Well Played

Oh, Amanda Bynes. You're so nice and person-colored now.

And that gown is totally gorgeous -- love that peacock color, love the bodice, love the flirty layers at the bottom, love the way it fits her.  The hair might be a little twee, but you know what? I don't care today. That's right. Dare I say it, I'm in a GOOD MOOD, and looking at this dress only enhances it -- like frosting on an already really yummy piece of carrot cake. I am pretty sure that those boys in the background are trying really hard not to stare at her, but inside, are totally stoked that Hot Amanda Bynes is standing mere feet from them and are planning to tell all their friends tomorrow that they held her hand and that she promised they'd get married in 15 years. Or, you know, whatever it is that boys do. Having no brothers, I can't say for sure. Doodling your names jointly inside a big heart all over a spiral notebook and then frantically doing MASH, trying to cheat so that you end up married, living in a mansion, driving a Ferrari, working as a movie star, having three kids, and owning stacks of emeralds, seems like it's more of a girly response.

Remember the last time we saw Joy Bryant? To say this is an improvement is an understatement:

I wonder if she's got some kind of multiple personality thing going on -- a la Bai Ling but with less nudity (also, doesn't "a la Bai Ling" sound like an option on the menu at some poncy restaurant, like, "the chicken can also be served a la Bai Ling for a surcharge of $8"?). One night, Joy's wardrobe selection is driven by the girl who REALLY loves dressing like an extra from a poorly-produced Lifetime movie about pioneers, the next evening it's propelled by the one with simple, glamourous taste. If I may offer some advice, Joy, see if you can do something about getting rid of Girl One and hang on like cold, grim death to Girl Two.

Here's the thing: I almost made this a "Fug or Fab," until I realized that I pretty solidly come down on the "fab" side when it comes to this outfit.

[Photo: Splash News]

It's a beautiful color on our  favorite tiny Aussie superstar, and she's glowing. It's kind of hard to believe Kylie is almost 40, and that it was a full  twenty years ago that I was sitting in my bedroom wailing along to "I Should Be So Lucky," wishing I had her hair and thinking that crazy hat from the album cover was probably the coolest thing anyone had ever put on their body in the ENTIRE history of bodies (hey, I was young, she was my favorite, it was the 80s... a lot of things I  felt strongly about were, in retrospect, completely ridiculous). Indeed, I should be so lucky as to look that great at 40 AND after surviving both a harrowing medical condition.

My only real moment of concern was whether the tulle wrap shooting out of her right boob was too much -- whether it ended up overwhelming her. But then I decided I didn't care, because she's so regal and pretty and there's something deliciously old-movie about that piece of fabric. Back in the day when people would dress for dinner, getting all fancy whether they were going to a club for dancing and a meal or just coming back downstairs to eat it at their table, I could totally see Kylie swanning in wearing that dress and puffing on a superlong cigarette holder (since of course back then nobody knew or cared that cigs were so terrible for you), dangling a brandy glass from her fingertips and drawling words like "darling" and "devilish" in conversation with the local rogue, whom she will of course end up marrying. Maybe she should MAKE that movie somehow.

Just the other day, I was wondering what Ashlee Simpson was up to. Not in a, "Do you think she's brushing her teeth? Ooh, maybe she's flossing!" kind of way. I am not a stalker. And if I were, I don't think I'd pick Ashlee Simpson as my stalkee.  I would be more likely to stalk, like... I don't know. Ian Ziering, maybe. You know, for one thing, he'd probably appreciate the attention. Plus everyone loves Steve Sanders. Win-Win!

Anyway, it appears that she was actually off dyeing her hair and buying one of those big-ass clutches that I've decided I want (it fits a lot of stuff, AND it's easy to smack people with):

I don't know, you guys! I think she's kind of working it. But I also suffered a head injury this morning when a box containing a pair of wooden heel boots fell off the top shelf of my closet and onto my head. Does she actually look sort of cute - in that prim way that I dig -- or is it just the giant hematoma talking?

This is so exciting, y'all. Okay, so the shirt is all over the place --a billowy and occasionally unfinished-looking mess. In fact, it looks a bit like she's mourning the death-at-sea of her favorite pirate (but don't worry, honey, I have it on good authority that death cannot stop true love; all it does is delay it for a while).  But there's something more exciting at work here to compensate.

Check it out!

It FEELS! It really feels! Number Five Three is ALIVE!

RUMER: I can't believe I didn't get to be Miss Golden Globe.

EMILY: But you look the prettiest I've ever seen you!

RUMER: Whatever.

EMILY: No, really.  I also look pretty, but why shouldn't I, really?

RUMER: I'm just so annoyed. This dress is really cute on me. But I don't even get to be on TV. It's so unfair. But I'm going to slouch over and be all Miss Poor Posture and defeat the entire effect. I'm THAT ANNOYED. I've turned to SELF-DESTRUCTIVE POSTURE. THAT'S WHAT I'VE BECOME.

EMILY: Oh, honey. Have some wine with me, and my charming up-do.

RUMER: I DON'T WANT ANY. I WANT TO BE CRANKY.

EMILY: Just smile for this nice photographer who found us here in this corner. CHEESE!

RUMER: Fine. Freaking cheese.

Damn! Do my eyes deceive me, or is Alicia Keys finally wearing something sort of regal and classy?

She looks a little bit like she just wandered off the set of Dreamgirls II: Wake Up, Y'all. But it totally works on her; I'm thrilled Alicia is at long last wearing something worthy of her face. I was especially tired of seeing her dressed in jumpsuits that made me want to check her back for humps, so really, everybody wins.

Can't we all just PRETEND that yesterday the Golden Globes went off as per usual, and we all got the red carpet shenanigans as per usual, and Rachel Bilson showed up wearing this?

And then we all said things like, "Did you see Rachel Bilson at the Golden Globes? She's so pretty!" and "I just loved Rachel Bilson's Golden Globes dress," and "I think Rachel Bilson showing up at the Golden Globes in that white goddess-y dress was really a turning point in her career, don't you?" Let's just pretend that happened, shall we? Excellent!

Oh, fine. Go ahead and look proud of yourself, Kristen Bell:

You look cute. And non-stumpy. And your narration work on Gossip Girl is quite good. And Gossip Girl itself is quite, quite, quite addictively good -- how am I going to wait however long I have to wait until we all find out what Blair plans to do to destroy her enemies? How can I stand not knowing whether or not poor tragic Nate is going to take up with that surprisingly somewhat conniving  yet still in-over-her-head Jenny? Most importantly: how can I live week-to-week without knowing what color turtleneck Chuck is wearing? How, I ask you? How?  I know, I know: you'll never tell. But your dress is good, okay? Don't say I never said nothing nice about you, Bell.

XOXO

Fug Girl

Oh, kooky Helena Bonham Carter. I love you. I love you as Bellatrix Lestrange. I loved you as Lucy Honeychurch. I love that you probably did your own hair for Sweeney Todd, as it was a messy birds' nest that closely resembled how your hair looked at every event from 2004-2007. I love that you are married to Tim Burton, as I suspect you two have long conversations about things that are not of this world.  I love it when you show up places looking like you've just wandered out of the attic. In the Edwardian era. And I actually love this:

Yeah, she just had a baby, like this morning. So way to rock the red satin bedsheets, HBC. Seriously.