Like the swallows returning to Capistrano year after year, so can we count on one thing in this crazy life: just when you think you can wait no longer for a new CoverGirl, Tyra Banks anoints one. Yes, friends, the ANTM finale is tonight. REJOICE! As per tradition, we handicapped the finalists for NY Mag.com:

"The contest could potentially come down to intangibles like relatability, which CoverGirl loves and country-girl Laura has in spades. She positively oozes down-home quaintness, prone to twanging things like "We don't have a lot of oceans in Kentucky" and sporting clothes made almost exclusively by her grandmother. She's also got the better backstory: If you don't hear the phrase "castrating bulls" at least three times in tonight's episode, referring to Laura's job before the competition, we'll go neuter one ourselves. (By which we mean we'll consider forgoing our nightly Diet Coke.)"

But who do we really think will actually win?! WHO? Pop over to NY Mag to find out. I know the suspense is killing you.
There's nothing like an irrational, anger-fueled trip to the salon after an ugly breakup -- it's the kind of experience where you end up with bangs you can't pull off, a pixie cut that makes your ears look the size of eggplants, or highlights that look like you just pulled out a Major Accent and colored them in yourself.

Neither of these makeovers is THAT severe, but because we love to put things to a vote on GFY, I figured I'd spotlight them anyway. First up: Ashlee Simpson. Now, Ashlee just got dumped rather unceremoniously by Melrose Place, because she can't act. (However, her character is supposed to be unhinged, so her complete lack of talent actually ended up working to make Violet seem MORE deranged, and therefore I'm totally bummed she got canned. Chin up, girl, at least you got to nail Michael Mancini before the door hit you on the way out.) And Ashlee coped with this parting-of-the-ways with a new dye job.

Here she is before:

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[Photos of Ashlee: Splash News]

Note: I am not endorsing the hat or the overalls.

And here she is now:

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ASHLEY: So... you stole my coat.

MARY-KATE: What of it? We're twins. For all we know, you stole my FACE.

ASHLEY: I just... it looked more like a coat on me. And less like I was wearing rug from The Sims 3's line of bachelor-pad furnishings.

MARY-KATE: Okay, crabby.

ASHLEY: And did you recently work at an ice-cream parlor in a funeral home? Because if not, what is the deal with that hat?

MARY-KATE: Oh, whatever, you should just be glad it looks like I washed my face.

ASHLEY: I know, that IS a nice change. In fact, I... wait. Oh my God. She's HERE.

MARY-KATE: Who? Who's here?

ASHLEY: Your soulmate. Crap.

MARY-KATE: SHARON STONE IS HERE?

ASHLEY: Dude, in what universe is Sharon Stone your soulmate?

MARY-KATE: I'm wearing a giant coat and a WTF hat with dramatic lipstick. These are SUCH Sharon moves.

ASHLEY: Well, no. I'm not talking about Sharon Stone. THINK, Mary-Kate. Who is basically the grown-up version of you? Hot mess, all knots and tangles? Seems vaguely deranged?

MARY-KATE: Oh my GOD. You mean...

ASHLEY: YES.
Can we just take a moment to appreciate Dakota Fanning?

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She's so adorable and well-put-together and she doesn't seem like she's about to push her grandma down the stairs to steal money for leggings and gin (LINDSAY) and I just want to send her a thank you note for all of the above.

Also, the dress is cute.

Leighton Meester gave me almost more than I could handle over my breakfast this morning.

It did not start with this, but this is part of it:

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The eye makeup is ... intense. I know Leighton fancies herself a rock-star now, but she has the kind of eyes that look a lot smaller when you pile on the makeup, to the point where it kinda makes her look puffy and tired no matter what she's doing. The dress, well, I've never really understood wanting to make it look like you're wearing a tube top, and I certainly hope she had a car take her to this party, because otherwise I don't know how she would sit down on the subway or in a taxi without catching something unpleasant. But, whatever. At least the tube-top is keeping the girls in place, and even though I hate the art-deco mules she's wearing, I can deal with where she was going with this.

Perhaps that's because BEFORE I looked at this dress, I saw what Leighton wore inside the party to perform. It grieves me that we don't have legal access to put that photo on our Web site, and I PRAY that this link does not expire, because you need to see this, because OH MY GOD, when did Leighton Meester become Solange?

Just as bad is her new music video:
A couple of months ago, Ms Rose Byrne here mentioned us in Harper's Bazaar (not by name, of course, but I knew it was us because we're the only couple of snarky bloggers who've expressed concern about her emotional health -- because WE CARE, duh), and noted that she is NOT depressed, despite her wan mien in photos, but merely nervous. So I was pleased to see this:

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That's more like it! Such a pretty face, such shiny hair. But...what is she wearing? Let's find out:

In high school I had a friend who one night forgot he was wearing these slippers, and showed up at a party without changing his shoes. I have a sneaking suspicion something similar happened to Elizabeth Reaser:

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Of course, she's also accidentally wearing a dress in a pattern I think was on sale at Limited Express in 1992, except it was a skort. Let us thank heaven for the small mercy that this one does not appear to be. But the real issue is why Elizabeth left on the fur-lined clogs that she clearly only owns to be worn in secret, say, around the house when her feet are cold and/or she's catching up on FLASHFORWARD (which I am incapable of uttering without whispering slightly and doing jazz hands) on her DVR with a bag of Doritos before running out to put the garbage cans by the curb. If this were Kristen Stewart, we'd be inundated with e-mails from angry Twilight fans arguing that clogging is so hot right now and insisting that if you have ever stood within four feet of anyone who is on his or her feet all day for a living -- like a food-service professional, or a nurse, or a really unpopular hooker -- then your feet will hurt so badly in sympathy that you TOO will wear shoes like this all over town. But since Elizabeth Reaser is in the lesser category of Twilight stars -- the ones where you go, "Oh, RIGHT, I forgot about him/her," kind of like with Peter "Mr. Kelly Taylor" Facinelli -- then I think maybe a couple of them will just worry that she banged her head on an open kitchen cabinet and maybe start writing a concerned e-mail to her agent that they will forget to finish.
November 17, 2009
Well, this is FESTIVE:

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I feel like this dress will be worn all over the world by a certain subset of ladies to holiday parties -- some of them accessorizing it with light-up earrings in the form of trees -- and by a couple of women who work for the Tournament of Roses and are extremely committed to the concept of thematic dressing. And while it will be IDEAL for those specific ladies, I don't know that this whole Ruched Sleeves Ahoy look is going to set the night on fire for the rest of us. 

Congratulations to Dan, whose acrostic poem about Juliette Lewis edged out the competition with 30 percent of the vote and won this week's Freaky Fug Friday contest. To you, we offer thanks for making it so much fun and for taking the time to vote; to Dan, we offer the following real-estate.

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[Photo: FlynetOnline.com]

So, Juliette
Those drapes you ordered
Really should be used
As drapes.
Now, it seems you think they
Go on your face.
Easy mistake.
Don't be embarrassed.
Anyone could make that error.
You're working it.
Sincerely, Lady Gaga

-- by Dan

Thanks again for what might be our favorite one yet -- we're so happy you're having as much fun with this as we are. We'll come back at you on Friday with another challenge. Until then, I'm Bob Barker, and have your pets spayed or neutered. Thank you and goodnight.


KRISTEN: TAYLOROHMYGOD.

TAYLOR: It's okay, we're in this together.

KRISTEN: I forgot how intense this is. I think some 40-year old mother just asked if she could feed my hair to her sick child.

TAYLOR: Where's Rob?

KRISTEN: I'm not doing photos with him tonight. It's too intense.

TAYLOR: What is? The pandemonium? Or the urge to rip off his clothes?

KRISTEN: EW. TAYLOR. Rob is like FAMILY to me.

TAYLOR: Sorry.

KRISTEN: The kind of distant-second-cousin family that it was okay to marry back in Elizabethan times.

TAYLOR: So...

KRISTEN: Just shut up and tell me I look pretty.

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