Golden Globes

"Great SCOTT," Jessalyn Gilsig is thinking. "What is this thing doing to my boobs? And why is there a shower curtain attached at my mid-thigh?"

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Stellar questions, all. I'm sure she'll address them once she comes out of the shock-induced catatonia. 
Christina Hendricks has the kind of fabulous bod that most designers wouldn't know how to handle. Any time Project Runway throws the contestants a challenge to make clothes for mothers, or divorcees, or generally people who aren't 5'10"and 100 lbs, they all start wailing and moaning that it's not what their designs are about and it's so haaaard, and blah blah blah. I always want Tim Gunn to come in and yell at them that if they can't handle actual people's bodies, then they have no business making clothes at all, because guess what? Sometimes people who eat carbs also want to shop and wear things on their bodies.

So bless Christian Siriano for not shying away from the resplendent curves and cleavage of Man Men's Joan:

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This fits Christina like a dream -- something other gowns often fail to achieve even on bodies closer to the sample-size shape -- and she looks so happy and comfortable in it. Admittedly this seems a tad inspired by Peaches 'n' Cream Barbie, but I find it more interesting. Trust me. I owned that doll -- she was my only Barbie, since I kind of hated Barbies/dolls in general and was more of a My Little Pony girl; they had all of the soapy shenanigans with the added wrinkle of being able to yank out their tails and trade -- and I can say with certainty that P 'n' C Barbie was a boring girl. All she did was stand around and sing to herself while the ponies made fun of her for looking so freaking perky all the time. So maybe this is Peaches 'n' Cream Barbie's saucier, more personable cousin, whose favorite belt is made of whiskey and who likes to dance on the piano and play Olde Tymey poker with those cards that only have the symbols on them. I'd hang out with that girl. Especially if she had Christian Siriano on speed dial.

Contrast the spirit here with what her co-star January Jones wore:

As the only actress of any particular skill in Twilight and its progeny flick(s) -- seriously, they ought to be kicking themselves for not giving her Ashley Greene's much larger part -- I'm very happy that Anna Kendrick is enjoying recognition for her actual gifts, and not just for being able to stare moodily at a really cold dude with stale bedhead. And BIG ups to her for handling with delicacy that heinous moment on E! when Giuliana thought it'd be adorable to use her to get to George Clooney, spent a full 30 seconds screaming George's name only to be ignored, then yelled at George's ladyfriend, "Elisabetta, I'm ITALIAN," all while Anna stood there and smiled and acted like this wasn't a) rude, b) embarrassing for Giuliana, and c) tragic. 

What a ride. It also must be heady to go from zero to Marchesa in almost no time at all.

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This particular Marchesa, though, might be eating her alive. It's a pretty concept for a dress, but I don't care for the two-toned fabric happening around her midriff -- it makes the whole thing seem like it's sagging on her a little -- and... bah. I don't know. I prefer having a quantifiable instinct, but alas, sometimes my reactions don't come with nifty explanations. Some days, I just want to write, "Meh," and then hit "Publish." I can't put my finger on why I don't adore this, but I don't. Marchesa is usually so reliable in terms of interestingly built and achingly pretty gowns; every time I gaze at this, though, I feel like I'm looking at someone's very delicate holiday tree skirt.

As I said to Heather last night, "at least Sandy looks GREAT from the neck up." And she does!

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The rest of this is...well, the color is nice. And the bodice is flattering. And...OH SANDY. As John Travolta might sing, "Why-yi-yi-yiiiii?" I suppose one could argue that the sheer-ness of this skirt is, um, mysteriously hinting at the goodies underneath it? Or that it's, er...festive, as it has a distinct Eau de Gift Bag? Or....maybe it's pleasantly reminiscent of a grape Popsicle (her leg being, of course, the wooden stick)? Oh, man. Sandra, I'm trying here. But then you had to go and do THIS:

Greetings, all, and if you just enjoyed a day off in honor of Martin Luther King, Jr., then welcome back to your computers. We were busy little bloggers yesterday, chronicling the assorted glories and messes from the Golden Globes, and we'd hate for you to miss any of it. So in addition to what we've already done this morning, here are some handy links to yesterday's fugs:

We hope you enjoy them! And worry not -- we'll be covering them throughout the week. Turns out lots of people in town go to the Globes. AND there was another awards show and the Art of Elysium gala and some TCA shindigs over the weekend. Somebody fire the schedulers.
The Globes parties seem more casual than the awards ceremony itself, but I still feel like this is kind of underdone.

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The dress needs an accessory; the shoes could use an ankle strap that has not gone rogue. And Kate's hair could stand to be arranged in a style that doesn't involve a wan, careless side-braid with some stringy pieces that never even made it around her head. For getting married on the beach, or shooting Blue Crush 2: More Blue, More Crush, I'd say this will suffice. But for a formal event, or you know, an event where half the guest list will be trotting in wearing ball gowns and clutching shiny gold paperweights, I demand better hair (and perhaps a necklace). In other words, save the rope for gym class, Kate. 
As with so many celebs, I'm kind of coming around on ol' Drunkface here. Don't get me wrong, I still find it really odd that her small fame has engendered interest in her random sisters (please don't aspire to be the Kardashians -- AIM HIGHER, AMERICA), and I still think she sometimes needs to remind herself that one can breathe and talk at the same time. But I love that she's one of the few famous people with curly hair who hasn't decided to dip her head in chemicals to get rid of the curls forever and ever (Keri Russell, Nicole Kidman), and she's kind of funny on 90210 now, and a lot less hammered-looking.

Okay, she is a bit here, but I think it's because the photographer may have caught her mid-sentence.

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Check out that clutch. It's amazing. It almost looks like a golden book, as if she is the keeper of a mysterious tome the contents of which can save the world from an alien race/teach us how to defeat zombies/help Nicolas Cage decode the a secret message written in Crisco on the Emancipation Proclamation. What is HAPPENING on her torso, though? 

Let's look more closely: 
The good news is, this is not as bad as you're going to think it is.

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Lindsay Lohan did not show up at the Golden Globes parties in a zip-up hoodie.

The bad news is, she's getting off on a technicality due to its lack of zipper. Observe:
Okay, so Amanda Palmer here is a musician, best known for her work with The Dresden Dolls. (She's also engaged to her valet in this photo, novelist [graphic- and otherwise] Neil Gaiman, who was there for Coraline, not that you'd know it from the fact that he was captioned by our photo service, 'and friend.' Which is what happens, I suppose, when your date decides to make her quasi-nudity a large part of your evening. Regardless, I imagine dinner parties at their house are quite entertaining.) I would also venture a guess that she might be a bit of an exhibitionist. Behold the following shenanigans at the NBC party:

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In general, I suggest one do this in the privacy of one's home -- or at least, not at your own corporate functions, dear readers. Said suggestion also covers what happened next. (Do I really need to warn you that this is going to be NSFW? Consider that done.)

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CHER: WELL WELL WELL. Look who's here! I NEVER come to these things anymore. Did you forget about me? DID YOU FORGET THAT I'M AWESOME?

CHRISTINA: No, I remembered. But we're making a movie together, as you so sarcastically noted when we presented that award, so I spend a lot of time with you.

CHER: Did you forget that I'm SNARKY sometimes? Didn't you think, when I materialized, "Damn, I miss Cher!"

CHRISTINA: Well, I mean, like I just said, I see you every day, but I'm sure some bloggers out there in the world noted to each other that they'd really be happier if you left the house more often.

CHER: I CAN'T. These things are just full of GYPSIES, TRAMPS AND THIEVES! See what I did there? But it's true: have you SEEN Mickey Rourke? HAHAHAHAHAH.

CHRISTINA: Can we focus, Cher?

CHER: BORING.

CHRISTINA: Sigh.

CHER: FINE. You actually look freaking great.

CHRISTINA: I know! Look how cute my haircut looks. And my make-up! I'm ADORABLE. People missed me too. As for you...

CHER: I know. I look like a wicked dark goddess who had a fight with a shoelacer-maker who's also a GIANT. Do you believe in life after looooooooooove?

CHRISTINA: That's not EXACTLY what I was --

CHER: If I could turn back tiiiiiiiiiiioooooooome, maybe I would have worn something else.

CHRISTINA: I think you look pretty good, actually. But still, you know, CHER-Y. I mean, you are outrageous. This is actually pretty low key for you. You could have gone way crazier.

CHER: I know. I actually meant that if if I could turn back tiiiiiiioooooooommmmeeeee, I would wear a headdress with this.

CHRISTINA: Save it for the Oscars, Cher.

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