Courtney Peldon

I don't mean to alarm you guys, but... Courtney Peldon -- Forever Our Fug Girl -- is back, and... well, she's not dressing like a two-bit whore:

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

This ensemble clearly says, "Twenty-bit whore."

Actually, we have to applaud La Peldon for choosing something relatively tame for herself. Sure, she has some painful-looking camel toe, and we have minor issues with her shoe choice -- especially as it pertains to the handbag -- but, c'mon, this is Courtney Peldon here. We're lucky she isn't somehow dressed as a shoe.

Perhaps -- and I'm not advocating fashion terrorism here -- she got some the sense stabbed into her? I don't know.

And frankly, I sort of hope not. Because we here at GFY missed Courtney Peldon while she was recuperating from The Knifing Felt 'Round The World, If By "World" You Mean "My Living Room," and we would be lying to ourselves and everyone else if we said we wanted her to return from this incident with a sense of decorum.

Obviously the bathtub gin is getting to our heads. But we can't help it: We like our Peldon confusing, fugly, and inappropriate. We like her obscure. And most of all, if she does dress up as a shoe, we'd like her to be a leopard-print thigh-high boot, or a marabou slipper-stiletto.

We here at Go Fug Yourself would like to make it clear that we are not in any way responsible for the recent and unfortunate stabbing of Courtney Peldon. As for the rumors that the stabbing was orchestrated by a crazed Go Fug Yourself follower, we know of no such person, and we're also pretty sure that we just told her prop guy to sneak into her house and replace all her bustiers with turtlenecks. At no time, did we use the words, "knife," "stab," or "make it look like an accident, dude."

We could not condemn this sort of senseless act of violence in the name of fashion more strongly. Stabbing is rarely the answer.

We wish Ms Peldon a speedy recovery and look forward to seeing her next sartorial disaster on the red carpet. Get well, Courtney!

/>

"I pledge allegiance to the Fug of the United States of America. And to the fugpublic for which it stands -- one caftan, cut like a minidress, stuffed with boobs, with cleavage and leg-baring for all."

It's too bad she didn't have this dress at Halloween, because Courtney Peldon could have gone as a broken bottle of Pepto Bismol:

Hey, Courtney, nice move with the massive cutout in your dress -- that bra endorsement deal will come through in no time. Unless it's not deliberate, and in fact the fashion police really did show up on the red carpet and attempt a violent arrest. But, no, sadly, this getup smacks of carefully wanton exhibitionism, so we're going to have to wait another day for Officer HolyGodWeDon'tWantToSeeUpYourWomanPocket to whip out his truncheon and sic the attack dogs.

What could be better than a Peldon fug?

A Peldon-Ling extravaganza:

[Both photos courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Courtney's hole has gone from being a careful side-skimming affair to being an escape hatch for her right breast. She is probably so excited and aroused by the fugocity of Bai Ling's hot pants, yellow heels, and electric blue legwarmers that she can't keep the ladies in check. Her breasts are clearly lesbians.... Or fugbians.

This just in!

Photo Courtesy of Daily Celeb.

Ashley Peldon, sister of Courtney Peldon, has retired from her career of... um, you know, whatever it is she actually does... and has reimaged herself as a deranged Foot Locker employee, mid-rampage, or, perhaps, as sexy referee, except without the "sexy" and with more of the, "Oh my God, that's not a good look for you. Or anyone. Ever. Seriously, put on my coat."

What sort of penalties does one call as a sexy referee, I wonder? "Roughing the scrotum"? "Unnecessary use of tongue"? "Ineligible receiver"? Regardless, I call a time out.

Can we talk about Jason Davis for a sec?

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

The New York Post called him "bulky," which is, I believe, the new "husky." They don't mention that he appears to have made a coat of Fozzie Bear, which is surely against truth, justice and the American way.

Apparently, and deliciously, Jason "Brother of Oily Bohunk and Mischa Barton Lover Brandon Davis" Davis is the current paramour of Go Fug Yourself's Queen Bee: Courtney Peldon. Can you imagine the wedding those two would have? The ginormous fur puffers on the men? The sliced-to-the-crotch, slit-to-the-navel wedding gown? Bridesmaid Mischa Barton kitted out in something that resembles a shredded tarp?

Please God. Please let Jason Davis and Courtney Peldon get married. Please, please. She would be really happy with all of his money. He would be really happy with all of her...all of her. And I would die happy from all of the delectable fug.

We hate to admit it, but we're becoming sort of relieved that Courtney Peldon is continuing her streak of baffling and omnipresent celebrity without the accompanying fame and regular work, because it means we don't have to watch her practice any craft but the art of fuggery:

Enjoy the pink bra she's wearing under that translucent blue tank top; revel in the alternately tight and billowy skirt-pants -- clingy where it counts (hello, budding camel-toe!), loose everywhere else.

And it's always good to accentuate Things In Which One Might Do Yoga with bejewelled shoes.

Throw a party in honor of a book about a piece of red yarn, and all the stars come out to play. To wit: BOTH Peldon sisters came out of their fug chambers to support something they don't actually wear:

Now, from the hips up, Courtney looks normal. From the hips down, she appears to have left on half of her wet suit. Or her bike shorts. Or her wrestling tights. I don't know what is going on there, but I do know it's comforting that she can find a way to fug up a simple white tank top.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, Ashley Peldon, sister of Courtney Peldon:

You know, she might've had me if she'd thrown a white tank under that coat, which is a bit cute on its own. But instead, she thought to herself, "You know what makes ME feel like a natural woman? SEQUINED PINEAPPLES," and threw on that that shirt and some lipstick that looks like she glued the Mystical Bracelet of Power to her mouth.

She's no Courtney -- not yet -- but the foundation is certainly there for a rich lifetime of fugly choices in the highly imitable (if you are blind, or super drunk) style of her scary sister.

I leave you with this:

I figured it out, guys! Courtney Peldon is in the circus. That's who she is.

Hey, almost-unrecognizable-and-surprisingly-mannish Amy Davidson, listen up: One simple rule of fugging oneself is matching one's hat with one's eye shadow:

Guys, consider yourself warned: If you persist in voting this year, we cannot be held responsible for the fate of your genitals.

And finally, because it's always worth noting, somebody still needs attention:

Is that shirt really made to make it look like she's wearing a bra outside her clothes? Or... is she actually wearing a bra outside her clothes?

At least her mother finally put a collar on Courtney, so that if she gets lost people will know who she is so that they can return her. Of course, knowing this family, the collar probably says, "Please return to: Ashley Peldon," which would render any good samaritan stumped.

Her relevance to society -- and photography -- still eludes me, but I've at least figured out what La Fugdon should have starred in: Sleepover.

She's certainly dressed like she thinks she's at a slumber party, albeit one for women like her who are 23-going-on-35-going-on-19. I just picture her sitting in front of a giant makeup mirror dabbing perfume on her neck from a crystal bottle, purring, "Satin is in. Feathers are in. Vaginas are in. Add crimped hair, which is NEVER out of style, and this outfit is a winner."