also look pretty, but why shouldn't I, really?

RUMER: I'm just so annoyed. This dress is really cute on me. But I don't even get to be on TV. It's so unfair. But I'm going to slouch over and be all Miss Poor Posture and defeat the entire effect. I'm THAT ANNOYED. I've turned to SELF-DESTRUCTIVE POSTURE. THAT'S WHAT I'VE BECOME.

EMILY: Oh, honey. Have some wine with me, and my charming up-do.

RUMER: I DON'T WANT ANY. I WANT TO BE CRANKY.

EMILY: Just smile for this nice photographer who found us here in this corner. CHEESE!

RUMER: Fine. Freaking cheese.

So, I think I've figured out what bothers me about Rumer Willis. She rather gives off the  impression that she feels that she deserves massive amounts of attention simply...because. Presumably because her parents are famous. And that's....all she does. Is be photographed places. Often wearing something that seems to have been given a lot of thought along the lines of, "Does this seem EFFORTLESS ENOUGH? I don't think it does. GOD. I have to look MORE RELAXED. MORE RELAXED!!!!!" Kinda like this:

I don't hate the top. But I sure hate it with just her bra underneath, and tucked into pleated, cuffed shorts. It is simultaneously trying too hard and not giving nearly enough of a damn, which is actually rather illustrative of her public attitude. While Rumer may be a lovely, intelligent, delicious young lady, I just wonder whatever happened to children of celebrities using nepotism to actually GET JOBS rather than just get their pictures taken? I mean, Tori Spelling could have spent her entire life getting spray tans in the bowling alley of the Spelling mansion, but she took one for the team so that we could all experience "Donna Martin Graduates!" But these celebrity children today, I just don't know. Damn kids. Get a job! Get off my lawn! And wear some proper pants!

Apparently Rumer Willis has been taking her new hairdo all over town.

[Photo: Splash News]

Unfortunately for her, a) life is not one long Whitesnake video, b) we already have a Brigitte Nielsen, and c) even Sienna Miller stopped going out like this two years ago. That's three strikes, sweetpea. Time to invest in a wig and a new wardrobe.

There is a lot wrong with this picture. But I think you'll understand if I skip over the dirty ballet flats and stained sweater in favor of saying, "OH MY GOD, RUMER, WHAT IN THE NAME OF BILLY IDOL DID YOU DO TO YOUR HAIR?"

[Photo: infdaily.com]

This reminds me of a crappy yellow wig -- basically just a slab of cheap fuzz -- that a friend of mine wore when he went as Calvin of Calvin and Hobbes for Halloween. Except he got to take his off at the end of the day, and also a few times in the middle of it, because he couldn't stand it. Much as I am having trouble looking at Rumer. It's like she got a Tyra Banks Special. You know, from Miss T's constant obsession with using makeover day to bleach into oblivion some poor America's Next Top Model wannabe's hair -- and in at least two cases, pausing first to chop off all their hair in a "style" that makes it look like the model had stuck 70 pieces of bubble gum all over her head and needed a dramatic rescue.

Is this a cry for attention? Is this what happens when her alleged BFF Hayden Pannnettttieitiererere gets too busy with work (and threatening to kill photographers and looking as carefully cosy as possible with her older co-star so that she'll have something she can coyly deny)? Did Rumer bet Ashton a bleach job that Lindsay Lohan would be out of rehab by Labor Day? Is she angling to star as Susan Powter in an off-Broadway musical called Start The Insanity? Or did she erroneously think, just because Demi was blondish in St. Elmo's Fire and The Butcher's Wife, that she could pull this off and become a sex symbol? Because, seriously, the way this turned out, she should've looked to G.I. Jane first.

I don't know if Demi Moore ever wakes up and feels weird because she's older than Ashton (she shouldn't. I love that someone's flipped the traditional 60 year old dude/30 year old hottie pairing on its ass. Not that you look 60, Demi. Your dermatologist is a miracle worker. Which sort of makes it sound like I'm implying that you actually ARE 60. Which I know you are not. But if you were, you....you know what? You know what I mean. Good on you for snagging a hot younger man, is what I am trying to say here.  Let's all move along).

But wearing a gown that appears to be designed as some kind of trompe l'oeil of the old college girl trick of tying a sweatshirt around your ass so as to make it look smaller is not going to make her feel much better.

DANE: Hi, guys! Hi! It's me! Hi!

KEVIN: Sigh. Looks like you owe me $10, Demi.

DEMI: Wait, I thought you owed ME -- wasn't I betting you that he'd show up looking kind of greasy and smarmy, like normal?

KEVIN: I thought that's what I bet you.

DANE: But it's not normal me! Today I'm classy! See? I have artificial hair grease and a striped suit and I had my manager sew a stick in the back of it so I'd have good posture.

DEMI: Huh. Somehow it's still smarmy and oily. You still look a bit like you need a good smack upside the head, preferably with a copy of the Employee of the Month DVD. Except that no one would be caught dead holding one.

KEVIN: Oh, man, I had to watch that on an airplane and I wanted to strangle you.

DANE: Dude, what? I'm ALL CHARISMA. I'm a RAKE! I'm a charming rapscallion!

KEVIN: You're no Ashton. That guy's a star. Did you see The Guardian? Oscar-quality, man. He was robbed.

DEMI: You don't need to kiss his ass, Kevin.

KEVIN: Well, he's going to be mad at me when I can no longer stop myself from staring at your thigh, which I am pretty sure I can see almost all of, because your skirt's kinda sheer. So I have to ingratiate myself.

DEMI: Yeah. I do look kind of hot, I have to say.

DANE: Wait, pay attention to me! I got all dressed up and adult for this! I'm a SERIOUS ACTOR now. In a SUIT. Does this mean nothing to you?

KEVIN: Chill out, kid. Talk to me when you're my age and you can pull off a suit jacket, jeans, boots, a major man-tan, bleached hair, and a soul patch.

DEMI: Let's not get too confident, Kevin. You're not pulling off the soul patch.

DANE: It looks like a rash, mofo! It reminds me of when I worked at BURGER KING, the BK Lounge, bitches, and I...

KEVIN: Oh, cram it, kid, your douchebag is showing. No one cares any more.

SHARON: You know something, Dennis?

DEMI: It's not Dennis, it's...

SHARON: MIMI. Right, that's what I said. You know what, Mimi? Working with you and Ernesto was just such a REAL experience...

DEMI: It's not Mimi, and it's not Ernesto, it's...

SHARON: EMILY. I knew it. So, Mimi, this guy, Emily, the one right here... THIS is the guy, you know?

EMILIO: Give it up, Demi. She smells like a frat party. I think she was wearing that tie on her head not too long ago.

DEMI: I just wish she'd brushed her hair. And her teeth.

SHARON: I just couldn't be more proud to be in Bruno, you know? It's about time somebody understood him -- such a wonderful actor, such a tragic early death. People with whatever he had? They are the true heroes.

EMILIO: The movie's called Bobby.

SHARON: That's what I said! Bobby! So tragic, the way he died, and then poof, he was in the shower because it was all a dream that Pam had! Society needs this movie right now. We need to understand so that we can heal.

DEMI: That was a TV show... Were you even invited here?

SHARON: I think that Linus Lohan boy was so good in the part, too. He is dreamy, and I think he has a line on some Percocet. I'm single now -- what do you think? Wouldn't we be just deliciously randy together?

EMILIO: Linus wasn't... I mean, Lindsay... I mean, it's not Dallas. I think you did too many kegstands.

SHARON: That should be your next movie, Emily. Miller. The story of a man who created something legendary, who dared to dream of fermented hops and barley. Something we all just want to dive into and stay there, bathing and swimming in a wet coccoon of wheat, you know? It's important. I'll play the keg. You could put Mimi and her son in it. What's his name? Ashton?

DEMI: Well, yes, actually, but he's not my ... you know what? Forget it. That's close enough. Now I need a beer.

I cut Ashton Kutcher a lot of slack for several reasons:

1. He hot
2. He kindly sort of removed himself from the public eye after marrying Demi Moore.
3. I really enjoyed when Justin Timberlake hosted SNL, and they did a parody of Punk'd and he just leapt around screaming "I'M ASHTON KUTCHER. I'M AWESOME!" and if Ashton Kutcher had never existed, I never would have been able to enjoy that.
4. Some episodes of Punk'd are really kind of funny
5. What else is really funny is Dude, Where's My Car? No, it really actually is.  The "Dude, what's written on my back?"/"SWEET. What's written on my back?"/ "DUDE. WHAT'S WRITTEN ON MY BACK?"/ "SWEEEEEEEEET. WHAT IS WRITTEN ON MY BAAAAAAACK?" scene is so genius. I am not joking.

But oy:

Just don't.

The tragedy, of course, is that he was wearing this on MTV earlier, sans sports coat, and he looked totally cute:

Sweet pea, all you had to do was TRADE the sports coat for the cardi, not ADD it on. SO CLOSE.

As we continue to worry about Ashton Kutcher's descent into skankdom, it's worth noting that there is a very, very thin line between Current Kutch...

... and Cleaned-Up (by his standards) K-Fed:

Be careful, A-Kutch. Where this man has taken himself, even cockroaches fear to tread. Don't make Demi go there. Something tells me she has a low tolerance for Cheeto dust and body odor.

Ashton Kutcher, fearful that his boyish good looks might attract the wrong kind of attention in a Hollywood climate that's become increasingly dangerous for young, nubile brunettes, goes Unibomber and takes to the highway:

"He'll never find me dressed like this! The too short overalls are bound to throw him off track! And my scraggly facial hair artfully disguises my Katie Holmesian good looks, don't you think? Yes. Yes, I'm safe here. Safe. Safe at last. See my Kabbalah string, Tom? I'LL NEVER CONVERT TO SCIENTOLOGY! NOT EVEN FOR YOU! God, I need a drink."