Lindsay Lohan

Prithee, Mistress Lohan,  whither art thou tights?

Dost thou not agree that when a maiden taketh on doublet -- howsoever bare -- and breeches and disguiseth herself as a lad, in the manner of such good works by Sir William Shakespeare as As You Like It or Twelfth Night, the maiden needth likewise spare a thought to the hairlessness of her legs which will surely give away her disguise, revealing her to be a lady fair and not a brutish hairy man, and puteth on some hose? And indeed, Mistress Lohan, while thy lack of tights will surely destroy the historical accuracy of thine perplexing disguise of Shakespearean pantaloons, thou shouldst be aware as well that in this, the first month of the year, the month of the pagan lord Janus, thy lack of hose shall surely also lead thee downst the path to that most dreaded of afflictions, "hypothermia," and surely thereafter to thy most vile enemy, "exhaustion." Thou are indeed aware that when thou last fought "exhaustion," thou emergest from Ceders Sinai in a form both skeletal and creepy. I pray, Mistress Lohan, if thou insist on wrapping thyself in the robes of thine Shakespearean ancestors, prithee, give a precious thought to thine health! None of us art equipped, either in heart, brain, or humours, to deal with yet another of thy stints in the infirmary. Not again.  No, not e'er again.

Lindsay Morgan Lohan! What are you wearing?

The pants are too long, yes, but those are the least of my concerns.  What is going on with that jumper thingie? It's so, "Hello, my name is Lindsay, welcome to Acapulco! I'll be your waitress tonight! Our drink specials are the Mega Mango Margarita and two tequila shooters for two dollars! Can I interest you ladies in some mini chimichanga appetizers?"

What I'm saying is, professionally speaking, unless you actively want to try out the age-old stereotype of waiting tables while waiting on your next acting gig, maybe you should eighty-six the apron.

Haiku for LiLo:

Really ugly boots,
Bad enough. But what's with the
Maternity shirt?

Pretty shiny hair
Why the grandma cardigan?
You know much better.

Security tag
Still on your new purse. Oh well,
Thank God you're not blonde.

We here at GFY have a bit of a love-hate-love relationship with Lindsay Lohan. We love The Parent Trap (don't look at us like that), we liked Mean Girls, we adored the red hair, and frankly, we loved that she got Aaron Carter ripped away from her by Hilary Duff because, well, she was better off without that squirrely tick. We even secretly enjoyed her crazy Wilmer Valderrama obsession, breakup, and subsequent awkward club-hopping snafus. And we not-so-secretly cheered her on when she delivered big-fat-flip-off after big-fat-flip-off to her rageaholic father.

But we hated the emaciation, the blond hair, Confessions of a Teenage Drama Queen, the blond hair, Herbie: Fully Loaded, Not To Be Confused With Our Star, Who Is TOTALLY PROFESSIONAL AND CLEAN And Not At ALL Loaded And Has The Perfect-Sized Chest, We Swear On Our Lives, and the self-congratulatory PR trips to coffee shops with Nicole Richie where they'd pretend to eat food for the paparazzi so that people would stop blaming their dramatic and potentially tragic weight losses on either anorexia or cocaine. And we love to hate her music career.

Essentially, though, everything in the "hate" column was born of affection -- a fondness for things like her endearingly blunt interviews, because even when we thought maybe they were stuffed full of lies she at least mimicked disarming candor, and for the fact that she's a talented actress even if she is a pretty mixed-up 19-year old. In sum, she's an oddly rootable kid, despite not being able to drive worth a damn. [But we won't worry about her vehicular idiocy until she gives her keys to whatever boozed-up Greek shipping heir du jour she can pull out from under a rock.]

With all that in mind, then, this photo encouraged us immensely:

Lindsay, congratulations. You look chic in that delicious coat, and the dark hair looks fantastic on you. Never, ever go blonde again, even if the part seems to demand it. That only worsened that sickly-looking phase you went through.

We are also thrilled to see that you have rediscovered food a little:

Look, I get that Lindsay Lohan likes aping the style of other fashionable celebs, but this is really just beyond.

Behold La Lohan:

Behold her inspiration:

Look, people, Lindsay Lohan is totally into PEACE.

Peace, and also stealing the tablecloth from her local hole-in-the-wall tequila pit, cinching it, and pretending it's a dress rather than something that can be wiped clean with a damp cloth.

Lindsay Lohan is at peace. Because when she finally becomes the strung-out, washed up 49-year old we all know she's destined to be -- clinging to cultural relevance almost as tightly as Ted Casablanca clings to the English language -- she can at least recycle this frumpy shirt, because it will finally be age-appropriate.

In fact, I expect this entire photo, right down to the ... er, "tired"... look in her eyes, will be recreated at that time -- probably at the premiere of some summer extravaganza starring a Peldon spawn and little Maddox Jolie.

Oh my God, Lindsay. Pull it together.

I am about to sound like your mother -- or, rather, what your mother should sound like were she not too busy dealing with your deadbeat father to notice how strange you look -- so get ready. And stand up straight.

Young lady, do you know who you look like with your hair like that? Are you ready for this? Hilary Duff.  Yes, I know you're thinner than she is, and that's an entirely different discussion, although I suppose this all does prove once and for all that your boobies are real. Yes, I said "boobies." Don't "Mooom" me! As I was saying: do you really want to be running around town looking like a girl who was in a silly TV show and then made a couple of movies with boys on the WB? Do you? I didn't think so. And I know the hair is allegedly for a role, but I really hope you're not thinking about keeping it that way, because blondes have more fun or some cockamamie reason, because, missy, let me tell you a thing or two: you look like every skinny blonde starlet in town like this, thing one, and thing two? Thing two is that, for your information, redheads are all over the runways this season, so your real hair color -- in addition to looking so pretty on you, sweetie -- is really very chic. Yes, it is. Yes, it is. Blondes are a dime -- don't you dare walk out on me when I am talking to you!

I haven't even started on your outfit. What are those SHORTS? Why don't you just cuff them and we can start calling you "Baby" and making jokes about putting you in the corner.   You just look so messy, sweetie. And you're such a pretty girl, why is everything so baggy and ill-fitting and layered and wrongly proportioned?

You used to be so adorable! Come here, and look at these pictures with me. Look at you here!

What happened? Is it because you're hanging around with those girls? I told you I don't like you spending so much time with that Nicole Richie. I used to think she was all right, but she spends so much time in the bathroom. No! No -- don't you dare try and tell me she has irritable bowels, Lindsay. I will give YOU an irritable bowel if you interupt me one more time, so help me God. I have SEEN that girl and if her bowels are irritated, it's because there's nothing moving through them.

No, it's not "ew," it's sad, and I don't want you hanging out with her anymore. Honey, seriously. I just want to help. I want to help, and for you to wear either shorts, or pants, but not these Federline-inspired shortpris. Okay?  Now, I know you've had a hard time since you and WhatsHisName, Wilber, broke up -- sorry, WilMER, WilMER, although I don't know what kind of name WILMER is -- sorry, sweetie, I know. It smarts. It still smarts. Come here and let me hug you.

There, there. Now, let's go to Barney's and get you some real pants. We can TP Wilmer's place on the way home. Go get your shoes.

[Photo courtesy of Daily Celeb.]

Anyone whose fashion sense is a rip-off of Jessica Simpson, the emaciated Olsen, and a 1987 high school yearbook needs an intervention.

Generosity must be the new liposuction, for it seems that the flood of sincere affection and admiration that recently poured right out of Lindsay Lohan in sexy hat form has drained most of the remaining fat cells out of her: 

No wonder she's "exhausted" all the time -- she walks around dressed like a <i>chaise longue</i>. All she has to do is look down at herself, and she automatically feels like a nap. Although it might help her if she ate a Philly cheesesteak or three. You have a lot more energy for being "high on life" and "drinking soda at bars" if you're not starving yourself. I think she's taking lifestyle tips from the wrong Olsen.