"Ugh. I cannot believe this. Did I not warn the troll? Did I not TELL him that if he opened his shirt like that in public, I would wear the dress that looks like a giant sideways bow tie? YES I DID. And yet he LAUGHED and said, 'Wearing that dress punishes ME somehow?' And then when I said, 'Mi pobre runty husband, your shirt is like Pandora's Box, and if you open it then I will RAIN HELLFIRE DOWN ON THE STASH OF B-POSITIVE YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW IS IN THE ATTIC,' he ripped it open one notch lower and walked out of the house. I am going to puke. Mark my words, amigos -- get it? MARK my words? HA HA HA -- no, but really, mark them: Like sands through the fancy hourglass I am costumed as today, so are the days of our marriage. The joke is BACK ON HIM, bitches. Even if the blood milkshakes HAVE perked up his complexion it's still J.Lo 450, Vampire Spouse 0."
Jennifer Lopez
J.Fug
"Ugh. I cannot believe this. Did I not warn the troll? Did I not TELL him that if he opened his shirt like that in public, I would wear the dress that looks like a giant sideways bow tie? YES I DID. And yet he LAUGHED and said, 'Wearing that dress punishes ME somehow?' And then when I said, 'Mi pobre runty husband, your shirt is like Pandora's Box, and if you open it then I will RAIN HELLFIRE DOWN ON THE STASH OF B-POSITIVE YOU THINK I DON'T KNOW IS IN THE ATTIC,' he ripped it open one notch lower and walked out of the house. I am going to puke. Mark my words, amigos -- get it? MARK my words? HA HA HA -- no, but really, mark them: Like sands through the fancy hourglass I am costumed as today, so are the days of our marriage. The joke is BACK ON HIM, bitches. Even if the blood milkshakes HAVE perked up his complexion it's still J.Lo 450, Vampire Spouse 0."
Golden Globes Divaliciously Played Carpet: Jennifer Lopez
"Hola, adoring fans. Are you pleased to see me? Of course you are. I am pleased to see you, but I cannot show it, because this very dramatic dress is not for smiling giddy dopey people. It is for SERIOUS people with SERIOUS fierceness, no? And I am VERY SERIOUS. For one thing, I agreed to come here to the Golden Globes even though I am not nominated, despite having done the best acting work of my life just by staying married to this person. Because I am SERIOUS about reminding people that I used to act, and also, I am SERIOUS about getting Ralph Fiennes to talk to me again. Amigos, he won't even make eye-contact. Who had even HEARD of him before Maid in Manhattan, eh? The three people who saw that Sphincter's List, or whatever? My mother, who saw that movie where he was an English man who was somebody's patient? I don't even know the NAME of that thing! I MADE him, and what do I get? He blushes and runs away? Tonto. At least people know how to pronounce my name, RAFE FINES. Dios mio.
You are probably wondering why I am standing here with this loco Milhouse, because I am supposed to be hating him and not wearing my wedding ring. Well, it is a long story, my pets. I made him wear the glasses. He seems less tired, no? If I have to look at him, I need to believe he is not dying. But I also REFUSE to divorce him while She Who Shall Not Be Named is cooing over a new baby with Crapfleck. If his boring rebound marriage is still alive, then SO IS MINE, fools. I will let Marc nibble on my neck at night and allow him to squeal like a pathetic little baby girl whenever we get served garlic bread at a restaurant, and I will serve him V8 through a tube in the mornings, and it will be fine, because that is what divas DO. Divas do not QUIT. Divas do not let girls with big lips and a husband with back hair BEAT THEM. So SUCK IT, Douchefleck and Bride! Now excuse me, I must go slap Ralph Fiennes with my handbag. Or with my Marc. I don't care which one."
The Fugious Fug of Benjamin Button/Well Played, J.Lo
ANGELINA: It's so nice to see you.
J.LO: Oh, Brad's Lady Person, me duele. This pains me, because I would like to say the same, but I cannot.
ANGELINA: Excuse me?
J.LO: It is clear nobody taught you how to have twins.
ANGELINA: I... what?
J.LO: Look at you in that black thing. I cannot see your boobs. What is the point of getting fat for nine months if you can't make people stand in awe of your hotness when you are fit again?
ANGELINA: Because kids are great? I plan to collect them all!
J.LO: Ah, yes, I love my little tiny tots. But I also love my giant tots -- the ones on my chest. I HYPNOTIZE with them. Try to look away. YOU CANNOT. This is what you must achieve, Angennifer.
ANGELINA: You're mixing me up with...
J.LO: Oh, whatever. You, the Anistperson, it's all the same. You both always wear black. Blah blah blah. You must take a lesson from me, Pitt twig! Lay it all out there! Your boobs are like God's tattoos. They have MEANING. MAKE PEOPLE LOOK. Can it with the sad strapless sheaths. Mis ojos, they burn with shame for your lack of FLASH.
ANGELINA: Thanks for the advice.
J.LO: I mean, LOOK AT ME. Behold:
Fuggy From The Block
[Photo: BauerGriffinOnline.com]
"LOOKIT! HAHAHAHA! Now who's winning medals, eh, Dolphin Boy? Did YOU have two babies first? Did YOU have to wear bike shorts and arm cuffs? Did YOU swim your silly laps with a stubbed toe -- ay, I mean, a DEVASTATING and RARE injury that affected the part of your foot that you use to judge clothes? Is medical science going to name the 24-hour cure for that condition after YOU? I DON'T THINK SO. Your medals might be gold, Freak Giant, but my medal is the color of SACRIFICE. Dig it, tonto! DIG IT HARD!"
New York Fugshion Week: Day Oh My God, We're So Close To Being Able To Put Up Our Feet (So, Six)
Also included with purchase:
Emmy Rossum + Leighton Meester = I don't know how to feel.
It turns out that Lauren Conrad is lovely in person and Lo looks like she's about to tell you to f' off. And, in fact, probably wants to, at least in my case.
Blake Lively was very pretty at Michael Kors, but could she outshine BETTE FREAKING MIDLER? What do you think?
Oh, Amy Lee. Your name rhymes with Anna Sui. And how crazy you be.
Vicfuglia Beckham
JENNIFER: No, no, amiga, OPEN your mouth. Make them think LOVE is about to come out.
POSH: I'm just... I think the hair is bad. People are looking at me oddly.
JENNIFER: Pish! Do you know what I say when that happens?
POSH: What?
JENNIFER: NOTHING. HA HA HA! Nobody ever looks at me oddly. They know better. But seriously, twig lady, do you really care about them? Eh?
POSH: No...
JENNIFER: Do you know what I said when everyone asked me to congratulate Ben and his walking nap for having another baby? I said, "ONE AT A TIME IS FOR LAZY PEOPLE."
POSH: Right...
JENNIFER: And when the world licked the feet of that silly Flipper Boy who won all his medals just for swimming a bunch of laps over and over again, do you know what I did? I went out and trained for a triathlon and shouted, "ONE SPORT AT A TIME IS FOR BORING LITTLE MAGGOTS WITH JUG EARS. GET BACK TO ME WHEN HE GIVES BIRTH AND HE HAS TO FIND TIME TO WORK OUT WHILE PICKING OUT CRYSTAL CHANDELIERS FOR THE BABY'S CLOSET!"
POSH: So you're saying I should buck up and do my own thing, then, yes?
JENNIFER: Si si, Cheekbones!
POSH: Maybe you're right. Maybe this haircut WILL work.
JENNIFER: Yes! Go get them, Halle Berry!
POSH: Wait, no. It's not Halle, darling, it's Victoria.
JENNIFER: AAAAAH! Victoria BECKHAM? ARE YOU SURE?
POSH: Fairly.
JENNIFER: MADRE DE DIOS!!!! IT CANNOT BE!
POSH: But you just said...
JENNIFER: Ay, no, I cannot be here. You are TOUCHED. Step away from me now before I catch your devil insanity.
POSH: ... Great.
Fug.Lo
[Photo: INFDaily.com]
"Hola, it is your favorites here -- me, my Marc, and the twins! And my babies are around here somewhere too. HA HA! But seriously, do you not love my cleavage? Does it not bob like a balloon on the winds of love? My Marc, he said that I couldn't find a yachting caftan that still showed off my assets, but poor, sweet, hungry Marc doesn't understand my power. This is what Princess Leia SHOULD have worn, no? Forget the turtleneck and the Cinnabons, estupida! Oh, amigos, that movie would have been so different if I had made it. There was not enough FABULOUS, although that one old evil hombre had VERY hollow cheekbones, which is so sexy. I like to sip mimosas from Marc's when he is lying down. It is our little game! I drink from his cheekbones, and he drinks from my wrist. Sigh. We are so in love. Italy is muy romantica. Certain other couples are out there on a holiday weekend dealing with rumors that they are fighting -- probably about how she won't stop wearing sneakers, or he won't stop being Ben -- but Marc and I, we are SO HAPPY! Don't you see? We on our way to go boating! On the ship of some famous clothing designers! You don't see Dolce and Gabbana dropping by the Brentwood Country Mart to buy apple sauce! NO! They are waiting for ME on the deck of a SHIP! DRINK IT IN, STUPID BORING GIRL!"
Do It Fug
Dear Bennifleck,
Hola. How are you? I hope you are hell. Just kidding, I meant "well." OH WAIT, NO I DIDN'T. I just wanted to say hello, and thank you for the generous baby presents that I assume you bought for me but which clearly got lost in the mail because one of you is too busy being BORING to write the address correctly and the other one of you is Ben. So, si, idiotas, I LOVE my MISSING PRESENTS so very much. As Marc said the other night, you put the "ass" in "Muchas gracias." HA HA HA HA. At least, I think that's what he said -- he was drinking a can of V-8 through two straws stuck on his incisors, but I am pretty sure I understood correctly because that is what love is about, people. Straws and red liquid. Because when you put those two together for a few days straight you get LOTS of horizontal mambo and then LOTS OF BABIES!
Oh, wait, what is that you are murmuring? You could only do ONE baby at a time? WEAK SAUCE, Mrs. Bennifleck! There is WOMB FOR TWO in this lady -- ha ha, that was Marc again, he is so funny when he's playing with his straw fangs! -- and I wore heels the entire time, and we haven't slept in 120 hours and I THINK maybe Marc is shrinking because his coat doesn't fit any more but I am HERE and I am swathed in a CURTAIN and I am your superior in every way! When was the last time YOU had two babies at once and then went right out and matched your eye makeup to your husband's best pair of shiny pants? When was the last time you even BOUGHT your Benfleck a pair of shiny pants? That's RIGHT, enemiga estupida, GAME, SET, AND CHECKMATE to ME!
Besos,
J.
New York Fugshion Week: More Day 5 and Some Day 6
Is it already Day Six? Does this mean we get to sleep in our own beds again soon? Although we're quite giddy after today's champers-fueled event at Marchesa, at which we got to bask in the warm glow of a hugely pregnant -- and two weeks from popping -- Jennifer Lopez.

Watching her swell with child has been truly fascinating, considering this is a woman who's rear end has been the subject of national -- and probably international -- fascination. We're happy for her and she looks healthy and happy, but we still can't stop studying the effect pregnancy has had on her face. Don't get us wrong, she's still pretty, but instead of looking like J.Lo, she looks a bit like a J.Lo impersonator who went too crazy with the collagen (and occasionally, in some shots, like Valerie Bertinelli, but only from specific angles -- trust me on that one; I'm not nuts, or at least, I don't think so, but then again neither does Britney so whatever). At any rate, we were kind of embarrassingly excited to see her so up-close and personal. In Los Angeles you're not supposed to look like you're noticing the celebrities out in the wild, but at Fashion Week, it's your job to ogle. Bless.
- The highlight at Narciso Rodriguez: The Return of the Seinfelds.
- The second we saw Lance Armstrong walk into ex-girlfriend Tory Burch's presentation, we prayed for a tearful reunion. Didn't get one. Still, it made for some great speculation.
- We're crushed we didn't get a breath mint from The Donald, but thanks to Celebrity Apprentice, he's given us so much already that we can't REALLY be upset.
- Jennifer Lopez was unusually chatty about her due date at Marchesa.
- Dear Veronica Webb: It's not gingham time. Indeed, is it ever?
Fug.Lo

[Photo: Splash News]
"No, Marc, let them talk. Let them guess! It is my little dance, my sensual gossip tango with the world. Am I pregnant? Or is this just a beautiful toga party? Is Robert Cavalli in trouble for revealing my little secret, or does he not know what he is talking about because he is MUY TONTO and a steaming pile of pureed idiot? Do not worry, Marc. Do not speak. Just take your vitamins and let me lead this rumba of mystery. IT IS MY GIFT TO MYSELF."
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The Book of fug

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