Well Played

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"HELLO BITCHES! I know. I know. You don't need to say it. I LOOK AWESOME. And WHY? Why do I look so awesome? BECAUSE I AM AWESOME, THAT'S WHY. I was dancing around my hotel room today to the Christian Bale Temper Tantrum Dance Remix -- that kid is so misunderstood, I need to remember to fax him a little poem I wrote about him -- and thinking to myself, 'Sharon, enough with the frocks made from the shredded loins of wee rodents and the bralessness and the terrible eye-makeup that makes me look like I was assaulted by the new boy working the Benefit counter and the wearable/edible pintas and the hat made of corn chips. In this time of massive economic suckery, the world doesn't need Sharon Stone 2.0: The Courtney Love Years. It needs Sharon Stone 1.0: The Sharon Stone Years.' And so I'm BACK, bitches. BACK AND BETTER THAN EVER. Lock up your menfolk and hide the scotch, because I am here to stay! PS: I wasn't sure about the hose with this, and then I was like, WHO CARES? I'm Sharon f'ing Stone."
It's a miracle, you guys:

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Kylie Minogue, who could probably fit into most people's coat pockets, looks almost TALL. I love the dress on her, think the hair is a huge improvement over her bleached-blonde locks of yore, and want the shoes so badly that I am tempted to offer her some kind of trade. Like, my house. Maybe we could do a temporary swap: She can move in next time she's in Los Angeles for however long she needs it, and I will live in my car and wear those shoes all over town and warm myself with the sun's rays glinting off their sparkly gloriousness. Sounds fair to me.

Separately... is it just me, or is this pretty much what Madonna thinks she looks like now?

"Hello. I'm Anne Hathaway:

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"Welcome to my one woman show! It's called Cream of Wheat: A Love Story, and it's about my life-long affair with warm breakfast cereals. This is my costume for Act I's closing number, a stirring song called 'Sowing My Quaker Oats' and -- oh, FINE. FINE. I JUST PICKED SOMETHING BLAND. IT HAPPENS. I'm not HAPPY about it. PLEASE don't take a picture of me next to Viola Davis. Have you SEEN HER?
I just discovered two whole cans of Diet Coke in the back of my fridge, and when you think you're all out of that sweet, sweet elixir, making that kind of discovery is the equivalent of stumbling over a pair of Loubs you never knew you owned, hidden underneath a pile of dirty socks. I might have squealed with glee. So I must say that I am feeling charitable right now. However, even were I in my most cranky of moods, I would have to hand it to Tomei/Pinto (which sounds like a new, up-and-coming ad agency). Check it:

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(If you click on them, you can see them bigger. Technology!)

As Liz Lemon would say, "I want to go to there." And by "there," I mean, "their closets, where I plan to steal these dresses, their shoes and bags, Tomei's necklace, and Freida Pinto's hair, although how I plan to pull that part of it off, I haven't quite figured out." Is it wrong that I am getting sort of excited about the Oscars? Because if it is -- wait for it -- I don't want to be right.
So, it's Friday, and I don't know about you, but all the current economic doom and gloom is about to give me an ulcer. When I woke up to NPR this morning, the first thing I heard -- LITERALLY, I am not making this up -- was someone yelping, "THE ECONOMY IS BROKEN." REALLY? I HAD NO IDEA. Thanks for that CONSTRUCTIVE TAKE ON THINGS. So yes: the economy is broken, we're all worried about our bank balances, it is stressing everyone out and rightly so. That being said, would it not be nice to take a moment and reflect on something delightful in these dark days? I nominate Dakota Fanning, who is growing up into the cutest teenager ever: I just love this:

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I want this. Sure, I'm twice her age, but I think I could pull it off. Maybe. But be that as it may, I think she looks mature but not tacky or trashy or overly-made up or trying too hard, without being boring. She just looks adorable and appropriate without being twee or super trendy or desperate for attention. Which is not unusual for her, actually:
I loooove this color. I feel like it's very difficult for anyone except perhaps an actual Smurf to go wrong in this color:

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But that shouldn't take away from how well Evan Rachel Wood is rocking it, with her glowing skin and subtle -- by her standards -- makeup. The purple accessories have me torn; on the one hand, I applaud the unusual choice, but on the other, they are kind of distracting. In all, though, it's totally understandably why Mickey Rourke allegedly was spied making out with Evan Rachel after the SAG Awards. Which is not to say that I understand why Evan Rachel allegedly sucked face with Mickey Rourke -- rather, if I were Mickey, and I were coming off a wildly successful, acclaimed, decorated movie role, and I were standing next to this girl just a few weeks after memorably thanking my dogs for their companionship over the years, I'd probably be like, "Okay, Self. You may not look like Original Mickey Rourke any more, but you do not wear white contacts and you generally don't evoke images of Satan worship, so you are LIGHT YEARS ahead of this kid's last boyfriend. GO FOR IT."

All of which makes me feel a bit bad for Bai Ling, if indeed it's true she hooked up with Mickey Rourke after the Golden Globes. We rib our girl Bai, but we just want her to be happy; however, can it be a coincidence that after her rumored Rourkeing, she turned up not once but TWICE in full-coverage outfits? Behold:

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"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."
Last time we saw Evan "Dita" Rachel "Von Teese" Wood, she had broken up with Marilyn Manson but was still piling on the makeup as if she were impersonating his ex. Except that Evan Rachel Wood is, like, barely 21, and needs a face full of slap about as much as I need to rub butter all over my face and then let it bake in the sun.

For a refresher, here is how she looked:

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There is more where that came from -- but thankfully, that more did not come from last night. No, our girl showed up at the Critics' Choice Awards looking downright soft:

January 6, 2009

Well Played, Rosario Dawson

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WILL: You. Are. FINE.

ROSARIO: Thanks, Will.

WILL: I don't let just anyone stand next to me, you know. I am a dapper cat. I need someone who can hold their own against the heat of my charm and suavitude. I mean, paisley? Could anyone else wear paisley? No. But I am WORKING this paisley. I have given this paisley a sensual massage and now we've moved on to champagne and strawberries and edible panties.

ROSARIO: Sure! It's true that you're very smooth, Will. I'm happy to be here with you.

WILL: But damn, Rosario, I'm serious here -- you glow. If I weren't already in a happy heterosexual marriage and equal partnership that is indestructible against the force of any human foibles, I would be all OVER you. I mean, in that dress, you look like a bridesmaid, a bit. But in a HOT way. It WORKS. You're the sexy-ass bridesmaid at the wedding that all the groomsmen decide they're going to try and hook up with after the reception, but none of them do because I get there first and woo you with sensitive conversation, sharp wit, and my mad love skills.

ROSARIO: Thanks! You are good for my ego.

WILL: I KNOW how to stroke an ego, baby. I am the master of romance. I will pour scented oil on that ego and light candles and then....

ROSARIO: Yeah, yeah, I get it, you're the man, you'll massage it and then there's champagne and panties. Noted. Now can we go inside and get this show on the road?

WILL: Not until we get one more picture of this hot love triangle between you, me, and my paisley.  The world needs to SEE how it's DONE. YOUR MOVE, BECKHAM. I dare you to pull this off, boy.

ROSARIO: This is going to be a long night.
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[Photo: PacificCoastNewsOnline.com]

PARIS: Oh, BFF person, thank you. You learned! This is MUCH BETTER.

BRITTANY: Yep. I am a quick study.

PARIS: You're kind of wearing a tutu, sorta-maybe, and it's a bit underwhelming, but you are walking like a FULL pace behind me! Just like I told you to! It is so awesome when people do what you tell them. You're like a pet!

BRITTANY: Uh-huh. It's a great gig. Just great.

PARIS: And, like, I'm totally in this kinda cute schoolteacher dress -- like I'm a stripper who's going to show up at some dude's bachelor party looking all innocent and then it turns out this thing rips off and reveals that I'm wearing lingerie made of an old Algebra book, which I have totally done, but just on a random Sunday night and it was just for some dude I met at the nail salon -- and you kinda look like a sad little pupil. Eating my every word with, like, a spork.

BRITTANY: Sporks. Right. Sure. And really, it's fun back here. Don't you worry about me.

PARIS: Now that you are on the right track, can you help me fix Nicky?

BRITTANY: What's wrong with her?

PARIS: Um, have you SEEN HER?

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