Tara Reid

I know, we can't believe it either. But seriously, check it out:

We don't know what prompted the Tara Reid Tour of Contrition and Sobriety, but we'd like to take whoever convinced her to pull her shit together out for a drink. Heather and I wondered -- while she was hosting The View -- if maybe she'd had some work done on her face when she got her boobs fixed, and it's hard to say. I think it's possible that maybe she just finally got a series of decent facials and stopped smoking. No matter what she did, it was well done, because she actually almost looks like the last five years didn't even happen, like Taradise was hosted by her skeezy twin sister. This girl looks like someone you could conceivably see starring in a romantic comedy.  So never let it be said that we don't give credit where credit is due. That is an impressive change from this:

Seriously. Nice job, kid.

Tara Reid has given up her acting career and picked up modeling. Next month, she will be appearing on the cover of Dead Eyes Monthly:

(This photo was also considered for the cover of Ima Kill You, Jessica, If You Don't Stop Being So Mean To Me weekly.)

In case you're wondering, she also appears to be really gifted at runway:

The Lord giveth, and then He taketh away.

Tara Reid should probably have that tattooed onto her pelvis. Not only is it an apt statement for her life in general, but she also wasted no time in undoing the gracious -- albeit skeptical -- unfugging bestowed upon her on Friday:

One thing that was givethed that He should have takethed away from her hot little spray-tanned hand was the Manic Flowbee of Terror she borrowed from Tom Cruise, and apparently refuses to give back. Now more now than ever, Tara Reid's hair looks like half of it was ripped out at the root in a horrific head-Hoovering accident, which clearly has left her dazed and unable to focus her eyes. It also has pulled up the right side of her face into an eternal stunned smirk. (Who knew Flowbees could do this? If she'd just done the other side, BOOM! Instant Botox, without the needles. Nicole Kidman-Cruise-Urban must be dying that she didn't think to extort this thing in the divorce.)

Alas, though, Tara's problems don't stop with her wan mane. Poor little Nips Akimbo, Child of Chestal Tragedy, has chosen yet another shirt that not only emphasizes the mesmerizingly shameful work of her plastic surgeon -- seriously, when he put in her implants, did he use ACTUAL sandbags? -- but which is also just sort of inexplicable. I'm not sure what those shoulder flaps are, but the way they drape on her shoulders looks like the shirt is pressing down on her, giving her a weird slouchy look that only enhances the fact that her expensive mounds of hell are already flying south for the winter.

Tara, Tara, Tara.

Today is apparently the day I say nice things about people I usually slag.

Take Tara "Hot Mess" Reid:

Have I suffered a massive head injury, or is this better than usual? I really think it's better than usual. I mean, I am not wild about the shoes, and the scoop neck is a tiny little bit more scooped than it ought to be, and those roots are the sort pulled off only by Amanda Woodward, but overall she looks really kind of pretty. No, I mean it.

Which shouldn't be as surprising as it is, really. I mean, prior to the current era of drunken boob-flashing, T.R went through a period of being really pretty cute and fresh-faced. Remember? Like this:

I mean, I'm probably talking crazy here, but it is possible that this ho has, as requested, sacked up?

You know that poster from IKEA that hangs in the home or office of at least one person that you know -- the one that's a grid made of squares filled with different swirls, in varying hues?

Tara Reid took it a step further and turned it into a shirt:

I guess if you're basically a walking target, you might as well be a bit literal about it. And honestly, in many ways this is probably an improvement over most of what's in her wardrobe, excepting the fact that you can see right through the shirt, her shoes pick right up on that transparent theme by being complete plastic disasters, and it's likely she borrowed Tom Cruise's Flowbie to do her hair because she heard it gives bitchin' layers. And, she should go to her colorist.

But other than that, I suppose this could be worse.

Hot Mess of the Decade Tara Reid is getting messier, although absolutely not hotter:

This is just not...it's just...not....this is just so bad.  And it's not bad in, like, a fun, dumb, chaps-wearing, fur-turban-sporting,  Posh Spice way. It's bad in like a bad, tacky, sad, I Have To Stop And Pick Up Some Ointment, Barefoot in the Esso Bathroom Britney way. Tara, honey, there's a reason no one is hiring you anymore. It's because you're too old -- and look way too rough -- for teen roles, and you haven't fixed yourself up to look like you're suited for any kind of Rom-Com roles at all.

Now, listen, I've seen you deskeezed (okay, like, maybe twice, but still), and you're still cute! You clean up...better than one would expect! Look around! Do you see Rachel McAdams out and about dressed like she just crawled home from a foam party in Ibiza? Is your American Pie contemporary Alyson Hannigan photographed looking like she's been styled solely using cast-offs from streetwalker's White Elephant sale? Does Reese Witherspoon ever FLASH HER TITS? No, no, and she'd rather shoot Ryan in the kneecaps first.

And yet all you do is complain that no one takes you seriously, and why are people so mean to you about all your partying, and why can't you get a job? But here's the thing: you do have a choice. You can either: a) give up on acting, retreat into semi-obscurity, socialize solely with celebutantes 10 years younger than you are,  drink and tan your face completely off, and let your floo-flog hang out all over town, OR b) you can decide that you want to work again as something other than a punchline to a mean joke, and you can put on some sunscreen and some pants, spend a month in Promises, get your publicist to sell "TARA REID'S SECRET PAIN: And Her Triumphant Victory Over Low Self-Esteem" to People Magazine, start showing up places fully dressed like an adult woman, dig out your agent's number and get to work .

In other words, as Heather said to me once, "sack up, ho."

Sometimes I look at Tara Reid and just wonder what happened in her childhood that made her think this whole plastic surgery thing was a good idea.

Those are not good implants. They kind of look like she's got two half-grapefruits shoved in there. And when your implants look like that, it's probably best to steer clear of any ensemble that resembles an embellished Warner Cross Your Heart bra, supported solely by weensy teensy straps, because it tends to scare the children. What if those things get loose? IT'S HAPPENED BEFORE.

Actually, I'm sure it's unfair to blame Miss Reid's unfortunate downward spiral of poorly done plastic surgery on her parents. I'm sure they're lovely. Let's just blame Carson Daly instead.

Ever the mistress of subtlety, I present to you Miss Tara Reid:

If you have to write it on your ass, it might not be true.

Nothing is more mentally taxing than a celebrity who has taken great and clever pains to avoid being recognized:

I mean... Now I have no idea... Who is this? Who could it be? Gosh, I SIMPLY CAN'T IMAGINE. I'm trying to add it up... the "I'm a Roman Hooker" shoes, the dress that looks like a disco ball caught in a fishing net... it's all adding up to something... Gosh, if only we knew someone who is of the habit of showing up places both hammered and dressed in glittering rags that look tailored by an axe-murderer. And if only this crafty siren weren't wearing a baseball cap!

Just who IS this pussycat? Who on EARTH would go out looking so "tara"ble? I'll buy one piping hot slice of American pie to anyone who cracks this DEVIOUS and PERPLEXING MYSTERY. Damn you, Hat of Great Cunning, for being the perfect disguise! A pox on you and your impenetrable shadow!  Obstruction of Fugstice is a crime! One punishable by... more mockery! And poxes! I CURSE YOUR AND YOUR DEMON BRIM FOR BESTING ME.

I am just stumped. That hat was a stroke of genius. Well played, Totally Unrecognizable Mysterious Boozehound Lush. Well played indeed.

Okay, Tara Reid. Take a seat, baby, because we need to talk.

You do realize that you have a problem, right? That when your behavior and appearance makes Paris Hilton look like Grace Kelly,  something has gone horribly, horribly wrong? Also, that your new fake boobs are really, really too big and, honestly, that smooshing them down like that is neither comfortable, nor flattering?

Do I have to be blunt here?

Okay.

You're THIRTY DAMN YEARS OLD.  YOUR LIFE SHOULDN'T BE A GIRLS GONE WILD VIDEO TWENTY FOUR HOURS A DAMN DAY. GET A GODDAMNED GRIP.

And buy a shirt that fits. Jeezy Chreezy.  My boobs hurt just looking at you, kiddo.