Grammys

The Go Fug Yourself Celebrity Terror Watch squad is commencing a Sternum Watch for Sheryl Crow:

It doesn't help that this dress is enforcing a high waistline on her that gives her lower half a bizarre dumpyness, but that torso is a frightening thing. Dating a professional and highly competitive cyclist probably sent her over the fitness edge; now we're worried that breaking up with said professional cyclist might have driven her away from the fridge. That's not cleavage -- that's a cutting board.

We consider this a high alert situation that needs to be monitored and, as quickly as possible, repaired. Somebody please make her some fried chicken, or take her to Jack In The Box for some meat and cheese between slices of butter-soaked sourdough. Britney? Where are you, dear? You're needed. Sheryl can hold Sean Preston on her lap (if she has the strength) while you take her through the drive-thru.

I thought India.Arie looked lovely at the Grammy's, and I'm not afraid to admit it.

Apparently, her mother made this dress, and not long before the event. What a wonderful job she did for her daughter -- hopefully she'll get some business out of it, if she wants it, because certainly she could do a great service to other starlets and musicians who don't know the half of how to dress themselves.

I mean, look at her: She glows. The dress hugs her bust and gently cuddles her curves without pinching anything, exaggerating things to bizarre proportions, and the detailing is both interesting and graceful without being over the top. The neckline flatters her and doesn't look like -- or look like it feels like -- a harness. She matched it with low-key earrings, a gold bracelet, and that's all she needed.

[Okay, so there are colorful bangles and two odd, massive slab rings, too, and they don't look like they go with this outfit -- but I'm willing to overlook that because your eyes still go to the dress long before they go to either of those things -- indeed, if you can tear them off her face and body in the first place.]

In all: bravo, Mama.Arie, for enhancing your daughter's lovely, healthy body, and proving that women who look like women -- and not like they just snapped off a tree trunk -- are the real idols.

That's a cute shirt Tera Patrick is wearing.

"Shirt" being the operative word in that sentence.

You're at the Grammy Awards, honey, not the gynecologist. Put your peaches back in the can, stand up straight, and stop visually begging people to use their trophies as a speculum.

INT. NICOLE KIDMAN'S HOUSE. DAY

KEITH: Nicole, what do you think about this outfit I picked out for the Grammys?

NICOLE:  You look brilliant, Keith! Simply brilliant! What shirt are you planning on wearing? Something from Thomas Pink? Ooh! You can wear those vintage Cartier cufflinks I got you! I'm so excited for you! I hope you win tonight! Winning is so divine!

KEITH: A shirt?

NICOLE: [puzzled look] Um...yes?

KEITH: I don't know about that.

NICOLE: [gale of charming Australian laughter] Oh, Keith! You are so funny!  I just love your sense of humor. God, Tom had no sense of humor at all! At all! One day I had Russell Crowe call him and pretend to be L. Ron Hubbard calling from the great beyond and when Tom found out it was just Russell,  he almost drove over there and punched Russell in the face! Of course, he would have had to have stood on a box to do it, and Russell would have grilled him up in a cheese sandwich and eaten him for lunch but...well, anyway! I love how playful you are! I love it! Oh, come here, you! You delicious man! I'm so happy!

KEITH: Nic. Seriously. I mean it. I was thinking the best shirt for this was just...waxed chest.

NICOLE: ...waxed chest? Really?

KEITH: Waxed chest is so rock and rock!

NICOLE: Hmm.

KEITH: Right? Isn't that a great idea? It's so ROCK STAR. It's like totally Michael Hutchence, right?

NICOLE:  Would you look at the time? I'm late for a Botox party!

KEITH: You're not coming with me to the awards tonight? The waxed chest and I need your support!

NICOLE: Oh.... No. No, you'll be fine. Don't you think it's best that you walk the red carpet, just you and your chest? You and your waxed chest? Because...it's like....you're....um. A loner! An, um, rocking loner! You don't need ME to be there! No, no. No, I can't be seen there with you and your waxed chest.

KEITH: I guess you're right.

NICOLE: Oh, I know I am! All righty, then! I really must dash! No, no, don't get up! No! No, you don't need to kiss me good-bye! Nope! Well, well! Yes! Good luck! Good luck, and good night!

KEITH: Thanks, honey. You're so supportive.

THE END

The more Madonna tries to yoga off all her body fat and dress like she's in her 20s, the more she ends up looking like a cartoon character.

I know Madonna is and always will be an icon, but come on: That face is beginning to look crazy.

As for the getup: The boots-leggings are more Posh Spice territory than Madge's, and that top is more Duff, Lohan, or Clarkson than Aging Queen of Pop Who, Although She's Still Got It, Really Needs To Stop Kidding Herself And Cease Pretending It's Not Creepy That She Is Trying To Pass As Britney's Contemporary -- Although We Are Grateful She Changed Out Of The Tights She Wore On-Stage, As We Are Very Weary Of Her Crotch Right About Now.

Teri Hatcher proves that she woefully, tragically misinterpreted all that "What's in the hatch?" talk that buzzed around ABC last summer.

Love her or hate her, you have to respect Mary Hart -- the original holder of the syrupy "Ms. Perky" title Katie Couric has since usurped -- because she's been around forever and she's still kicking. There are lots of interchangeable blond field reporters of varying ages, like Dayna Devon and Jann Carl and Nancy O'Dell and God knows who else, who could have booted her out of the anchor's seat by now. But no one has.

However, that doesn't mean Mary Hart can pull the wool over our eyes:

You may be going for that timeless, ageless Dick Clarkbot thing, and that's all well and good, but don't forget that we all do know better. This is a dress you'd expect an American Idol winner to wear to her first event, or maybe Amy Lee from Evanescence to pair with some really massive Doc Marten boots and an ill-advised, slightly depressing tutu. But you are... how can I say this? ... well past that life phase, Mary. This is not the dress for you.

The scrolldown fug strikes again, and this time it's attacked model/actress/ruffle-lover Kimberly Elise:

Although, really, you barely have to scroll down before her Ruffled Longline Bib of Fug smacks you across the face like a particularly frilly insult.

I don't know who Ashley Altman is.

But I'm pretty sure SHE thinks she's Barbie.